#he would be so blunt with the adult customers especially he does not give a FUCK about them he is everything i want to be

[ahsterism]

there are so many reasons why michael should not be allowed to work the day shift but i, an agent of chaos, would like to see him work day shifts anyways

[cateringisalie]

My list of bearable Binal Bantasy VII tags is thinning...

But seriously. Being skeptical of Tifa’s narration of past events is not without merit. By the time the Lifestream scene rolls around she has been through three comas and some grevious injuries. The Lifestream scene is as revelatory for her as it is for Cloud.

The new assertion she was in any way actually friends with Cloud is not only in conflict with the OG’s portrayal but counter to Cloud’s development, her development, the growth of their relationship as adults and why (in general) people have them stay together post game.

Its unnecessary, frustrating and further damaging Tifa’s character who is spinning off further from who she was.

That Tifa and Cloud were not actually childhood friends does not mean they do not have a relationship in FFVII. It does not mean they cannot be together. Tifa “falling in love” with Cloud at the water-tower does not for a second make their later relationship any more meaningful.

All this new ship information does is make the relationship have longer longevity than previously assumed. As if whichever relationship has lasted longer is betterer and stronger. As if this should automatically undercut any other relationship Cloud or Tifa can possibly experience.

(in fact - and darkly cynically - this feels a lot more like enforcing that Cloud/Tifa and Zack/Aerith operate in near exactly the same way. The pairs fall in love in record time (two years prior to the Nibelheim incident both times as far as I’m ware), the boys go missing and the girls never move on with their lives. I get the boys have gone missing without a shred of explanation or closure, but now for both of them people are willing to wipe out a quarter of their lives waiting. Teenagers are resilient you know? They will be inconsolable if this happened but they would bounce back a lot faster and cleaner than they would expect. The approval of the never moving on this is purely to keep the shipping uncomplicated. There can only be one pairing for Tifa, there can only be one pairing for Aerith. And if you think otherwise you’re wrong in canon. And who wants to write or read about a non-canon ship? Unless its yaoi/yuri in any case. I am so tired)

Childhood friends incidentally is not, however much some insist, a common trope of the series - unless you stretch it a fair amount and it encompasses a trivial number of the pairings. And none of the big ones (you know; Squall/Rinoa or Tidus/Yuna).

Could Tifa do with more backstory? Of course. Did Tifa’s mother deserve a name? Absolutely! But not like this. Not when Cloud helping round up cats in Remake is now tied to finding Tifa’s cat in a new authored backstory. This speaks again to the constant magpie-ing of existing imagery and moments from older parts of FFVII to feed the present. The retconning in of importance by changing the meaning of otherwise unimportant moments.

Tifa is not and never was under any obligation to like Cloud as a child. She did not bully him, but neither should she expected to involve him in anything she did. I understand the book has muddied this gloriously, but for what effect?

I mean, I know where the desperation to make Cloud and Tifa childhood friends stems from. I know why you want Cloud to have fallen in love with Tifa at like age 5 or something and for Tifa to fall in love with him at 13. And I rail against it all the time that its not necessary. Being first does not mean better.

Maybe I am old, cynical and exhausted, but I kind of like watching Cloud and Tifa grow closer in FFVII. I like watching Cloud and Aeris grow closer in FFVII. I like to experience these things where I can... experience them? I don’t like reading books which assert things in blunt statements that clarify exactly what the writer intended. I certainly don’t have the patience to wait for a later book to clarify what happened on-screen when I have drawn my own conclusions based on my preferences. Especially as this is all contributing to that continued sense that the OG is a smelly, badly designed embarrassment we would rather tiday away for the crime of being graphically inferior (never mind it was championed on its looks on release) and “goofy” (and apparently unable to run the gamut of emotions I remember from serious to comedy, to silly, to tragic, to pessimistic and quietly optimistic and moving).

I’m coming back to this point to stress it - I want to see the relationship growth. Remake gave me that for Aerith and Cloud even if the details aren’t to my taste. First meeting is awkward because hey, random stranger/Cloud is tired. Cloud gets involved and spends more time with Aerith. And the high-five thing is used as a clumsy/awkward/eh but clear metaphor for how their relationship develops over the course of their time together.

To the point that yes, it makes sense for Cloud to want to rescue her. Less sense for Elmyra and Tifa to be “Well they might not vivisect her” and then delay for two full chapters, but the whole thing flows.

And here’s where I get accused of being a fake fan: I don’t like how Cloud and Tifa’s relationship develops in Remake. Flirting. Tifa being mildly fazed by Cloud claiming its been five years. Scared when he almost kills Johnny. Maybe hurt depending on your resolution scene (hey podcast people! No Gold Saucer multiple dates because too expensive? How are there branched resolution scenes in Remake then?). But there isn’t growth. They seem to fit into each other’s lives without worry, bit of flirting, strange super-intense moments jammed into inappropriate sequences (the train roll, climbing the plate, Cloud remembering the promise unprompted, Tifa not actually engaged with Avalanche’s plans). There’s no sense anything has changed between them, the missed five years has done anything to them.

And I’m sure some would take this as proof of correctness. But... somehow Remake is better for realism despite a lot of new clumsy, but this relationship is not dinged for being implausible? No way does that five year gap not seriously impact any prior relationship to say nothing of developing from scratch.

See this was a neat thing about the OG; while Tifa seemed to have an edge over Aerith by knowing Cloud longer, he was in effect meeting them at the same point in his life and more or less starting from scratch with both. Both ships are valid, and even if Cloud is with Tifa come the end, it doesn’t mean he can’t have romantic feelings about both women.

Oh, but Nojima has changed his mind/always intended it this way. And? I can change my mind about liking what he’s written - and my patience and tolerance of Nojima has waned massively since 1997. To the point where his involvement invokes a pained groan from me.

Plus the hilarious attitude that this is from the same people who insisted “the OG will always be there, stop moaning about Remake”. Well guess what? I don’t like Remake and I don’t really want it around. The OG is better.

Yes, Tifa is under-served and sure, it could be clearer about shipping (but the apparent hostility to ambiguity and personal interpretation is deeply distressing. These things can mean something to you and don’t have to mean the same thing to everyone. Interpreting the romancs - again - not a competition).

BUT

I will take the OG version of Tifa where she believed in the cause, where she had friends (again, yes, the relationship between Tifa and the rest of Avalanche is not well depicted, but it was better than actively curtailing it), where she ran a bar THAT ACTUALLY OPENED AND SERVED CUSTOMERS, where she hated Shinra, where she didn’t know how to treat Cloud because she had only really talked to him once in her life and DESPITE THAT that they great closer and spent their last night before THE END OF THE WORLD together over the Remake.

Where Tifa is wary of Cloud for about 5 seconds, twice and then defaults to constant flirting. Where Cloud is near smothering Tifa every second they’re together and she doesn’t tell him to fuck off once. Where she’s allied with Avalanche but hates their methods (and the pacifists are in a shop around the corner and she is not with them because...?). Where she has some absurd contrived plot about medical bills and buying Seventh Heaven for Barret and Marlene.

Which would lead to a whole other rant titled “Marle is the Worst” but this has dragged on quite long enough.

But seriously; if you argue that we can’t hate Remake because OG is always there, then you have to stop applying Remake back to OG and using it as proof. Which is exactly why many people bemoaned the Remake at all. OG is one thing, Remake is another. I don’t care for the latter.

And I know if anyone does read all this it will be about the meanie Cleriths who diminish Tifa for no good reason. And yes, they are indeed acting in bad faith. But what makes you think for a second evidence will convince these people?

In particular, the argument has raged so long and always will because if people do not like a ship they will not accept it as canon (if they care about this as a factor) NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS. Literally. Look at Loki if you want the most recent example of this.

Canon is to many “what I want” and often does not tally with the general interpretation. And you know, if being “canon” or guessing right early wasn’t triumphed as such a vital thing, we might not get these really terrible and pointless arguments.

Canon is a prize but here’s the big secret: fandom - in general - does not care. FFVII is an excellent case example given Sefikura overwhelms the other ships (and I think AZGSC is close?). And that’s not canon. That’s not even in the ballpark of the Cloud/Tifa vs Cloud/Aerith arena (even give that the former is roughly twice the size of the latter, you already won, so please stop?). Canon is only important if you think its important - and you get some more official art of sequences you can gif. And maybe you get kissing/implied sex/marriage/kids, but most of all you get a smug sense of superiority. And the last is why I have no patience with this.

[codenamesazanka]

Any nsfw Spinaraki headcanons?

👀

okay well first off, Spinner has two *spiked* dicks

from a national geographic article: “The hemipenes (double penis) of lizards and snakes sport tiny spikes and hooks.” 

of course those spikes are flexible and bendy so they don’t cut, but def there

i’m sorry anon, you asked, and you’re getting all my terrible heacanons

.

anyways Shigaraki really enjoys that. fun texture, y’know?

so he really likes giving Spinner blowjobs. 

also handjobs, and also fingering the cloaca/’pouch’ that contains Spinner’s (normally inverted within the body, but emerges when he’s aroused) cocks

.

also in regards to texture: Spinner’s quirk makes his touch interesting as well

lots of tiny bristle-like structure on his fingers

tbh Spinner is a tactile buffet 

For Shigaraki, who I head canon as being very tactile-oriented/touchy-feely during sex, it’s perfect

he also doesn’t mind the claw marks Spinner gives him

they’re disgustingly compatible soulmates

also Spinner does this thing where he sucks on Shigaraki’s fingers and it’s like the hottest thing for both of them. living on the edge. 

.

I headcanon Shigaraki as versatile but with slight preference to being a bottom (especially because of [see above]); Spinner still getting used to the joys of gay sex but so far more of a top. They work it out.

Shigaraki is most definitely the ‘dominant’ partner in control, but Spinner would try to wrestle that from him too?

They just have a lot of somewhat-competitive fun with each other

.

.........idk if normal condoms would work for Spinner

maybe he’ll need them custom made, which hey, good thing the League owns Detnerat company that produces customized products for heteromorphs. 

soooo... Shigaraki and Spinner almost always goes at it raw 

it’s a pain to clean up afterwards. it’s kinda gross. they complain every time, and they never learn. 

.

they’re dumb horny young adults

so they have dumb, messy, realistically awkward, but very fun sex

.

Spinner’s most likely the type to get a little emotionally overwhelmed sometimes - he’s a romantic, he gets caught up in the moment, and sex only increases his affections

Shigaraki mocks him for it, but not in too mean of a way because he finds himself liking it for some reason

Shigaraki has a pretty causal attitude towards sex, while Spinner takes it more seriously 

so Shigaraki’s willing to have quickies anywhere - and he’s just blunt about it: “hey. let’s fuck” - which Spinner finds hot but it does wreck his nerves a bit

.

pretty much everyone knows they’re sleeping together. it’s pretty obvious.

except somehow Spinner thinks it’s not and he’s always flustered and shocked when someone alludes to it. 

.

and oh man, when they have fights, the angry sex is great

they can get real rough too

and Spinner also gets a weird instinct to bite down on Shigaraki’s neck during sex 

(did you know that lizards do that during mating? They bite down on the back of the neck and hold) 

.

Shigaraki wasn’t much for after-sex cuddling, but he indulged Spinner, and he grew to like it?  

.

anddd that’s pretty much it? I have a just one set of not-too-spicy headcanons I use again and again, sorry

have some links to previous posts

how shigaraki fucks

nsfw tag

[inspired-by-the-music]

Smile

Pairing: Jamin x Reader

Genre: angsty at first, fluffy fluffy fluffy ending!

Warning: y/n is in an emotionally abusive relationship

Word Count: 10k oof guess I went overboard for Jaemin

“I’m so proud of you, Jisung!” You cooed upon learning that your baby brother earned his first part-time job. 

Jisung mumbled, “Ah, cut it out,” but he couldn’t fight his smile as he squirmed to escape your embrace and efforts to pinch his rosy cheeks. “I don’t act like this when you make the honor roll at your college—”

“That’s because my academic excellence has become expected, almost unimpressive,” you joked confidently, almost choking on laughter when Jisung groaned at your mock arrogance. “But you—” you poked his arm— “you’ve always been a precious baby, so it’s weird to watch you step into the adult world.”

Having learned long ago that he would always be a baby in your eyes, Jisung didn’t waste his breath arguing that he was kind of, basically, technically an adult. He blinked at you and tilted his head so it laid against the back of the couch. “I don’t think about it like that. It’s just a job at the cafe, and I’m only doing it because my friends are.”

Spending time with Jisung was refreshing because his simple, youthful outlook challenged your habit of overanalyzing. That aspect of your relationship hadn’t changed since you enrolled in the local university. Jisung was still very much your baby brother; yet, as he laid back and stretched his legs over your lap and his socked feet dangled off the arm of the couch, you realized with a gasp that he was growing up. He was growing up, and he didn’t think anything about it while you mourned every second of lost youth. To Jisung, the next steps in life— which terrified you— were fun, a casual adventure with his friends. 

What would it be like, you wondered enviously, to be like Jisung? 

You wouldn’t ask. Even if you did, Jisung wouldn’t know how to answer. 

As he playfully wiggled his toes into your ribs, and you laughed while swatting at his denim-clad legs, a voice sounded through his headset. The words were unintelligible, but the tone was unmistakable: annoyed. They prompted Jisung to sit upright, plant his feet on the carpeted floor, and unpause his video game. Although his gaze was fixed on the flashing screen, he covered only one ear with the headset. 

He heard you ask, “Who is that?”

“Jaemin,” Jisung whispered out of the side of his mouth and covered the microphone so his friend wouldn’t hear. 

Because he was playing with just one hand, Jisung caused his team to lose. The loss was evident from the crimson text— “YOU LOSE”—  filling the black screen, the slackjawed frown on Jisung’s face, and (especially) from the shrieks breaking through the headset. 

Jisung chanted, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” but the shrieks rang on. 

Your face flushed as rage burned in your gut. “Still Jaemin?”

A mere nod was Jisung’s answer. He didn’t bother to push away the bangs that had fallen into his eyes. 

“What is he even saying?” You hissed. 

“Nothing really,” Jisung shrugged away from your question. 

You were overprotective of Jisung— you wouldn’t deny that. His willingness to defend his buddy despite his obviously flaring tempter fuelled your frustration. Maybe, you thought later, you shouldn’t have disliked that Jaemin kid that much considering you had never even seen him. 

Rolling your eyes, you bossed, “Tell him that it’s just a game. You can play again until you win.”

Jisung shook his head and calmly explained, “That’s the worst thing to say to a raging gamer, Y/N—”

“Are you talking to a girl?” Jaemin roared loudly enough for you to hear. “Is that why we lost the tournament? Because you’re flirting with a girl?”

Sensing that you were reaching to snatch the headset to rival Jaemin’s temper, Jisung jumped up, stood as tall as he could on the couch so you couldn’t quite reach his head no matter how hard you stretched, and huffed at Jaemin, “I’m talking to my sister, not flirting, and I have to go!” He disconnected the headset and turned the game off before you could say anything to threaten his friendship with Jaemin. 

You slumped down on the cushion. “You must have made some really nice friends while I’ve been busy busting my butt at school.”

“He is nice!” Jisung stepped off the couch. Frowning as you rolled your eyes again, he grumbled, “There’s no point in talking when people are too angry to listen,” before sulking away to his bedroom, embarrassed by his scoldings. 

You regretted letting him walk away, but you resolved to comfort him later after tensions died down. 

. . . 

Because you were determined to be a kind person, you surrounded yourself with people who didn’t boil your blood. So, to tolerate Jaemin— which was as close as you could get to liking him as Jisung wanted— you had to maintain a safe distance. For the sake of peace, Jaemin had to remain a faceless name spoken into Jisung’s headset, and you would try not to roll your eyes whenever you heard it. 

Despite what anyone says, you didn’t walk into the cafe that night with the intention of meeting Jaemin face to face. In fact, had you known that he was the friend Jisung followed into the workforce, you wouldn’t have agreed to pick your brother up after his shift. That was childish; since you were already in town after your last class, it only made sense that you should be the one to wait for him in the parking lot. 

You were patient at first. Then, minutes passed, and you had to turn the car off to save gas, and the almost-summer heat baked the car until you lost all self-control. Had you rushed into the air-conditioned cafe sooner, before you were seething at the realization that you had wasted over an hour waiting for Jisung (who was still scrubbing down tables like Cinderella well into the night on his first day), you might have missed Jaemin’s lecture that pushed your temper to its breaking point.

You couldn’t have recognized Jaemin by his neatly combed hair or crystalline smile. You knew him by the frustrated tone he used to scold Jisung without looking up from the register where he stood counting the day’s earnings. “You made too many stupid mistakes today, Jisung! I can forgive you for forgetting the day’s special once or twice, but every time you talked to a customer— if you can’t be bothered to memorize something so simple—”

“Ahem.” 

The boys’ attention snapped away from their work to gawk at you with wide eyes when you cleared your throat. 

“— you can always just look at this chalkboard,” Jaemin concluded less sternly, pointing at an overheard sign that boasted: ‘Today’s Special: Green Tea Latte.’

Jaemin’s bug-eyed stare provoked you to quip, “Is that all you do— for fun and for work? Yell at Jisung?”

“Huh?” Jaemin’s jaw dropped in an innocent schoolboy expression that might have been adorable if he hadn’t already landed on your bad side. 

This was your biggest fault: you put too much weight in first impressions. Of course, you could easily apologize after realizing that you had misjudged somebody. You even had a consistent record of forgiving inexcusable offenses against yourself. What you couldn’t forgive or forget were attacks against Jisung, and you had just witnessed Jaemin’s second strike. 

Acting as the mediator between your wrath and Jaemin’s confusion, Jisung returned to his task of wiping the table. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

It was irrational to expect Jisung to raise his voice to defend himself from Jaemin’s scolding. Jisung was subordinate to Jaemin in friendship and especially in the workplace hierarchy. Always, you were proud of your brother’s peaceful temperament. Proud and, at that moment, annoyed. 

“Mom and dad asked me to drive you home after your shift that was supposed to end over an hour ago.” 

Jisung’s lips rounded into a tiny ‘o,’ and he turned to Jaemin for confirmation of the time. 

Jaemin didn’t notice, though. He was quietly studying you with narrowed eyes. “You’re Jisung’s sister?”

“Yeah,” you nodded stiffly. “I’m the reason you lost your little video game tournament.”

Your words were intended as a blunt weapon, but Jaemin laughed. His smile was almost blinding as he swept his hair out of his face with slender coffee-stained fingers. “Oh yeah. Well, don’t sweat that. I forgive ya!”

Before you could explain that you weren’t apologizing— that neither you nor Jisung had done anything to warrant begging forgiveness— Jaemin winked, “As long as you go on a date with me!”

You imagined your reaction looked a lot like Jisung’s: hanging jaws and wide-eyed blinking. Objectively, it was flattering that someone as cute as Jaemin (excluding his temper) would flirt with you even as a mindless pastime. Even if Jaemin hadn’t made two terrible first impressions, even if he wasn’t one of Jisung’s little buddies, even if your pride would allow you to give in to his charms, one dreadful fact remained: 

“I have a boyfriend.”  

On cue, Jisung rolled his eyes. Grinding his teeth, he dropped his gaze on the table. 

“Oh.” Jaemin’s shoulders fell, and his smile barely faltered. The smile, you realized, wasn’t an expression of happiness; his lips were almost permanently set in a toothy grin, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

That must be inconvenient, you thought. Does he smile even when he’s sad? Or when he’s angry? 

When Jaemin looked up at Jisung, his eyes crinkled fondly. All traces of past frustration had vanished. “Goodnight, Jisung. I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

Slowing his movements to a near-complete stop, Jisung started, “But I’m not finished—”

Jaemin shot him a pointed look. As quickly as it had calmed, his temper flared. “Don’t keep your sister waiting. I’ll close up.”

Just as you opened your mouth— to thank Jaemin, or to apologize for your impatience, or to offer to help clean or at least sit quietly while waiting for them to finish— your phone rang. Your mother was calling probably to ask why you weren’t yet home with Jisung in tow. 

“Come on,” you urged Jisung gently after silencing your ringer and quietly resolving to have him call her once you were in the car. “We should go. Mom is worried.”

After looking at Jaemin once more for permission and receiving a courteous nod, Jisung untied his apron and folded it on the counter before Jaemin. “Thanks. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” 

Had Jisung been less mature, he would have teased you for abandoning your decision to dislike Jaemin after seeing him just once and exchanging only a few words. Instead, he focused on returning your mother’s call to recount his day at school (where he aced his first final exam) and his first day at work (where his friend Jaemin taught him how to make all kinds of coffee and pastries while defending him from the jokes of other teenage workers). 

Silence fell over the car after Jisung ended the call. You drummed your thumbs on the steering wheel, anticipating that he must have saved some exciting story for your ears only, just as he always had. But no sound came from the passenger seat. 

Your heart sank. No, you couldn’t blame him for being mad or embarrassed by you. Not only had you treated him like a defenseless infant— as always— you were also rude to his friend. 

Yes, you had walked in on Jaemin lecturing Jisung, but at least he had been considerate enough to wait until the cafe was empty to voice is criticisms. All day, while you were too busy at school to do it yourself, Jaemin acted as Jisung’s guardian and protector. And no, you hadn’t forgotten that Jaemin screamed at Jisung and made his face flush because of a stupid video game, but it was clear from watching their interactions and from hearing how proudly Jisung talked about him that they held no grudges. Who were you, then, to hold on to one on Jisung’s behalf? 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. An apologetic glance over at the passenger seat revealed that Jising had fallen fast asleep. His head was leaned against the window, and his mouth hung agape; faint snores filled the silence. 

As you decided to let him sleep, Jisung jolted awake. His face almost crashed into the dashboard. 

“Alright there, partner?” You hummed like you used to in the days when you played Toy Story with him from dusk until dawn. 

“Yeah.” Jisung nodded groggily as he settled back and reclined his seat. “Did ya say something while I was sleeping, partner?”

Again, you readied your apology, but you hesitated to deliver it as you sensed Jisung’s smile like gentle sun rays illuminating your skin. He wasn’t upset. He didn’t expect an apology. Yet, you felt you owed him one anyway. 

He moped, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Although you were sorry, you didn’t have to express that with a long winded speech he wouldn’t understand. You could express it instead through actions. You could express it through jokes. 

“I said Jaemin is a real cutie.” Without glancing away from the road, you winked. 

Because you expected Jisung to gag— who wants to hear their sister call their friend cute?— you were surprised when he simply warned, “You have a boyfriend, remember?” You weren’t surprised, however, that he choked around the word ‘boyfriend.’

“Why don’t you like him? My boyfriend, I mean?”

Had you looked over, you would have seen Jisung cross his arms and turn his gaze out the window. “Why do you like him?”

Jisung so rarely disliked anyone, his disapproval of your boyfriend made you wary of the romance— if you could even call it a romance. After months of back and forth, he finally decided that you could call him your boyfriend. Because you spent so much time and energy chasing that ideal, the half-formed thought of being with him, you couldn’t quite let it go even though the dull reality paled (soured, even) to the dream. 

You should have been able to answer Jisung’s question. It was a dooming sign, your inability to name one reason why you liked your boyfriend that hadn’t been dashed by being his girlfriend. Rather than heeding the sign, however, you clutched the wool over your eyes and turned the radio on. 

. . . 

“Believe it or not, babe, I’d like to have one date that’s not about babysitting your little brother,” your boyfriend said through a mouthful of rice.

Rejection was an almost daily occurrence, but you reddened nonetheless. “First of all, my brother isn’t that young. He’s eighteen.” Yes, to you, Jisung was a precious baby; but you had to deny his youthfulness to defend him from your boyfriend’s criticism. To mask your blossoming blush, you took a sip of your tea. “Second of all, it’s not a date. I told Jisung I would take him and his friends to the arcade if he got good grades on all his exams. I’m inviting you to be nice.”

To be nice. To try again to be a better girlfriend because maybe that would make him a better boyfriend. To subject yourself, again, to disappointment because maybe that would be the final one to sever your ties. 

He had stopped listening, opting instead to scroll through his phone. “Whatever.”

Before he could look up and make his millionth appeal for a date in the privacy of your bedroom, before he could reiterate his rejection, you forced yourself onto your feet. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Although you would be almost an hour early to class, you raced out of the cafeteria. Had you been thinking more clearly— had you been able to breathe comfortably enough to think around him at all— you would have tried again to break up with him. It wasn’t a mystery why Jisung hated him, you admitted to yourself as you dashed through the deserted hallway. He was determined to employ every negative tactic to occupy your every thought; he refused to encourage your interaction with others, even your own brother; he thought only of keeping you to himself. 

And yet, he could ignore you for days, leaving you to wonder what you had done wrong to inflict the latest silence. When you would forcefully swallow your dwindling pride to invite him to spend time together, he would reject your advances because they weren’t intimate enough. 

Until you were trapped in that cycle, you couldn’t comprehend how hard— impossible— they are to break from. In a few scattered moments, like the one where you sat with your back pressed against the wall and knees drawn up to your chest, it was undeniable: you were miserable. Rather than finding the strength to end the relationship, instead of embracing the uncertainty of freedom, you prayed that he would let you go. If he was so uninterested, why couldn’t he just walk away? 

You knew the sickening answer. Nobody ever liked him before you did. Clinging to you— even if it meant breaking you— was the only way he could hold the illusion of self-worth. Putting you down, making you beg for acknowledgment, was the only way he could stand over anyone. You walked into this situation by pining after somebody who never wanted you; maybe, then, you deserved to be unhappy. 

As students flooded out of the classroom and into the hall, you wiped at your eyes with ice-cold hands. You weren’t crying; you were just trying to wipe the tired dark circles off. 

“Y/N!” Someone called on their way out of the classroom. 

It was Jaemin, beaming and waving both hands excitedly as if greeting an old friend— as if you hadn’t treated him so unfairly during your first and only prior meeting. 

That pinch of guilt and whatever dread caused by your boyfriend faded when Jaemin slung his yellow backpack onto the floor at your feet before crashing into the space on the bench next to you. 

“Gotta leave room for others,” he justified when you raised an eyebrow as he stretched his arm along the back of the bench around your shoulders. 

“Right,” you nodded dubiously. “What are you doing here, Jaemin?”

“Ouch— icy—” he winced, playfully smiling all the while. “Just give me a chance, and I’ll prove that I’m worthy of sitting with you!”

“I don’t doubt it.” He blushed at your honest attempt at flattery, and you continued, “But that’s not what I meant. Why are you doing here at my school?”

Jaemin shrugged. “It’s not just your school.”

Your eyes widened. “You go to school here?” He nodded. “Really? I could have sworn you were Jisung’s age and that he met you at his high school—”

“Nope.” Jaemin popped the ‘p’ proudly. “I hope you didn’t reject me just because you thought I was too young!” You laughed, and he winked, “It’s okay if ya did. I’ll give you another chance to date me.” 

You shook your head, almost in a futile attempt to convince yourself that your heart didn’t flutter with the growth of Jaemin’s smile.

“Just playing.” He dropped the arm resting behind your shoulders to act as a barrier between your bodies. “Jisung said you really have a boyfriend, so I probably shouldn’t flirt with you.” 

Blushing at the information that Jaemin and Jisung talked about you, you blurted, “He wouldn’t mind.” Your hand clamped over your mouth too late to prevent them from filling the air. 

“Who?” Jaemin’s head tilted curiously. “Jisung or your boyfriend?” You didn’t answer, so Jaemin tried another question: “Would you mind?”

Eager to escape, you flinched off of the bench. “Sorry, Jaemin— gotta get to class.” As much as you loathed your boyfriend, as much as you were starting to like Jaemin, outright flirting wasn’t right. 

You couldn’t control what Jaemin did. Diving to reach your hand, he didn’t seem to care too much that you had a boyfriend. Then again, he probably didn’t have to care; he wasn’t obligated to consider any feelings but his own. 

Undeterred by your gasp and smirking because you didn’t yank your hand out of his grasp, he asked, “You’re going to the arcade with Jisung this weekend, right?”

It shouldn’t have been a big deal— touching somebody’s hand— but you couldn’t quite breathe because of Jaemin’s touch. Numbly, overwhelmed with unfamiliar emotions that clouded your thoughts, you nodded. “Yeah. Who do you think is paying for all the tokens and pizza?”

“Huh?” In his surprise, Jaemin dropped your hand. You could breathe again. His eyes narrowed. “Not you. I’ll pay.”

You shook your head. “Jisung is my brother, and I promised to take him and his little friends—”

“Do you even know  how many people he invited?” When you responded with another shake of your head, Jaemin counted on his hand, “Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Chenle, and me. Excluding me— because I’m not letting you pay my way— and including Jisung, that’s five boys you’re promising to pay for. Five boys—” he wiggled his fingers menacingly— “who live on pizza and games.”

Forcing your arms through the straps of your backpack, you chuckled at his dramatic delivery. “If they’re so expensive, why are you so determined to pay for them yourself?”

“Because you shouldn’t have to—”

Your alarm sounded to signal that your class would start in five minutes. “I have to go to class, Jaemin, so we’ll have to bicker about this later—”

As you dismissed the alarm with the tap of your thumb, Jaemin yanked your phone away. “Here. I’ll give you my number.” His eyes twinkled when they met yours, and a corner of his lips flicked upward in a teasing smile as he clarified, “Just so we can discuss this payment business. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

Despite your promise to Jisung not to waste the night staring at the door waiting for your boyfriend, you sat alone at a small table doing just that for at least thirty minutes after Jisung ran into the arcade with his friends. Were you hoping he would show up? Not because you wanted to play skeeball with him or anything. You just wanted— needed— for the silence born after your last conversation in the cafeteria to end. As expected, your humbling texts had gone unanswered; there was no reason to think he had changed his mind about coming to the arcade. 

He’s not coming. Again, always, you were caught between relief and anxiety. Your sweaty palms clutched the edges of your seat. I’ll give him ten more minutes. Ten more minutes, and then I’m having fun with or without him. 

But it was impossible to have fun with him. That truth was never more blatant than when Jaemin plopped into the chair next to you. 

He boasted, “I gave the children money to buy pizza,” in a voice made raspy to emulate old age, “per our agreement.”

That was the compromise reached via texts: Jaemin would pay for all food, and you would pay for arcade access. 

Jaemin’s characteristic sterling smile dimmed as he noticed your frown and how you nervously eyed the door and compulsively checked your phone. “Are you expecting someone?” You hesitated to respond, and he warned, “The kids will be here any minute, so you should tell me what’s bugging you quickly. That way, we can work through it while we still have some privacy.”

His earnest stare prompted you to blurt, “My boyfriend.” Noting Jaemin’s frown, you squirmed through your stresses. “I invited him— who knows why— and he said that he wanted to have a date without my brother tagging along— so, obviously, I stormed off— and we haven’t talked in two days— which isn’t that long, but I don’t know what to say to fix things— and he isn’t even here, and—”

Jaemin blinked like Jisung always did when your worries bubbled out of your mouth, so you cut yourself off. Jaemin’s mouth fell open, and it stayed open as he struggled to form a response. 

“I’m sorry.” You shrank in your seat. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

Aside from feeling guilty for dumping your feelings on someone, you hated yourself for spilling them all over Jaemin of all people. Jaemin, who always smiled and didn’t deserve to be burdened with your self-inflicted troubles. Jaemin, who flirted with you, and somehow liked you, and didn’t want to hear about your boyfriend. 

“I don’t think you have to apologize. To me or to him.” Jaemin’s smile slowly returned, and guilt eased its clutch around you. “No offense, but anyone who doesn’t want to hang out with you and Jisung is lame. And I’m not just saying that because I like—”

Your soaring heart came crashing down when Haechan cheered, “We come bearing pizza!” The other boys followed behind him, each carrying two boxes of pizza. 

After Renjun returned Jaemin’s debit card and the boys claimed a seat— notably, Jisung sat at your side and smiled brightly— Jaemin glared at nobody in particular. “Do you think you got enough to eat? Seriously, guys, ten pizzas are excessive! You can’t just take advantage of my generosity—”

“Jaemin,” you interrupted calmly, fighting the urge to giggle at his nagging with the other boys. “It’s okay. If it matters so much, I’ll pay you back.”

“What?” He gasped. “No, don’t! Besides, money isn’t the point—”

“Generosity!” Chenle cackled and flicked a piece of pepperoni at Jaemin; he dodged the attack. “You just bought us dinner to impress Jisung’s big sister!”

The others, excluding Jisung, chorused, “Ooooh.” All, except the laughing Jeno, partook in flinging pizza toppings at Jaemin. 

Burning a faint shade of pink from his neck up Jaemin screeched, “Yah! Cut it out! I dressed nicely—”

Jeno wiggled his eyebrows before sinking his teeth into a slice of cheese pizza. “Jaemin dressed nicely to impress Jisung’s sister!”

And the boys (minus Jisung, who sat quietly at your side, cheeks stuffed full) again sang “Ooooh,” until your face and Jaemin’s both colored crimson. 

In what must have been an attempt to defend you from his friends’ teasing Jisung swallowed his mouthful and chirped, “She has a name! It’s Y/N!”

Jisung’s attempt backfired. 

“Ooooh! Jaemin and Y/N, sitting in a tree. . .”

As the boys sang their silly song, and you laughed out loud for the first time all night, Jaemin’s annoyance or embarrassment vanished. Grinning, he flew out of his seat, grabbed you by the hand, and pulled you toward the arcade. “Hope you got all the pizza you wanted!”

Although you couldn’t really care less about eating more pizza, you yelled over children’s laughter and game sound effects, “You don’t think they’ll leave me any?”

“Jisung might try to save you some, but it’ll get all cold if one of the guys doesn’t steal it. You and I are gonna be here for a while.” He dropped your hand to point up at a shelf of plush prizes. “Which one do you want?”

The giant mint green llama instantly caught your eye. You fumbled with an answer because, “Jaemin, those cost, like, 5,000 tickets!”

He retrieved a neon green play card from his back pocket, twirled it between his fingers, and winked. “4,902 electronic tickets, baby! Pick your prize, and we’ll get the other 98 tickets!”

“How— why—” You stuttered, flustered by Jaemin’s utterly unromantic use of the word ‘baby.’

“I come here a lot,” Jaemin shrugged, “and I already have a bunch of those plushes. It’s a little childish, but they always make me feel better when I’m feeling down.” 

Oh. So this was his response to your rambling about your boyfriend. He wouldn’t tell you to just break up with him if you were so miserable like your girlfriends did before casually moving on to the next topic of idle gossip. He wouldn’t sulk with you like Jisung. Jaemin would go out of his way to teach you to have fun. 

“Pick one!” Jaemin urged again, brushing his elbow against your ribs until you went weak with laughter. Before you could trip over your own feet, he secured you around the waist. As he parted his lips, probably to tease your clumsiness, his gaze followed where you pointed. “Ah, the llama. Cute. Let’s go!” He grabbed your hand again and sped to the wall of skeeball machines because, as he explained, that game was the quickest (and most fun) way to earn tickets.   

“We don’t have to run everywhere,” you wheezed, doubling over. 

Having knelt down to swipe his play card, Jaemin looked up and stole your little remaining breath with his smile. “Come on, Y/N, breathlessness is part of the fun!” Seeing that you were scrambling to pull your card out of your pocket, Jaemin swiped his again through your machine before standing upright. 

“Jaemin!” You swatted at him gently, and he spun away from the contact. “I’m supposed to pay for the games! That’s what we agreed on!”

Your scolding elicited a burst of laughter. Shaking his card at you, Jaemin defended, “The points are on my card.” A single eyebrow arched. “If you want that adorable llama, you gotta let me pay.”

Because he turned his attention to his game and started launching ball after ball into the center target before you could reply, he didn’t see your small smile. “Under that cute exterior,” you mirrored his posture as you started your game, “you’re really quite cunning.”

Rather than fixating on the insult, Jaemin noticed the compliment. “Cute,” he mimicked your high pitch. “You think I’m cute?” He glanced out of the corner of his eye to gauge your expression and snorted as your ball sank into the gutter. “Oops! Am I too cute? Am I distracting you?”

To your relief, your blush was washed out by the blinking arcade lights. “You’re not distracting me because you’re cute.” You balanced the lie with a partial truth: “You’re distracting because you’re annoying.”

“Ouch,” He whistled. His game announced, ‘New High Score!’ and he celebrated by pumping a fist into the air before turning to you. “Every time I think you’re starting to like me back just a little, you cut me right back down.”

Well aware of how flirtatiously Jaemin would interpret your words, you decided to say, ‘I do like you.’ The words were dancing on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them back at the sudden reappearance of Jisung and his band of friends. 

“Found ‘em!” Haechan declared as if you had been playing hide-and-seek. 

This is a good thing, you told yourself as your game ended without all the fanfare Jaemin’s high score earned. I would have regretted confusing Jaemin’s feelings. Some true things are better left unsaid. 

“Ah, these kids are ruining the experience,” Jaemin grumbled playfully. Shoving his hands into the pockets of light blue acid-washed jeans, he asked the boys, “What do you need now?”

“We just wanted to check in on our favorite budding romance.” Renjun’s jest received laughter from the other boys and a dramatic eyeroll from Jaemin. 

While Jaemin suggested, “Find your own girls and stop following us like a bunch of weirdos,” Jisung stepped up to your side. 

“Want these?” He held out his joined hands that cupped a rainbow assortment of hard candies. “I won them out of a machine!” Your brother beamed at his accomplishment when you popped a candy into your mouth.

Stuffing a wrapper and a couple of pieces into your pockets, you smiled at him. “Thank ya, Jisung!” The cherry flavored jawbreaker muffled your voice. You nearly choked on your laughter when Jisung bent his knees and leaned forward so you could pat his head of pink-brown hair in proud gratitude. 

“Now that the adorable sibling bonding is out of the way,” Chenle said, “we’re gonna play laser tag. We know you two—” his eyes flickered from you to Jaemin— “would rather make out by the skeeball machines—”

You gasped, and Jisung shouted, “Hey!” He stomped to Chenle and towered over him. Jisung’s height alone would have been daunting if he didn’t have the face of a baby even when glowering. “Don’t be a gross pervert! That’s my sister!” Chenle’s hands rose in mock surrender. “I’m not the one making out with—”

“Anyway—” As you facepalmed, Jeno intervened by stepping between Chenle and Jisung. “We’re gonna play laser tag, if you wanna tag along!” Jeno laughed at his own pun, and you removed your hand from your face to flash a polite grin. 

Jaemin replied with a shake of his head that sent his bangs falling into his eyes. “Nah, we’re not gonna play. Thanks for asking.”

“We’re not?” You wrinkled your forehead. 

You weren’t offended by Jaemin’s eagerness to speak on your behalf; you were just surprised that he didn’t run at the opportunity to explore the arcade with his friends. That was why he showed up, right? To spend time with Jisung. 

Ignoring Chenle’s joking, “Ooooh, trouble in paradise!” Jaemin explained through a nervous grin, “We can’t get tickets from playing laser tag. If we want that llama, we gotta stay focused!”

“Huh?” Jisung’s eyes resembled saucers as he sucked on a piece of candy. “Llama? You’re not gonna pay tag?”

You didn’t withstand your brother’s disappointed stare because you wanted to win some silly stuffed animal. This was wrong— now, you thought, you actually deserved your boyfriend’s disapproval— but you enjoyed having Jaemin’s attention to yourself. 

That’s why grinned, “Gotta win that llama!” earning Jaemin’s high five. 

Teasing you must have lost its appeal; wordlessly nodding, the boys— except Jisung, who stood staring at you— set off to play laser tag. Realizing that Jisung would otherwise be left behind, Renjun ushered him away, muttering, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Moments passed without words after Jaemin started another round of skeeball. 

The silence ended when Jaemin said, “You don’t have to look so guilty.” His voice, softer than usual, was almost lost amid booming sound effects and laughter and screams of triumph and despair. “Jisung won’t stay hung up on us for long. He’s an adaptable kid.”

You couldn’t explain that the guilt twisting your gut had little to do with the look you put on your brother’s face. Honesty would have required admitting aloud that spending this time with Jaemin was a sin; then, you would have to stop out of respect for the never-present boyfriend who didn’t care to show you any consideration. And you didn’t want to stop. And you didn’t want to ruin the playful atmosphere by vocalizing your distress. And you didn’t want to overwhelm Jaemin’s crush on you if it were as shallow as you imagined. 

We’re just having fun, you argued to the voice in the shadows of your mind that demanded an justification for your joy. 

The voice in your mind sounded a lot like the one booming in your ears, the voice of your boyfriend, the voice that stunned you stiff. Those defensive thoughts— they weren’t just thoughts; they were also stuttered excuses you forced through trembling lips as he glared down at you, his fingers digging into your arms so roughly that it would have hurt if you weren’t embarrassed— numb. Numb except for the agonizing thundering of your heart. 

People were staring. People were listening to him scold, “I wouldn’t have bothered coming to this stupid place if I’d known you were here to hook up with some stupid kid you found at the claw machine.” 

He cut his eyes at Jaemin and crushed you with the realization that you were not trapped in a dream turned nightmare. He wouldn’t disappear with the opening of your eyes, yet you blinked once, twice, thrice, in the hope that he would. 

Jaemin was a s stunned as you were. Dark maroon splotches welted every visible inch of his skin; his chest rapidly rose and fell under his white t-shirt; his hands were clenched in tight fists pressed to his side; his jaw was forced shut, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“He is not a stupid kid.” Emboldened by the instinct to stand up for Jaemin, you didn’t shrink under your boyfriend’s cold, piercing stare. “He’s practically my age, and we aren’t even hooking up—” You liked Jaemin, and that perversion of your relationship made all of your hairs stand on end. “He’s my friend.”

“Your friend.” Your boyfriend’s laugh was hollow. Again, he was going to remind you that nobody was interested in you. Jabbing a finger at Jaemin without breaking your eye contact, he accused, “That kid is no more interested in ‘friendship’ with you than I am.”

At some point, you would have believed it. At some point, those words would have hurt you, but they had been spoken so often that they lost their sting. He had always been like this— cruel— even when you had willed yourself oblivious. Until now, you forced yourself to say whatever might guarantee temporary peace. 

What was so different now? 

Maybe now that you realized there were people like Jaemin, who would enjoy your company without the promise of anything in return, you couldn’t subject yourself to mistreatment. Maybe Jaemin’s smile broke through the darkness your boyfriend insisted encompassed the entire world; maybe Jaemin’s smile exposed your relationship’s emptiness; maybe you understood at last there was nothing there worth saving with forced silence. 

“Let go of me.” You met your boyfriend’s eyes, voice wavering only slightly because the words were unfamiliar in your mouth. “Go away. You don’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t want anything to do with you either. So just— just—”

The tears that pooled in his eyes were inauthentic. Despite recognizing the deliberate attempt at manipulation, you tread that dangerous line between freedom and captivity, between apology and honesty, until he pushed you out of his grasp. 

You couldn’t even be relieved; he turned and towered over Jaemin who, somehow, was not intimidated by his size. Jaemin, who stood proudly when faced with the force that had been strangling you, extinguishing you for months. 

“Ease up, kid,” he growled, “I’m not gonna hit you.”

Jaemin did not change in his posture, and your boyfriend clicked his tongue in annoyance; you flinched at the sound, and Jaemin didn’t bat an eyelash. 

“Whatever. You want her so badly?” Jaemin nodded so wildly that your boyfriend would have seen if he hadn’t focused his eyes on you to watch you crumble as he said, “Take her, then. She’s nothing to me.”

You weren’t winded so much by what he said; you decided just moments ago that he could not determine your worth. But how could anybody spout cruelty so easily? How could he easily turn away from his latest attempt to break you when you could never work up the nerve to gently walk away from him? You couldn’t understand. 

And you couldn’t quite process the public break up until after noticing that the once bustling arcade had gone silent safe for the few scattered whispers— all about you. It was not quite real until you felt the eyes of strangers prying into you in search of the worth he could never find. The humiliation didn’t quite dawn on you until you met Jaemin’s gaze— overwhelmed, frightened, saddened. 

Jaemin’s stare. That’s what drove you to seek solace on a bench under the moonlight sky. 

The unseasonably cool blowing breeze reminded you that you never deserved to hold Jaemin’s attention. What had he even seen in you that day you stormed into the cafe to retrieve Jisung? You had been sweaty, irritable, dismissive of his friendship with Jisung and his inexplicable interest in you. Undesirable in appearance and in deed; yet somehow Jaemin could smile at you. You couldn’t understand. 

After that confrontation, he would never smile at you the same way. How weak must you have sounded, stuttering like a fool? How foolish must you have seemed for allowing someone so careless and cruel to stand close to your heart? 

Weak. Foolish. Undesirable. Unworthy. 

The words you thought of yourself were unfair, untrue, and yet you could not stop thinking them. In an effort to ignore the thoughts you couldn’t control, you wedged your phone out of your pocket. Gifsets were always guaranteed to brighten your mood. 

Your mood soured further, though, after dismissing a wall of texts from your boyfriend— well, ex-boyfriend and after reading a text from your friend, who sent you a screenshot of your ex’s Instagram account. The picture depicted a rather tasteless kiss between himself and a girl who wasn’t you with a caption that read: ‘Guess I don’t have to keep the best thing that ever happened to me a secret anymore. Guess Y/N and I were both two-timers.’

The screen went black, and you slammed the phone down at your side. After publicly accusing you of cheating with Jaemin, your ex revealed the reason why he never wanted you, why he preferred to go days without talking, why he never wanted to spend any time with you: there was somebody else. The problem was never you; the problem was always him. 

Somehow, deep down, or right at the surface, you had always known. So rather than feeling relieved or vindicated, you hated yourself for ignoring your parents and Jisung and the careful voice in your head that said, ‘let go, run,’ long before you met Jaemin and started falling for his smile slowly and then all at once. 

Footsteps slapped on the pavement from afar, and you sucked a breath in. Nobody could see you— not until you had worked through your storm of emotions— so you tugged your legs, bare below your striped shorts, up onto the bench and contorted to conceal yourself in the building’s shadow. 

Jaemin found you with little effort. He wasted no time in running to you and didn’t think twice before sitting beside you just as closely as he had at school days ago. His eyes were different now: wide with concern, no longer sparkling with mischief. 

Unable to stand how he looked at you— as if you were breaking— you crossed your arms over your knees and buried your face in the bend of your elbow. “Stop looking at me like that, Jaemin.”

Although he had done nothing wrong, Jaemin apologized. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that happened, and I’m sorry I caused it—”

“You didn’t cause it.” The urge to console Jaemin overwhelmed the urge to hide. You lowered your feet onto the concrete and, to comfort him, rested your arm on the back of the bench, just behind his shoulders. “That guy— he’s always been a big—”

You wouldn’t have known how to describe your ex-boyfriend if your phone hadn’t interrupted you with a sharp buzz that likely signaled another incoming text from your friend. Jaemin grabbed your phone although you were content to leave the messages unread, and the screen lit up in his hand. 

Jaemin’s mouth fell open as he instinctively scanned the message. “He— he had the nerve to scream at you in front of all those people when he’s been kissing—”

Rage tightened around Jaemin’s vocal chords, and he shoved the phone back into the narrow space between your bodies. “I don’t get it. People like that— how do they get anyone to like them? And how can they just treat people— why do they— I—” He raked his fingers through his hair, drawing a deep ragged breath. 

Staring up at the moon and willing your voice to stay even, you mumbled, “I don’t get it either. I guess— you know— I read once that we accept the love we think we deserve.” 

Did you believe that line you found in a book? Is that why you could never break things off? 

Jaemin pulled his legs up onto the bench and crossed them so he could face you fully. “Hey.” He reached for your hand, and this time there was no playful smirk when you didn’t flinch from his touch. Once you mirrored his posture to face him too, he said, “You deserve better. A lot better. And by that, I don’t mean that you deserve me, even though I’d like—”

As if you weren’t leaning into his every word, Jaemin caught his tongue and stared down at his hand holding yours. 

When words failed, you returned his small act of affection by curling your fingers around his hand. “I really want to deserve you, Jaemin. Someday soon.” 

Had you given into the desire to look at him, you would have seen his eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t know what you mean. If it has anything to do with what that jerk said—”

“It doesn’t,” you said immediately despite your failed efforts to silence his nagging voice in the corner of your mind. “You’re just so bright and beautiful, and I was so quick to judge you for yelling at Jisung—”

“Wait, when did I— oh, are you talking about when I got onto him that time after work?”

You nodded slowly, tracing over his knuckles. “And when you yelled at him over that video game.”

“You actually heard that?” At his feeble tone, you finally looked up at Jaemin. In the pale moonlight, his blush was a glowing pink. He scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I apologized to Jisung, too. I guess it’s not an excuse, but my temper isn’t all that great when I lose games. And that time after work—”

“I know you weren’t trying to bully him. You were trying to help him improve, and now I know that you just like to nag—”

Jaemin huffed, “I do not nag!”

“— and I’m sorry that I misunderstood you. It’s not an excuse, but I am too protective of Jisung because he’s the most precious person in the world. I didn’t know that you knew that too. I’m sorry.” 

Jaemin blinked, unsure of what to do with your apologies. “I like that you’re protective of Jisung. I like that when some big jerk is yelling at you, you think to defend me from his lame insults. That’s who you are, and it’s nothing to apologize for— especially because I like you.”

He liked you. After all of that chaos, Jaemin still liked you. Such a small word— like— meant so much because you couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t Jisung said it to you and meant it. You didn’t try to fight the smile tugging at your lips. 

If you were defined by protectiveness of Jisung and Jaemin, then Jaemin was defined by buying pizza for his friends (and nagging about it), and offering a hard-earned collection of 4,902 tickets to brighten your day with a cute stuffed animal, and holding your hand in the aftermath of utter humiliation. 

You couldn’t keep the fact to yourself, and you didn’t want to: “I like you too, Jaemin.” 

He looked at you, and silence hung in the air as you stood together on the edge of something new. Should you say something to define it? Would taking that dive dampen the chemistry that formed despite old oppressive labels? 

You didn’t agonize long before Jaemin leaped off the bench and extended his hand to you. “Come on,” he implored, wearing that broad smile that gave your heart the wings to soar from its finally broken restraints. “We gotta go win that llama!”

You didn’t hesitate to take his hand; you didn’t hesitate to seize the moment with him, wherever it led. 

Had you anticipated when stepping into the warm cafe from the chilly Autumn breeze that there would be so many college-aged students sitting around sipping down lattes and munching through muffins, you would have held onto the sunshine yellow gift bag longer and sought Jaemin at school tomorrow. Having stood in line far too long to just walk away without achieving your goal, you waited patiently, trying to repress your mounting anxiety, until Jeno noticed you from behind the register. 

“Y/N!” He smiled and motioned you to the front, deaf to the groans of customers who resented your special treatment. “Jaemin!” He yelled into the kitchen, “It’s time for your break!” After shooting an enthusiastic thumbs up that suspended your nerves, Jeno returned to serving customers. 

“Huh?” Jaemin filled the doorway, brow furrowed and lips pursed as he argued, “I’m not scheduled—” 

He shrieked at the sight of you and, as you laughed, he shedded his chocolate stained cream apron. Combing his fingers through his hair, he said, “Jisung isn’t here, ya know.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “I’m not here for Jisung.”

“Then why—”

At last, Jaemin’s eyes fell on the gift bag, and he presented you with his signature breath-taking smile. “Ah, I see!” He wagged a finger as he crossed the dark tiled floor, linked his arm with yours, and led you out into the golden afternoon. 

Sitting on the bench just outside the cafe and jugging you to his side, Jaemin beamed, “You couldn’t resist seeing me on my birthday!”

You teased, “For once, your delusions are spot on.” Too nervous to hand over the bag, you clutched it and glanced around at the browning treeline. “Is this our thing, Nana? Sitting on benches and holding hands?”

The blush that colored his face whenever you called him by his nickname never failed to tickle your heart. “Yep,” he hummed and laced his fingers (warm) through yours (cold). “I’m not gonna have to let go when I open that present, am I?”

His free hand reached out for the gift, and you couldn’t cling to it any longer. Sucking in a breath, you watched as he yanked out the white tissue paper; you released the breath only when his eyes sparkled while he freed the puny pink plush llama from the bag. 

“Did you win this from the arcade?” His smile, already too big for this dull world, grew with the nod of your head. 

“I can’t take all the credit,” you giggled when Jaemin touched the llama’s muzzle to your face again and again in time with the puckering of his lips to simulate kisses. “The idea was all mine, but Jisung helped me earn the tickets. Obviously, we’re not as good at games as you are—” Jaemin winked at the flattery— “so that’s why the prize isn’t as big as the one you won for me once upon a time.”

Jaemin didn’t seem to think less of the gift because of its size. “Ah, this is the best birthday!” he yelled into the cloudy Autumn sky. He released your hand only so he could hug the llama to his chest. “Thank you so much!”

Your heart softened. “You’re welcome!” Looking into the bag, you added, “I think there’s a card too.” 

You didn’t think; you knew there was a card without having to look into the bag for the thousandth time that day. The card— or, more specifically, the note inside— was what made your nerves tremble. 

Although you wanted some relief from the pounding of your heart, you couldn’t quite keep your eyes from admiring Jaemin’s face as he laughed at the silly googly-eyed puppy on the card’s front. You couldn’t keep your gaze focused instead on the llama lying face up in his lap because you had to watch the lines deepen around his smile when his eyes darted up after studying your handwriting. 

“Ooooh,” Jaemin whistled at having caught you studying him. “You have a crush on me!”

“I—” 

“And you can’t deny it!” He flipped the card, and you were faced with your curly pink letterings. Finally, too embarrassed, you looked away. “Here it is in writing!”

Were Jaemin anyone else in the world, it would have been cruel— the clearing of his throat as he prepared to read your confession aloud. He pressed his cloud-soft palm to yours as he recited, “‘Nana, I never thought you would become my best friend’ — after Jisung, I’m assuming— ‘And I never imagined that someone so bright and beautiful could exist in my life and steal my heart, but you have. You have, and I love you, and I’m ready to tell you.’”

Jaemin looked at you again, this time without any trace of playfulness. This time, he waited for you to catch your breath. 

He was good at waiting for you; he had been from the day you stomped into the cafe. He especially proved his patience over the last few months by giving you all the pleasures of friendship— all the joys of having an adorable boy to text at any hour, to laugh with too loudly at lunch, to sit with on two-person benches until seconds turned into minutes that turned into hours. He didn’t even seem tired of waiting for your romance to start because, really, it had already started. 

But you were tired of waiting to call him yours. 

“It’s not a crush, Jaemin. I’m in love with you.” 

He must not have been surprised; he didn’t gasp, his eyes didn’t widen, he didn’t miss a beat before responding, “I really want to be your boyfriend. I don’t need the title to love you too, obviously, but I want it as soon as you’re ready. Please.” 

You had been ready for a while— for as long as you could remember— but you forced yourself to wait for Jaemin. While Jaemin probably thought that you were testing his devotion, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Contrary to Jisung’s assumption (that you were waiting for certainty of your feelings), you did not once doubt the butterflies that had not stopped fluttering in your belly since you started cuddling with the mint-green llama to fall asleep. 

Maybe nobody else could understand that you were waiting for the wounds inflicted by your ex-boyfriend to heal. You never again wanted to bleed on Jaemin. You were waiting for the day that you could be as bright as the sun too. 

And that day had finally come, so you wasted no time in promising, “Okay, Nana. I’m ready.” 

Perhaps afraid that you would change your mind if asked to repeat yourself, or perhaps sensing your confidence, Jaemin asked for no clarification or justification of your feelings. After pumping a celebratory fist in the hair, he donned a victorious grin that you couldn’t resist capturing in a long-awaited whisper of a kiss. 

BONUS SCENE:

“You’re almost as dangerous in the kitchen as Jisung is,” Jaemin fussed, knocking you away from the oven by colliding into the side of your hip with his own. He made a spectacle of pulling canary yellow oven mitts over his hands. “These keep you from getting burned by 350° cookie sheets, silly!” You rolled your eyes at the reprimand while Jaemin pulled the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and gingerly set them on the counter. “Yeah, yeah,” you huffed, accustomed to his eagerness to show you up anywhere and everywhere— especially in the kitchen, where years of experience at the cafe gave him a clear advantage. 

After turning the oven off and closing its door, Jaemin pointed and giggled at your pout. “Aw, don’t be sulky, baby!” He dropped the shedded oven mitts into their drawer. Crossing the distance between you in two steps, he pressed his palms flat on the countertop at either of your sides. He lowered his face to level with yours. “You’re kinda cute when you pout, though.” 

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as Jaemin’s breath ghosted your lips. It wasn’t fair that you were always the breathless one. Quickly, before he could act first, you stretched to match your lips to his. 

His chocolate-flavored gasp was a short-lived reward. Always ready to adapt, always searching for a way to tease you, Jaemin was quick to turn your sweet, playful kiss into something that made your skin burn scarlet and legs turn to jelly. 

“Yah!” Jisung screamed upon entering the kitchen, and you pushed Jaemin away with all of your strength. Jisung never failed to slap a hand over his eyes after catching you deep in a kiss with Jaemin. His discoveries were growing in frequency, and his tolerance was wearing thin, as evidenced by his groan. “No place is safe! Not the cafe— not even during work hours; not Y/N’s car when you two pick me up after school—” 

Jaemin suggested, “You could take the bus—” 

“— not the arcade, definitely not the movie theater after last time, and now not the kitchen! Now, I can’t even walk around my own home without getting jumpscared!”

Jisung so rarely raised his voice, you were stunned silent. Jaemin, meanwhile, encouraged him, “You can walk around. Maybe just knock on doors first,” just to darken your blush. 

“There isn’t a door!” Jaemin pressed his back against a wall and gestured with one hand to the empty archway connecting the living room to the kitchen. “And you’re missing the point!”

“What is the point?” You hoped to make Jisung the target of Jaemin’s teasing, so as soon as Jisung dropped the hand covering his eyes to gawk at you incredulously, you wrapped your arms around Jaemin’s aproned waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I thought you wanted me to like Jaemin.” 

“Not like this!” Jisung’s whine struck a devilish spark in Jaemin’s eyes. Your mission was a success: Jaemin’s eyes fixed on your little brother. 

Frowning, Jaemin leaned into your embrace. “That’s not what you said when you gave me permission to ask Y/N out!”

“I thought she would reject you again!” 

When Jaemin gasped and pretended to faint in your arms, you laughed. “Well, Jisung, will any of my boyfriends meet your standards?”

“I don’t care that you’re dating.” Jisung tore his eyes away from Jaemin’s theatrics to root through the cabinets in search of a snack. The tips of his ears were blistered pink. “It’s just— the PDA—”

“Here.” Jaemin offered him a cookie and winked as he accepted it, “It’s not PDA if we’re not in public.” 

“Not this time,” Jisung grumbled through his mouthful of sugar. “Y/N, when do you think you’ll get tired of kissing Jaemin? I need to know when I can start walking around with my eyes open again.” 

Jaemin climbed onto the granite countertop, poked out his bottom lip, and kicked his sneakered feet like a small child. “Yeah! When are you gonna get tired of me?”

There was only one way to answer. 

“Never, of course!” You cheered before pecking at Jaemin’s now smiling lips.

“Shameless!” Jisung shrieked, running out of the kitchen with a handful of cookies. “Absolutely shameless!” 

You and Jaemin shared in the golden laughter that colored your every day together. 

[sohin-ace]

Jotaro - Nurse

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

This is one of my oldest fics, so it's pretty wonky and uhh not that well written. But don't worry, fics will get better with time.

Enjoy~

"Here you go. Please call me if the pain doesn't fade away, okay?" You said gently as you put a heating pad over some girl's stomach.

"Aah, thank you Y/N-chan~ I wish you were here everytime I'm on my periods." the girl chuckled tiredly and you only smiled back as you tucked her in with a blanket.

"Huh? Ryunosuke, did you get in trouble again?" You turned around upon hearing someone knocking on the door quietly. It was an odd time to get a patient.

"Aah y-yes um... I-I lost my glasses a-and uh... I haha... I fell down the stairs... I c-can't see anything without m-my glasses... I'm- I'm so sorry to bother you!"

Your very shy classmate stuttered and blushed with embarassment while showing you his numerous bruises and the bump on his head.

"Clumsy as usual." You chuckled a bit. "Sit down, I'll take care of you." You walked off to get some material to treat him as he obliged and thanked you profiusely.

"You're good." You removed the blood pressure cuff from a brunette's arm that was brought to you by her classmates one day. "But please watch out your anemia. We can't have you fainting every time you have P.E. classes, alright?"

"Thank you so much! I-I forgot to eat this morning!" the small girl exclaimed bashfully and you went to give her a chocolate bar.

"Really, Nagamine-senpai..." You scolded another day, as you patched up the upperclassman in front of you. "You should stop getting into fights like that!"

"Yeaaaah I know, but I don't care, if that means I get to see your cute face~ Owowowow!" He teased until you put alcohol in his cuts.

"It would hurt less if you didn't pick fights in the first place." You inquired and he pouted with a little blush.

Those were your daily interactions with other students. In high school you applied for the position of nurse's assistant.

It was something that you had planned for years, as you always knew you wanted to become a doctor someday, and you worked very hard everyday to accomplish this dream of yours.

When the nurse wasn't there, you were assigned the task of helping students as long as nothing major happened. You also had to assist her whenever she needed, and took care of files and other boring administrative papers. Which you didn't mind at all as it was also part of the job.

You would often see familiar faces, and sometimes meet with new students. The overall interactions went well with everyone and people seemed to be happy to have someone their age in the nurse's office.

Especially if they needed to talk about more or less sensitive or personnal things that they weren't comfortable speaking about with an adult.

Among the many faces you would see all too often was the one and only Jotaro Kujo, which was nice since you really liked the stone cold boy. But at the same time, it was worrying since you never want to see someone in a place like the nurse's office on a regular basis.

Jotaro on the other hand, also appreciated your company a lot, even if he never showed it. He liked that calm demeanor you had, your presence was very soothing to him.

To his and your dismay, the nurse's office was the only place where he could see you, since you weren't in the same class and had very different schedules.

Whenever he had to visit the office he found himself secretely hoping he would find you instead of the actual school nurse.

What Jotaro loved about you, even though he would never admit it, is how willing you were to help others selflessly, and how you treated everyone the same way regardless of who they were or why they were in the office in the first place.

It didn't matter if the person was clumsy, or faked it, if they were a bully or the one bullied, you would accept everyone and treat them with the same kindness and speak to them with the same amount of honey in your voice.

You were a naturally charming person who loved her job, and it showed through your work and your behavior towards others.

Everyone who ever visited the nurse's office and saw you could confirm that statement.

The first time Jotaro saw you, he sighed and grumbled, thinking you would start freaking out and screaming at the sight of all the blood on his hands. That you'd be scared of him, thinking he was a violent monster or something.

But nothing of the sort happened. It was quite the opposite in fact, which left the boy feeling very distraught.

One day, as you were sorting out some files, you felt a strong presence silently enter the office. You let the files down to check out who came and it was none other than your secret favourite patient.

"Jojo!" You called out to the boy, already knowing he would be the highlight of your day. "What's wrong?"

He stood there in silence, as he usually does and you took it upon yourself to grab his huge hands gently to guide him towards one of the beds. He let you do as you pleased, as it was custom for both of you by now.

He dismissed this as him being overly leisurely and lazy, but in reality he couldn't deny that he loved the feeling of your soft hands over his own and how cute you looked dragging his towering form around.

You sat him down in the vacant room, and stood in front of him as he looked down blankly at nothing in particular.

You ever-so-gently cupped the side of his face and lifted it carefully, looking softly into his blue eyes. You feathered your hand over his tan skin and checked out for answers in his eyes more than for injuries.

The sharpness in his ocean orbs showed nonchalance and strength, but you knew, you figured he hid a lot of burden and pain. You could just see the melancholy of a silent misunderstood crusader in those eyes.

"Did someone pick a fight with you again? The nerve of some people..." You huffed, your voice dripping with empathy and concern.

You had never put the blame on him. Others would call him violent, a delinquent, or say that he asked for it. But for you, Jotaro was never the problem.

In your eyes, it was always the others who would pick at him, and you can't blame a man for defending himself. You were sure that Jotaro had a kind heart and would never hurt someone first just for the sake of it.

The tall male subconsciously leaned into your touch, your soothing voice and manners melting his heart. But upon realizing that, he removed your hand from him and looked to the side.

As he did, you noticed the rashes and blood on his hands and focused on the task at hand. You knew the guy didn't like to talk much, neither was he very touchy, which was completely fine with you.

You quickly went to take your first aid kit to treat his wounds which, thankfully, he didn't have much of. It seemed like he most definitely came mainly to be with you rather than get treated.

You walked back and forth to get everything you needed, your delicious scent dancing and lingering in the air right next to him.

The male found himself being intoxicated by it. Gosh, even your scent was comforting. He sighed at his own thoughts as you finally came back.

"Give me your hand. This is going to sting a little bit. Squeeze my hand if it hurts too much." you sweetly warned as he put his calloused hand over yours and you started treating his scorched knuckles.

"Yare yare daze... Stop treating me like a child."

You glanced slyly at his grumpy face and giggled softly. "I'll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one. Please stop fighting others, even if they started it."

You spoke while rubbing some alcohol on the scrapes and you felt his fingers twitch and curl the slightest bit against yours.

"Why does it matter? It's my damn business, not yours." He spoke with an irritated undertone, like it was obvious science.

You paused what you were doing and he rose a questioning eyebrow at you. Your usual soft expression turned grave before you quietly uttered.

"... I'm worried about you..."

Jotaro sensed the genuine sadness and concern in your airy voice and he spontaneously acted upon a feeling that even he couldn't quite understand.

He grabbed and squeezed both your hands, caging them in his much bigger ones and preventing you from putting any bandages over his now clean knuckles.

"Huh?" Your eyes widened in surprise. "Did I hurt you? I'm sor-"

"Try to get away." He cut you off and you stood there, frozen. How unlikely of him, what was going on?

"Excuse me?"

"Your hands. Try and break free." He bluntly commanded, unbudging.

Now you were just confused. You could never know what was going on inside that head of his, but all this was just so weird and so unusual all of a sudden.

You played along and did as he told you, but in vain. You pulled once, but he didn't budge one bit. You tried again with more force, same results.

You desperately tried to pry your hands off of his steely grip harder and harder, but failed everytime.

"I-I can't, you're too strong!" You said breathlessly, giving up. "What game are you pulling on now Joj-"

"If you think I'm strong, then stop worrying about me." He cut you off again, almost scolding you.

You were baffled for a moment, but soon, your expression shifted from shocked and surprised to endeared.

Ah, yes. It was yet another one of those weird gestures of kindness that were so iconic of him. Just his overly tough way of reassuring you. You understood. It was sweet if anything.

As you were about to comment on the delightful warmth of his hands he beat you to it, as if he read your mind.

"Your hands are cold." He then very slowly released your hands, keeping them warm just a little bit longer before he completely let you go. "Worry about yourself before you worry about others, you stupid nurse."

Your heart was melting at his words. Even though they were aggressively blunt, they were laced with sincerity and you could only be grateful to him.

You put the bandage roll away on the side table and, without even thinking, acting completely on impulse, you leaned in closer to the male.

Before he could register what was happening, you brought one hand to his face in a ghostly light hold, as if you were scared to break him even further than he already was, and kissed his cheek very tenderly, lingering into the slow kiss.

He could hardly keep his eyes open at the quite pleasurable ministrations and embraced your gentle touch. Barely even separating from him, you breathed in the shell of his ear.

"You're so kind Jotaro. Thank you."

He shuddered, his breath becoming shallow and his heart pounding hard in his chest. He tried his best to look unfazed, but his deepening blush betrayed him.

Your honey sweet voice was sending him on edge, the feeling of your soft hair tingling his face, your sugary scent engulfing his entire being, your hot breath against his skin sending shivers down his spine, all of it was heavenly to him.

Overwhelmed by all these intense feelings, he quickly stood up and got ready to leave, startling you in the process.

Picking back up the unused bandage roll you called him out. "Wait! I'm not done!"

"I am." He turned on his heels and left the office, flustered and bothered.

He didn't want to leave so soon, mind you. But he knew that if he stayed any longer, he would do something reckless to you, and he'd rather not risk it. Or at least not yet.

Good thing he knew how to keep his hands to himself. Believe it or not, but Jotaro Kujo was a man of self-control.

You stood there blushing madly while cleaning the little mess you made while healing him, but couldn't think straight. You were smiling and giggling to yourself like a little girl at how bold you just acted and how cute his reaction was.

"Aah... I fell in love with him again..."

That was inspired by another fanfiction where Y/N is the nurse assistant. I loved the idea, but sadly it wasn't exploited enough. Credit to @peachbois for the concept.

[faerune]

L E O N + cassie OR J O H N + vera .... whoever you’re feeling atm 🖤

por que no los dos!!! 💗✨

Cassie

L: Lemons 1. what is their favorite fruit? Twizzlers! lmao no uh probably apples? 2. what is their least favorite fruit? Pomegranates. 3. are there any foods they hate? Yeah! She’s not a big fan of spicy food she’s more of a hearty and carb-filled comfort food person. Like she’d rather have fried chicken than chicken wings. 4. do they have any food intolerances? Nope! 5. what is their favorite food? Some good homemade chicken noodle soup!

E: External Personality 1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality? Sort of? She’s a pretty blunt person and if she doesn’t like something/you she’ll let you know but in terms of her own feelings and how soft and emotional/empathetic she is she keeps that locked down. But put her in a room with her dad, sisters and nieces/nephews you can see how much that comes out and she lights up. 2. do they do things that conform to the norm? No, not very much lmao. She’s got a little rap sheet of trespassing/loitering/illegal gathering/etc she’s done to Get The Scoop and she’s very distrustful of almost all authority figures. Also, she’s very outspoken about the things she believes in! 3. do they follow trends or do their own thing? No way, Cassie does her own thing. She’d hate it if someone said she was following the crowd. 4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads? dkglsdkg yeah she’s on twitter pretty frequently as well as instagram. Doesn’t mean she follows them but she is...meme fluent. 5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own? Cassie likes to be perceived in a certain way but it’s more so for herself not other people so she usually just doesn’t give a fuck about what other people think after that and they can figure it out themselves.

O: Optimism 1. are they optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic about most stuff but Cassie also has like this really nice inherent belief that most human beings are good. 2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others? No not at all, she advises against just blindly trusting people/situations actually. 3. are they good at giving advice? She’s a little too....blunt when giving advice. Cassie doesn’t sugar coat things which is a bit of a problem if that’s what the person doesn’t want/needs in that moment. 4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them? Yes! A lot of her friends and Leon (at least starting out) are far more optimistic about things. 5. were they always optimistic? Nah, she’s always been pretty pessimistic.

N: Never Have I Ever 1. what would they never do? Betray her beliefs! Even if someone she loves asked her to. 2. what have they never done that they want to do? Travel more in a nonwork capacity! Can’t really see the sites and experience different lifestyles if she’s...in the middle of a warzone. 3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do? In a more serious way, Cassie has seen so much of what human beings can inflict on each other that it never really shocks her at this point. In a more light-hearted way, she can’t believe people eat eggs with ketchup. 4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done? Cassie doesn’t get embarrassed too easily in her adult life but she definitely was a bit dorky in middle school/highschool so probably something that we’ve all done like said smth goofy to her crush or whatever. 5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do? Yes, constantly. Ever since Racoon City, it’s kind of pushed her to a place she would never have imagined she’d be in. What matters to her is that she still holds to her morals even when shooting zombies in the face. She just kind of had to adjust her morals a little bit to face that.

Vera

J: Joy 1. what makes them happy? Money, motorcycles, food (especially loaded ramen babey), clothes, custom pistols, winning. 2. who makes them happy? Johnny, the Aldecaldos, all of her friends back in Night City and those who have left too like Judy. 3. are there any songs that bring them joy? Besides roasting all of the Samurai songs in front of Johnny? Savage by Megan thee Stallion is definitely a jam of hers. 4. are they happy often? Prior to the ending of the game, yes but fleetingly? She always wanted more and more and more. After the end game, she heals slowly and learns how to be truly happy. 5. what brings them the most joy in the world? Johnny and her other loved ones...corny ass...😒🥰

O: Optimism 1. are they optimistic or pessimistic? Definitely optimistic! That bites her in the ass when she gets shot in the face and left in the dump so uh...THAT definitely makes her a little more pessimistic. 2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others? Lmao definitely. Her and Jackie together always getting drunk and talking up about how they’re going to make it with everybody. :( 3. are they good at giving advice? Vera’s advice a lot of the time is “kill him” or “dump him” so...you decide. 4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them? Not throws optimism at her but more so helps Vera see that she’s worth more than dying young and being a fleeting memory in a fast city. Like Viktor, Misty, River, Panam... 5. were they always optimistic? Honestly, Vera became an optimistic in her early years almost to cope with the sad reality of her upbringing? She saw so much bad shit going around and was like but I’m going to make it. My life is not going to be this way.

H: Heat 1. do they rather a hot or cold room? Hot! Loves to be warm and wandering around in shorts and a tank top. It drives Johnny nuts because he prefers being colder and hates the heat (probably because he wears so much fucking leather...dumbass). 2. do they prefer summer or winter? Summer! Fond memories of breaking open fire hydrants as a kid. Eating dollar ice pops from the ice cream truck and sitting on the curb chucking rocks at cars going by. 3. do they like the snow? No way lmao. Vera doesn’t know how to cope with snow she’s like what the fuck is this. 4. do they have a favorite summer activity? Laying out and getting a tan! 5. do they have a favorite winter activity? Staying inside and ~staying warm~ with Johnny.

N: Never Have I Ever 1. what would they never do? Betray her friends or the people she came up with/her community. 2. what have they never done that they want to do? Travel! She went to Atlanta obviously but it just...ended up being more of the same shit as Night City. She wants to experience different things and different people and just get away from that shit. 3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do? Pledge their souls to corporations! Vera says fuck Corpos with her whole chest while completely ignoring it might be someone’s only choice. Vera is kind of a mind like if she dies some nameless nobody at least she never “sold out”. 4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done? slkdggkj definitely something while she’s drunk and partying and doesn’t remember. There are some people whose parties she crashed that absolutely hate her and she’s like...I don’t wanna know what happened. 5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do? Left Night City!

[spnsmile]

[Hello! I understand this can be upsetting to some so tags are on: RPF, ENGINE FAILURE, ANGST, EMOTIONALLY HURT/ COMFORT/ FLUFF] work of fiction BUT FLUFF/ KISSES

Response to @cocklesdestielfiction​ prompt BOTTLE (Cockles, a 5K story)

“The right engine exploded… like… BOOM!”

— Richard Speight Jr. (VegasCon 2020)

********

“Where’s Misha?”  says Jensen above the steady hum of the plane’s engine blending with sounds of shuffling bags, pitter-patters, and clinking glasses but Misha can always hear him perfect pitch or not.

“Here.” he heaved himself from the end of the aisle after unloading his personal bag with the other smaller luggage. He can hear Cliff talking to the attendant by the coach but he’s just too tired to say hello. 

“Hey, Cliff.” 

Misha’s eyebrows rake up and unfortunately for him that’s all he can muster with his limp. There’s a blunt grunt from the security papa bear.

“Nappy time for you, Misha. You look shit.”

“Thanks.” he grimaces. After ten hours on set (and that’s without Jared), he’s just too exhausted. Stalking to the cabin seats, Misha joined the others with bleary eyes.

He catches glinting green whose cherry lips begin to form into a wild smile. There has to be some rule about instant rejuvenation just from receiving that dose from such a nice face.

Richard beats them both in whatever shit they were about to say.

“Service is slowing, Misha. Your customer’s been addressing his complaints to the not-so-proper authorities.”Misha sniggers.

 “Who’s proper here, do tell.”

“Jensen’s not being proper at adulting.” Alex supplies staring out at the green primo uomo Misha’s been ignoring. The whine comes. It’s like a sweet tickle on his ears. Petulant and cheeky growly voice—signs Misha learned—since his first day—never to encourage.

“Misha! Mish! One more call you’re gonna deliver a bar.” 

He turns.

“Been callin you out.” 

“You do that to spite me, fucker.” Misha drawls, walking to Jensen and holding out another bottled water that has to be his 8th. “Here. Don’t believe the media when they tell you the world will never run out of water. Maison says the water sprites will invoke the right to strike just on principle.”

“Sweet faerie. But I believe you. You just hoarded eight hundred Aquafina.” 

“And who’s fault is that?”

If Jensen wasn’t giggling so dorkily at him, he would have snatched the bottle and cursed him for the reminder. But Misha couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of lips. Even Rich and Alex hark laughter at the meaning.

Cause Misha Collins just had a truck of bottled water delivered on set that’s still causing stomach hurts from the cast. Recently, Jensen had taken up the habit of ‘mentioning Misha ’on set as a result of that one interview involving some intense heart eyes and delivery of drinks caught on camera. Nothing to deny there, relationships over ten years tend to turn if not bitter-sweet memories, then the opposite tooth-rotting.

This takes the cake. Everyone began doing the same.

Of course, Misha— pleased by the attention and a new game to distract himself from the already distracting Jensen, returned all summons. Misha who was never one to do things halfway and pledged on delivering all sorts of drinks every Jensen pings his name—except apple juice, jesus. 

But it’s one of those feats that usually get out of control in Supernatural so by the end of the first week, everyone’s just going ‘Misha.’ He liked that a lot. Also, like the truckload of bottled water delivered on set much to their amusement.

When Vicky saw the number on their credit card receipt, she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Oh, but he wanted to tell her anyway.

All fun aside, Misha’s particularly grumpy now for another reason. Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained after pouring everything on that last take, he’s now headed to Vegascon with this little group. It was nice Jared arranged his private plane to take them. The pretty convenient thing when a pandemic is out there.

Jensen looks tired too, dark lines under the eyes, lips dry— thus the water bottle Misha’s been carrying around— but how the fuck he managed to radiate with teenage energy even when it’s already late will forever evade Misha who wants to snuggle beside him but instead just looks him straight in the eyes.

“Fuck you,” he mouths, backing to his empty chair.

“Do it.” Jensen teases him and Misha will not appreciate that radiance of beauty pulling him in.

“Can’t, there’s our kid here. Don’t wanna make it awkward.”

Alex shakes his head. “Nope. I think I’ve seen the worst of it.”

“That’s what you think.” Misha chuckles.

“Buckle up, Mishano, signals on.” Richard turns his back from the window facing Jensen with red-light flashing above their heads. “Let’s save the Cockles once we’re in Vegas, kay guys? Innocent guy trying to avoid diabetes so save the Cockles.”

“Save the Cockles.” Alex fumbles inside his jacket to fix his earphones. 

Misha and Jensen roll eyes at each other and Misha returns to his spot. Jensen is directly on his line of sight so it’s quite easy to check out on him, maybe snap adorable photos and stack it on his 100 terabyte collection he can post someday when he’s 90.

Taking his phone out after securing his belt, he hears the pilot give instructions as the plane begins to move. Soon, he’s immersing himself with replies on tweets and messages on his number using his extra handphone. Zoning out wasn’t difficult, especially when trying to block out the funny feeling of the engine preparing to take off. They’re all used to it by now.

A few minutes later, they all feel the usual sensation of slowing down bodily before the plane thrusts forward— Misha closes his eyes,  hands clasping his chair until they feel the plane level after the accent.  When he opens his eyes, he hears everyone including him take a deep breath. There are exchanges of words but he is already glued to his phone answering messages sleepily. He’s so tired he can sleep forever. His eyes begin to droop and he sighs in content, finally able to rest even for just minutes.

Till there’s a gentle nudge on his leg. 

He ignores it.

Another kick. 

No.

“Mish.” Kick again.

Misha grimaces. Such long reach for bowlegs…

“Misha, I swear—”

“Social distance, Jen?” he opens his eyes, obviously grumpy.

“A truckload of beer from Poland sounds nice, I’d prefer that.” Jensen wags the water bottle with mischievous dimples showing off on the corner of his cheek. Misha frowns and shuts his eyes again. Good god for distractions. Good god for soft manly middlemen with so much energy…

“Mish…”

Ignore him.

“Mish!”

Imagine if Jared’s around…

“Hey, Misha, Poland beer really—”

Misha’s eyes flutter open.

“No, honey, I will not argue with you about Polish ‘Alkohole,’ it’s not even articulated the same.” Misha throws a grumpy look over notorious green-eyed lynx whose chuckling over his misery, “You’re gonna fuck with me again and I’ll have another story in my head I am unable to tell a soul as its rightfully not for children, sorry, Alex.” 

Ball on Alex’ court, he blinks from Jensen to Misha quietly then shakes his head.

“I am legally an adult.” He obviously could hear them from his pods. Misha raises a finger.

“Correction, the show says you’re 3. All fanfiction does.”

“I’m married.” Alex injects in amusement.

“Fanfiction says Misha and I are married.” comes from Rich’s corner. 

At this Misha sits up, preparing his list of things why Misha-will-never-be-married-to-Richard-Speight-Who-Got-a-Rob impromptu—

“I’m married.” Alex retorts but Richard and Misha are bickering over the type of marriage to hear him.

“You both can say whatever the hell you want, Cockles will top.” 

Sometimes Jensen just can’t bridle it. Sending Misha his heart eyes flirtatiously, he stops the argument with a wink. Misha giggles with all tiredness gone, replying to Alex about marriage while Rich says something about Jibcon to Jensen when things begin to go wrong.

Misha did not see it happen. He was busy looking over Jensen, admiring the bravado and confidence about the newly found comfort over their relationship (and their characters) when a loud bang from his right splits the air, followed by crashing sounds of that thing that Misha dreads, one of the worst sounds he never wants to hear in his life.

 But that’s only just the beginning.

The first explosion rocked the plane violently forward, then topples without warning to their right. It throws them off with seatbelts tightening—making them grab around the seats, stomach in their throat as they keep their steady hold. 

Misha looks outside to the cloud of smoke and crashing debris, his mind tuning only to the present and hears himself as well as Jensen and Richard cursing with jesuschrists. Misha doesn’t know. He was never a steadfast believer but for this one, he’s already calling out god. 

The show’s influence is deeper than he thought. He thinks of all the near-death experiences he’s had but it’s nothing compared to this one. For one, he can only look at Jensen and the feeling sinks in the hollowness of his guts.

This is worse, much worse than the drop tower ride or any gyro drop his children always admired him for riding. No. Here the safety belts that kicked in didn't secure anything from the loud crashing sounds that pierced their ears, the shrill sound of the engine roaring like as it beat fragments unto the air leaving maybe nothing of its parts. How many engines are exploding?

Misha doesn’t close his eyes. He tries to deny the possibility that this is where him, Jensen—  Alex, god Alex just got married! He’s so much more ahead of his life— and Rich just might finally find their end. An irony of life where the show that’s keeping their lives together now also on the way to its end. A kind of twist in reality that’s been shown by many, if not more famous names ahead of himself but Misha tries not to think about them. He tries not to think about the same profession that killed them. He can’t afford it, oh god his children…

He realized he didn’t even kiss West goodbye the morning he left. How he left the unkempt dish on the sink in a hurry. How he didn’t check Maison’s daily log of mischief she does while he’s away.

Now he may not return.

He closes his eyes as the plane shudders violently again. Please...

He calls Castiel’s name too, the back of his mind telling him they're dying. A more humorous, sadistic side of himself adding Dean is here, and that angel of Thursday isn’t going to let his husband die.  They shouldn’t. He and Castiel shouldn’t.

But he’s no Castiel. He’s only Misha.

If anyone asked him how he felt when the plane steadies itself as the pilots pull for control, Misha is not sure anyone would believe him. For the briefest second, he feels this tug at the back of his mind telling him it will be alright and the remarkable part is, Misha believed it. Fucking believe the whisper.

That’s when everything settles down.

Misha quickly looks around at Jense, Rich, and Alex. All of them are pale and he knows he doesn’t look any better. He wants to throw up but the uncertainty of the flight kept him guarded, his grip on the armchair not loosening.

“You guys alright?” Jensen’s voice much deeper than Misha remembers barely managed a nod.

Alex is looking at the floor with concentration where laptops, neck pillows, cups, and stuff are all scattered on the ground. Richard looks as if he’s going to throw up the way he’s holding his stomach. Jensen is staring outside the right window while Misha tells himself to breathe.

“Are you alright?” comes Cliff’s low voice from behind Misha sounding obviously shaken too but still steady. Misha didn’t have time to collect himself. Not that he’s stupid, his body just doesn’t get it, but he quickly pulls his phone and begins texting Vicky and the children.

“What the hell happened?” Richard turns his head over the cockpit when the rumbling dies down.

“Right engine exploded.”  Jensen is already unbuckling himself from his chair and casting everyone a look. “You all good? Mish? Cliff?” He doesn’t wait for answers. He shoots off to the cockpit and stops just by the door looking uncertain. 

“Hey, uh… do we have a situation?” Nobody spoke while he was gone so it's easy to hear the response of the pilots ahead.

“We most certainly do. Get in your seat. Put on your seat belt. We’re doing emergency procedures.”

Calm. Collected. Professional. That’s all Misha had to hear. It doesn’t seem like he’s alone. Everyone else breathes in relief as they all watch Jensen amble back to his seat, nodding. 

“Okay, you certainly have my attention, sir.” 

He buckles up and lifts his chin. The look on their faces must’ve triggered Jensen to clap his hands together. “Hey, buckle up! Cliff, sit down. Rich, breathe, kay? It’s gonna be fine. It’s only one engine, guys, c’mon. This thing flies on three! You think Jared had anyone else to listen to about private jet education? We’re gonna be fine.”

Then like heaven-sent, the pilot begins giving them reports of the situation from the paging in a very clear and commanding voice.  He tells them the right engine exploded which requires them to make a trip back to the nearest airport in Vancouver. That’s all he gives and a promise of an update as he wished everybody to stay calm and follow the protocol for emergency procedures.

“Hear that?” Jensen clears his throat, his hands clasping. Misha receives the full impact of the meaningful green eyes. The plane steadies itself with hum in the air. A full minute pass and the airplane did not drop.

“Fuck.”

Misha forces himself to relax as he drops his head back on his chair.  He can’t feel his body. His hands are still trembling when he smacks it on his cold face. “Fuck!” He can’t seem to say anything other than that.

“Fuck, indeed.” Richard agrees, grabbing his phone, “Good thing I got my pods on, that sound coulda destroyed my ears.” he begins typing on his phone immediately. Alex begins a speed typing contest while Misha receives Vicky's reply after his first message.

‘Kids are mine, right?’

‘Because I cannot make them alone. What’s wrong?’- V

Misha goes on about the engine and the exchange of mail becomes rampant. When about twenty minutes pass with a few throws of questions around, Misha looks up when he hears the blubbing sound of whiskey. Jensen is pouring 

“I’m gonna be drinking that scotch when I get back home,” he’s saying as he hands the glasses each to Richard, Alex and finally to Misha who shakes his head, putting the glass on the holder. Jensen takes the armchair beside him to which Misha is glad, especially when Jensen wounds his arm around his shoulder.

“We’re fine, Mish, stop shaking.” Jensen drops the side of his cheeks on Misha’s raven hair.

“I’m not,” Misha says shakily, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s torso and just pulling him into a tight hug. “Fuck!”

Continue reading: AO3

[xathia-89]

Long Lost Sibling - Ieyasu

“You’ll think it’s not been long at all since you’ve seen me,” Ieyasu grinned at his teary little sister, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “And you’ll go back to complaining that I won’t let you do anything.”

The little girl smiled and hugged him tightly. “Stay safe,” she quietly told him.

“Only if you do,” he chuckled, patting her head.

I woke up with a start to my alarm blaring across the room as I hit it hard. I was having the same dream over and over again recently as I went to get my teeth brushed and my hair under a beanie swiftly. I spent most of my life dealing with fluffy hair, it was the best way to deal with it was a beanie hat shoved on the head, and then I’d cover everything with the industrial hair net anyway as I heard my parents yelling at some of the staff that had already started in the bakery. I was adopted from a young age by a couple who couldn’t have their own, I was supposedly found by them near the shop without anything but a name and a necklace that I now wore as a bracelet. I nearly tripped down the stairs in an effort to get going on with the bread for the day before I could start work on my sweet pastries and the cake masterpieces that attracted the attention for our signature dishes.

“Natsuki!” My dad yelled after the morning rush was done with, and called me into the office. I frowned since he rarely did anything like that with anyone except to reprimand them, but swiftly went into the small room, and closed the door as he gestured. “I need you to take some time to do some research for me,” he patiently explained. “We’re expanding the bakery again, and I’d like you to manage the new shop,” he offered, looking at me hopefully. “I want you to scout out Kyoto for me and pick it all yourself. Manage it completely, and I will give you the financial backing of an already established store,” he smiled.

I practically bounced back out of the office. It didn’t help my focus as I had to make a leaving cake to order that afternoon, luckily it was just the finishing touches that I was always allowed to put my noise-cancelling headphones on for since they would require the most focus. Something I needed calming classical music for, and not the manufacturing sounds of a working bakery.

The old style of sweet buns were my latest project. The older generation lapped them up, and we couldn’t make them fast enough for them, but it wasn’t appealing to the younger crowd that would come in as I leant on the counter waiting for the collection to arrive. I was thinking about the trends in order, and how it was usually fairly predictable based on the customer’s appearance what they’d be after.

A businessman in a suit would want a coffee to go naturally, and occasionally take a sweet treat to keep him going. A mother with her kids would go for the cakes, while the coffee morning meetings would order a variety of the sweet buns and the fancy coffee settings on the machine. Teenagers would go for what they thought made them look older and ‘sophisticated’, especially when they weren’t on their own. Young adults would want the freshly baked bread, and never even glance at the displays. While the older generations would admire everything while coming in for their daily orders and would be the easiest to twist into adding onto their orders. And if they didn’t fit into those categories, then they wanted a cake doing for a special occasion as the office manager came in for her order. She gave me a snotty look since it matched her exact specifications and had to hand over the entire amount.

We all took a moment to have a breather as we closed the shop. Most of the staff had already finished by mid-afternoon, so when we did close up at three, it was usually those of us who lived over the shop. The equipment was cleaned over on a daily basis as the pace dropped to something much more relaxed, and we put the music on to dance about while doing the definite boring parts of our job.

I had my own box room above the shop, it was the only way to get your own space, anything bigger than my room was a shared one. There were about five of us currently, not including my parents, who lived there and another two spare rooms for up to four more. I sat on my bed, thinking over what I’d been told earlier in the day as I took off my beanie and stared at my appearance in the mirror. I kept having the reoccurring dreams where I was having the same conversation about seeing my brother again, and I’d never seen the boy before in my life. Everything felt like I was going to get answers in Kyoto, and I had no idea why.

I was five hundred years in the past, and I’d just been made a Princess of the Oda for saving Nobunaga from the fire. It had been a few days since I’d been appointed, and I was told I was free to spend my time doing as I liked. I kept going to the kitchens, but I found out I wasn’t much use there since cooking wasn’t really something I was proven at. I ended up leaving the castle behind after a lot of frustration between the staff and me and wandered up to a small bakery.

“You should try one of these!” The owner beamed, thrusting a roll at me.

I was hesitant in taking a bite, and I could see why he wasn’t selling a lot. I ended up persuading him to take me on and that he wasn’t going to open tomorrow, because I’d prove my worth to him in the early morning.

“You’ve been adding the ingredients in the wrong order, it’s upsetting the whole process,” I told the man, showing him how I worked. He wasn’t impressed with my attitude, but my persistence and ability to be blunt got me quite far in many things. “You need to treat it like you would a child. You wouldn’t give them hard foods before giving them liquids and expect them to know how to eat properly,” I stated.

It was a few hours of bickering between us before my first batch was done.

His expression told me everything.

Nobunaga hadn’t got a care in the world as to where I went or what I got up to. Hideyoshi however, was frequently ready to scold me for lowering myself to work in such an awful place, until I told him to come by one morning and see what I’d managed to do with it. He was suitably impressed and conceded that I’d actually done the baker a favour, and then told me not to eat too many of my sweet buns because it wouldn’t do my teeth any favours. I began to get some regulars attending, and then one man turned up with a slightly mouthy merchant I recognised from the market.

“Yuki, isn’t it?” I smiled, “Come for your usual?” I asked.

“No, my boss wanted to see what all the fuss was,” he grumbled, looking away as I offered the man a sweet bun.

His boss looked like he’d fallen in love with my baking. I’d seen the expression a few times over, as Yuki realised I’d already fed his boss something sweet and was already torn between who to tell off first before I gave him a savoury dough that he favoured to stop him talking.

It wasn’t long before Yuki disappeared back to the market, and his boss approached once I was alone. He was a charmer, I could tell that much by the way he carried himself, and that he was stupidly good looking was a hand to his cause I imagined.

“So where did this angel fall from the sky?” He opened, offering me a charming smile.

“I was just in the area,” I shrugged, determined to be vague. “Do you have a name or do I just call you Yuki’s boss?” I asked.

“Shingen,” he replied with a dazzling grin.

“Natsuki,” I returned. “Though I think Yuki has just taken to yelling Suki at me when I sneak him in some extra buns when he looks rough,” I shrugged.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that kind of hat on your head before,” he gestured to my beanie, which was still hiding my fluffy hair under it.

“It was a present, probably from far away. It keeps my hair out of my face when I’m baking, so does the job,” I answered. “Now, can I interest you in some things, or are you just going to keep blocking the shop?” I bristled at him, indicating to the line starting to form.

Shingen was starting to become a regular. He would frequently be alone rather than with Yuki, and he was refusing to cease on the charm. I wasn’t sure if I was just wearing down to the charm, or starting to warm up to the man as I found myself looking forward to the next round of teasing between us both. He would always order the red bean paste sweet buns, and then found a new way of teasing me even more.

“A date?” I repeated back to the man as I was frozen in handing over the buns. All of the immediate vicinity was now listening on with avid fascination.

“Yes,” Shingen humoured. “Nothing overly fancy, but I’d like to get to know you more without a display of baked treats between us,” he chuckled.

“She’s off shortly,” the baker cheerfully announced, and I flushed bright red. “You’ve never had any interest in anyone else,” he muttered and gave me an overly dramatic wink. “She’s just going to get changed,” he beamed as I was then promptly ushered to the back.

I was glaring at the baker who was cheerfully waving me off, along with all of the regulars we’d accumulated on a quick basis. I was confident that he’d keep the demands for the sweet buns satisfied at least as I was ushered away in the kimonos that I wore as Princess rather than the baker. I was feeling a little flustered since the beanie looked so out of place, but I daren’t remove it. My longer locks of hair were weighed down to stop the fluffy mushroom look that seemed to be in my genes regardless of the products used from the modern era, and I only seemed to have water to help me in my fling back to the past. A lot of the townspeople did a double take to me walking in the streets while the bakery was still open, and with a rather charming man.

Shingen was a perfect gentleman much to my surprise. We got to a tea house, and he ordered tea and dumplings for us both. I’d been told that these dumplings were rivals to my sweet buns, so I had been curious for a while but not able to stop my passions in baking to come and taste them. Shingen gave me a wink, and I found myself suddenly blushing hard and looking away from the man in an attempt to cool down.

“I’m still curious about the hat,” he humoured to me.

“It stays on,” I sulk self-consciously, pulling down on the beanie. I knew it was getting close to needing to be washed, but I wasn’t prepared to go through the teasing from the likes of Masamune and Mitsuhide that would inevitably occur.

“It looks cute when you contemplate murdering someone because you’ve taken it off,” he chuckled, offering me a dumpling.

“Shouldn’t you be with Yuki anyway?” I paused, trying to deflect the conversation away from me.

“He’s elsewhere currently, I specifically came to see you,” Shingen gave me a charming smile. The man was relentless I had to admit as I finally bit into the sweet treat. “Good, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, hating to admit that someone else had the ability to bake well. “You seem to have a bit of a fixation on me,” I commented, desperate to turn the conversation around.

“A gorgeous woman like yourself who clearly isn’t married, I’m surprised there aren’t more men queuing up for dates,” he was like this with most women I could glean.

“I’m sure there’s plenty who don’t come with all my baggage,” I shrugged, reaching for the tea. “Or are much easier to get on dates at the very least,” I smiled, referring to his luck that my boss had practically pushed me over the counter to go on a date with the man.

“Mm, but they aren’t you, and your baking skills have me intrigued,” Shingen charmed.

“I’ve always baked. My dad would want a hand to keep demands supplied, and I’d comply,” I answered simply. “Then I started working on the sweet buns and the likes, and we found out that it worked brilliantly to get more customers in and give us a better life.”

“How did you end up here then?” Shingen was pushing to know more about me as I raised an eyebrow.

“How did you end up a merchant?” I smiled, taking a sip of my drink.

Shingen looked stumped and then shrugged his shoulders casually. “I wanted to get out and see what was happening, so I decided to travel, but I needed a way of funding myself, so I turned to it.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’d be happy to stay in any one place then,” I added thoughtfully, my gaze drifting out over the open doors which showed the bustling marketplace.

“I think I’m getting ready to settle down,” he chuckled. “Depends on finding the right woman I suppose as well,” I felt myself blushing hard as Shingen purposely gave me a charming look.

“I’ve got to get home, we’ve got something tonight I need to get ready for,” I bristled, determined to get out of the situation. Shingen kissed my hand as I passed, making me turn the shade of a tomato as I rushed up to the castle.

Hideyoshi turned the corner and looked surprised to see me. “Natsuki,” he was ready to scold me. “I’ve been looking for you after the baker said that you weren’t there,” he had his big brother tone and look on.

“Sorry, I ended up at the teahouse,” for some reason I felt like I should be hiding who I was with as Hideyoshi levelled with me.

“We’re leaving in a few days, we’re going to war,” he frowned. “And Lord Nobunaga has decreed that you are to accompany us.”

“What? That makes no sense,” I frowned.

“I did argue that, but Lord Nobunaga has made the decision you are coming with us,” Toyotomi sighed. “We need you to prepare the ingredients for keeping morale up,” he muttered.

“I can make a sweet dough that gets baked on fires,” I waved my hand without a thought. “All the soldiers will love it.”

“I’ll leave you to arrange it with Masamune,” the vassal frowned.

It was never in my plans to be on the battlefield, tight and secure in Nobunaga’s arms as the Tiger of Kai and Dragon of Echigo were reportedly out and fighting. I wasn’t expecting for Masamune to come and steal me in time to avoid an attack from a familiar face, as I realised that the warlord currently attacking us, was the same one who insisted that his boss didn’t need to eat too many of my rolls. Yuki wasn’t looking at me, he was busy fighting with Nobunaga as Date laughed and his sword swung in front of me to protect me.

I wasn’t sure who looked more shocked, me or Shingen, to see each other on the battlefield. And Date was sharp enough to use that moment to tear away and drop me off at the camp.

“Go and find Ieyasu, and don’t leave his protection,” he ordered, before bolting back off. I didn’t need telling again as I fled into the camp.

The fluffy blonde was currently monitoring things from the main tent with Mitsunari, much to the former’s disgust. They both looked surprised to see me.

“I was dropped off at the outskirts and told to stay with you,” I shrugged.

“Are they out there?” Ieyasu immediately pressed.

“Who?” I frowned.

“Shingen and Kenshin,” he snorted, as though there wasn’t anyone else he could possibly be talking about.

“I saw Shingen and Yukimura,” I replied, having made the connection that ‘Yuki’ was the vassal of Shingen and actually Yukimura Sanada. “So I’d make the assumption that Kenshin is likely to be fighting.”

It was a long wait, I took to making up some batches of the dough for sweet roll and baking them by a makeshift ‘oven’. It kept me in the centre of the view and gave me a defence as I could always just grab a flaming stick if something snuck up on me.

I was the most popular person in camp as I went around with the warm rolls, and as soon as one soldier had torn into one and found it was sweet dough, I was in danger of being mobbed for the food as Masamune then took to helping me dish it out.

“Kitten,” Date waited until we’d been left alone. “Why did Shingen recognise you?” His voice was neutral, no accusation in it.

“He’s been coming to the bakery I’ve been working at recently, he likes the sweet buns I do,” I shrugged. “I had no idea who he actually was,” I sighed. “It sounds like I’m lying.”

“Nobunaga is probably going to have something to say about it,” he agreed.

“So he was scouting Azuchi?” Nobunaga was frowning.

“Probably. He was more interested in my baking recipes, to be honest,” I explained. “He’d be there most days.”

“The point is, he knows that she’s not just any ordinary person,” Hideyoshi argued. “He’s going to come for her, she’s not trained in any kind of weaponry, and he knows where she works.”

“Ieyasu,” Oda’s voice grabbed the attention of the distant blonde. “You will look after Natsuki in your manor. You are not permitted to leave those grounds until we have established that you aren’t in danger of being kidnapped.”

I had to understand where the order was coming from and nodded silently. I even rode on the back of Ieyasu’s horse to Azuchi. We barely exchanged a few sentences the entire time. I hadn’t got a lot to converse with the man, and he was of a similar disposition off the top of it. I wasn’t one for sitting around and doing nothing as Ieyasu said to do as I please, and I introduced myself to the staff. They rarely had any issues, but I was more than happy to help with doing the cleaning and laundry since I would be nothing more than a hindrance to the cooking staff. Then I spied all the spices and peppers one afternoon and asked the cook.

Turns out that they’d had to buy enough in to cater for us both as we both liked our foods spicy. Something very strange in this era as I thanked the man and got on my way to the laundry area.

“Natsuki,” I was surprised to see Ieyasu glaring at me, and that he was staring at the medallion on my bracelet. “Where did you get that?” He was hostile and snatched my wrist to his jade eyes for a closer inspection. I could feel myself tremble in his grip, and then he was shaking with fear.

“It was the only identifying thing I had on me when I was found. It was originally a necklace,” I was feeling very defensive as I was attempting to wrestle my arm back.

“This is my family’s symbol,” he hotly accused. “And to be blunt, it’s the same item I gave my sister before she disappeared,” he glared.

I remembered that gaze. My dreams were making sense, as Ieyasu’s grip was relaxing at the same time. I was searching his eyes for the answers, tears welling up swiftly.

“I told you that you’d go back to complaining that I wouldn’t let you do anything,” he muttered. I was sobbing loudly, and wrapped myself up tightly in a hug with Ieyasu, attracting the attention of most of the staff in the meantime.

We were awkwardly sat and waiting for the staff to leave as dinner was presented. Ieyasu was surprised to see that I liked my food as spicy as he did, but then gave strict instructions we were to be left alone.

“I never arrived at the grounds I was meant to obviously,” I started nervously, “I ended up five hundred years in the future. There’s something called a ‘wormhole’ it basically transports you through time it seems, and it’s happened to me twice sheerly by chance, and I don’t understand it either,” I lamely explained, poking at the noodles. “I grew up in a bakery. I was happy and swamped,” I smiled.

“It makes things a little easier for me to process,” Ieyasu sighed. “You grew up without the terrors of this place,” he gave me a wary smile. “What’s with the hat?”

I pulled it off and revealed a very similar style of fluffy hair to the male. He smirked as I pulled it back and glared at him.

“You should be more sympathetic,” I grumbled, “You have the same problem,” I argued, and stabbed a piece of meat with my chopsticks.

“Yes, but apparently I don’t need to cover it up,” he smirked.

It wasn’t long before Hideyoshi had arrived in response to the urgent message that Ieyasu had sent. He was looking flustered, as my brother had decided that hiding my hat would give the game away as to what had been discovered and needed discussing.

The vassal was wide-eyed and looking between us like he couldn’t understand who he was looking at.

“So the Natsuki that disappeared years ago is the same one who just happened to turn up at Honno-Ji and save Lord Nobunaga?” He repeated back at us slowly.

“Well, I only gave one of those medallions out,” Ieyasu snorted, showing Hideyoshi the bracelet on my wrist. “And she has been hiding her hair under that hat,” he pointed out.

“That hat saved me from your ridicule,” I sulked, glaring at my brother as I was feeling so relieved that my dreams that had been haunting me for years were a reality. It was the only snatches of memory I had.

A messenger arrived to take me to Nobunaga in private. Something that we had all expected.

Then I was bundled into a box and swiftly carted off through the forests by the sounds of things. I tried pounding on the sides, but nothing was said in response as I yelled until I was hoarse, and I couldn’t find anything to open any gaps. I kept kicking it in frustration to let them know I hadn’t given up.

“I thought I said to be nice to her,” a voice sighed after what felt like a lifetime of hearing nothing, and the hatch was opened from the side to tip me out.

I landed ungracefully and glared at the kidnappers. Then I realised that the voice had sounded familiar because it was.

Shingen offered his hand with a smile. “Apologies, I told them to transport you in comfort, but apparently that went unheeded,” he glared at the men. They didn’t care, as the warlord gave me a glance over. “Come, I’ll get you some a bath and some fresh clothing, and then a feast tonight,” he smiled, keeping hold of my hand as I hesitantly took his offer to get off the floor. His hand was warm and soothing, encasing mine as I was embarrassed to admit I didn’t feel threatened by the man who was technically the enemy.

A lot of the people passing by us looked on with interest, but nothing hostile as they greeted the man amiably. There wasn’t a rush to get to the castle, as I spied Yuki waiting impatiently at the gates.

“He’ll have a lecture ready about limiting the amount of baking you’re allowed to do for me,” Shingen humoured, pausing to kiss the back of my hands and making my cheeks burn bright red.

“Really Lord Shingen,” Yukimura frowned. “I didn’t think you’d go to this length for some sweet buns,” he scolded freely.

“Oh, it wasn’t just the sweet buns,” he chuckled, leading me inside where a room had already been prepared for me on Shingen’s orders it seemed. The staff who passed us would warmly greet us. The reasoning was starting to fly over my head until my hat was snatched from my head by a passing Kenshin. And then my hair instantly fluffed up in the style that resembled my brother’s and made the warlords pause. “I thought Ieyasu’s sister had vanished years ago,” he murmured.

“It’s a long story,” I smiled awkwardly. “We only just found out ourselves,” I admitted.

“Let’s get the lady bathed and ready to talk to us over food,” Shingen said, leaving my hat in Uesugi’s hands.

I was introduced to Sasuke, one of Kenshin’s prized ninjas, who I recognised as being the man I’d met just before falling through the wormhole in the future. He tapped on his nose, as though to say it needed to be our secret. There was definitely an interest in my hair, as the maids were discussing ways of getting it to weigh itself down to stop it being so fluffy. I was feeling embarrassed being at such a centre of attention, but Shingen was looking only at me; it seemed during the feast. Being a princess was a new thing for me, and since I had been given free rein of my time, then I had focused on doing what brought me some comfort and then helping someone to build their business and livelihood for survival.

The aides were watching with me avid interest, especially since I heard the mutterings about either using me as a hostage or bargaining for an alliance. It was hard to understand about how women were viewed with such limited potential in this era, and I was beginning to retreat inside myself when the vast majority of the hall was dismissed after they had all eaten. There was intrigue, but no one dared to question either Shingen or Kenshin’s orders on the matter.

It was merely myself, Yukimura, Sasuke, Kenshin and Shingen now present. Sasuke ensured that the hall was free of anyone looking to eavesdrop and had even left presents for anyone attempting to listen in for leverage.

With the help of the ninja, I explained about the wormholes and that I had somehow ended up going through one when I disappeared as a child. I had ended up five hundred years in the future, and then found a second one that returned me. It sounded too far fetched to believe as I told them, and then I remembered to show the medallion on my bracelet of the Tokugawa clan. I  bit my lip as Shingen merely smiled at me and patted me on the head.

“Sounds like you’ve had a rough few weeks,” he admired.

“I only just found out that I wasn’t dreaming that I had a brother, but it was a memory from just before I disappeared. And then I get kidnapped and end up in enemy territory,” I pointed out. “I would like to go to my room and get some rest,” I said, looking pointedly at Shingen.

He chuckled and offered me an arm as we stood up. He never uttered a word, and only kissed my knuckles as he wished me good night outside my room. I dropped onto my futon as I began to wonder just what sort of mess I had gotten myself into.

I was allowed free reign of the castle and was graced with escorted visits into Echigo. Shingen was always trying to get to know me more, as I was trying to resist what felt like was becoming inevitable. I know that word had been sent to my brother specifically that I was safe, but I was being held at Echigo under Shingen’s care. I wasn’t sure when it had become natural for us to hold hands whenever we went out together, or that we just talked freely between ourselves.

His thumb was stroking my bottom lip as the sun began to set. I was trapped by the enchanting gaze he was giving me, and I felt like I was going to drown in his eyes. We were so close, and I couldn’t remember being in his arms with his feeling before. It was natural gravitation, and I couldn’t get enough of his passion through his kisses. My arms were locked around his neck before we had to part for breath, and I slowly dropped them as my insecurity set in. I wasn’t going to pretend that I’d never heard all of the rumours about all of the beautiful women that Shingen attracted, whereas given how I had grown up largely without the romantic experience.

“Don’t give me that look,” Takeda murmured softly, and then stole another kiss. “It makes it impossible to resist you when you look so vulnerable that I feel I should keep you in my arms.”

I flushed red at the implications of his words, and Shingen chuckled. “We should probably get back before Yuki starts yelling at us again for missing dinner,” I smiled, trying to reassure myself that Shingen wasn’t just trying to play me to mess with Ieyasu.

Shingen didn’t care who saw us together, that much was obvious. He was always holding my hand, and more recently, he had frequently been kissing the back of my hand. He surprised me on the way back, sweeping me up in his arms and giving me a passionate kiss because I looked too tempting to resist from doing so. I was a fetching shade of red by the time we did make it back to Kasugayama where the vassal was waiting impatiently. He was tempted to chastise us, but then something caught him off guard in his lord’s expression, and his eyebrows disappeared into his messy brown locks.

It was a few days later when a message was received that negotiations were requested to take place on neutral grounds, halfway between Echigo and Azuchi. With the strictest addition that I had to be present. Shingen looked amused as he visited my room to let me know, and then requested I accompany him into Echigo.

The townspeople were all in high spirits and were definitely warm in their greetings to me. Nothing had been mentioned as far as I could tell that I was an opposing warlord’s sister, as I had the impression that it would drastically change everything I experienced.

“You look worried,” Shingen brought me out of my thoughts.

“I was just thinking how things would change if they knew who my brother was,” I admitted, dipping my head in embarrassment.

“If anything changes, I will address it,” he soothed, pulling me into his side to reassure me. “We set out tomorrow, and it will get boring,” he laughed, “So I wanted to see you smile,” he charmed, tilting my chin up with his finger, as I failed to resist the suggestion. “Come, we should go and find somewhere quiet to make some sweet buns,” Shingen decided with a grin that set my heart fluttering as we slipped off back to the castle.

Ieyasu couldn’t hide his relief, as I broke the ranks and ran up to him and hugged him tightly. He was reluctant to let me go and was still trying to process that not only was I his sister that he’d found after twenty years, but he was likely going to lose me from under his guard. Shingen chuckled and called my name as a polite request to start the talks.

I gave Ieyasu one last squeeze and slipped back into Takeda’s side. I was sat as a princess on the political explanation for my attendance, as Nobunaga inclined his head in greeting and Hideyoshi was nearly as relieved to see me as my brother from his expression.

“I agreed to the talks, what are the demands?” Shingen was trying to keep his cool being opposite his enemy while ultimately discussing someone he apparently cared for deeply.

“That Natsuki be safely returned to her brother,” Oda stated with a casual shrug.

“And what if she makes the decision to stay here?” He asked, taking his gaze to my brother.

“If you are about to ask what you think,” Ieyasu was gritting his teeth. “Then I will only accept if you can prove that you won’t even think of looking at any other woman,” he glared.

“He hasn’t since Natsuki arrived,” Kenshin snorted, clearly bored that there wasn’t going to be much of a chance of war.

“I would promise it, but it’s a given,” Takeda replied, purposely looking me in the eyes as he lifted my hand to his lips.

“Fine,” Ieyasu glared. “But you refuse me entry at any visit to see Natsuki, and I will wage war,” he warned. “And you will write to me constantly,” he sulked as he directed the last command at me.

“I was hoping for war,” Kenshin shrugged and promptly left the tent, as Shingen wouldn’t let go of my hand, while a blush was threatening to make me blow up with how heated I was feeling.

“Will you two get a room,” Yukimura snapped at us, reminding me and Shingen that we weren’t alone like we usually were. His lord chuckled and put the slightest of distance between us as my brother rolled his eyes overdramatically.

“I need to show my future wife what life will be like here,” Takeda charmed as an excuse, while the meeting was brought to an end.

It only took a few days for word to get around Echigo that Shingen and I were to be shortly wed. The whole place was buzzing with excitement, and one of the maids had even made a concoction that would slicked my hair down from its usual fluff to an actual style without just making it greasy. I had only just moved into Shingen’s room and dropped onto our futon the night before in exhaustion as I’d been running about trying to tie up loose ends. Ieyasu had arrived a few hours beforehand, and would definitely cause a ripple on their appearance tomorrow, but I trusted Shingen’s word as I drifted off.

“Natsuki,” someone was shaking me awake. The maids were already tipping Takeda out of the room as dawn was just breaking. It was going to be a long day of celebration, as Yukimura could be heard leading his lord away.

It started with a bath, and then I was tightened into a beautiful white kimono that had been designed especially for me and this part of the ceremony at least. The concoction was applied to my hair, it was going to be a debut for it as the maid was excited to see how it worked under the stress of the day. She was just as meticulous in the application of my makeup, the presentation of the bride was going to blow everyone’s mind at this rate.

Shingen was stumped and had to be nudged to accept the san san ku as Ieyasu and Yukimura took place as part of our families and sipped at it. We were left alone for a moment, and I was surprised at the amount of passion that had been bundled up into the formal appearance he was keeping. The kiss seared my lips off and took all my breath away before Yuki called for us both to come out for the sake. I was blushing heavily as we came out, and then had to disappear up to our room to change into my uchikake. It was heavily coloured in tones of red with the flowers that could be found in Kai dominating it, the colours of Takeda as I wore a white and red kimono underneath.

The main hall was bustling with Shingen’s and Ieyasu’s aides. There was a slight tension, but it was to be expected given the nature of their loyalties. But I whispered that the sake was to be liberally distributed and it soon eased the atmosphere into a fitting celebration.

“Natsuki,” Shingen nudged me, as I turned from talking to Sasuke, and found that my empty cup was being filled again, and he smiled at me.

“Your smile is lethal,” I quietly told the man, sipping at my cup.

“Only for you,” he charmed, picking up my hand and kissing it. “I was feeling lonely,” he teased.

“You just wanted my attention,” I corrected him.

“I dare say I can ask, given that you are now my wife,” his breath was hot on my ear, and the sake was definitely going to my head after all the stress of the day was quickly vacating. “Our room will be far away from everyone,” he teased, leaving it purposely hanging in the air as Ieyasu was glaring at the man.

“Shingen,” I gasped, feeling myself begin to pool.

We hurried left everyone, telling the staff to keep plying them all with sake to keep everything settled, otherwise leaving Yukimura, Ieyasu and Kenshin in charge.

I was still trying to get my head around my life as I was bundled up in my husband’s arms in our futon. I had been born in this time period, to be transported five hundred years in the future and grew up there, only to come back. I was happy, and I didn’t want to go back. I had grown up in safety, and relearning how the Sengoku era worked was a task in itself, but I was happy and where I belonged. A smile etched into my face as I drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and loved.

[uk-news-talking-politics]

Peak uncertainty: This is what covid might do to our politics

By Chaminda Jayanetti

Just because something should happen, doesn't mean it will.

Many articles speculating on how Britain will look different after coronavirus mistake what the writer thinks should happen with what probably will, trusting in the logic of the moment when politics often obeys anything but.

Others focus on the party political fallout, which is the most unpredictable aspect of all. Coronavirus may determine the next election - or it may play no role in it at all.

But to really get an idea of how Britain could look on the other side, we need to get away from the big picture discussion and dig deep into policy areas.

Who cares?

The centrality of the NHS is now guaranteed no matter who is in charge. The Tories had already pledged increased funding, and the need for spare capacity in the event of pandemics may force a rethink of service redesigns and efficiency measures that aimed to minimise 'waste'.

Bigger questions surround the adult care system. No-one can now ignore the funding cuts and staff shortages that have left the care sector so depleted. If elderly and disabled people find themselves dying untreated in care homes in large numbers, this might - and should - become a point of national shame over the coming weeks.

The Tories' direction of travel is towards a social insurance system, whereby people pay in to a fund during their working lives that gives them access to care provision when they need it. But those who are retired or have lifelong care needs won't be able to pay into an insurance scheme before receiving care. These immediate care needs will need direct public funding, not long-term insurance.

Labour under Jeremy Corbyn took a different tack: universal free personal care for the over-65s, with an ambition to extend this to all working age adults. This is simpler and more inclusive than our current means tested mess, but it doesn't come cheap: Labour's manifesto estimated the cost as £11bn a year by 2023/24.

Keir Starmer will be under pressure from some to stick with their existing policy, and from others to engage with social insurance proposals. Keeping Labour MPs united behind whatever strategy he adopts won't be easy.

But it's plausible the Tories will also be pulled in another direction - towards voluntarism. The party's social and fiscal conservatives - uneasy bedfellows in recent years - could use the increased community cooperation seen amid the pandemic as evidence that volunteers and family members can take on more of the care burden, while still improving pay and conditions for care staff.

Expect to see rhetoric that the pandemic has 'unleashed' Britain's 'community spirit', which should be 'channelled' after the crisis by relying on family and neighbours to 'look in' on people in need - the soft-soap version of women doing unpaid care work in lieu of public services. The current trend in care provision is towards making use of what 'assets' people already have, including friends and family - an approach that can be used for good or ill. The temptation for the government to lean on unpaid volunteers instead of the taxpayer is not hard to imagine.

The care system was the biggest public service challenge facing the government before coronavirus. Now that's been magnified tenfold. It could become one of the big battlegrounds of post-pandemic politics, between competing visions of society based on universalism, managed markets, and voluntarism.

Bob Crow was right

Before his death in 2014, Bob Crow was one of the most demonised figures in Britain. His readiness to threaten to shut down rail networks as head of the RMT union made him a bête noire for commuters, causing considerable disruption.

Crow was a rarity in post-Thatcher Britain - a union leader who was ready to use strike action as a sword, not just a shield. Whereas most unions only went on strike in defence of existing jobs, pay and conditions, Crow levered the criticality of the role of his members to transform their economic position.

He was accused of holding passengers and politicians to ransom, but his argument was a simple one: the disruption caused by his members going on strike showed how important their role was, and they should be paid more - much more - to reflect this.

It has taken the worst pandemic in more than a century for many people to realise this point. Pay does not necessarily reflect the importance of a worker's role - in fact, very often it does nothing of the sort. Pay reflects many factors: supply and demand of labour, required skills and levels of education, the strength or weakness of collective bargaining, the resources of the employer, and the profit-making productivity of the role. The social necessity of the role comes below pretty much all of them.

There may well be a post-pandemic cross-party consensus for a higher minimum wage and more protection from exploitation - action on zero hours contracts, for example - to protect low-paid workers from poverty.

But Crow didn't want his members to be low paid at all. He wanted to transform their economic station. We keep hearing about essential workers in cleaning, portering, social care and customer service. Will this be rewarded with more middle class pay and conditions?

There are reasons to be doubtful. There will likely be broad acceptance of the importance of care workers, who are a very visible part of the fight against coronavirus. But that does not mean politicians will be ready to fork out for transformative pay rises. Will Starmer accept billions of pounds of extra spending on top of the £11bn Labour has already earmarked for social care, let alone the Tories?

And where is the industrial, political or public pressure going to come from to secure such pay rises for the often migrant workers in portering and cleaning? We don't want to accept it, but many workers on middle incomes would sneer at the idea of porters and cleaners being paid the same as them.

The safety net

The benefit system has taken a battering over the last decade. Now the economic shutdown is driving more than a million people to seek refuge in the rubble left behind.

The government has responded by performing emergency repairs -  raising benefit payments and scrapping job search requirements in a desperate attempt to stop the newly unemployed middle classes struggling in the way the unemployed poor were expected to.

Things could play out from here in a number of ways. If Universal Credit functions to a level the government can live with, they will declare the system a success, leaving Starmer in a politically difficult position. Will he keep Labour's pledge to axe what will have become an established system, or switch to reforming it, thus angering his left flank. Labour may try and build a minimum income guarantee using the framework of this system. Or they may 'abolish' Universal Credit by tweaking it and changing its name.

If Universal Credit simply topples over - unable to process claims properly, or pay out the right sums of money - the government might be forced to give up its costly and chaotic flagship scheme.

What then? Labour would push for a more generous system with far fewer conditions and sanctions. The Tories would be truly hamstrung, having in this scenario wasted a decade on a failed system.

Public opinion would not necessarily favour a more generous, less judgemental approach. The declared end of the pandemic, and the gradual return to some kind of economic normality, would likely bring back demands that the unemployed get back to work, and that they be cattle-prodded into doing so. Laid off workers do not carry the same image as health and care workers in this pandemic - and doubtless right wing ideologues will start shouting about the deficit the first chance they get.

But if the economic recovery is insipid, with little job creation, enduring high unemployment, and a stop-start lockdown as the virus returns, both parties could be drawn to more universal systems - a minimum income guarantee set at a liveable level, or even a Universal Basic Income.

The government toyed with introducing UBI last month, but it would face wide opposition from Tory MPs unhappy at its cost. Claire Ainsley, who is expected to be unveiled as Starmer's policy chief, is also a sceptic. It is expensive, blunt and largely untested. But if jobs don't reappear as the pandemic passes, the 'on yer bike' mentality that has underpinned the benefit system for decades will itself be left redundant.

A costly affair

Britain is running up huge deficits as sectors of the economy grind to a halt. How will all this be paid for? Starmer is calling for higher taxes on the rich, but that alone is unlikely to be sufficient, especially if corporate profits remain depressed for years. Everyone is going to have to pay more.

Could the Tories go in for funding cuts? Perhaps - but likely not at the scale we've seen. The big targets after 2010 were local government and welfare. The former can't be cut further without it collapsing. The Tories may winnow away at the latter. Foreign aid could take a hit. But the party would have to tear up its electoral strategy of higher spending on schools, hospitals and police to recreate full-blown Osbornomics.

Labour, and possibly even the Tories, may look to wealth taxes to help bring down the deficit. Taxing people's wealth would be a major shift in Britain's approach, and could finally tackle one of the key sources of economic inequality.

But there's a problem. The richest hold most of their wealth as financial assets, meaning they can easily move it to offshore tax havens. Fixed assets, like houses, tend to benefit the middle classes. Taxing property wealth could hit Tory homeowners while barely affecting hedge fund billionaires. Targeting the latter would require a Tory government to clamp down hard on tax havens.

Conservative MPs are likely to be split on middle class tax rises and spending cuts. If the Tories go after tax havens and impose a progressive wealth tax, it would be one of the most dramatic changes the pandemic brings about. The curtailment of the free movement of capital would be a paradigm-shifting development, and an extraordinary one for a Conservative government.

What does need to happen is for governments to spend on preventative services - such as social care - in the knowledge that this will cut required spending down the line. Only when that happens will Britain's fiscal politics finally grow up.

But on a variety of fronts, the British are going to have to decide what it is we are willing to pay for. If we want functioning public services and low deficits, we'll have to pay more tax. If we want properly paid frontline public servants, we'll have to pay more tax still. If we want to end poverty pay, we may have to pay more for goods. If we want to protect the high street, or British producers, we may have to pay more in digital sales taxes or import tariffs.

Cakeism has run out of road.

The known unknowns

If Britain does head down the path of higher taxes, more generous benefits and greater public provision, our politics and economy will start to look more European - either universalist northern European, or rather more patriarchal southern European.

But the irony is, we'll be firmly outside Europe. Nothing that is happening right now will be fostering a European identity among voters. And if the government decides to take radical action on the economy, that could mean Britain fundamentally diverges from EU rules, keeping us on a separate path into the future.

All this is predicated on coronavirus being conclusively 'defeated', and a one-off in its mortality, geographical spread and disruption. Those are the prerequisites for things eventually returning to some recognisable norm.

If, however, pandemics of this scale become even semi-regular, shutting down national economies for months at a time, everything changes. Rents become unpayable, debts unaffordable, jobs untenable, the economy itself unsustainable. When Rupert Harrison, George Osborne's former adviser, is openly suggesting debt forgiveness, we are in very new territory.

Most people will want life to get back to normal as soon as possible. But if normal never comes, anything goes. And even the most radical ideas we've discussed would be on the moderate end of what could happen then.

[patriotsnet]

What Republicans Are Against The Healthcare Bill

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-republicans-are-against-the-healthcare-bill/

What Republicans Are Against The Healthcare Bill

Schumer: ‘we Can Work Together Our Country Demands It’

20 Republicans Vote Against GOP Healthcare Bill | MTP Daily | MSNBC

Until the end, passage on the Health Care Freedom Act, also dubbed the skinny repeal, was never certain. Even Republicans who voted for it disliked the bill.

The skinny bill as policy is a disaster. The skinny bill as a replacement for Obamacare is a fraud. The skinny bill is a vehicle to getting conference to find a replacement, Sen. Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., said at a Thursday evening news conference hours before the vote alongside fellow Republicans McCain, Ron Johnson and Bill Cassidy, before the details were released.

The skinny repeal was far from Republicans campaign promise of also rolling back Medicaid expansion, insurance subsidies, Obamacare taxes, and insurance regulations.

Many Republicans who did vote for it said they were holding their nose to vote for it just to advance the process into negotiations with the House of Representatives.

The legislation included a repeal of the individual mandate to purchase insurance, a repeal of the employer mandate to provide insurance, a one-year defunding of Planned Parenthood, a provision giving states more flexibility to opt out of insurance regulations, and a three-year repeal of the medical device tax. It also would have increased the amount that people can contribute to Health Savings Accounts.

Leigh Ann Caldwell is an NBC News correspondent.

Obamacare Repeal Fails: Three Gop Senators Rebel In 49

WASHINGTON Obamacare stays. For now.

Senate Republicans failed to pass a pared-down Obamacare repeal bill early Friday on a vote of 49-51 that saw three of their own dramatically break ranks.

Three Republican senators John McCain, Susan Collins and Lisa Murkowski and all Democrats voted against the bill, dealing a stinging defeat to Republicans and President Donald Trump who made repeal of Obamacare a cornerstone their campaigns.

The late-night debate capped the GOP’s months-long effort to fulfill a seven-year promise to repeal the Affordable Care Act.

3 Republicans and 48 Democrats let the American people down. As I said from the beginning, let ObamaCare implode, then deal. Watch!

Donald J. Trump

The Senate has tried to pass multiple versions of repeal: repeal and replace, a straight repeal and Friday’s bare-bones repeal, but none garnered the support of 50 Republicans.

An emotional Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-Ky., said after the 1:40 a.m. vote went down that Republicans remained committed to repealing the Obama-era health law.

When Did Obamacare Start

The timeline of key events leading up to the passage of the Obamacare law began in 2009. Here is a list of those events, along with key provisions that went into place after the law was enacted.

Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi and a group of Democrats from the House of Representatives reveal their plan for overhauling the health-care system. Its called H.R. 3962, the Affordable Health Care for America Act.

;Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy, a leading supporter of health-care reform, dies and puts the Senate Democrats 60-seat supermajority required to pass a piece of legislation at risk.

;Democrat Paul Kirk is appointed interim senator from Massachusetts, which temporarily restores the Democrats filibuster-proof 60th vote.

;In the House of Representatives, 219 Democrats and one Republican vote for the Affordable Health Care for America Act, and 39 Democrats and 176 Republicans vote against it.

In the Senate, 60 Democrats vote for the Senates version of the bill, called Americas Healthy Future Act, whose lead author is senator Max Baucus of California. Thirty-nine Republicans vote against the bill, and one Republican senator, Jim Bunning, does not vote.

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Changes Required By The Affordable Care Act In 2011

A provision goes into effect to protect patients choice of doctors. Specifics include allowing plan members to pick any participating primary care provider, prohibiting insurers from requiring prior authorization before a woman sees an obstetrician/gynecologist , and ensuring access to emergency care.

Young adults can stay on their parents insurance until age 26, even if they are not full-time students. This extension applies to all new plans.

All new health insurance policies must cover preventive care and pay a portion of all preventive care visits.

A provision goes into effect that eliminates lifetime limits on coverage for members.

Annual limits or maximum payouts by a health insurance company are now restricted by the ACA.

The ACA prohibits rescission when a claim is filed, except in the case of fraud or misrepresentation by the consumer.

Insurance companies must now provide a process for customers to make an appeal if there is a problem with their coverage. ;

NOTE: In January,;2011:;eHealth publishes 11 guides on the top;child-only health insurance coverage;that examined differences in implementation in numerous states.

Senate Gop Blocks 9/11 First Responders Health Plan Bill

Senate Republicans on Thursday morning filibustered legislation to monitor and treat first responders and emergency workers who suffered illnesses related to 9/11.

A vote to quash the filibuster failed by a vote of 57 to 42, three votes short of the necessary threshold. As a result, the proposal is unlikely to pass this year.

The bill would provide funding for a health program to treat first responders, construction and cleanup workers and residents who inhaled toxic particles after the collapse of the World Trade Center towers.

The $7.4 billion cost of the legislation over 10 years is paid for by a provision that would prevent foreign multinational corporations from using tax havens to avoid taxes on U.S. income.

Harry Mason ReidWhite House says ball is in Congress’s court on voting rights, abortionBiden grapples with twin crisesFive takeaways from Biden’s week of chaos in AfghanistanMORE blasted Republicans after the vote.

Republicans denied adequate health care to the heroes who developed illnesses from rushing into burning buildings on 9/11. Yet they will stop at nothing to give tax breaks to millionaires and CEOs, even though they will explode our deficit and fail to create jobs. That tells you everything you need to know about their priorities, Reid said in a statement.

Schumer said some of the police officers and firefighters who rushed to the flaming towers have already been diagnosed with cancers.

This story was updated at 12:29 p.m.

Read Also: Democrat And Republican Switch Platforms

Six Ways Trump Has Sabotaged The Affordable Care Act

Reddit

Donald Trumps first term represents an extraordinary development in what political scientists have called the administrative or unilateral presidency: how presidents seek to transform domestic policy through executive initiatives without congressional approval. Aggressive, partisan, multifaceted administrative presidencies have been especially evident since Reagan with presidents of both parties participating. Trump has in multiple ways taken this trend to new levels as his efforts to sabotage the Affordable Care Act vividly illustrate.

Republicans Tout Health Care Bill Alternative

“I’ve read the majority of this bill,” said Rep. Tom Price, R-Ga., a physician. “I’ve got a diagnosis: It’s legislative malpractice.”

Price motioned to a tall stack of white copy paper bound with a yellow rope piled atop the podium and above the blue sign that read “Health Care Freedom” — the theme of the Republicans’ message today.

Rep. Roy Blunt, R-Mo., told the crowd, “Republicans have better ideas to give you more choices, more freedom in health care, access for everybody. We’re going to fight for those ideas.”

Amid cheers, Rep. Joe Wilson, R-S.C., said, “We have an alternative: H.R. 3400.”

Republicans were joined by other notable public figures, including actor Jon Voight and radio host Mark Levin.

“I’m so deeply proud to be among you brave, concerned, patriotic American citizens,” Voight said. “The biggest vote in the U.S., the biggest voice in the U.S. is your voice, the voice of the American people.”

Among the faces in the crowd were young people who took off work, parents with their teenage children and senior citizens.

Schwartz of Americans for Prosperity described today’s rally as “very organic.” Seven buses carrying 350 people traveled to Washington, D.C., from parts of Maryland. Hundreds more, he said, carpooled behind.

“We want reform, but not the heap of junk that’s in this bill,” Schwartz said.

He expects that message will resonate with moderates and Blue Dog conservative Democrats who might still be on the fence about support for the House plan.

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Board Of Governors Professor School Of Public Affairs & Administration

The Trump administrations efforts to sabotage the ACA and their consequences receive detailed attention in a recently released Brookings book, Trump, the Administrative Presidency, and Federalism. For present purposes, I highlight six major sabotage initiatives which emerged in the wake of congressional failure to repeal and replace the ACA.

1. Reduce outreach and opportunities for enrollment in the ACAs insurance exchanges. Established to offer health insurance to individuals and small business, the exchanges have provided coverage to some 10 million people annually. The Obama administration had vigorously promoted the ACA in part to attract healthy, younger people to the exchanges to help keep premiums down. The Trump administration sharply reduced support for advertising and exchange navigators while reducing the annual enrollment period to about half the number of days.

2. Cut ACA subsidies to insurance companies offering coverage on the exchanges. ACA proponents saw insurance company participation on the exchanges as central to fostering enrollee choice and to fueling competition that would lower premiums. The law therefore provided various subsidies to insurance companies to reduce their risks of losing money if they participated on the exchanges. The Trump administration joined congressional Republicans in reneging on these financial commitments.

Treating The Terminally Ill

GOP Senators Return Home To Backlash Against Healthcare Bill | AM Joy | MSNBC

The party opposes euthanasia and assisted suicide, as well as any non-consensual withholding of treatment for any reason. They believe that health care efforts should instead be focused on research to treat terminally ill patients, as well as pain relief and care of these patients, so that the rest of their lives are more comfortable.

Also Check: Senate Partisan Breakdown

House Democrats Approve Health Bill Seeking Contrast With Trumps Obamacare Assault

The vote was aimed at shoring up Democratic support in swing districts that fueled the party’s House takeover in 2018.

06/29/2020 06:50 PM EDT

Link Copied

House Democrats on Monday approved a major expansion of Obamacare, underscoring the health care laws central role in their campaign pitch and drawing sharp contrast with President Donald Trumps efforts to eliminate the entire law.

Two Republicans New Jersey’s Jeff Van Drew, formerly a Democrat, and Brian Fitzpatrick of Pennsylvania joined virtually every Democrat in supporting the bill, which would expand the laws subsidies for private health insurance, encourage hold-out red states to expand Medicaid and reverse Trump administration policies seen as undermining the Affordable Care Act. The Democrats bill, which will likely be shunned by the Republican-controlled Senate, also contains pieces of the partys, including a requirement for the government to negotiate prices.

Progressive lawmakers who have pushed sweeping Medicare for All legislation largely backed the more moderate health bill, which is aimed at shoring up Democrats support in swing districts that were pivotal to the party retaking control of the House in the 2018 midterms. The vote comes shortly after Trumps Justice Department urged the Supreme Court to overturn Obamacare in a case later this fall, despite warnings from some Republicans that voters would punish the party in November.

Just one Democrat voted against the bill.

Filed Under:

Endangered Republicans Back Senate Democrats’ Bill Opposing Obamacare Lawsuit

Five Republicans facing tough reelections crossed party lines in a vote highlighting Trump’s challenge to the health care law.

10/01/2020 03:17 PM EDT

Link Copied

Senate Democrats’ largely symbolic bid to cut off the Trump administration’s support for a Supreme Court challenge to Obamacare failed as expected Thursday, but several Republicans facing tough reelections crossed party lines to back the measure.

Sens. Martha McSally of Arizona, Susan Collins of Maine, Cory Gardner of Colorado, Joni Ernst of Iowa and Dan Sullivan of Alaska, who are trying to reassure voters about their defense of insurance protections for preexisting conditions, backed the Democrats’ measure. Another Republican, Lisa Murkowski of Alaska, who opposed Obamacare repeal efforts three years ago, also supported the bill.

But the bill fell 51-43, short of the 60 votes needed to advance.

Democrats through an unusual procedural maneuver seized control of the Senate agenda to force a challenging vote for Republicans ahead of a Supreme Court case that threatens Obamacare’s survival. Democrats have sought to highlight the case’s risk to health care coverage and insurance protections for tens of millions of Americans as Republicans rush to fill a vacant Supreme Court seat with President Donald Trump’s nominee, Amy Coney Barrett. The court is slated to hear arguments in the lawsuit on Nov. 10, one week after Election Day.

The North Carolina Democratic Party charged that Tillis’ measure was inadequate.

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Reagan Assaults The System

Conservative Republican President Ronald Reagan, soon after his election in 1981, launched an assault on the federal health care system, announcing plans to consolidate all 26 of the health services programs into two block grants, one for health services, the other for preventive health. He also announced plans to slash spending on health by 25 percent. The president’s announcement set off a battle in Congress, with conservatives in both parties taking up Reagan’s charge. In the Senate, Orrin Hatch, a conservative Republican from Utah, and Phil Gramm, a Texas Republican, led the president’s battle to disassemble the federal health care programs. In the House, Republican Representatives Edward R. Madigan of Illinois, James T. Broyhill of North Carolina, and William E. Dannemeyer of California played key leadership roles for the Reagan agenda.

With a few concessions to Democrats, conservative Republicans, backed by many conservative Democrats and moderate Republicans, passed the Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act of 1981. It reduced funding for all health services programs, collapsed funding for many categorical grant programs into block grants to states, and increased local and state governance over remaining programs. The concessions to congressional Democrats came only after last-minute lobbying by a group of Republican governors.

Premium Subsidies And Affordability

The ACA’s premium subsidies were designed to keep health insurance affordable for people who buy their own coverage in the individual market. Premiums for individual market plans increased alarmingly in 2017 and 2018, although they were much more stable in 2019 and 2020, and rate changes for 2021 appear to be mostly modest. But premiums for people who aren’t eligible for premium subsidies can still amount to a substantial portion of their income.

The individual market is a very small segment of the population, however, and rate increases have been much more muted across the full population .

Democrats have proposed various strategies for making coverage and care affordable. Joe Biden’s healthcare proposal includes larger premium subsidies that would be based on the cost of a benchmark gold plan and based on having people pay only 8.5% of their income for that plan . Biden’s proposal would also eliminate the ACA’s income cap for premium subsidy eligibility and provide subsidies to anyone who would otherwise have to pay more than 8.5% of their income for a benchmark gold plan. This would eliminate the “subsidy cliff” that currently exists for some enrollees.

The 2020 Democratic Party platform calls for a “public option” health plan that would compete with private health insurance carriers in an effort to bring down prices, and lowering the eligibility age for Medicare from 65 to 60.

Don’t Miss: Impeachment Polls In Swing States

Trump Tells Republicans To Get Back On Healthcare Bill

By Susan Cornwell

5 Min Read

WASHINGTON – U.S. President Donald Trump and members of his administration on Sunday goaded Republican senators to stick with trying to pass a healthcare bill, after the lawmakers failed spectacularly last week to muster the votes to end Obamacare.

For the second day running, the Republican president tweeted his impatience with Congress inability to deliver on his partys seven-year promise to replace the Affordable Care Act, President Barack Obamas signature healthcare bill commonly known as Obamacare. Members of his administration took to the airwaves to try to compel lawmakers to take action.

But it was unclear whether the White House admonishments would have any impact on Capitol Hill, where Republicans who control both houses signaled last week that it was time to move on to other issues.

Republicans zeal to repeal and replace Obamacare was met with both intra-party divisions between moderates and conservatives and also the increasing approval of a law that raised the number of insured Americans by 20 million.

Polling indicates a majority of Americans are ready to move on from healthcare at this point. According to a Reuters/Ipsos poll released on Saturday, 64 percent of 1,136 people surveyed on Friday and Saturday said they wanted to keep Obamacare, either entirely as is or after fixing problem areas. That is up from 54 percent in January.

But Price also told NBC he would implement Obamacare because it is the law of the land.

Watch Sen John Mccain Cast ‘no’ Vote On ‘skinny’ Repeal

It isn’t clear what comes next, but the collapse of some insurance markets around the country serve as an incentive for Republicans and Democrats to hold hearings and fix the problems with health care.

Most Republicans never embraced the different iterations of legislation they crafted, nor the process by which it was constructed. Even on the last-ditch effort at a bare-bones bill, Republicans couldnt reach agreement. Over the past two days, many rejected a plan that would have partially repealed and replaced Obamacare and a measure that would have just repealed it. The repeal vote was the same bill that passed the Senate and the House in 2015 when former President Barack Obama vetoed it.

Sen. Lisa Murkowski, R-Alaska, stood against every version of the legislation even in the face of immense pressure. The Trump administration threatened to withhold federal resources from Alaska because of her opposition, according to the Alaska Daily News. Murkowski herself said the next day in response to the report that she would not characterize it as a “threat.”

“I sat there with Senator McCain. I think both of us recognize that its very hard to disappoint your colleagues,” Murkowski told NBC News after the vote. “And I know that there is disappointment because it was the three votes that Senator McCain, Senator Collins, and I cast that did not allow this bill to move forward. And that is difficult.”

“John McCain is a hero and has courage and does the right thing,” Schumer said.

Also Check: Latest Republican Polls By State

[vodkawrites]

Yuuri Week 2017, Day 4: On ice Title: 28 Tuxes Chapter 4 Genre: Alternative Universe Pairing: Katsuki Yuuri / Victor Nikiforov, Jean-Jacques Leroy / Isabella Yang Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Jean-Jacques Leroy, Isabella Yang, Leroy Family Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: None Summary: While planning his 28th wedding, Yuuri begins to wonder if he can ever find love for himself.Or; the victuuri 27 dresses AU absolutely no one asked for.

Read the fourth chapter on AO3

"Ah, Mister Nikiforov. So nice to see you," Yuuri says with a fake smile.  He isn't exactly looking forward to speaking with a reporter and frankly he doesn't even know what to say.

He shakes Victor's hand customarily, trying not to linger on the fact that he is hand in hand with a gorgeous stranger. Well, he supposes they aren’t exactly strangers; they are probably classified as acquaintances at this point. Yes, definitely nothing more than professional acquaintances.

"Please, Yuuri, call me Victor," the reporter - Victor - says smoothly.

Of course the beautiful - no, not beautiful - reporter wants to refer to him by his first name. He tries not to think of how melodic his name sounds coming from his mouth.

Yuuri nods, trying to remain professional during this whole situation, even if Victor isn't. He doesn’t even seem to be taking this entire thing seriously. At least the first few times they had met, he was adorned in a customary, well-pressed navy suit. Instead, he is now in a grey Nike track suit that looks more like he came from the gym than a corporate office. Yuuri tries not to think about how good he looks in something so simple. To be honest, he isn’t sure that something so simple could look so good on the right body type.

Yuuri shakes his head, trying to dispel those thoughts from his mind. He will not ruin this interview for his clients by being distracted by a good looking reporter.

“Alright let's get this interview started.”

"Interview?" Victor asks innocently. He dramatically places a hand on his heart as if he is pretending that a knife has stabbed him between his pectorals.  

Yuuri only rolls his eyes, rather unimpressed with his theatrics.

"Yuuri, you wound me. I thought this was an ice skating date. I brought my skates and everything," he says with a cheeky smile. He holds up a pair of skates just to show how dedicated he is to believing that this is less like an interview and more like a date.

Yuuri narrows his eyes, glaring at the pair of skates. He expects to see the worn pair of skates from the rental desk - the hockey ones with frayed laces and blunted blades that seem to fit no one - but he is thoroughly impressed by Victor’s own pair. They are certainly in better condition than the rental skates at the rink, but Yuuri can’t exactly distinguish any of the finer details to determine their true value. He supposes the gold blade is enough to confirm his suspicions that they are some custom pair of expensive skates. However, he is far too bothered by the fact that Victor thinks this is a date to comment on the quality of his skates.

"You're hilarious," Yuuri quips dryly.

Victor flashes him a crooked smile. "I try," he says.

Yuuri doesn't give him the satisfaction of an answer - he hardly deserves one for being so absolutely impossible. Instead, he turns his focus towards one of the benches, setting himself and his skates down.

Victor follows his lead and sits down on the bench next to him. He is a bit too close for comfort - his arm is basically brushing against Yuuri’s - and it is distracting to say the least.

Victor lazily kicks off his shoes, not bothering to properly unlace them, before squeezing his right foot into the boot. He easily ties the laces with the precision only a professional could possibly be capable of having.

"I can't remember the last time I skated," Victor muses quietly. Yuuri can't tell if he is trying to make conversation or simply thinking out loud.

Regardless, Yuuri ignores that comment in favour of tying his own skates. Victor makes it so easy, but Yuuri knows it is a tedious process to get the laces tied right. He supposes that his is inherently harder given that they are a rented pair from the front desk and not his own (not that he would ever have his own pair willingly but it would be nicer than relying on rentals and possibly getting foot fungus). Yuuri can fully admit that they are hideous and probably more suited for hockey than figure skating. The laces are fraying at the edges and the left one is a bit too snug around his foot, but he persists. Besides, aren't skates supposed to be tight?

"Ready?" Victor asks, already standing up from the bench. He seems to balance himself easily, as if he has done this plenty of times before.

"No," Yuuri admits lamely. He still has another skate to tie, not to mention this one isn’t exactly tied that well to begin with.

"Here, let me tie them." Victor bends down onto one knee, leaning in to Yuuri's feet.

Yuuri, however, kicks his hands away.

"I can tie them myself just fine," Yuuri snaps. He will not have someone - especially someone like Victor - tie his skates for him. He is an adult and adults don’t need help to tie their skates.

Victor raises both of his hands innocently but Yuuri knows he's anything but innocent. "Whatever," Victor assures him, obviously trying not to be offended by Yuuri's comment.

He straightens his back, watching Yuuri as he finishes tying his other skate. He doesn’t say anything but he continues to tap his bottom lip with his finger. Yuuri finds it annoying.

After what feels like twenty minutes of struggling (but is probably more like two) Yuuri wobbles as he stands but eventually balances himself on the carpet. He follows - or rather teeters towards - Victor and the entrance to the rink. Victor slides into the ice gracefully while Yuuri almost stumbles over his feet, trying to find his footing.

"Let us be clear," Yuuri begins, his voice low. He is sincerely trying to be intimidating, but he knows he is failing. It doesn't help that he has to have both hands grasping the wall just to make sure he doesn't fall face first on the ice. He silently wishes he had his sister or Phichit or anyone else conduct this interview for him. At least they wouldn’t be this embarassing on the ice.

"I can't say anything about the venue, the flowers, or their outfits Those topics are strictly forbidden. I also can't tell you who's invited."

"Wow," Victor says with a chuckle. He leans back, evenly distributing his weight onto the boards. He looks so natural on the ice, as if he's floating. Yuuri wonders how often he does this to be so comfortable on the ice. Or maybe it's just a Russian thing.

"So what can you tell me about this wedding?"

Yuuri taps his fingernails on the wooden boards. The sound creates a slow rhythm but he's not sure what song it is.

"I can tell you that the colours will be red and white," he explains, his face neutral. He refuses to have an fodder the reporter can use against him in his article. And he will certainly not lose JJ and Isabella as clients for that reason.

Victor rolls his eyes. "How absolutely Canadian of them," he remarks.

"Or maybe they are popular wedding colours?" Yuuri suggests.

"Well they're also having half their wedding at an ice rink." He gestures to the ice rink with his hands. "That just screams Canadian to me."

Yuuri furrows his eyebrows. He doesn't exactly see it that way - JJ chose to have both his love for Isabella and his love of ice skating expressed during their wedding. What is so hard to understand about that?

"Well I think it's cute," Yuuri admits.

"I think it's stupid."

"You're telling me. They want their first dance to be a first skate, which is really the only reason I'm here. I hate skating," he confesses. He cuts up the ice with his toe pick for emphasis. He knows it's bad etiquette but he can't help but to do it.

Victor raises his eyebrows. "You hate skating?" he asks, almost surprised by this revelation.

"Well yeah. I'm a wedding planner not a professional athlete," Yuuri defends with a huff.

"But you're planning Canadian skater Jean Jacques Leroy's wedding?"

"So? Doesn't mean that I automatically love skating. A job is a job."

"But don't you like how weightless you feel on the ice? How powerless you feel at the mercy of the ice?"

"No. And I don't particularly like falling in my ass," Yuuri quips and crosses his arms over his chest.

Victor juts his hip out and taps a finger to his bottom lip. "Well that's your problem. Fear of the unknown. It's common in beginner skaters."

Yuuri scowls, curling his lip as he does so. He doesn’t particularly like being talked down to like this, and by someone who probably knows nothing of skating to begin with.

"Because you're suddenly an expert in skating?"

"Well why don't I show you?" he asks.

He extends his hand out in front of him, practically begging for Yuuri to take it. It seems inviting enough.

However, he narrows his eyes at Victor's hand, skeptical that his friendly gesture isn't just some sort of sabotage. When has Victor ever done anything nice for him aside from offering to tie up his skates. How does he know Victor isn't going to take him to the middle of the ice and leave him to defend for himself all to have Yuuri end up with ice on his ass? How can he even trust him?

"Show me?" he repeats, the words effortlessly rolling off his tongue.

"You know, loop around the rink? I used to know a thing or two about ice skating," Victor clarifies. He even puffs out his chest for emphasis.

Yuuri blinks twice. He can’t be serious. It seems all good to be true: holding hands with a beautiful stranger, clinging on to him as he tries not to fall. What more could he ask for?

He begins to wonder if this truly is an ice skating date more so than an interview.

"Alright," he agrees, reluctantly. He isn’t really sure why, although Yuuri insists it is his charming good looks and savvy charisma skills. Definitely not because he likes him or anything.

"But if I fall, you're coming with me."

He places his hand in Victor's, entwining their fingers together. Yuuri notices that his palm is rather coarse, lacking the same soft and supple feeling as the back of his palm. He supposes it isn’t particularly a bad feeling - it is a rather comforting feeling - and he certainly appreciates how warm his hand is, if anything.

Victor leads him around the ice, taking careful glides as he tries to keep up with his long strides.

"You're pretty good," Yuuri praises as they finish one lap around.

Yuuri can tell from the way Victor is leading him that he may know a thing or two about ice skating. It’s obvious that he is weightless on the ice, almost as if he is a bird preparing for flight. It seems almost natural like he is born for the ice.

"But that doesn't say much seeing how I'm absolutely terrible," Yuuri quickly adds, trying to hide his praise under an insult.

"You're not terrible,” Victor points out as if it’s some sort of compliment. “I just have more practice."

“Oh really?" Yuuri challenges.

Victor smirks. He slicks his hair back with one hand, moving his bangs out of his eyes. "Let me show you."

He drops Yuuri’s hand, leaving him to balance himself on the boards. Victor easily loops around the outside of the rink, his feet crossing over each other as he skates backwards. To Yuuri, he looks rather professional as he does so. He gains speed as he rounds the edge for the second time. and performs a waltz jump. He poses in the center, his arm outstretched as if he is an Olympic performer. It’s rather sweet to see.

He waves at Yuuri, as if he's inviting Yuuri to join him.  

"Me?" Yuuri asks, pointing to himself. He knows Victor couldn’t be gesturing to anyone else - the ice is empty - but he cannot possibly think that Yuuri could skate to the center by himself.

Victor laughs. It's a sweet laugh, one that rumbles from his stomach and makes his Adam’s apple bob. Yuuri wants to hear more of that laugh.

"Yes, you, who else would I be talking to? The ice? Now, come closer."

Yuuri gulps but agrees nonetheless. He skates - or rather waddles - carefully over to Victor, one foot in front of the other. He wishes to mimic Victor's fluidity, they way he seems to dance instead of step on the ice, but it comes out all wrong. He isn't entirely sure how to glide without stumbling over his own two feet. His staggered movements make him look more like a penguin than he would like, but Victor just smiles as he approaches.

He isn't entirely sure how to stop either and instead continues to skate in Victor’s director. He easily takes the hint and catches him before he collides, their hands interlocked together. He likes the feeling of their bodies so close, mere centimeters apart.  

Victor steadies him, positioning Yuuri at the centre of the rink. Yuuri balances himself before letting go of Victor's hands.

“See you’re basically a pro!” Victor cheers as he steps back.

Yuuri glares at him. “Standing on the ice without falling doesn’t make me a pro.”

“Well, I say it does. And I was a professional ice skater, so I know.”

Yuuri scans him. Now it all seems to make sense: the custom ice skates, the jump, even the way he poises himself on the ice. Of course he is an ice skater.

He is certainly built like an ice skater - and at least has the grace and poise to be a professional - so he shouldn't be as surprised as he is. He is slender yet muscular with almost effeminate curves that make Yuuri’s mouth go dry.

He knows little about skating in general - he has watched a bit of the Olympics but nothing more than that. He pictures Victor in one of those sparkly (and extremely tight) skating costumes. He can picture him in a white, feathery body suit, one that glistens under the stadium lights.

"No way.”

"Yes way," Victor protests. He wipes a bead of sweat forming on his temple with the back of his hand. "When I was thirteen, I wanted to be an Olympic skater. I won a few competitions, too."

He grabs Yuuri's hand once more and guides him back to the boards. His hand is warm and a bit sweaty from skating, but it feels comforting the way their fingers seem to perfectly intertwine. Yuuri tries to ignore the way his heart seems to beat against his chest; he hopes that Victor can’t hear it as well.

There is something about him that’s different. He seems almost vulnerable, so innocent and natural on the ice. It’s hard to believe this is the reporter who doesn’t believe in love.

Yuuri feels his his cheeks turn red. He supposes it’s only due to the cold; definitely not because he is flustered and blushing over ex-skater and current reporter Victor Nikiforov.

Yes, definitely the cold.

Yuuri looks up at him through his eyelashes, admiring the way he provides him with a soft smile. "What happened?" he asks innocently.

He doesn't really know why he asks - he knows he shouldn't care about the personal life of a reporter, but for some reason he is quite interested (to say the least) by Victor. He’s mysterious and attractive and absolutely wonderful.

Yuuri decides that he wants to know everything about him.

"Life got in the way, I suppose," he says. He shrugs casually as if he doesn't mind the question in the slightest. However, Yuuri can tell the spark in his eyes is lost, his smile fading just slightly.

He hates that he asked.

"Skating is expensive as fuck, especially at a competitive level. And no one really wants to take a chance with someone who might never win a gold. Besides, I needed a more realistic career; one where I won't have to retire at age 20 from a major injury or whatever. When it came down to it, I liked journalism better but I guess I could never get away from the sport, huh?" he says, tilting his head towards the rink for emphasis.

“You know what they say. The cost of following your heart is spending the rest of your life wishing you had," Victor finishes.

Yuuri blinks twice.

"Huh,” he finally breathes out. “So it's the best of both worlds?"

"Just call me Hannah Montana, I guess," Victor says with a chuckle.

Yuuri laughs - genuinely and unabashedly laughs. He can’t remember the last time he has laughed like this.

Victor clears his throat. "So...the wedding," he begins.

Yuuri pauses.

Oh, right.

The wedding.

JJ and Isabella.

The interview.

"Yes," Yuuri agrees, collecting himself.

For a brief moment, he had forgotten that Victor is only here for an interview; that this wasn’t some sort of first date. He instinctively drops Victor's hand from his own, almost forgetting that his hand was even there. He silently misses how perfectly their hands seem to intertwine as the warmth from his hand lingers.

He feels empty.

"If you couldn't guess, the venue will have an ice rink. It's non negotiable," Yuuri states, icily. He tries not to be offended by Victor's rather abrupt switch from their personal dare he say intimate - prior conversation to his work. He dusts off some imaginary snow from his pants, averting his eyes from Victor's.

Victor snorts. "How very JJ."

"They'll be dancing to Partisan Hope," he recites almost mechanically. He doesn’t really care about the wedding or saying anything of interest anymore. "It's a beautiful arrangement."

"I'm surprised he's not dancing to that stupid King JJ song."

This time, Yuuri snorts.

"What? There's a song about JJ?" he asks. He's certainly never heard of any song called the JJ song and judging by Victor's reaction he is rather thankful that he has devoted himself to his work instead of listening to pop songs.

"You know the song that's like 'I'm the king JJ no one defeats me/this is who I am just remember me'," Victor sings. It's horrible and off-key which makes Yuuri wonder if that is how the song sounds or it is just Victor's terrible rendition. He sincerely hopes its the latter.

Yuuri stifles a laugh. He can't even imagine what a song called King JJ must actually sound like. He half thinks Victor is making up the song because he honestly cannot believe there is a song dedicated to his client but at the same time he isn't all that surprised. JJ seems like the kind of person who has a song like that written about him.

"It's pretty terrible. Come on, you've heard it. It played on the radio like 500 times in the past year."

Yuuri shakes his head once, his bangs falling in front of his eyes. "Sorry, I don't have time to listen to top 40s hits when I'm at work."

"You must work a lot," Victor points out.

He shrugs. He doesn't think that he works that much (as much as his sister and Phichit says otherwise). Sure sometimes he goes above and beyond (and maybe sometimes he works close to 80 hours a week) but it's only so he can create the perfect wedding. He expects the same for his own wedding, if not more.

"Weddings take a lot of work. Rome wasn't built in a day," he reminds Victor.

"Isn't it stressful?" Victor asks. He exhales loudly, trying to emphasize just how stressful it must be. Yuuri however isn’t fazed by his forced dramatics.

"Not really. It's kinda fun."

"Planning a wedding is fun?" Victor asks. Yuuri can tell that he’s obviously mocking his choice of words.

"Yes," he states obviously., trying not to show that he is evenly remotely fazed.  

Of course planning a wedding is fun. What is better than deciding on all of the little details to make the most out of one’s biggest day? Picking out the cake, deciding on the flowers, buying registry gifts; it’s all rather entertaining to do so.

Not to mention seeing them come to fruition is one of the most satisfying feelings in the world. When he watches the couple meet eyes at the alter, it is truly a magical experience.

"Weddings suck."

Yuuri opens his mouth to refute, however Victor beats him to it.

"I just want this wedding to be over. Don't you?"  

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders. He’s never really thought about it that much. Sure it is a bit more stressful having to plan a wedding for a famous celebrity - and one that demands so much of him - but he wouldn’t say that he regrets it. In fact, he sort of enjoys the challenge.  

"Well,” he begins. “I suppose a successful wedding will lead to more exposure maybe more jobs-"

"No," he interrupts. "I mean the spectacle of it all. I don't know how you stand it."

Yuuri scowls. "I happen to like weddings," he protests.

He cannot even fathom why - or how - Victor could even remotely dislike, let alone despise, weddings. Weddings are a time of celebration and bringing two people together. To hate that is like hating sunshine and puppies; it simply isn’t done.

"Ugh," Victor groans. "Don't say that. I thought you were cool."

"Excuse me?" Yuuri asks raising his eyebrows.

"Well weddings are awful. They're just a corporate scheme to squeeze money out of two happy people," Victor scoffs.

"Or a way to join two people together," Yuuri corrects, optimistically.

He can't believe he is even having this argument. He can understand one hating weddings, hating marriage even, but hating the very idea of love is unforgivable.

"So what do you think about Isabella and JJ?"

He blinks twice, trying to understand what Victor is necessarily asking of him.

"I'm sorry, what?" Yuuri asks, dumbfounded. "I don't see how that's related.”

"Well I do,” Victor argues, pressing for some sort of information. “You say it's about love but what about JJ and Isabella?"

Yuuri shakes his head. "Mister Nikiforov-"

"Victor," he corrects curtly.

"Victor," he repeats, almost like a hiss, as if the word itself will cause some sort of disease just by saying it. He clenches his jaw at the sound of his name leaving his lips. "That's highly unprofessional."

He innocently holds his hands up in a mock surrender. "I just want your opinion. I’m not asking for your social insurance number.”

"Fine, I think they're cute together," Yuuri half-lies. Sure they seem to lack chemistry when they are together - although Yuuri is much more focused on Mr. and Mrs. Leroy than them to begin with - but he isn’t about to admit that to a stranger reporter just to get his sanctification. He’s above that.

Victor rolls his eyes. He doesn't seem convinced by Yuuri's rather vague statement. Or maybe he simply knows.

"Oh come on. They aren't cute together," he argues. He expertly leans his body weight onto the boards, someone making himself look casual. It only furthers to annoy Yuuri.

"Oh really?" Yuuri asks.

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for Victor's explanation of the situation.

"Yes, Isabella is obviously just dating him for money," Victor points out.

"Are you blind? She loves him," Yuuri stresses.

From the few times they have interacted, they seemed rather happy together. Sure, he could understand if she is still dating him for his looks, or his personality, or some other shallow reason. But for the money? It’s so obviously not the case. Isabella is still with him because she truly loves him. Anyone who can tolerate his signature JJ style brand of annoying can’t be in it for just the money, no matter how rich he is.

Besides, who is Victor - Mr. I Don’t Believe In Love - to say whether they love each other or not?

"Does she?"

"Why are you asking me that? You don't think they're in love?"

Victor shrugs. "No, I don't believe in love," he says casually as if he didn’t just admit that he doesn’t believe in love. He leans down and brushes some built up snow off the blade of his skate, swiping the slush off with two fingers. It creates a small mound of ice below his left foot, but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

"Don't believe in love?" Yuuri repeats back, as if to ask if he has heard him correctly. How could one not believe in love when it surrounds them every day?

“You heard me. I don’t believe in love,” he states, punctuating each word.

Yuuri looks at him - really looks at him. His confident smirk, his cocky attitude, the way he holds himself. He must be hiding something.

Of course he believes in love; there’s just something that’s making him say that. Maybe it’s his twisted vision of masculinity or some divorce in his past that makes him think this way. Whatever the case, Yuuri is going to find out what it is.

“You know what,” Yuuri begins. He straightens his back in an effort to look intimidating despite being a tad shorter than Victor. “I think this is all a smoke screen."

Victor snorts. "For what?"

"Well your hatred of love is all a lie. You know what it is? It's a defense mechanism. You don't want to take the chance to love something to have it taken away.” He takes a step forward. “You don't want anyone to get close to you because you're afraid of failure. It’s why you quit ice skating too, I bet.”

"Oh really?” he asks. He offers Yuuri a smug grin which only seems to entice him further. “Because after one date you know me so well?"

"Well I think I nailed it,” he says, trying to ignore the fact that Victor referred to this - whatever this really is - as a date instead of an interview. “You should just admit that you're a big softy and that this whole cynical thing is just an act so you can seem wounded and mysterious and sexy and-"

"Wait,” Victor interrupts with a smirk. “Did you just insult me and then call me sexy?"

"N-no,” Yuuri lies, adverting his eyes from Victor’s.

He internally curses. Of course Victor is sexy, but he surely doesn’t need to fuel his rather large ego by outright telling him. How could he possibly let that slip?

“I don't know why I'm arguing this with a stranger,”  he says, gesturing wildly with his hands.

"We're not strangers."

Yuuri scowls. They are strangers - acquaintances at best. He knows absolutely nothing about his aspirations, his goals, his hatred for love. In turn, Victor knows absolutely nothing about him. And one interview/date isn’t going to change that.

"You know nothing about me."

"I think I know you better than you know yourself. You do everything trying to please everyone but the only person you're upsetting is yourself.  I think that you just plan weddings to hide the fact that you’re going to die alone. You live precariously through other people's lives because yours is too boring and miserable."

Yuuri stares at him, mouth agape - actually agape with his mouth hanging open. It’s obnoxious and a bit immature, but Yuuri can’t help but to do it.

How could a stranger possibly be able to read him so well?

"I'm sorry,” he quickly apologizes. He runs his hands through his messy bangs, tugging on the hairs as he does so. “I’m so so sorry. I didn't mean that-"

"No,” Yuuri assures him. He holds up a hand to stop his incessant babbling. “It's okay.”

Victor steps forward in an effort to comfort him. He holds out his arms, hoping Yuuri will accept his embrace.

Yuuri, however, takes one step back.

“I should go anyways,” he insists, coldly. “JJ and Isabella will come back and it’s better if I’m not here to spoil it.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak - to say anything to prevent Victor from leaving - but Victor is already gliding off of the ice.

"You're right, you know,” Yuuri mutters, softly.

“About the date?” Victor asks, trying to make light of the conversation.

“About me,” he admits. He kicks up the mound of snow, spreading the ice crystals onto the rink.

Victor looks to the ground, hoping to find some answer there as well.

“Well..if it makes you feel any better, you weren’t that far off about me either.”

[watcr]

Rules 🟡 About 🟡 Bio & Misc

DISCLAIMER: This is not intended by any means to be an entirely serious rp blog. This is originally based based in Grand Theft Auto 5. And was created in a custom Grand Theft Auto Online server by Markiplier and thusly portrayed by him whilst he played. If anything this is a Crack!Role Play blog that looks well put together Face claim and all but I'm really just here for rediculous interactions and wild hijinks with a clueless dad delivery man. That being said: any backstory and the creation/ videos/ acting itself belongs to Markiplier. I'm simply just writing a character that I enjoy and makes me laugh.

Please Note: This blog will still contain highly suggestive content and situations with a comedic take on them. This includes being robbed, murder, drug use, hostage situations and then some. I mean-- Stan was made in Grand Theft Auto.

RULES/ General Info:

This is a side blog to my main: mxrkedfordeath

Para/ Novella writing length

Primarily dash/mobile profile

18+ no ifs ands or special cases

Again: this is a Satirical/Crack/Meme role play blog. Expect rediculous things to be said and done

NSFW present/ Friendly

Non-Selective; as mentioned above I created this blog for fun. If any of this meme I have created interests you please feel free to send me a DM or ask and let's see what wild hijinks we can get Stan into huh?

Although the voice is provided by an internet personality that is where this ends. I am still uncomfortable with interacting with blogs that portray real life people or influencers/ internet celebrities. I'm not going to have Stan rob someone with a celebrity that is real. It's...its uncomfortable.

Considering my reason I made this blog and the nature of it, random starters or asks are welcome! If it's a weird situation, place or even different universe I will make That Water Boi lore friendly.

That being said however: please do not include oneself in a thread that you are not involved in.

Absolutely no personal blogs

OC friendly

Crossover/AU friendly

No Godmodding

No hate/ harrassment

Multimuse and Sideblog friendly

Unless featured or seen in the Stan The Water Man videos by Markiplier there will be no preestablished anything. Unless it is Kiki, or Jimmy Stan does not know you and this naive man child will greet you very horribly as he always does.

Shipping: I do allow it but dont think its going to be very serious either. When he sees you ladies? Its literally hitting the jackpot if you get more than a few words that are even close to coherent. So yes. If you wanna simp or thirst over stan that's cool just know that his skull is thicker than a military bunker wall.

•Memes, asks, and shitposting alike is pretty much this whole blog. Stan is a sweetie but hes not close to being the uh... brightest bulb in the box.

About:

Stan or Stanley Wheeler is a 39 year old delivery man and a family man. He strives to please those around him with wonderful water and his company.

Still a delivery man with his new life after a difficult divorce and loss of custody of his "Sweet baby boy Roy" he focuses on bettering his life as a means to be reunited with his son.

He is always well hydrated and firmly believes in comfort and efficiency instead of style.

(About if you stumbled into this shit show):

This is a role play blog for an original character created by Markiplier in a custom Role Playing server for Grand Theft Auto V. It's quite literally a chaotic whirlwind where the main protagonist is a 39 year old divorcee whose love for water is concerning... but not so much as the mans gullible nature and far to generous personality.

This is really only a summation because there are literal HOURS of videos of Markiplier playing Grand Theft Auto and being the voice of Stan Wheeler during his adventures in Los Santos. It features amazing improv and the ever expected rediculous chaos that ensues in Grand Theft Auto.

Bio:

Name: Stanley Wheeler

Gender/Gender Identity: Male

Age: 39

Face Claim: Chris Evans

Voice Claim: Marikplier/ Mark Fischbach

Romantic/ Sexual Preferences: Questioning/ Unsure

Nick names: Fanny pack, Water boy, Sunflower

Personality: Generous, Optimistic, Friendly, Oblivious, Awkward, Curious, Helpful, Trusting

Occupation: Courier, Delivery Man/Boy, Water Delivery Man

Favorite Color(s): Blue & Yellow

Likes: Water, Fanny Packs, Sunflowers, Biking, Work, His Son

Dislikes: Coffee & Soda, Lying, Fighting, Talking to women (watch the episodes to know)

Hobbies: Biking, Boating, Spending time with his son, Meeting new people

Quirks/ Other Traits: Has a strong....Love for water, Suffers from a yet to be diagnosed but constant seizing of bodily muscles that occasionally cause harm, A REAL Virgin 'Dad', Amazing at lockpicking, Terrible Driver

Final Note/ Disclaimer: Again, although this blog is for fun from a truly chaotic and hilarious improvised playthrough of a unique online role playing server for Grand Theft Auto V, please REMEMBER what game Markiplier created and voiced Stan in. Just because Stan is clueless doesnt mean the subject matter is. A lot of dark humor and shady if not bad situations arise in Mark's videos and I really do want people to know that although this is all in good fun the dark unfiltered comedy of Grand Theft Auto is still going to be followed in this portrayal. That means Stanely would very well (and has) ended up robbing people, kidnapping, Killing people or being an accomplice, Jokes based upon sexuality, Gender and then some. Of course before writing I will ALWAYS discuss subject matter that you would like to avoid but unless stated the aforementioned or to those whom have watched the adventures of Stanley know just how inappropriate and harsh/blunt/in your face comedy that is present.

Not only one final disclaimer as to how nsfw Stanley's life and choices end up being-- but giving credit is where it is due; Markiplier. He literally Created Stanley Wheeler and his uh... well him. And brought Stan to life via voice and gameplay. Stan never is and never was mine he's just a character.

Mun absolutely DOES NOT ≠ Muse

Stanley Wheeler-- is an idiot that makes horrible decisions and let's horrible things happen around him. I do not reflect any of the jokes or encounters featured in the gameplay series. I just so happen to enjoy comedy (albeit quite a bit can be not PC) and a good story. Literally this blog came out of a joke my best friend made at 4 am after binging Stan The Water man saying I should make a role play blog for Stanley Wheeler. And so? I did.

Important Note: Activity and response time

Updated: 04/10/2020

I made this blog for myself for fun and the same goes for the people I meet/ interact with. It will be sporadic at best. If I feel like it expect meme or shitpost worthy spamming of the Water Delivery Dad we got but never deserved.

Neither my main nor is Stan a job. Quite bluntly most times when I go inactive I'm literally just doing something else. Anything else.

That ties in to the fact that although I am non selective I am still allowed to say no. And expect reciprocated respect if I say no for ANY reason. I dont owe anyone anything and just like everyone else here this is for fun and enjoyment purposes. This is not our job, and we have nothing forcing us to do this.

But - I am fine with a poke at me and my noggin' every once in a while. I do a lot of things and I cant even remember where I put my vape or phone after 5 minutes. That means I forget. And I do. A LOT. And I can admit that.

MUN & MUSE RULE ZERO: Absolutely no Drama, Vaguing, Callouts, Harassment, Hate or insults/ criticizing on how you THINK the muse I write SHOULD BE.

I'm chill. And I legit hate social confrontation to the point I cry in front of people face to face if it is too much, too hurtful, too angering.

I don't care if someone said something shady our of character that one time or that you think an individual deserves to be directly blasted in front of numerous people.

I dont care if you think that just because I wrote a characters sexual or gender identity outside of what you like.

I dont care how many times you ask or dm me to respond or plot when I had already respectfully declined.

Of course hate and harassment is something I do care for-- because its quite literally just pure toxicity. If you do this you will be ignored and blocked or even reported depending upon when transpired.

All I ask is to be treated kindly in return as I treat everyone until I am given reason not to. That's it. Literally. I am 22 years old and have no patience for any of the aforementioned.

Quite frankly to me it's childish and quite often comedic or petty in my eyes to even have callouts and vauging exist.

I am only addressing this because of the years and various muses canon and original alike I have been harassed for interactions, sent honestly some pretty vile anons, and plenty of messages telling me "X is actually supposed to be gay." Or "no actually they dont like X", I've been called out for literally some of the most childish reasons and my being honest and blunt upset people-- or the word 'No' was not existent in their vocabulary.

And finally-- if for any reason in the RPC someone I am Mutuals/ Mains/ Friends with or just an acquaintance I like talking lore with is involved in any drama I do not want to hear it nor do I care if it does not directly involve me. In fact even then I dont want to unless said person comes to me privately and talks like an adult should rather than throwing a tantrum behind your laptop because someone said an awful word, or beliefs were disliked-- literally any reason or post of a callout. I'm not here for it.

If there is EVER a problem dont be afraid to message me PRIVATELY and talk it out like two mature adults. If I did something to upset you? Let me know I want this blog ESPECIALLY to be for the sake of laughs. Has it been a good month since my last reply? Just send me a lil' hey or just check in. Have I not replied? Its probably just me as the Mun having an awful attention span for anything that isn't hands on.

The Mun:

Look I know the novel above for one singular subject is actually very unfortunately neccessary for me.

My career and as a person have me not only practically programmed but I am openly blunt/ "real" with people.

I am not going to say something you want to hear. You might not like my saying no to a thread but my goal is to be honest and respectful to everyone.

And not only that I'm tired of not covering my ass and trying to pretend this doesn't happen to me behind the scenes or on blast for all to see.

If I plan on sending a private message apologizing for an upsetting subject I wrote of or simply discussing conflicts/ issues privately I hope to god that you who are reading this has the same common courtesy.

Regardless if my blunt sometimes told "Too much" honesty is why I disclose my absolute refusal to negative interactions I really am chill - and occasionally way too excitable or talkative.

I really do love meeting plenty of new people and writers alike in the role playing community as a whole and very much enjoy trying new plots/ ideas out unless it is unreasonable to the plot.

If you wanna just be meme traders for a fellow beloved Fandom or RPC? Ok. I'll try to find some just as good to make the meme trade a fair one.

You wanna make a thread all about how gullible a muse is? Sure!

Maybe even send a thirsty or shitpost worthy ask? 100%

Or do you just have a question about the Muse/Mun/ Or Writing? Go ahead!

I love and live for the angst and self authored stories to Headcanons or missed plot points on muses. The ways so many different types of relationships between characters form and change. But I would also smash the yes button if someone asked me how I felt if someone swung into the ask Simping on lovely Water Boy? Go for it because again; fun. Let's cackle over his style choices or his horribly abused kindess/ trust.

I'm a human guys let's not worry about anything else but the fact we're all here for the same thing: and that's fun and enjoyment as well as having an ability to flex our creative side. It doesnt matter how fantastic or bad (This mun right here) is at edits manips or coding for the theme. We all learn and grow and I just wanna have a good time and I'm sure every normal person that's not a psychopath wants to have a happy healthy safe and fun environment for roleplay/writing.

Thank you for reading this if you did. Any questions? Want Stan to be your water bottle toting and Fanny Pack Efficiency having man get stuck in a plot with your muse? Feel free to hmu send in an ask or meme etc.

I dont bite unless someone bites me with their attitude. I look forward to meeting/interacting/and memeing with everyone.

[skyeloaded]

The Nigerian Graduate - S01 E03

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 3 ]It was Onome! Let me tell me a lil about Onome. Onome was a professional, dirty and shameless prostitute. She goes after everything under pants.. When I say pants, I mean PANTS. Panties ranging from boxers to pants. She was bisexual that is she does both males and females. It was through Onome that I knew it was through that Edo women loves pricks. She dated our landlord,our house agent,co-tenants and street guys. She cared less if you were married or single. She would date both husbands and wives and some even hired her for 2-3sums. She was a w---e! But one thing about her, I was a thorn in her flesh. She never believed I was what I said I was, she would stalk me just to know my true identity but trust me, I was smarter. My makeups customers was hers, so was my “benddown select” customer. Onome was discussing with Shina who was sitting on a stool and surrounded by my neighbours. “I’ve met you somewhere” she was talking to Shina in a tone I’ve never seen her used on a guy. “I? Where was that?” “I don’t know, where are you staying” “I’ve been in this town.” “Oh… Maybe in Prosperous” “I’ve never been there”” I’m new in this area” “Oh really, where were you staying before. Maybe it was from there we met.” “Been in the states but was in Lagos earlier” This drew the attention I needed, my neighbours marvelled upon hearing Shina was from the states. I felt highlighted and earned more respect… Atleast as a banker dating a Londoner. I withdrew Shina from the crowd and took him in. “You’ve got a nice apartment” he commented searching through my room. “Thanks” “Your neighbours are fun to be with especially the fair lady” “Be careful of her. She’s dangerous.” “Someone here is jealous.” He rolled his eyes blushing. “About who and how?” “You better tell me the truth. You’re falling already…” “What can I offer you…” That was my greatest mistake, why would I ask such question when I had nothing at home, not even sachet water. I blamed myself for trying to change the topic. “Anything would do.” “But… But… I’ve nothing at home right now. Just planning to get some tomorrow.” “Is there any fast food close by?” “Captain cook is at Fayose.” “Let’s go there.” Before I could say jack Robinson,he was up dragging me out. “Do you want me to go out this way?” I asked immediately we got into the car.I was wearing a bumshot and croptop. “I love my woman looking hot and sexy.” “But this is Ado not Lag or wherever.” “I care less.”He ignited and off we went. I was reminiscing on the ” my woman” thingy. We got some food and Suya and ate, I wanted to ask if his car was the same I saw yesterday when his phone rang “Hello” “Get the f--k off, I ain’t coming home till u guys r in d right senses.” “You don’t command me like some kids, I’m a grown up, man” “I ain’t in no hotels, I’m with my woman” I was alarmed. “Believe me, you ain’t seeing me till I return to the states.” “Get the f--k of my phone” he said and hung up. “Who was that?” I asked silently. “My mum” he replied burning with fury. “You mean you’re addressing your mum like that?” “Riri, I was the one you saw in the afternoon” he caught me off guard. I never knew he was reading my mind. “How? Why didn’t you talk to me then?” “I was with that witch.”he was now on his feet angrier than ever. ” Your mum?” “Aderin, marry me.” He stressed these word looking so pale. I didn’t believed my ears,we’d seen for the second time and Londoner was talking about marriage. It sounded like “Aderin, maga me” rather than marry me. “What are you talking about?” I asked trying to conceal the confusion written all over my face. “Riri, when I met you, I felt this kinda chemistry you feel while in love. You see, I’m 31 and unmarried, I’m in Nigeria to get a wife but my parents ain’t helping me.” “How?” “Marry me, we’re getting married before next month ends and going back to the states in two months.” “Is that a command?” “No, I’m being straight. I can’t stoop to the level of wooing a woman. We’re adults, matured adults”” I am going to take care of you. I wanna use you to get back to my parents” “Your parents? How? ” Riri, I knew you saw the lady in my car! She was the hoe my parents want for me. How could they expect me to marry a lady all because we promised to love and marry each other while we were young… Accepted I deflowered her and she aborted my baby but she is a w---e! She was going after all men in UNILAG while I was away and had several other abortions.” He was now shouting so Loud that I feared my neighbours were eavesdropping. “Yeah, I loved her but I love her no more. Riri, it’s you I want”” you’re so decent and promising.” His last comment was a lie. I knew I was not decent, I was a corporate prostitute in UNILAG too. I was still into “ashewo business till that moment even if it was codedly I was confused, even though I had started developing feeling for Shina, I was never ready for some kind of poo. “Shina, let us take things easy” “This is me, and here is you, I’m 31 for Petes’ sake, do you expect me to start begging and wooing you like a kid?” He lied on the bed in anger and soaked under the duvet, I mean blanket. I was up for a moment thinking if my life. I was a blunt broke liar and my lying game took me nowhere. You have to lie to cover a lie. I’d leaving a fake like since my uni days and it never paid me. I’d lose a reasonable amount of good suitors because I could not afford to take them to my parent after bragging about being a rich kid. A good example was Victor, Victor was an IB boy, he was a rich coded yahoo guy and believed I was a banker, after gaining a substantial amount from his yahoo plus business, he decided to open an account with access bank where he believed I was working, I was able to cover up till when I couldn’t and he knew I was never working in Access bank… I tried to cover up and that was when he asked to meet my parents, that was where kasala busted and I could not get a tangible lie to tell, I opened up and told him about my real parents, he broke up with me immediately but his words hurt more, he said he was dating me because he thought I was from a rich home and. Could not stoop too low dating the daughter of a village illiterates. He went ahead and got married to a lady close to my house. I made up my mind right then never to open up who my real parents were to any man. After all, I could rent parents. “Do you have to think about it this much?” I heard Shina said as he pushed up into the sitting position. It sounded more like “do you have to think about being f----d this much?”. He drew me so close that I was afraid he would swallow me. ” I love you, Riri” “I want you to carry my babies” “not someone who had over three known abortions” Truth being told, I had six abortions before I met Shina, I knew instantly I was not the best for him. “Shina, let us take things slow. I understand how you’re feeling but we shouldn’t rush” I said as I withdrew myself from him. “Okay. I’ll give you from now till tomorrow” “That is better” before I could blink, Shina had kissed me, and right on that spot, my body and soul was vibrating, I felt a chemistry which I’ve never felt for a guy in ages. He noticed my strange feelings and stopped. “I’m sorry, Riri. I never meant to go far.” He begged with an embarrassment look. “I understand..” I said laying in the bed. “Goodnight, my woman” he said as he laid down facing the opposite direction. I relaxed so well thinking about the kiss and Shina. I felt strange, I was scared of sex for the first time in my life.I was afraid Shina was going to wake me up in the middle of the night and forced me to sex. He was not sleeping neither, he kept tossing around till I feltasleep around 2am . I dreamt about getting married to Shina in a big way, and guess what, my parents came in the middle of the reception. I fainted on seeing them and Shina was shooking me trying to wake me up . “My woman, wake up” I opened my eyes just to see myself in bed and Shina standing over me fully dressed. I was disappointed, I wanted to go back and sleep, I love my dream… Read the full article