#its highly likely that its because i stopped taking it twice a day and only kept up with once a day

[vanillabat99]

I think I might have another ulcer, since I'm experiencing the exact same thing as last time, however I refuse to spend my birthday in the hospital. I've been trying to ignore it for like a month now and I haven't been feeling worse, so hopefully waiting another week doesn't kill me!

I'm a little freaked out about it since if it is an ulcer, then I might have something a bit more serious going on. Last time we thought it was due to my painkillers, which I haven't taken since, so I have no idea what might be causing it this time. On top of all that, I'm likely going to have a lapse in insurance coverage and I have no idea how that would impact a sudden hospital trip. At the very least, my digestive system is fucked up 😔

[yuki-world]

那维莱特 | NEUVILLETTE ; WORK

summary | a man like neuvillette has so many responsibilities placed upon him, its impossible to not be thinking of work 24/7… until his assistant proposes something that might help him relief some of that stress.

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, clothed sex, cockwarming, belly bulge, creampie, 1.9k words

a/n : everyone probably already wrote about cockwarming neuvi in his office but its soooo him

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“sorryー you want to what?”

neuvillette almost chokes on his own saliva at your request, as he tries to contain himself. he clears his throat, once, twice, staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“apologies, neuvillette. i only come with good intentions,” you reply, slightly bowing. that innocent smile on your face is a crime in itself; as if you didn’t just suggest such an inappropriate idea to the iudex of fontaine.

his eyes widen as he tries to give a reply, but nothing comes to mind. he’s never like thisー always a calm, collected man. someone who always knew what to say. yet at this moment, no words come out.

“just… repeat your suggestion,” he tries to clarify, because he’s had to have heard you wrongly.

“of course, neuvillette,” you say, lifting your head up from your prior bowing position. “i suggested to cockwarm you while you do your work.”

so he didn’t hear it wrong. never would he expect such dirty words coming out from you, so direct as if it were a normal thing to do, someone who he placed full faith on as his assistant of years to always be professional andー

“neuvillette, you always look so stressed, even now…” you trailed off, slowly making your way closer to his desk. your eyes glanced at his hand, where he gripped his ink pen a little too tightly. it looked like it might snap in two. “i figured i could be of more help as your assistant.”

his eyes follow you as you place both hands on his desk. he just couldn’t help it when his gaze falls from your face to your chest.

neuvillette sighs, closing his eyes. this is so unlike you, so unlike him. “that is… highly inappropriate and very vulgar of you, y/n,” he scolds, conflicted. it was certainly unexpected of you to bring up something like that. i mean, couldn’t you have suggested something else to relieve his stress? something more appropriate? but then again…

“is that so, neuvillette? then, why aren’t you rejecting it?” you ask, your boldness taking the both of you by surprise.

no matter how strict he sounded, or tried to sound, he couldn’t reject itー didn’t want to reject it. a part of him knows how good it would feel, just to have the warmth of your cunt squeezing around his cock as he goes through stacks upon stacks of paperwork, mind occupied with how your walls tighten around him and milk his cock instead of how many cases he has to deal with for the next couple of days. you’d probably whine and squirm around him like the impatient brat you’d be, begging for him to fuck you on the desk.

even as his expression remains stern, the strain in his pants tell a different story.

neuvillette brings himself back to reality, releasing the pen that he didn’t notice he had such a tight grip on. fuck, he thinks. relief from stress sounds so good right now, he doesn’t think about asking you again. he deserves a break every once in a while; he reasons with himself. “come here, y/n.”

you had to stop yourself from smiling as you practically skipped over to him. of course he would take up that offer, especially when it came from you. who could blame him, when his pretty little assistant was so eager to sit on his cock?

he pulls you onto his lap, your back facing him. his own thighs spread yours apart. you feel his bulge instantly, trying to grind on it to relieve yourself. his hands reach up to your hips immediately, holding you down to stop you from moving. how naughty, he thinks. aren’t you just so eager to have his cock inside you? you must’ve been fantasizing about this for a long time.

he lowers his pants just enough for his cock to spring out, tapping it a few times on your panties. “you still have a chance to revoke your offer,” he states, and you scoff.

“oh please neuvillette, you really think i’m going to go back on my suggestioー ahh…”

you get cut off with your own moan as he uses his cock to nudge your panties aside, slipping in with no resistance at all from how wet you were. it squelches as he enters; not even a second in and his cock was already dripping with your juices. he throws his head back against the chair, letting out a deep groan. he has to hold himself back from thrusting up into you, remembering the original offer was to cockwarm, nothing else.

he felt so big inside of you, almost like you could feel it in your throat. neuvillette, unaware as he shifts to find the ideal position to do his work, nudges his cock further into you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “nghー neuvillette!” you cry out, but he doesn’t say anything, just shushes you and tightens the grip that his fingers have on your waist anytime you try to bounce on his cock. he reaches for the same pen, trying his absolute best in maintaining his composure while he continues his work.

…

time passes so slowly. it seemed like forever as neuvillette sorted out his work like you weren’t even there. he would let out a couple sighs every once in a while, but that was about it.

you on the other hand, continue to writhe around on his lap, finding any way to stimulate yourself. even though you were the one who suggested this, it felt like torture for his cock to just sit inside of you without any movement. “neuvillette…” you whine again, hoping he would give in.

but oh, the self-restraint that neuvillette has right now to not lift you onto the desk and fuck your brains out while you’re sprawled out all over his paperwork, is worthy of an applause. how he does it? he doesn’t know. what he does know is that each time you squeeze around his cock, it’s definitely on purpose. “stop that immediately, you’re distracting me,” he reprimands, but his words hold no weight as you continue doing it anyway. at some point, he was halfway done with his work, not a single hint of stress creeping up on him at all. quite productive he must say; your cunt works wonders.

you don’t stop squeezing, trying to bring him to his limit. he has to be close, right? he can stop you from moving, but tightening around him like that was something out of his control.

he groans as you continue your adminstrations around him, grinding onto the base of his cock as his grip slowly released from you. “don’t think i don’t know what you’re doing, hm? just a little more work, be patient.” neuvillette buries his face into the back of your neck, picking up the scent of the perfume you always use. you smelt so good, he could just eat you up.

as you start slipping off his lap, he adjusts his position with an arm around your waist, bringing you closer to himー and then he feels it. his hand was at where your tummy was protruding slightly, cock nestling right where it belonged. was this there the entire time? “y/n, is that..?” he questions, and you nod, letting out a gasp when he applies pressure onto that spot. that was his breaking point.

neuvillette couldn’t take it anymore. the sight of your tummy bulging ever so slightly, taking the shape of his cock, was too much for him. he lifts you onto his desk, some papers getting crumpled and falling off his table, but he could honestly care less. you gasp when he spreads your legs, tapping his glistening cock a few times on your pussy, before entering in one thrust, just as easily as before. “neuvillette! whaー”

he doesn’t even give you time to adjust. his hips move against yours almost immediately as he continuously pounds into you, he’s absolutely ruthless. truly the chief of justice; making you feel so good like that. he leans down, elbows beside your head as he pushes his cock so much deeper into you, he hits your cervix. “neuvilletteー pleaseー you’re so deepー nngh!” he clicks his tongue at your volume, kissing you to silence you, for someone might actually hear. hell, he didn’t even know if the door was locked.

your moans getting louder each time he thrusts has his cock twitching and his hips stuttering. he couldn’t believe it, after all these years of being so formal with you, only to end up being the one fucking your brains out. not very professional of him, but he’ll deal with the consequences later.

your fingers grip the edge of his wooden desk as he slams into you over, and over, and over again. almost like he was letting out all his pent out stress onto you, which… was your original intention anyway. his speed doesn’t falter, not even a little.

“was this what youー mmhー wanted? is that why you brought up that suggestion? you knew it would end up like this, isn’t thatー ahー right?” he accuses, and you let out a moan in response. he saw right through you.

neuvillette was so close, he could cum at any moment right now. but of course, he’s a gentleman, so he’ll let you have your orgasm. it was well-deserved; his thanks to you for bringing up such a suggestion. he bites the tip of his glove, pulling it off his hand and throwing it aside. his thumb reaches for your clit, rough circular movements bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“i’m so close, neuvillette, please i begー ahh,” you pleaded. with how his name rolls off your tongue, seems like he has no choice but to give you what he wants. after all, you asked so nicely.

your walls tighten around him as your orgasm washes over you, fingers tangled in his hair, gripping onto him for dear life but he doesn’t stop thrusting. you were so sensitive, your thighs tried to close around him to stop him from moving, but he pushes them wider and fucks harder into you.

“you’re so wetー ah fuck,” he curses as he starts to lose his consistent pace. he was so close, he could feel himself cumming as his balls tighten up, cock throbbing inside you.

“can you take it, y/n? can you take my cum?” neuvillette asks, pinning your hands above your head.

“yes! inside, cum inside,” you begged, and he does just that. his cock plunges into your pussy for the last time as he cums inside you, an immediate warm feeling coating your lower half. “fuckー!” he hisses as he stills inside you, what feels like never-ending spurts of cum being pumped inside you. his white seed leaks out of your entrance, dripping down your ass and onto the desk… probably on a few documents as well.

he makes the smart decision to not pull out immediately. his cum would definitely gush out and stain everything.

he releases the grip on your wrists, soothing the red marks gently with a kiss. “y/n, you have my thanksー for relieving my stress.”

you sigh, exhausted, but contented. “i’ll be here the next time you’re stressed,” you offer, adding a quick winkー and then you feel him harden again inside you.

“i think i’m still stressed now, actually.”

ー @yuki-world

[from-izzy]

double a decade | tbz kim sunwoo

Double a decade—no, more than that. 

​PAIRING » tbz kim sunwoo x gn!reader (proofread twice! lmk if i missed anything!)​ TROPE/AU » ​childhood friends to lovers, non-idol au!, holiday season au! (starts a little bit from christmas up to new years!) GENRE​ » it's so fluffy like wow...i'm not going to write something so fluff for sunwoo for a while after this, a tinge of angst, SUNWOO AND READER ARE BOTH IDIOTS, sunwoo thought his love was one-sided, very shy kim sunwoo, sunwoo being very cute and patient to the reader, reader is sick and sunwoo takes care of them uwu, they platonically share the same bed, big spoon sunwoo who is physically bigger than you and holds you to sleep, MUTUAL PINING REEEEEE, a ton of hugs from kim sunwoo because he's so...ugh, reader blushing cause of kim sunwoo, sunwoo giving his jackets that're oversized for you to use (ahhhh) WORD COUNT » 5760 ESTIMATED READING TIME » ~21 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader is sick with a fever (if you're actually sick, please isolate yourself!), kim sunwoo being a shy idiot, one swear word (but cuts through halfway)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

my last story for 2023! looking forward to the new year! happy 2024 everyone!

thank you for reading and screaming with me @winterchimez, @heemingyu and @mosviqu !! you three were so chaotic 😭 like ally really whipped out my government name, i couldn't tell whether sana was mad at me or sunwoo, and bar was...yeah...uhm...yeah!

(i suffered so much with the banner, i need to stop looking at it now)

Even you found this situation absurd.

How could something so beautiful cause you to have tissues and wet towels lying around your heating body? It’s bittersweet to know that the things that made you enwrap in the layer of heated and weighted blankets are the same ones every year that fall nicely from the hues of orange and red sky. Maybe it’s the headache or the jealousy as you hear the excited shrills of the children outside the window having fun and throwing the cold ball of death to each other’s faces. It’s probably also the fact that you’re at the time of your month, the cramps around the underside of your stomach in addition to the scratchy itch on your throat that makes swallowing hard. 

In the end, this year’s Christmas has been wasted and you could only cry under the sheets alone, convincing your parents not to enter as you knew they had to return to work as soon as the holidays ended. You truly regretted your past naive and idiotic self for making a snow angel without proper winter battle clothes. The effect took a massive toll on your body, especially with the amount of hours you have been working and the stress of it all. The way you spent Christmas was lonely as you looked down to the ground floor where your family gathered, a warm blanket slouched on your messy, unwashed hair. The distance between your pout and their smiles wasn’t too far but because of your dying voice and their charged voice, even your mother could barely hear your Christmas greetings.

But, there was someone in your life who still barged into your highly contaminated room with his raccoon loverboy beanie and matching handmade raccoon scarf that you gifted for him this Christmas. Even with your refutes and arguments, he just shrugs, refusing to let you spend the holiday season time alone. 

Every year has always been the same at this time of the year. From when the clock strikes midnight when the jingle bells ring from the city hall up to your room, up until around noon, you would spend it with your family. From noon, when you and your best friend would be amazed at how the snowman still kept its shape up until around dinner time, you would be all over the neighbourhood with him. Then cues the opening of gifts underneath the green tree with ornaments from your grandparents’ age, the smile plasters on everyone’s faces as choruses of ‘thank you’s would be said. Three hours before Christmas day passes, you would retreat to your room, only to have a visitor open your door, the pile of snow between the strands of his hair making the wood of your floor a tripping hazard.

Every year has always been the same for you both and Kim Sunwoo is determined to make sure that it would still be that way. The boy has always made every single Christmas memorable from the day you both were in diapers to now. He made sure that Christmas this year isn’t wasted and he proves that solidly.

Now, another day of fighting begins as you pray for your fever to die down in time for the approaching new year. Contrary to your wishes, your whole body feels like it’s been shut down, feeling too effortful to even raise a finger despite it lying on your bed for the last twenty hours.

“Sunwoo…” The tears well up in your eyes, wishing that you could at least pick up the phone to hear his stories about the day. 

“I got you!” 

The door clicks open to reveal his toothy, mischievous smile. In one hand, a filled fabric bag is held as the other fist punches the sky eagerly. If you could, you would’ve chucked all the layers of fabric to the ground for all you care, clinging onto the boy like a koala. He understands the thoughts roaming in your head as soon as he sees the way the ceiling light highlights the sweat on your forehead and the moisture around the bottom of your eyes. 

The once-upturned corners of his mouth dipped and so did his shoulders. With his free hand, the door closed quietly. He slowly approaches you, kneeling on the floor beside your bed. Sunwoo takes his mittens off, tilting his head and his furrowed eyebrows match his solemn smile. 

“The new year is literally in three days and I’m still here all wrapped up like a mummy.” He unfolded one of the new towels on your bedside table, dapping the sweat away from your flushed face. “I hate this…”

Sunwoo couldn’t hide his true feelings either, missing having you healthy by his side for more than a whole week now. The night walks were now leaning more toward miserable than lonely. He misses the way you would wrap your nearest arm with his, the other hand loosely anchoring on as well as you both comment on whatever comes into your mind. It’s during those times that you would be so preoccupied with your words that the world around him becomes silent, looking down at the slope of your nose and the shape of your moving lips dearly. 

If you look up towards him, you can see the way that Sunwoo’s eyes relax and the corners of his lips lift just slightly, looking at you with utmost adore and affection. His cheeks would be red, not because of the chilly wind, but because his heart is telling him to just hold you close, confess and kiss you deeply into the night. 

It’s no exaggeration to say that the fluttering feeling in his heart, gave his body more warmth than the mittens, beanie, scarf and winter outfit.

“It’ll pass soon, don’t worry,” Sunwoo reassures you, straightening his legs and heading to your bathroom. There, he shrieks and the laugh from the joined room, where you lay in bed with a new cold wet towel on your burning forehead tells him that you did it on purpose. “I thought that was real!” His head peaks out slightly from the bathroom door with the toy cockroach in his hand, throwing it on the duvet where it conveniently plops upside down.

“I need some laughs, okay?” It only earned an eye roll from Sunwoo, who closed the bathroom door.

Your eyes widen at the familiar actions, the sprinkling of water confirming your thoughts.

“Sunwoo!” You scold him. “You can’t stay over! I’m literally sick!”

“I’ll be fine!”

These are the only words that he says, ignoring the rest of your complaints and nagging; he knows though, that it’s just because you care for his health and wellbeing.

Your lips could only form a big mountain when Sunwoo finally does exit your now sauna-like bathroom. He had his favourite raccoon onesie on, his used clothes in one hand and was supported with his chest to avoid it from toppling over his hold. A toothbrush is leisurely in his mouth, the frothing around the inside of his lips tells you that he has no second thoughts about staying over. 

“You can’t, Woo.” An exasperated sigh comes out as soon as he slips into the room. “Why don’t you ever listen to what I say?”

The toothbrush stops its rustling sound against his healthy, white teeth and you can tell from the way his hands land on the side of his waist that he has a complaint back about you.

“As if you’ll ever listen to me.” And the rustling continues with a tune of a song.

“Touche.”

There is one thing that changed from your usual sleepovers but again, you’re not complaining as it is the best choice. Sunwoo takes out the spare roll-up mattress after excitedly knocking on your parent’s room for help. You could hear how your parents are beyond surprised by the visit but you could only smile when you hear the way they scold Sunwoo for wanting to stay beside you with your condition.

For some odd reason, he was still able to walk back into your room, showing off the white fabric on his shoulder that he held, shoulder way too high for your liking as his pride replaces the gloomy atmosphere in the room.

“Make some sort of distance between you and my bed please.”

Your tone is no longer playful, almost tired and most definitely worried. Sunwoo nods, his lips pulling into a line. At this moment, when Sunwoo sets up his bed for the night away from you, you don’t realise the clench in your heart, your hand swishing over the space beside you where he would usually cuddle with you to sleep.

“This alright?” Pulling off his sparkly doe eyes, shooting you a smile that you couldn’t possibly refute. “Alright! Goodnight!” He cheers when you nod defeatedly.

With a flick of the switch, the only thing that allows you to see your covered feet is the moonlight from outside. Sunwoo is in a better position because the lower level means that your bed blocks the shine enough for him to slumber back to sleep.

For some reason, you couldn’t. Your body is still, your eyelids shut and your calm breathing would’ve fooled anyone that you were actually in dreamland. In reality, all you could hear was Sunwoo’s more soothing snores, the sudden feeling that nothing was covering you and the uncomfortable feeling of staying awake.

Your eyelids shoot open once more, staring at the lines and scratches that managed to make it there. Maybe it was a chaotic cat? Or a really strong spiky fly? Or maybe, a ghost? Continuing a questionable amount of ideas. You didn’t even realise when your body turned to the side where Sunwoo was. Without thinking much, your arm reaches for the expensive headpiece straight to the once-slumbering boy.

Disturbed between reality and dreams, his body immediately straightens up, turning his head at you. “Hey!”

“Sorry.” You did feel guilty, not knowing that your impulse actions would jolt him so much; but your laugh tells him that once again, you did plan it with some sort of naughty reason.

Like the antagonist of a scary movie, Sunwoo’s head dips down slightly, his bangs covering his eyes and his cheek rising with menacing thoughts in his head. Suddenly, he jumps over to the mattress, wiggling his fingers all over your body.

“S-Stop! Sunwoo!” He didn’t bother doing so, his heart delighted at the sound of your laughter after so long. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you pathetic raccoon!”

“Oh, you’re really asking for it!”

It’s a miracle that none of your parents didn’t woke up after almost five minutes of different volumes of laughter. After a week or so of copping up in your room, unable to properly see your best friend, he makes his mark on the winter holiday, knowing that every time you fall sick with a fever, you’ll recall this fun memory.

“Can’t sleep?” 

He retreats to the edge of the bed, his legs dangling. Yet, he has his full focus on the way your smile gradually falls into a frown. His hands move under the blanket, finding yours. As soon as he feels you, his fingers intertwine with yours. Automatically, your thumb caresses Sunwoo’s, calming enough for him to sleep. Eyelids heavy but not completely down yet, your brown orbs observe the way Sunwoo kneels beside you.

“Sunwoo…”

“Hm?” 

“Thank you for staying.” 

His eyes widen slightly but he then lets out a small chuckle. “Just doing your lovely parents a favour.” 

“No.” He gulps at your seriousness, watching the way that even though your back is facing the natural light source, the growing waters underneath your eyelids make his other hand reach out for you, the movement shaking your tears down. “I meant in life. Thank you for staying with me another year.”

Your eyelashes fluttered, the darkness quietly enveloping you. Sunwoo just lets out a soft sigh, your words making his heart beat too rapidly for him to sleep tonight. 

“I love you.” 

There…

He rehearsed the confession in the mirror many times, different scenarios each time, a different object in his hand every time as he imagined the perfect gift that he would give if he was ever given a chance to pour his feelings into you. A part of him wishes you heard it, hoping that you didn’t keep this friendship going. 

The mattress that he worked hard to retrieve from your parents is left untouched for the rest of the night. Forget about his well-being for a second, prioritising the love in his heart. Forget about being sick if it meant being able to hold you in his arms just like all those times. Forget about your scoldings that he would only stick his tongue out nonchalantly to. Sunwoo climbs on the opposite side, his usual spot in your bed. He carefully slips his body inside, the air a thousand times warmer, almost making him wince at the sudden temperature rise that he didn’t expect.

For one last time in the night, he wipes your forehead clean, pressing a lingering kiss on the area. Your body recognises the dip of the bed, turning to the other side and hiding your eyes from the glare of the night into Sunwoo’s beating chest. Perplexed but still somewhat composed, he lets you get comfortable first, both of your hands reaching up to the fabric of his collar, tugging it slightly as a satisfied smile makes its way onto your relaxed face. 

“I love you.” 

He says once more.

“I love you so much, bubs.” 

A little bit louder.

“I love you so much but,” He rests his head on the pillow, pulling you further into his embrace with his hand curling over the shape of your head. “I don’t think I can stay beside you next year.”

Unrequited love his whole life. 

The trade-off between friendship and love is too much for him to fully digest. 

But as the years pass, Sunwoo knows that there is nothing much he can do but drown in his uncertainties. At the same time, he’s no longer sure how much longer he could fake another smile towards you whenever you were taken out for dates. He’s no longer sure how to keep his heartbeat at bay whenever you accidentally whip your hair across his face whenever he scared you, and the way your first instinct is to squish his cheeks, frown and check up for any hurt on his beautiful face. He’s no longer sure if he could hide the urge to pull you into his chest whenever your fingers would lace together even during the hot summer days.

So Sunwoo made it clear to himself that tonight would be the last time he would bask in your presence. Another unsure kiss is given to your forehead and against the screamings inside his head, he follows his heart to press one on each of your closed lids, whispering loving words that he desperately wishes you would hear. 

“I’m thankful for you too.”

True to his words, Sunwoo is gone by the early morning, the white blob on the floor is gone and so are the used towels that you have used throughout the previous day. Judging from the coolness of the sheets beside you, he must’ve left some time ago and it left a bitter feeling in your whole being when he left no note that would usually snap the drowsiness in you to an immediate deadpan reaction, or contrary a dog video that would make up want to curl up and stay in bed for longer.

Three distinct knocks on the door tell you that your mum has breakfast ready but you can’t respond as enthusiastically as you usually would. 

“You’re looking better today, actually.” The plastic tray rests on the corner of your table. The now-occupied space reminds you of last night when Sunwoo used the same space for his worn-out backpack. Satisfied with the way your forehead is no longer burning and almost back to normal temperature, the woman nods and lets out a sigh of relief. “Must be the Sunwoo effect.”

It did make you forget your confusion for a second, the corners of your slumped lips pulling to a straight line. When you were once again left all alone in the room, the loneliness was unlike ever before. The charging cable is ripped away from your device, opening the messaging app to text Sunwoo a very formal, very awkward morning greeting. Your eyes bore into the bottom left of the screen, seeing if the familiar typing icon would pop out but after around four minutes of empty wishes, the way you shoved your phone under the pillow shows how crestfallen you are with his isolating behaviour. It continued for the rest of the day, your phone never buzzing because of him even though his social media activity shows him posting a new memory to share over the internet.

New Year is around a few hours and to you, it looks like Sunwoo has no plans to change his indifference towards you. Even when Eric says he would make sure that Sunwoo sends a message to you, the only thing that changed in your messaging status with him is the ‘delivered’ to ‘seen’ sign.

“The audacity of this little piece of sh—” 

Your fingers tapped rapidly first, and the floating tiles of your keyboard pour your conflicted emotions with a dash of empty threats to him. It’s infuriating that the only thing he did was still, left you on ‘seen’ but this time, in real-time. 

“Okay, fine!”

Why are you so defeated? Frustrated? Annoyed? Irritated? Worried? Sour? Confused? Are you really going to spend the rest of the year without him? Start the new one without him? Is he really breaking the streak of watching the fireworks together and being each other’s first ‘Happy New Year!’s with a bunch of jumping and squealing? 

Is he mad because you’re the reason why you can’t watch the flowers in the sky with him this year? But Sunwoo knows that you’ve been sick! But if he is, is he so mad to the point that he's going to break the streak of being each other’s first ‘Happy New Year!’s next year because of it? But between you both, you’ve always beaten him by a split second!

“Fine! Be that way then!” If the framed picture of you both had noise sensitivity, you’re sure that it would’ve cowered away and fallen straight to the bin next to it. “Ignore me then! Go have fun with the rest of your friends! Why’d you come here and act like you cared when you were just going to avoid me like this?!”

As if the whole universe isn’t seemingly against you already, the bunny doll that Sunwoo won for you smiled sweetly from the corner of your room. The rubber material of your slippers makes high-pitched slaps and your arms snatch the poor plush by its neck, shaking it back and forth as you start to let out all the cursing in all the languages that you know to the boy in your head.

“You got it!”

You couldn’t hide the excitement on your face as soon as the claw hovers in the hole of the machine, a few seconds away from delivering the prize to your hands. Sunwoo rejoices and is proud after winning against the rigged game with only the first try. 

You try to wait patiently for Sunwoo to give it to you, but the way that your upper body bounces, and the way your slightly wavy hair goes along with the motions of your body, only makes it harder for Sunwoo to properly hand you over the gift. You weren’t doing anything special but he was so in love with you that he couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath at the way your eyes sparkle to him—it didn’t help his case that you were cutely drowning in his jacket. 

“D-Do you love it that much?”

Would it be weird if he snapped a photo of you right now? When your cheeks are smushed against the bunny’s fluffy ones? Would it be weird if he wanted to set it as his wallpaper and just stare at it all day long?

“It’s so cute!” 

You indirectly answered, putting your full attention and affection to the animal in your hands. The way you bopped your nose with its own only fuels his adoration for you and because you’re so immersed in your birthday gift, Sunwoo did manage to get the picture that he desires.

Kim Sunwoo also had it as his lock screen, hiding it within a collage of other memories—it’s the reason why he’s been so protective over his phone for the last few months.

Having had enough of giving the inanimate animal a headache, you threw it onto the floor with a huff, blowing the loose strand of hair away from your vision. All of a sudden, the tears finally well up in your eyes and you let out silent croaked sobs. The hunched-over plushie is the catalyst for your head to replay the memories in your head. With your back against your bed, knees folded to your chest and the bunny sitting on top, the outside world blurs out of existence for a while.

Everything is just Kim Sunwoo.

From the way he smiles.

To the way he drools in his sleep.

From the way he would literally hide you from the outside world, arms enveloping and muffling your cries.

To the way he welcomes the series of punches on his chest because life is too much for you sometimes.

From the way he has your mum on speed dial in case he can’t reach you.

To the way that he would hop into the car to pick you up from your solo late-night, early-morning beach walks still in his pyjamas.

From the way he knew how to comfort you depending on the situation.

To the way he wouldn’t mind submitting his assignment late if it meant that you’ll be able to sleep peacefully.

Your face flares up, recalling the light pressure of his lips on your eyelids the other night and with it, the meaning behind your tight hold on the bunny becomes something entirely different. That’s all it takes for you to rush out the front door, your mum following your rushed actions with her eyes.

“Well,” she shrugs, eyes back to the television of her favourite Christmas movie, “that happened.”

So maybe you should’ve changed to snowing boots or something more appropriate than your slippers but in your body’s adrenaline to keep your body intact for another five minutes when you would reach Sunwoo’s house.

“You’re so—ugh!” 

The crystals falling from the sky are too uncomfortable and you know that you will be bedridden for longer after this but that’s not going to be your fault. Someone else will take the blame for this and you’ll make it clear for him.

It’s only when you reach the front door, hands on your bent knees, throat dry, nose red, cheeks most probably iced due to your tears and the weather that the words all evaporate from your head. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and with the curtain from the living room open just enough for you to see Sunwoo snuggling in the couch with his cup of hot chocolate, the feelings that you have been hiding from him amplified greatly.

You’re so mad at him but you still think he looks cute with the blanket over his head, covering his shoulders and eyes focused so much to the point the colours of the graphics were being reflected on his eyes. Changing the direction from kicking down the front door, you decided to instead gather a lump of ice into your palm, striking it against the window where his face was. 

His body jolts back but it didn’t take long for his mind to register the white remnants crumbling on the glass, window frame and sill. It takes Sunwoo less than a second to take in your shivering figure on the other side of the window and he knows he’s going to get an earful from his mum when she sees the sweet and sticky drink on her carpet.

The coat hanger rattles and almost breaks an arm with how violently Sunwoo takes two of his warmest jackets, swiftly getting ready to meet the cold and starting blizzard outside. He automatically winced when nature slammed the door open, almost stubbing his toe—but maybe that’s his karma for leaving you on read for more than a whole day without a proper explanation.

Sunwoo took his focus away from the throbbing pain, skipping down the stairs, using the spiky handrail for support as he pushed his body up whenever he went down a step lower, relaxing when his feet landed on the ground safely. It’s only been a few minutes since he stepped out of his blanket but now everything is throbbing—his heart as well for a different reason.

Seeing you still facing the window, your hair flying all over the place, your chin basically on your chest, Sunwoo realises that he hurt you badly. Maybe he should’ve just been honest. If so, then at the very least, you wouldn’t chase him out like this when it looks like you just started to feel better. 

“Hey…” his feet make cautious little shuffles, scrunching the remaining mixes of nature and ice, kind of scared for his life that you would start to (rightfully) punch him. Thankfully, he got close enough to drape his jacket onto your shoulder, zipping up the front without asking you to put your arms. If it wasn’t for the fact that he ignored you, he would be teasing and asking you about what you are mulling over. “Let’s go inside, hm?”

Sunwoo sighs at your stubbornness when you shoved his arm away, feet planted on the ground.

“Go away.” 

His heart clenches at the way you probably meant that. It included a hint of hurt, broken the unanswered questions that were swarming your head.

“I’m sorry,” Sunwoo said so softly that you could’ve missed it if it wasn’t the way you were already actively focusing on him. “So please, let’s just get you inside. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

His palm goes over where his heart is and the other hand gives you a reassuring press. Sunwoo knew by the way you refused to look at him despite him bending over to meet your eyes, that this was going to be tough for you to listen to him.

But Kim Sunwoo is patient.

He’s always been patient and understanding when it comes to you. When his hands reach over to envelop yours, you don’t push away how he wraps his own between yours. Your heartbeat picks up its pace when he leads your joined hands into the pocket of his jacket, his thumb gliding over your skin. The act also sends your body closer to his, finally closing the gap between your bodies, sharing body warmth corresponding to the red hues on your cheeks.

Your lips now hover over his outwear and your nose takes his scent in, enjoying breathing in the familiarity after almost two days of no contact. Sunwoo bites his lips, nervous about having you in front of him and the way you tighten your hold on his hands tells him that you have a lot to say. 

“You don’t want to spend the first week of the new year bedridden, bubs.” Wordlessly and timidly, Sunwoo just scans over your facial features, his eyes roaming about while your eyes are stuck on his zipper which is halfway done.

“Don’t call me that…” Because it clicks open the surge of feelings that you have been trying to hide from him for the longest time. “Don’t…”

You were still half awake when he said his words.

Unknowingly to Sunwoo, you heard every single word that you have always wanted to say to him. That night, when his hand wrapped securely around your waist, you had the best sleep in your life, taking a mental note to talk about the topic later on.

Only to realise that you are both idiots with your feelings.

“I’m sor—”

“Stop apologising!” 

And it sends Sunwoo into a puddle of shock and confusion when your eyes send out a waterfall. He separates his hands from yours and they fly quickly to hold your cheeks. Stutters of more apologies string out and his thumbs weren’t fast enough to keep your face dry. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry too!”

“Hey, what are you sorry about? I’m the one who left you on read!”

“I’m sorry that I’ve never told you how much I appreciate you,” you hiccup before continuing, seeing a glimpse of Sunwoo’s gaping mouth, “I’m sorry that you’ve always been the one taking care of me and not the other way around,” and you see the way he shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, “I’m sorry that I ever make you think that I don’t care about you!” 

“Hey, no. Don’t say that, I know you care abo—”

“I love you, Kim Sunwoo!” 

To him, even though Christmas has passed, he’s convinced that it’s a miracle for him. The night when he left to stay in your house, he innocently wished upon the shooting star, closing his eyes and hoping for your health and happiness—but he couldn’t help but also wish that you would love him back even though that’s out of his control.

But what can he do when he’s only loved one person and one person throughout his whole life?

“I’m sorry if I ever made you think that I like someone else because I can tell you now that all those dates I went to only made me sure that I’m so in love with you and you make me feel like I can just be myself when I’m around you and I also feel jittery when I’m around you and—”

This is not the type of confession that he has rehearsed for.

He guides your face into his chest, still sobbing and crying. As always, your hands weakly hit him, your lips still voicing out muffled confessions to him. Sunwoo’s arms wrap around your shoulders, the other on top of it. His head dips, his lips breathing out air near your ear, resting his forehead on his arm for stability. He wants to say something, anything to make sure that his avoidance doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you back but all he wants to do is to just hold you closer to make it clear that no one could take you out on another date.

Only he can take you out on dates now.

You sniffle, catching your breath after letting your feelings out. The hold around you makes you melt, smiling before turning to where Sunwoo is. At your longing stare, his head shoots back up in surprise, tripping over his own words at how you look at him with beady, watery eyes in adoration. Shy Sunwoo is going to be a sight that you’ll get used to quickly, noting how adorable he is with how his eyes refuse to meet yours and his lips moving without any sound actually coming through.

“I love you.” 

You repeated quieter just for him so that he was the only one who could hear the words.

“I love you so much.”

You stood on your toes, planting a kiss on his chin.

“I love you so much but,” Sunwoo gulps with how you squinted your eyes, “if you leave my side next year, I won’t hesitate to throw a snowball to your face.”

“Oh God, please don’t do that.” Mortified and shaking his head, “I’m sorry, you win. I’ll do anything, just please have mercy on me.”

“Anything?”

Sunwoo gives a series of firm, convincing nods.

“Kiss me.”

The words took a while to register in his mind and he couldn’t help the breath hitching when he realised your request. Sunwoo almost stumbled backwards, your hands tug the fabric of his pockets, pulling him back to you and reality. It caused your foreheads to lightly bump and the impact made you wince at his stupidity. 

“I-I’m sorry! I-I’m—”

“Kim Sunwoo! There’s going to be a mark there! That hur—”

A pair of comforting hands hold your jawline, tilting your face to accommodate the height difference between the two once-best friends. When Sunwoo gets a better grip on himself, he quickly dives in when your lips part, swallowing your complaints and making his dreams come true. 

Double a decade—no, more than that. 

That’s how much he’s waited for this moment with you.

When his lips would slot against yours, hugging your top ones with his before pulling away to give the same amount of affection to your bottom ones. Your noses bump into each other slightly, making the moment seem real and fun, smiling and giggling when you both part for air. Shy and kind of embarrassed with how messy and uncoordinated it is but you both know you wouldn’t want to share each other’s firsts with anyone else. 

At this moment, it’s you and him in this world.

That’s how you ended the year. Clenched fist still inside his pockets, though that didn’t stop you from folding the fabric back so that you could have your arms wrapped around his middle to pull him closer. The sky soon blooms shortly after, and the happy firing noises illuminate the night sky, beating the dull light and colour of the moon that everyone sees every day. Because of the dynamic colours, Sunwoo is able to see the shades of the celebration mirrored on your skin, finding you more beautiful than ever before. 

Though beautiful, the fireworks did make Sunwoo roll his eyes when he seemingly needed to repeat variations of “Be my girlfriend!” even though you were less than ten centimetres away from his face. He knows after your third “What? I can’t hear you” that you were playing with him, giving you pecks of his lips across your face playfully, enjoying how your laughs neutralised the flowers in the sky. 

You ended the year with the start of a kiss with your best friend.

And start the new year with a new title for your ex-best friend.

With Kim Sunwoo, of course.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

[sosuigeneris]

Socialite Series: Cherry’s Master Post

Things that have helped me, that could help you. Here is a master list of my softmaxxing journey!

Body:

J*hn Bent*n’s workouts: Yes he’s an asshole but his workouts really do work. He used to train models and his workouts are life changing.

2. B-12 Lipo salines: These you can consume in a shot (like an injection) or in a saline (go to a GOOD DOCTOR for this). I prefer the saline, and my doctor recommended the 6 week course for me (one saline every week). It burns subQ fat and that was the main reason why I began using those. There is zero side effect to these, acc to my doc.  edit: don’t really recommend these anymore. I’ll update this list when I finish my Emsculpt.

3. Diet: More protein, more vegetables, more water and lesser intake of carbs. Carbs are important but i used to over-consume them. Cutting down has helped me a lot. I also did a gut bacteria test (you basically sent a piece of your shit to a lab and they analyse it) to understand what foods worked for me and what didnt. 

4. Probiotics for metabolism management 

5. Measuring: I stopped tracking weight and began tracking body fat % instead. I feel that this works better for me. 

6. Wood therapy: I KNOW. You lot will think its bogus but it helped me and im sticking to it, so there. There’s no wood therapy spa near me, so i ordered the wood therapy tools from amazon, plastic wrap, a waist trainer, almond oil. I looked up videos on wood therapy and lymphatic drainage, and i do it for about 5 mins on my tummy and thighs before my work outs, wrap my torso with plastic wrap, throw the waist trainer on top. 

✨

Skin:

Accutane: this helped me tremendously with my acne and my skin is 95% blemish free now. If you are taking this, remember to be disciplined and regular. 

Zero alcohol: I stopped drinking completely and its done my skin and health wonders.

Products: Sunscreen + Vitamin C combo in the AM. Retinol + moisturiser at night. Recommended by my dermat. 

Hair removal: I refuse to shave because its so uncomfortable so i prefer to wax once in 2 months. Personally, when I began exfoliating my body twice a week - I use a scrub by the Body Shop - I noticed that the hair was growing back slower than it used to. I use a loofah for everyday too. I don’t believe in laser because it’s never just 6 sessions; you do have to have “maintenance” sessions as well post the 6.

Face sculpting: Gua sha on alternative nights. I dont know if this works or is placebo, but I felt like it did. 

Body lotion every day. Twice a day sometimes. I swear, it makes you smell good and feel so soft. 

Expensive make up: specially, foundation. I’m sorry, i know this could be controversial. But idk what cow semen Charlotte Tilbury puts in her make up, it seriously makes me glow. I’m yet to find a good drug store alternative. A while back, I stopped wearing concealer, and I began using a lighter shade of CT’s foundation as concealer over my normal shade. I feel that because the products are chemically the same, they blend better and don’t react and “peel.” Highly recommend that too. For the rest of my face like powder, blush, eyeliner, I do use normal drug store make up.  

✨

Oral hygiene:

I used to have braces. After taking them off, I noticed a difference in my jaw.

Brush, floss, Listrine, tongue cleaner

Mild whitening. I think Hollywood level teeth whitening looks crazy and I want to look as “naturally” beautiful as possible.

✨

Hair care:

For hair growth: as recommended by my doc: minoxidil hair foam 5% w/w Tugain Foam.

High frequency wand before wash days on my scalp. 

Moroccan hair oil. I use a tiny amount everyday on my ends after I finish my make up for the day and I swear it makes my hair shine like crazy.

I also got hair Botox done because i used to have curly but absolutely unmanageable hair. I tried to make it work for years but i gave up and caved in to having permanent straight hair and I love it. 

I only shampoo twice a day so on days when i workout but don’t shampoo, i use hair perfume. I spray some of it on my brush and run it through my hair. I swear it works. 

✨

Overall:

The colour palette theory seriously works. I didn’t realise that wearing the right colours can impact you so much.

Confidence is absolutely key. I seriously recommend going to a group class of some sort if you have the time and just mingling with random people. Social situations are important to gauge your “standing.”

Random but if you have a big nose: grow out your eyebrows / fill them in slightly thicker. I noticed that when I had thin eyebrows, my nose would stand out more but when I made them thicker, it balanced my face out better. 

Steam iron your clothes before you wear them. You will look 100% put together. 

*IF* you’re aesthetically challenged when it comes to picking clothes, use my rule of thumb: never wear any more than 3 colours at once  (remember: IF you can’t put outfits together). 

[a-killer-obsession]

Wanna say real quick if you're a fanfic writer and you're looking at my page like "ohhh they hit 500 followers so fast and they have a upload schedule and post twice a week, maybe i have to post twice a week to get followers" - Stop

This turned into a whole guide for newbies so more under the cut

Please do not use me as an example! Im disabled and unemployed which means i have time to write two chapters a week, please do not put that sort of pressure on yourself!!! I only let myself have a upload schedule because i keep a small backlog of chapters, meaning i have some buffer if my health is bad or i get writers block, and as yall saw recently i will take a break if i loose that backlog. If i was forcing myself to write two chapters a week on a strict deadline i would absolutely loose my shit and probably burn out very quickly. And to be entirely honest, I haven't seen much difference in follower growth now that I have a schedule versus when I was just posting whenever I remembered to. I really don't think a schedule makes a huge difference, I just like having one because it gives me some sense of routine now that I'm unemployed.

What im trying to say, especially if you're new to posting fanfics, is please dont stress yourself out by thinking you need a strict schedule for anyone to like your fic or follow you. You shouldn't be writing for followers anyway, write for yourself! Write because YOU want to write. And if you fall out of love with that writing, dont feel like you need to force it just to make others happy! When i get burnt out writing Wavelengths, I keep going because *I* want to get to the ending, I've been excited to write it for months. Its another reason i dont start writing new long forms until i have a generic plan of where im going, which is something i highly recommend. Having a chapter you're excited to write really helps when you're trying to find motivation.

While I have you here, let me lay down some general tips for new fanfic writers, especially for those who post on tumblr:

Write because you want to write. Don't ever feel like you need to cater to someone else, that's a sure fire way to get burn out

If you do get burn out: don't worry about it, either it'll pass or it won't. Maybe you'll drop that idea all together and move to something new. Don't sweat it, write what makes you happy. Forcing yourself will only make it worse and it'll show in your writing. Writing fanfics is a hobby, it should be FUN. Sure someone might come across your fic years from now and be sad that it's not complete but they'll probably only be sad for a few days at most and then they'll forget about it. Its not a big deal. Who knows, maybe you'll find inspiration years down the line and make someone's day by randomly updating after years of hiatus. It happens 🤷

Dont worry about how much engagement your fic gets. I know absolutely incredible fics that get barely any engagement, and some frankly hard reads that have a ridiculous amount. Its all just dumb luck really. Again - write because you want to

Don't sweat typos too bad. I recommend finishing your chapter/one shot, giving it a day or so, and THEN come back to proof read. I find doing this gives me fresh eyes and I often find a lot of ways to improve the chapter while I'm fixing typos. If you accidentally leave typos in there, don't worry too much. As long as it makes enough sense for people to understand what you meant, people will still read it. Just look at the first few chapters of Wavelengths for example, they're riddled with typos from swapping from 3rd to 1st person, but people still read them (I'LL FIX THEM SOON I PROMISE LMAO)

Don't worry about being cringe. Cringe is dead, make your characters as self inserty and over powered as you want. CRINGE IS DEAD. If you think its fun to write powers and tropes that you're worried will be cringe, fuck it, write it anyway. As long as YOU have fun writing it. Do you know how many "whoops accidental pregnancy" trope fics I've written? Every single one of my long forms has either had it, or planned to, because I like that trope! I don't care if its cringe, I will continue to get my characters knocked up

Some quick accessibility things:

Please left align your fic! I've seen people posting center and right aligned because it "looks cool". These alignments should be used sparingly! As well as things like italics and different fonts/font sizes/colours! They should be used to highlight small sections only! Otherwise they can make it very difficult for people with reading difficulties to read!

If you're posting on tumblr:

Make sure the majority of your fic uses the default black font. Some people set the whole thing to a different font or the "small" font or a different colour and I literally can't read them, and it makes me so sad! I'm sure I'm not the only one with this issue! Its okay to use other fonts for things like headers and descriptions, but for the bulk of your fic use the default! Theres a graphic designer out there somewhere who spent a long time picking the best font for the body text on this website for a reason!

If your fic is longer than a few paragraphs, use the READ MORE function!!! Either cut under a description or the first few paragraphs so people get a preview of your fic. You may think it's silly to hide most of your fic, but if someone, especially on mobile, comes across your fic automatically trimmed on the fyp, and likes your stuff, and they go to your account to see more and have to scroll for a million years just to get past your newest post, they're quickly going to give up trying to read your other stuff. Using the read more function makes it easy for people to browse your blog and check out more of your works!! It also makes it more likely people will reblog for the same reason.

Along the same lines: have a masterlist. This can be as simple as a pinned post where you add a link every time you post something new. This makes it super easy for people to check out more of your work!

If you have a long form/multi chapter I also recommend going to the previous chapter and adding a "next chapter" link when you post the next one. Not 100% needed though, if you have a masterlist that can be enough on its own, people just appreciate having that next chapter link for binge reading. PUT IT AT THE BOTTOM PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. I hate when I finish a chapter and have to scroll for a million years to get to the top for the link

Feel absolutely free to use the way I format my fics and masterlist as example, but like I said, it can literally be just as simple as a list of links. I recommend listing the links at bare minimum as the title of the fic, and the pairing people can expect (including if its nsfw is a good idea too)

Speaking of NSFW: if your work isn't suitable for minors please make that clear! Even just a 'minors DNI' at the start of the post is good! If you wanna get fancy there are lots of creators who make lovely 18+/minors dni banners you can use for free, just google it and plenty will come up. If you're not adding a cut before the NSFW content then make sure you mark the post as for mature audiences (idk how you do it on the computer because I'm mostly a mobile user but on mobile you can find it bottom right, the icon with the two people). Not appropriately censoring your posts can result in tumblr restricting and possibly banning your account.

Finally, and this one is oddly specific to people who use google docs, but you can use a copy of this google doc to automatically add all the html to your writing so you can just copy and paste it into tumblr or AO3, instead of having to manually fix all the formatting. Do not just copy and paste AO3 html into tumblr, for some reason it has major issues with italics and will cause you a major headache. Just use the linked doc, its a super time saver, I've been using it for ages now

Okay thanks for reading bye

[mariacallous]

Former U.S. President Donald Trump and Vice President Kamala Harris faced off in a highly anticipated presidential debate on Tuesday night, in what was their first—and potentially only—showdown ahead of the Nov. 5 election. 

The debate, hosted by ABC News in Philadelphia, comes amid an unusual election cycle marked by a number of dramatic turns, including U.S. President Joe Biden’s historic decision to drop his reelection bid following his disastrous debate performance in June as well as Trump’s attempted assassination in July. 

With 55 days to go until the election and polls showing a tight race, the 90-minute debate allowed voters the most sustained opportunity to hear from Harris since she entered the race. And while Trump’s general vision for the country is well known to the American public, Tuesday’s debate offered him a chance to reinvigorate a campaign that has struggled to adapt to Harris’s entry into what had otherwise been a lackluster race. 

Though domestic policy issues including the economy, border security, and reproductive rights got ample attention, foreign policy also featured prominently as the candidates clashed over Trump’s trade war with China, Washington’s stance in the Israel-Hamas war, and the future of U.S. support for Ukraine in its war against Russia. 

Here’s what the two candidates said on the biggest foreign-policy issues facing Washington right now:

Russia-Ukraine

Asked whether he would like to see Ukraine win the war against Russia, Trump responded that he wants to stop the war and pledged to “settle” the war before taking office if he wins in November, without offering any details as to how he would accomplish that. “What I’ll do is I’ll speak to one and I’ll speak to the other,” he said. “I’ll get them together.” 

He reiterated his past claim that the war would never have happened had he been in office instead of Biden and insisted that he is more respected by world leaders than Biden or Harris is. “I know [Ukrainian President Volodymyr] Zelensky very well, and I know [Russian President Vladimir] Putin very well,” he said. “They respect me. They don’t respect Biden.” 

Trump also touted the support he has gotten from Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban, who has visited Trump in Florida twice this year and bragged that he has “deep involvement” in the Trump team’s policy deliberations. Orban maintains close ties with Putin and has repeatedly tried to curtail Europe’s attempts to aid and arm Ukraine. “Let me just say about world leaders, Viktor Orban, one of the most respected men, they call him a strong man. He’s a tough person. Smart prime minister of Hungary. They said, ‘Why is the whole world blowing up?’” Trump said.

“[Orban] said, ‘Because you need Trump back as president. They were afraid of him. China was afraid.’ And I don’t like to use the word ‘afraid,’ but I’m just quoting him. ‘China was afraid of him. North Korea was afraid of him.’ Look at what’s going on with North Korea, by the way. He said, ‘Russia was afraid of him,’” Trump added.

Trump also criticized the Biden administration for how much it has spent on defending Ukraine compared with how much European countries have spent. But total European aid to Ukraine actually exceeds U.S. aid to the country, both in terms of pledged commitments and actual allocations, according to the Kiel Institute for the World Economy’s Ukraine Support Tracker. 

Asked how she would deal with Putin and whether her approach would diverge from Biden’s, Harris highlighted the role she played in the run-up to the invasion, including meeting with Zelensky at the Munich Security Conference in February 2022 to deliver the latest U.S. intelligence assessments warning of Russia’s plans, less than a week before Russian troops streamed into Ukraine. 

The vice president recounted the Biden administration’s record on the war, rallying allies in support of Kyiv and providing critical military aid. “Because of our support, because of the air defense, the ammunition, the artillery, the Javelins, the Abrams tanks that we have provided, Ukraine stands as an independent and free country.” 

Harris did not offer any forward-looking agenda as to how she may look to support Ukraine in a potential future administration or any clues as to where she stands on the ongoing debate over whether to allow Ukraine to use U.S. long-range missiles to strike targets deep in Russia. 

Israel-Hamas

Since becoming the Democratic Party’s nominee, Harris’s remarks on the Israel-Hamas conflict have been closely scrutinized by Israel’s supporters and critics for any signs of divergence with Biden, a longtime staunch supporter of Israel. 

Despite intense diplomatic efforts, the administration has failed to broker a cease-fire deal between Israel and Hamas that would secure the release of hostages held by the militant group in Gaza. Asked by the moderators how she would break through the stalemate, Harris recounted the details of the Hamas-led attack on Oct. 7, 2023, that sparked the war and Israel’s right to defend itself, adding that she would “always give Israel the ability to defend itself,” in apparent reference to calls from progressives to halt U.S. military aid to Israel in light of its unsparing campaign in Gaza. She underscored Israel’s need to defend itself from Iran and its proxies in the region.

Harris added that the nature in which Israel defends itself also matters, a refrain she has used long before becoming a presidential candidate. “Far too many innocent Palestinians have been killed,” she said during the debate, reiterating her support for a two-state solution and for the Palestinians’ need for security and self-determination. 

Her response was consistent with her previous remarks on the conflict and hewed closely to her speech to the Democratic National Convention last month.

When asked by the moderators, Trump offered no details as to how he would negotiate with Israel and Hamas or how he would address the increasingly dire humanitarian situation in Gaza. Instead, he repeatedly insisted that if he had been president, the Israel-Hamas war would have never begun.

The former president also claimed, baselessly, that Harris “hates” both Israel and Arabs. “She hates Israel. She wouldn’t even meet with [Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin] Netanyahu when he went to Congress to make a very important speech,” he said. While Harris skipped the speech due to a previously scheduled commitment, she met with him the following day. 

“If she’s president, I believe that Israel would not exist within two years from now,” Trump added. He went on to say that Harris also hates Arabs, claiming that “the whole place is going to get blown up.”

If elected, he pledged to “settle” the ongoing conflicts before any inauguration—again, however, without offering any details as to how that would happen. 

“Look at what’s happening with the Houthis and Yemen. Look at what’s happening in the Middle East. This would have never happened. I will get that settled, and fast, and I will get the war with Ukraine and Russia ended,” he said. “If I’m president-elect, I’ll get it done before even becoming president.”

China

Even though Trump and Harris weren’t directly asked about China during Tuesday’s debate, both candidates clashed sharply over U.S. economic competition with Beijing early on in the night. 

Across both the Trump and Biden presidencies, China has been the one foreign-policy issue where there tends to be more bipartisan agreement. Trump pursued a hawkish policy toward Beijing, particularly when it came to trade, and imposed a raft of tariffs on Chinese imports that triggered a trade war; Biden has largely kept those tariffs in place and has gone further with his own collection of trade restrictions targeting semiconductors and electric vehicles. While Harris’s own track record on China is comparatively limited, as FP’s Lili Pike has reported, her approach is expected to largely track with Biden’s.

Still, on Tuesday night, Harris and Trump sparred over the latter’s pledges to drastically hike up tariffs across the board, a plan that could see all U.S. imports face at least a 10 percent tariff while goods from China would be subject to at least a 50 percent tariff. “China and all of the countries that have been ripping us off for years” are going to face higher prices, Trump declared.

Harris attacked Trump’s tariff proposals, warning that they would drive up inflation, as 16 Nobel-winning economists have publicly said, and “invite a recession.” Trump fired back by pointing out that the Biden administration has mostly kept the Trump-era tariffs in place. 

If “she doesn’t like them, they should have gone out, and they should have immediately cut the tariffs,” Trump said. “But those tariffs … they had [them for] three and a half years now under their administration.”

Harris hit back by criticizing his economic record. “Let’s be clear that the Trump administration resulted in a trade deficit, one of the highest we’ve ever seen in the history of America,” she said. “He invited trade wars.”

She also accused Trump of selling semiconductor chips to China, perhaps to draw attention to the Biden administration’s expansive chip export controls. “He ended up selling American chips to China to help them improve and modernize their military,” she said. “[He] basically sold us out when a policy about China should be in making sure the United States of America wins the competition for the 21st century.” 

Trump said China bought their chips from Taiwan, not the United States. 

Afghanistan

Tuesday’s debate came in the shadow of the third anniversary of the chaotic U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan, the responsibility for which is the subject of significant debate in Washington. 

Asked by the debate moderators if she bore any responsibility for how the withdrawal unfolded, Harris avoided answering the question directly and instead reiterated her support for Biden’s decision to withdraw. “Four presidents said they would, and Joe Biden did it,” she said, before pivoting to attacking Trump’s record in negotiating the initial withdrawal deal with the Taliban, bypassing the Washington-backed Afghan government, seeking to invite the militant group to Camp David, which has played a storied role in U.S. diplomacy. 

Trump defended his record, claiming that he sought to withdraw to protect the lives of U.S. troops and falsely adding that the Taliban inherited $85 billion in U.S. military equipment left behind in the hasty withdrawal. The actual figure has been put at around $7 billion, according to a Defense Department inspector general report to Congress. 

[dailyoyo]

GGs ranked by how quickly they would resort to murdering their friends if they were stuck in a timeloop (Real edition)

my sincerest fucking apologies to pseud for what ive done to their blog.

THAT SAID: on account of this being very long and very grim to the point that most of it is too grimdark to even be funny anymore i am putting it under a readmore. This is a half-joke half-serious post about the ggs getting stuck in a time loop and murdering each other so like. you get what you click on.

also these are all specifically based aroudn our interps/jet set radio paradox obviously so bear that in mind lol

RULES TO MINIMIZE VARIABLES: only one of them knows they're in a time loop, each is a separate scenario where the listed character is the one who knows and remembers. they do not know why the loop is happening and they do not know how to stop it. the span of time the loop happens is relatively normal, though dangerous enough events happen (maybe just normal jsr stuff) that people may accidentally die during it depending on the exempt character's actions. everyone who dies during a loop is alive again when the date rolls back over. everything is back to square one. no consequences. 14. Pots pots is a dog, even if a highly intelligent one. assuming he can even grasp the idea of a time loop (unlikely) i believe it is even further unlikely that he would recognize it as a bad thing. very possible he just stays in the time loop contentedly forever 13. Soda it takes like a week (or until the first "someone dies and comes back") for him to even notice he's in a timeloop (general apathy/depression?). but when he does notice he's pretty together about it. obviously he wants out but he's literally got all the time in the world, he doesn't need to do stupid traumatic shit just to see what happens. he's got this.

12. Jazz WHY WOULD MURDER EVEN BE PART OF THIS EQUATION WHAT THE FUCK? shes not gonna kill anybody and would think its super fucked to even raise the idea. how is that supposed to help. That said. she does keep repeatedly explaining she's in a time loop almost every loop and it is getting to the point that she kiiiiinda wants to strangle someone or two as stress relief because by god is she stressed. she Won't, she's got more sense than that, but. But…

11. Boogie i think she never really goes full murdermode or anything and the very idea of that happening would shock and disturb her, but surprisingly early on she gives into the impulse to push one of the other ggs into traffic (it doesn't matter anyway, right?) and watches them get ran over. and she's like O_O oh jesus fuck that was horrible. and she never kills anyone again during the loops but it HAUNTS her and makes her nervous abt the idea that she COULD do it again.

10. Gum she's mostly level headed, i think, so she wouldn't be quick to resort to madness. but give her enough time and she starts feeling desperate and does some scary shit in the hopes that maybe somehow they'll at least remember next time. like more than anything i think it's the isolation of it that gets to her. maybe she doesn't progress to outright intentional murder, maybe she only tries it once or twice to see if it fixes anything (it doesn't). while she doesn't go full-blown axe-crazy she DOES become incredibly dangerous and desperate to just not be the only one who remembers.

9. Garam while his nerves end up aaaabsolutely shot and he loses all his patience to see the same day happening over and over, i think it would honestly take a while for him to become a danger to the ggs. he'd rather take out his stress on Literally Anything Else. that said he'd reach a point where he accidentally kills someone for real (whether a gg or an unrelated party) and it fucks him up reallll bad, but whether it fucks him up in a "fine whatever i can kill people who cares" way or a "I NEED TO BE CAREFUL THIS NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN HOLY FUCK" way depends on the circumstances.

8. Beat honestly? unless something in particular causes him to suspect one of the ggs is responsible for the loop, it takes a while for it to even occur to him that killing his friends is an option. like maybe he might end up killing the GGs' enemies and maybe even rivals, but if you brought up the idea of killing his FRIENDS to him he'd be like "wait huh??? but why even????" that said, though, keep him in there long enough and he might develop a severe god complex and start doing it purely to power trip.

7. Combo putting him in a time loop i think would really be the last straw in his miserable life. maybe he deserves the right to kill someone at this point really. while he focuses intently on trying to find a way to break the loop, as it all begins to grate on him he really just stops giving a shit about much of anything. the murder isn't a constant thing, more like one or two good ol' kill em all style breakdowns, and obviously it only makes him feel sick to his stomach when the date rolls over, but what can he even do about it?

6. Clutch he tries to play it cool at first and not think about it too hard but it isnt long before a sort of prey animal panic is invoked in him and hes like. I gotta get outta here. I gotta get out of here. Oh my god i gotta get the hell out of here. and it doesn't help that hes really not close with these guys yknow. and any concern from the ggs he reacts to with escalating violence until he reaches the point he's killing them multiple times in hopes that gives him a way out. eventually he just gives up

5. Corn at first the thought of killing his friends doesnt even cross his mind but he becomes increasingly desperate to understand what's happening and soon enough it's a last resort. it's all very methodical testing the limits of the loop and himself, not explaining anything to anyone else because they'll forget anyway and becoming increasingly hostile and isolationist. he doesn't want to but He's out of options. He has to FIGURE IT OUT.

4. Roboy what bothers him more than anything else is the feeling of helplessness over the whole thing and even if the others COULD help him he's not going to try to get their help. he kills the other ggs to feel less powerless, like he has any sort of control over the situation, and all it does is make him feel worse and worse and worse. maybe eventually reaches a point where he starts deleting his memories of the resets in the hopes this breaks the vicious feedback loop but all it does is ensure the cycle never ends.

3. Yoyo If you put yoyo in a situation where nothing he does matters and none of his actions have consequences he will do increasingly crazy dumb shit because it's not like it matters anyway. and he will undergo EXTREMELY RAPID psychological decay that DOES end in him killing members of the ggs just to see what effect it has both on the loop and on others' psyches. and he will just assume that the loop is forever and ever with no way to ever break it.

2. Cube cube upon realizing she and she alone is in a timeloop will rapidly come to the conclusion that she is in actual literal hell. everything wrong with her will come to the surface at once. she will suffer a severe psychological break SO fast and the streets will run red. maybe she's enjoying it. maybe she isn't. but she is convinced this HAS to happen. and that she deserves it. 1. Mew As soon as Mew finds out that deaths don't stick she's going to massacre all of the GGs just to see how it feels. just once. to try it. it's fine. it doesn't matter. Where did she get that higurashi cleaver

bonus: with the way i joke about zero beat maybe he doesnt even notice hes in a time loop until After hes maimed someone to death. i dont know man. im lying. who fucking give a shit

[not-poignant]

hi pia i just wanted to respond to what you said in your tags about the burnout w chronic illness. and i dont mean to condescend or blame but i think your burnout came about because you are an absolute beast of a writer!!!!! the amount of words you were pushing out consistently had me wondering what kind of spell you must’ve been on. (in a good way, except it turned out to be harming you) you worked really really hard for a long time, i think harder than many healthy people even (my chronic illness could never). i know you also enjoyed writing (we enjoyed it too!), but that workload honestly never looked sustainable. the astounding part is not that you burned out, but that you managed to push for so long, despite your handicaps and hardships. want to be careful not to sound like im praising/blaming you. but you’re really just build different than a lot of folks. i hope you had time to recharge so far and keep taking it easy. i do miss your updates but i can assure you im fine waiting, as are your other readers! its really okay! get better soon 💐🐀💓

Hi anon,

This is very kind of you to say, but tbh, I don't think many people know how much some writers can, well, write.

I might seem like an over-achiever, but there are writers out there who easily write around 6000-10000 words per day, and release a book per month. I have met successful authors who aim for 150k or 200k at NaNo, because 50,000 words is 5 days of work to them.

It's hard for me to comprehend, because I know I can't do that. But likewise, I think many folks don't realise that I actually used to write a lot more than I do now!! For some years it was normal for me to write 50-80,000 words every single month. NaNo was a joke. That caused burnout, and so I adjusted down to a 25,000 minimum monthly wordcount which sometimes felt so easy that it was absurd. I now have a maximum which I have to adhere to per month (50k), because it's too easy to go past it.

For me, writing is relatively easy. It's still work, yes. I still need to put time into it. But I don't need to put in the same amount of time as someone who hasn't done it for thousands and thousands of hours. I don't need to put in the same amount of time as someone who can only touch type at 80 wpm, when I touch type at 120-150 wpm.

The amount of stories is an issue, and the number of chapter updates is an issue, but the actual output re: words themselves really isn't. In fact I've written more words this month than I did last month already, and will very likely hit my monthly minimum with the next chapter.

The things that contributed to my burnout are multifaceted. Getting a puppy. A death in the family. Not having access to the mental health drugs I need to function for a long period of time. Friendship disintegration. These things can cause burnout in anyone, even if they are working very sustainably, because they all require separate labour on top of the labour that someone is doing for their job.

When I come back from hiatus, I will not be writing less. I don't believe the wordcount is the issue and haven't for a long time. I will be scheduling out less chapters, because admin is overwhelming to me. If you told me that my job wasn't writing anymore, but I had to schedule + figure out when to post twice as many chapters, I'd fail, lmao.

So I will be addressing admin stuff! But the amount of words I was pushing out, anon, was completely sustainable, and in fact a highly reduced number compared to what I was pushing out 6/7 years ago. Anon, I have been pushing out this many words or more for 5 years without stopping until now. It's felt comfortable. It's been so much less than what I used to make myself write.

So yeah, again, it can be hard for people who don't do this professionally to imagine writing at this level. And all professionals are different. I couldn't write 150k for NaNoWriMo, but the people writing 100k a month find that extremely easy to do. How I feel about their output - that it's impossible (because it is for me) is not how they feel about their output. For them writing 50k a month to make it easy might be extremely laughable to them, like, 5 days of work and then they get 25 days off. That's sometimes how I've felt about 25k (though it's more like 10 days of work to me - which is great, because I have chronic illness lol, so I need a lot of rest days and periods).

The amount of words I was pushing out consistently will be the amount I go back to because that is truly the most sustainable part of my job. I don't expect folks who haven't plugged in as many hours into writing, and who haven't written millions of words to understand, but the fact is the more you do something, the faster you get at it. The more practice you have, the more competent you become.

That was actually how I knew the burnout was so bad, because the easiest part of my job - the words + the writing - was impossible last month, and I only ended up with 14k for the first time in 5 years, and had to make a call.

The reason the hiatus is so frustrating is that so much of it is being caused by external factors, and not actually the job itself. Like yes, I am working on too many stories, and I can address that, but I was actually doing much higher wordcounts when I was working on less stories.

It's all the extra stuff that becomes very overwhelming! But I'll get there anon, and my wordcounts aren't going anywhere.

[beyondthebackup]

[Carefully folded, a delicate pink note tucks itself between the tree's undulating seams. The ripples of bark, communion ash against the blushing paper, a meek sail cresting dark waves blissfully unaware of its existence on the periphery of an expanding whirlpool, a crater left by bruised knuckles. The note reads:] "I daydream of reciting bible verses in backless Sunday dresses, brushing my fingers through your hair as proverbs pour out of me. I would shiver against your lips pressed lush and hot between the valleys of my unguarded virtue. I want you to kiss me so hard that I bruise like bitten fruit, I want you to sink your sanguine carnality into me, divorce modernity and pretend we are in some distant century, sincere and snarling into each other's skin - my muse red in tooth and claw, my savage love... You could infiltrate me so tenderly, daring my will to resist this pull from God with your succulent serenade. My voice would grow small and sharp as a misericord's blade, glinting promises of mercy asking you to slip it between the petals of my armor, all that's left to guard sense from sin. - ♡"

The early morning jogs began as a necessary staple of B's training regimen.

Victory is less about raw strength than it is about stamina and endurance, his trainer told him, if you can outlast your opponent in a fight, you win.

B defeated A in the athletic realm a long time ago, that was undeniable, and yet it wasn't enough. The envy rolling A's eyes whenever B showed off, the pounding of his heart betraying fear as B pinned him to the ground again and again and again until it was insisted that B spar with someone closer to his skill level...

Ah, the humiliation was palpable. It was an amazing feeling.

Alternative even lowered himself to a full-scale retreat, begging Roger to remove him from the class because he couldn't handle it.

Now, the early morning jogs are something B does of his own volition when he is in the mood and the weather is tolerable, to keep form and assure Alternative that in this avenue he would always be inferior.

On days like this he is usually awake before anyone else, which is what makes the odd little sign of human activity in the form of a pink note in a tree particularly eye-catching as B slows to a stop in front of it and catches his breath.

This is the tree he used as a sandbag and passed on his usual route around the orphanage. Still, besides that gaping wound he left in its trunk, it is one unremarkable tree in a sea of many. That note could be meant for anyone. B plucks it from its perch anyway, immediately thinking of the previous letter he discovered in his desk and reads it.

The letter could be meant for anyone, but twice is quite the coincidence.

Trained to be a detective from the time he was small, that glaring focus takes over and he almost doesn't take the time to enjoy what the letter is saying.

Almost.

Sunday dresses?

---------- Obelus Yoriko Umbral A ----------

Though Obelus is Catholic and the only person on B's mental list he's seen carrying a bible, he has a baffling insecurity about his bare arms and taking off the stupid flannels he wears all the time. B still intends to compare their handwriting, but unless he's playing some elaborate game (which B feels he is too lazy for) it is highly unlikely that Obe is the author of these notes or interested in wearing backless Sunday dresses. Besides, if he wanted to fuck, he'd just say so.

Even more than the hunger inherent in the delicately penned words on the page, B is struck by one thing in particular -

My voice would grow small and sharp as a misericord's blade, glinting promises of mercy asking you to slip it between the petals of my armor, all that's left to guard sense from sin.

B recognizes the blade from books he read on the High Middle Ages years ago.

Specifically, that it was meant to be a last resort - to kill your enemy during a struggle, or kill a knight with a fatal wound to gift them a more painless death. Usually with the aim to pierce the eye, the brain, or the heart.

It's a morbid way of putting things.

Whoever this person is, they consider their situation dire. The note says so itself - sin and death.

Whoever they are, there's a reason why they're hiding behind pretty little notes.

B smirks to himself. He's having fun.

He pockets the second note, and resumes his jog.

[Lavender Note]

[Pink Note]

[Blue Note]

[chowtrolls]

Detectable

Google Docs Link

Mordamere is a rather mild planet, roughly a two-week flight by commercial space ship. The soil is high in iron and rust, making it hard to farm on and very red. The trolls who live here wear long sleeves and facial covering to keep themselves safe from the dusty air. The only seadwellers around were the CO’s and high ranking officers who supervised the bustling military activity just out of the main cities. Despite its bleak skies, dry weather, and busy military ports, the native residents of Mordamere boast a vibrant music scene. Or, so Rumble explained as she read the travel pamphlet to her guardian once again. 

“Do you think they have guitars and shit? Like normal band stuff? Trumpets?” It would be difficult to hear her voice from under the protective face scarf, if she didn’t have an earpiece with a microphone in it. Lockjaw was just as covered up as she was. This rendered his fins almost useless. The microphone connected to his language processing chip so he could still hear her excitement. 

“They are still trolls, they came from Alternia.” To the outsider looking in, Lockjaw hadn’t said a word. It went directly to Rumble’s earpiece. The bundled up fuchsia didn’t seem to mind as she tailed the blueblood. 

“But they’ve lived here for centuries! Maybe they have new stuff! If we find a pawn shop can I get a Mordamerian trumpet?” 

The audio clip of a sigh played in her earpiece. “Maybe. We do have a job to finish.”

Rumble huffed softly, looking up from the pamphlet to glower at the case on Lockjaw’s back. Inside was a weapon he very rarely ever used. “Yeah, but you’re just gunna…you know, S-N-I-P-E him. That’s so-” 

“Rumble.” Lockjaw stopped suddenly, turning around to make eye contact with his charge. She froze in place. Her glare moved from the rifle to his eyes, then to his hands. Her guardian was too frustrated to speak, opting instead to sign to her. It was highly unlikely, in his reasoning, that anyone here would pay much attention to a stranger using sign language. Especially considering the wide range of sign languages. “Spelling it out loud is no better than saying it out loud.” 

“Okay? Nobody can hear me under this scarf! Except you! You still won’t tell me why we have to do it this way!” Though her face was mostly covered, Lockjaw could see her pout loud and clear. 

“Because we do. Because it's easier this way. Because I don’t want to get caught. A million reasons, Rumble. Stop arguing. Please. We’re going to be late.” The blueblood waited for Rumble to groan in defeat before continuing on. The Handler had said to be in the apartment just before the sun had set. It would be around then that they would call the apartment itself, rather than paging Lockjaw. He cycled through the plan again, and again, and again, as the pair made their way through the dusty streets. 

Stake Deepbite out. Watch where he goes. The day before he leaves, take him out. Dispose of the rifle, shells, and case in the dumpsters down the alley. Stay three more days in the apartment two floors down. Leave. Easy.

- - -

Staking out a target was the hardest part to Rumble. Thankfully, Lockjaw didn’t require her to tag along with him- in fact, he gave her specific instructions to stay as far from him as possible. The young fish wasted no time planning out all the sights she would see, running each idea by her guardian first to ensure she was far enough away. Luckily for Rumble, their target was not a very adventurous man. 

At roughly the same time every day, the Imperial Deepbite would leave the hangars and mosey his way down to the restaurants, in the downtown portion. He ate at the same one almost every day, only changing his routine once or twice. Lockjaw observed from across the occasionally busy street at one of the coffee shops. He would enter at roughly the same time every day, order the same thing, and sit in one of the window seats with a stolen Fleet-assigned laptop.

The story, as he told the barista who asked, was that he was an auditor for the Fleet. He was going over the maintenance files of the various ships to ensure all parts and pieces were up to date with their care. He even went on a small, sign language tangent about how often Fleet ships overlooked the expiration date of parts they never considered important, such as seats. Seats are floatation devices AND provide protection from incoming fire! The barista didn’t seem too impressed by his scpheal, but bought it nonetheless. And considering most trolls continued to wear facial protection indoors, nobody questioned the state of his face. 

So, every day, Lockjaw put on the persona of a Fleet Auditor. Alongside his stolen spaceship audit spreadsheets, Lockjaw kept a detailed record of the Imperial Deepbite’s schedule. Who he left with. The names and ranks of those who most often accompanied him. What he ate, which trolls served him. On the weekend, Deepbite would leave the hangar later, and stay late at one of the bars. Lockjaw observed him from the scope of his rifle, watching the bartender prepare and serve the fuchsia’s drink, how long it took Deepbite to drink it, who he was there with, and what he was doing. Deepbite was mostly followed by violets, a few bluebloods, other highblood officials. His main accomplice was Typhon Iottah, the Catalyst, a violet with crutches. There was another violet, too, but Lockjaw determined that his best bet for a successful hit would be to strike when the fuchsia was accompanied by his friend on crutches. 

Meanwhile…Rumble explored. She’d return to the apartment at their agreed time. She would recite the events of her day with such vibrant excitement, it almost made Lockjaw forget what they had been there for. Music venues, local concerts, coffee shops on the other side of town. She met locals, visited thrift stores, even found some instruments she thought were exciting. By the end of their three-week stay, however, Rumble had run out of things to do. As such, on Deepbite’s final day, Lockjaw asked her to stay with him. 

To spot him, he insisted. To provide alibi. 

But mostly to prevent her from getting caught. 

[toshinoris-spouse]

[Permanent RP Ad | MHA/BNHA | Soulmate AU | Doubling]

I'm going to put this in a new format, using how I posted RP ads on Reddit as a base. Since this is the only thing on my mind... I figure I'll also post it onto this blog, for anyone who wants to find it! No one probably will, but there's always that hope, huh?

Currently: Not Accepting

Genres: Romance, Adventure, Action, Fantasy Literacy: Proficient/Advanced Lit (anywhere from 6-8 paragraphs per RP reply [per character side], minimum). Preferred Reply Speed: Once a week, up to once a month (feel free to take longer if life's being a pill, but please warn me in advance if you can!). It used to be twice every two days with once a week being the max, but- my own reply speed has fallen. Wouldn't be fair to ask others for quick responses when I can't do the same. POV: 3rd Person, Past Tense Fandom: My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia Alternate Universe?: Yes, Soulmate AU (First Words) Characters: Finley Well (SI), Toshinori Yagi, Your OC, Your OC's Love Interest Pen Name: Writer Platform for RP: Discord

This ad is only for fellow muns who are 18+, though the RP itself need not be rated that highly. I'd just feel better RP'ing with a fellow adult.

Additional info under the cut!

I figure I got everything specific up there, but there'll be more here, so let's go! I work a very early-morning style job that can get insanely stressful. I'm usually up by anywhere from 4AM to 6AM (work days vs. days off), and my work schedule fluctuates from week to week. I'm in the EST timezone, but I don't mind chatting with mates from other timezones, no matter how extreme the difference.

I have seen up to episode 127 of MHA, so I'm between the Paranormal Liberation Raid and the Dark Deku arc. I can RP as any character up to that point, but any who have major character stories/backstories revealed past that are currently off-limits, since I would have to spoil myself on a lot more than just basic details in order to portray them. Shoto Todoroki is also off-limits, mainly because I have an OTP for him and just don't see him with anyone other than a friend's OC. So aside from those restrictions, you are free to ask me to portray anyone for your OC! I like to dig into characters and ships and develop headcanons as we RP, so be ready for some OOC chatter.

The Soulmate MHA universe itself can be explained via my Reddit account, where I made a single post containing every last bit of info I could recall on its machinations. If you haven't guessed by now, yeah, this will involve plenty of reading. I'm sorry in advance. There is also Finley Well's info doc, which is linked in my blog's pinned post.- But don't feel obligated to read that if you aren't interested in the AU itself, or in the concept of how your ship would also function in this take on MHA.

In simplified terms, Soulmates have Words printed somewhere on their body that are written in their Soulmate's native language and personal handwriting from birth. Not everyone has a Soulmate, and some people have multiple.- When the Words are first said by one's Soulmate, they'll glow- and they'll only stop glowing once the person realizes who their Soulmate is. If your Soulmate dies, then, depending on how strong your will/body is, you can live a month without them... Before you also die. Meeting your Soulmate gives you a stat boost- whether just to your actual stats (strength, speed, etc.) or your Quirk (if you have one).

If you are interested, I would gently ask that you check my RP doc before reaching out to me. Make sure to contact me and let me know your pen name, any OCs you would like for me to RP against (please include their info/a link to their info if you can), any Canons you want me to portray for said OCs, and any limits in the RP. If your OC n' LI are minors in the eyes of US law (under 18), then I will only allow NSFW to occur on one side of the RP (YagiFin). If you are not interested in NSFW, then the topic will not be touched on at all.

The RP will take place during the events of MHA. The general starting point is always around the entrance exams, sometimes before, sometimes a day or so into school- I'm fine with whatever floats your boat. It'll take a day (possibly more) of plotting before we start the actual RP, and the RP will gradually diverge more and more from the canon material. So... Have fun, and I hope to hear from you!

[the-smallest-star]

Pep talk.

Actual armor... he was being dressed in actual armor. It was form fitting and not at all what he was used to, causing him to squirm a little. The adviser delivered a small smack to his ankle in response with his own tail “Stop it, this is to make sure Brutus doesn’t crush your bones.” Tirritus scolded... that got James to stop. The room was lavish with high quality rugs and curtains. Food and drink were left out for them... yet James left them untouched in his worry.

“So... Tirritus, how long have you been mum’s adviser?” James asked, it was enough to make the adviser pause and consider the question. “200 years give or take another 50 your highness.”  “So she must trust you.” “Yes, however I am simply her adviser. Anything important is referred to her, I may give my input however she may not listen to me.” “Ah.” James mulled that over as he felt the armor lock in place over his chest, tail flicking anxiously, “So... on a scale of 1 to 10, how likely is it that I’ll beat Brutus?”

That made Tirritus hesitate, as James tried to turn his head to look at them the dark claws moved his head to face forwards and away again as he tightened the straps on his shoulders. “Do you want my ‘go get ‘em tiger’ response or my honest opinion.” “Honest.” “He’s going to wipe the floor with you.” That made James tense, another swat to his leg... but gentle this time.

“It’s not because of what you are if thats what you’re wondering. Its more to do with Brutus himself. Ebony chose the strongest, fiercest and most loyal of her people to be her captain of the guard. No one other than Ebony herself has ever beat him, and he admires her for it. Your existence is an insult to him, a stain on her perfection... though others do not view you that way.” Tirritus frowned for a moment, moving away from James to collect another piece of armor. “What do you advise? If... I can’t beat him then what do I do? People will loose faith....” “Do your best.” Tirritus interrupted as he jammed a helmet on James’s head, “the Royal Challenge is not a ‘fight to the death’ event. It is a fight until you can’t anymore. So my advice is fight until you can’t, and when you can’t then stay down. It would mean when your time to become King is at hand that others will challenge you, but by then you may be stronger and more prepared. I would take the loss to fight another day... of course my Queen would say otherwise. But she does care for you, if you loose she will be disappointed but... that will not change her affection towards you.”

That made James feel a tiny bit better.

“So what are the rules?” James asked.

“Choose a starting weapon in this room, you may use weapons you find in the arena also and even your opponents weapon. Magic is permitted, but Brutus has a talent of negating magical effects... so don’t expect him to bend. Any sort of fighting is allowed. If you can no longer fight or you think you’re going to die you tap twice with your hand. Can be on the ground or any surface. The gong will sound and the fight will be over, and a winner will be declared. No more fighting is permitted after the gong sounds.” Tirritus explained, those rules helped ease James’s worry somewhat. “Has anyone died in the Ember Games?” the prince inquired. “Not in the royal challenge, to kill a member of the royal family is a highly disrespectful and treasonous act if done by someone outside the family. The regular games are a different story. You only have to compete once, though if you loose and you want to redeem yourself you can always attempt a second try, which would earn some respect back. Her majesty enjoys competing... she was going to this year but gave up her spot for you.”

His mother really wanted him to try... and he didn’t have much of a say. James had to do his best. “Done, pick your weapon. You’ll have five minutes before you’re on so I recommend limbering up... Brutus is a skilled fighter both physically and mentally. He will keep you on your toes.”

[baladric]

i go through a lot of brainworms, most of them quite quickly (goblin emperor excepted, that one’s eternal entirely bc it is so fucking good and there’s such a broader world to flesh out freely, which is my FAVE), but i suspect the reason the stranger things garbage has me in such a chokehold is how abysmal the duffers’ worldbuilding is. because apparently i love nothing more than a poorly-assembled puzzle to fix! (read more’d because this is annoying and long)

like, the first season establishes such a fascinating alternate world with all of these Questions to answer—how is the demogorgon transporting people/itself? what’s with the egg casing hopper finds in the upside down? why does the demogorgon simply take will, not once, but twice, when we know it kills at least two of the five other people it takes—and what is up with the use of the hawkins public library as a hub of sorts in which to stash will after he’s seemingly installed in the hive mind? great questions! great, concrete questions that would be so easy to answer with season 2 and beyond!

and yet! not only are they distinctly not answered (sorry, but ThE mInD fLaYeR is not an answer to the question of Who Is Running The Upside Down’s Show, nor is vecna’s extremely belated intro in any way a satisfactory answer to that question), they’re very often completely overwritten or ditched by the wayside. everyone just stops giving a shit that the upside down’s atmosphere is toxic, nor does anyone ever see any health problems from exposure (hopper and joyce take their hoods off when they find will and definitely need a couple hours to haul him back out of there afterwards! and even if the goggles+bandanas combo did fuck-all for the kids/steve in the tunnels in s2, which i highly doubt, dustin still fully inhales a bunch of spores! plus nancy, robin, steve and eddie are down there for most of a day and come out a-okay, aside from bat injuries!) it’s explicitly stated later that the upside down creatures can only operate with extant gates opened from topside hawkins, so the demogorgon’s power to open smaller, more direct gates is nerfed out of existence! demogorgons apparently grow from little parasitic larvae, so the egg casings in the upside down are also voided as a worldbuilding aspect, unless the implication is that there are other very large creatures wandering around, which i highly doubt is anything the duffers have considered and/or care about! and then there’s everything with eleven, which is just... so fucking handwaved!

like what do you mean dosing a bunch of people in the 60s up with LSD and tossing them in iso tanks produced psychic kids? and how the fuck does some telekinesis and some gentle telepathy yield eleven’s connection to the in-between? and clearly she’s innately connected to the upside down itself, otherwise what random kind of bullshit is it that the hole she opened and shoved creel through just happened to dump him in this blighted fucking hellscape? did she make the upside down?? and are we just gonna eternally ignore that she has an aneurysm every time she uses her powers??? like!!!

it’s just so infuriating, the degree to which the duffers are just fucking around in here, hamfisting these big lame dramatic plots when there are so many sick-ass ways they could have structured a really great, cohesive, multi-season arc for the grand fucking history of the upside down and its ability to creep into the minds of humans (how else do you explain vecna getting to chrissy without any open gates?). and not just “the secret was socipoathic ecofascism the whole time, and some russians too”—like you could give us the why on this world’s impressionability (will’s entry just... spawning a copy of hawkins in a limited radius around himself) in juxtaposition with its already extant life forms (creel sees demogorgons and the particles that form the mind flayer on his initial entry, seven years pre-canon). because something has clearly happened to the upside down! one feels so loudly that it wasn’t always like this, because if it were, where the fuck did the fauna come from, and why are they so limited in scope? why is the only flora unrelated to will’s copy of hawkins, like. sentient fucking vines? what’s with the floating fucking rock-islands??

it could be! so good! it could be fucking edible! and yet, the duffers just wanna talk about mike wheeler and child experimentation. fuckin rip, i will probably not recover until i write some troublingly elaborate bullshit about upside down druid!eddie and how he revives the upside down to its former glory before going home to kiss steve harrington’s extremely dumb face.

[alexin-wonderlust]

Day 10 - Japan Blog - 16 February 2024

We woke up super early to get reservations at a super popular restaurant (more on that tomorrow!!) but missed out… so we decided to eat our way through Kyoto, starting at Nishiki Market.

Ben doesn’t eat anything from the ocean and I am new to eating fish — I don’t enjoy the “fishy” taste, but I don’t mind salty and trying new things. I don’t like seaweed, and I don’t like big portions so Japan is a good place to try a lot of things!!

The Nishiki Market is so amazing. Its like a smorgasbord of everything to tempt the tastebuds I had two giant prawns, grilled on a hotplate and it was like $5. There was a sake shop selling 100Y sake, but it seemed a bit gimmicky -- we had some chicken and gyoza but nothing too exciting. We found a chilli shop with a cute lady working there -- she showed us this "numbing" spice, so of course Ben had to buy it :P We wanted to go and see the Nijo Castle, but missed out because even though they "close" at 4... they stop letting people in at 3 and we got there just after. So we found a supermarket and went a bit boonta in there.

The supermarkets in Japan are amazing. A whole section for sushi, and the most decadent, colourful, fresh sushi plate for only 690Y. Amazing! Then there's the cheeses, sweets, snacks, fresh fruit is super expensive but amazingly polished. We bought about $25 worth but came back with some good wasabi stuff, and a tube of "melon pan" spread. Amazing! I wanted to take Ben to where they brew the green Macha IPA beer -- so we got on a train to the other side of Fushimi Inari where there are a bunch of sake breweries/distilleries? Whatever they are. At the Kizakura Country Brewery we had a tasting paddle where the beer brewed with Sake Yeast (?) was the best. We had some snacks and then headed back to Osaka for our highly anticipated dinner at Salvatore’s...

Now, I’m not sure if I want to post about how poor the food was here. Our expectations were high because the last time we visited — it was exceptional. Like, think of the best Neapolitan Pizza you’ve had — that… was not the case this time. Then we got the bill and it was over $100AUD. Actually unhappy with all of it. Last time it was SO GOOD WE WENT BACK TWICE?! How could it get so bad 😭😭😭

Back to the hotel to drown my sorrows with an ice cream in the bath. 🧊

[dearjournail]

I can tell you that 2023 is not the best year for me. Wanna know why? It's because :

I began this year having flu + fever

Typhus in the middle of the year (i was literally on bed rest for 10 days)

And now i'll end it with diarrhea

Like, diarrhea? Out of nowhere? WHY DO I GET DIARRHEA WHEN I DONT EVEN EAT ANYTHING THAT COULD CAUSE IT?

I swear i've been sick so much this past month alone. I got sick twice on December, everyone. TWICE. Ugh! I hate being sick. Why do i become sick so easily 😭😭

I dont know, is it only me or is it just a part of adulting lol But i feel like i'm getting weaker day by day both mentally and physically. Like, i was fine and full of joy 5 minutes ago, then suddenly got really exhausted and lack of motivation. This might be because i'm getting older, but i'm still on my 20's, i'm not that old tho.

Long story short, Me and my friends used to have regular schedule after work. We'd like to go to the beach, simply to watch the sun set or just hanging out at the cafe whenever we could finish our job early (let's say it's a self-reward for our hardwork lol). But now? WE'VE NEVER DONE THAT ANYMORE CAUSE WE'RE TOO TIRED TO JUST STOP BY.

For unimportant comparison, the nearest beaches we'd usually go are Petitenget, Kuta and Double Six. It only took 20-30 minutes from our workplace. And, we've been to some beaches at Jimbaran and Nusa Dua too (Dreamland, Gunung Payung, Balangan, Geger) which took us an 1hr++ from our workplace to be there. For us who works 9 hours (from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M.) a day, taking an hour of scooter ride should be exhausting (if you know Bali with its heat and traffic), but surprisingly we still go anyway.

Even on July, we went hiking at Mt. Batur and know what time we hit the road? 12.30 A.M. After! Being! At! Work! All! Day! And we went there by scooter. It was a 2.30 hours of endless riding in the middle of the night. Not to mention the little accident where my scooter's back tyre suddenly punctured and we could barely find any repair shop at those hours (such a horrible night, if i must say). And we still go to work like usual on the next day.

I mean, WHERE'D THOSE SPIRIT GO? I used to have that "Semangat Masa Muda Yang Membara dan Menggebu-gebu" but now? Poofs, it was gone and nothing left. Gosh, i miss having that spirit of youth and the strong, wild and highly motivated me. This year is so bizarre for whatever reason tho!

[neo-shitty]

dead ends — l.dh

description. donghyuck is a piece of your past, a ghost in your present, and a dot of uncertainty in the future twists of fate.

pairings. lee donghyuck x gender-neutral reader

genre. angst, slight fluff & comedy, exes to ???, café!au, time-travel!au

warnings. none

word count. 6.9k

notes. the way i wrote this on valentines :D the time travel café in this fic is from the short story collection ‘before the coffee gets cold’ by toshikazu kawaguchi. i loved it and i highly recommend it! | taglist: @jensrose​ @rae-blogging​ @cavaree​ @lebrookestore​ 

The steps leading down the basement café have long been worn out by age and season, creaking with the weight of every step, but its logs hold like they always have. The heavy oak door swings open only halfway because it inevitably jams on the uneven flooring, marking  a concave where it scrapes the ground. With a bell more ominous sounding than welcoming, Funiculi Funicula was a peculiar café and it hasn’t changed much since the last time you were here.

You braced yourself against the door, pushing it open with all the strength you could muster. It budges, barely, just enough to ring the bell hanging overhead. Clang-dong. The doorbell is distinct from its sweet high-pitched counterparts, infamous for scaring off first timers than inticing them to come in. The door scratches against the ground when you try to shove it again and it thunks—hitting the edge of the indent on the floor.

From behind, you hear something clatter to the ground then the clopping of shoefall. The door levitates off the ground, held up before its swung fully inward. “So sorry about that. We haven’t had the chance to fix it yet.” The waiter bows once, then twice, before you reach up to stop him.

“Relax, Jaemin. It’s just me.”

He perks up when he hears you, his eyes widening in recognition as soon as they meet yours. “_____! Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” Stepping aside, he lets you walk in. The café was empty save for a lady with her nose buried in a book, a regular you recognized from years ago. It was quiet compared to the busy streets above, nothing but humming from the coffee machines and whirring from the enormous ceiling fan reverberating around its brown walls. Even now, it still felt like home; warm to the skin like an embrace with the fragrance of brewed beans hanging in the air with firm nostalgic permanence.

You shrug but Jaemin already had his back turned. “Been better, you?”

“Bored to death,” he whispers almost instantly, whipping his head back to press a finger to his lips. “Not a word to the boss.”

So you zip your mouth shut with a finger zipper. 

The place was small, no larger than your own cheap apartment, taking only a dozen people more or less to fill up the space. You’ve never seen every booth occupied, never wanted to be cramped with too many people in such a tight space, but the business never seemed to operate at a loss in the years you dropped by weekly—even when you could count the number of regulars with a single hand.

“What can I get you today?” Jaemin asks from behind the counter, apron-clad with a pen tucked between his fingers along with a flip notebook.

Your throat suddenly feels tight, words swept away by an invisible vortex in your head. You’ve rehearsed this a hundred times over but the words lodge in your throat. 

Eventually it pours out. “The café special.”

The café employees were trained to never show indifference when it was requested but you don’t miss Jaemin’s surprise. He blinks one too many, as if he didn’t hear you right the first time, then buffers between the nod and the “alright” before he moves around the stations.

“You know the rules, right?” he asks from behind the coffee machine, muffled behind the noises of it buzzing to life.

“Mhm.” 

Behind you, there is a muffled thud, papers pressed together as a book clapped shut. It was that time of the day and luckily, you came right on time. The woman sets her novel aside, pushing herself off the seat and disappears into the restroom. 

You sachet over to the vacated seat, brushing past empty table tops until you reached the supposedly mystical chair—the only spot in the café where time travel was possible. The woman leaves it only once a day and with years of observation in the past, you’ve narrowed her departure hours to the late afternoons. You were lucky today, you didn’t have to wait long. The seat wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, completely identical to the other wonky seats on every other booth. It wasn’t warm when you sat down even when it should’ve been, talks of the woman being a ghost stuck in the past replaying quietly in the back of your mind. You shrug it off, still disbelieving, turning your attention back to Jaemin as he finished brewing your coffee.

“You ready?” Jaemin asks as he walks over with a tray balanced atop his palm, setting each item one by one on your table. Saucer, cup, then teaspoon.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” It was a blatant lie he was trained to hear, but if your nervousness peaked through he didn’t show any notice. 

He rounds back to the counter to pick up the coffee pot, a thin line of smoke wisping into the air. “Timer starts when I pour the coffee. Keep their image in your head and remember,” he says before you cut him off.

“Drink the coffee before it gets cold. Got it, you can pour me the drink now.”

Jaemin nods before he tips the pot, the dark stream of liquid in contrast with the white ceramic as it spills out of the container and into the cup. He stops only half a centimeter from filling it up and before you could thank him the room begins to shift.

There is something whimsical about the café, how it manages to remain both different yet unchanged as time rewinded years in a matter of seconds. Countertop items moved with an impossible force, so do the tables and the chairs. Decors rearrange themselves, plant pots fly across the room in a blur. Some things disappear entirely. Without any windows, there was hardly any way to tell how many days and nights have cycled past. There was, however, the three wall clocks winding backwards in hypnotizing synchronization.

At some point it becomes too dizzying and you force your eyes closed, shutting out the rest of the world save for the few things you could still feel—the hardwood you sat on, the rough surface of the table where your arm rested, and the smooth ceramic handle where your fingers curled around. The glass clatters as you lift it up to you, the scent of burnt nuts invading your nostrils the closer it gets to your face. You take a sip, liquid fire burning your tongue as it spills into your mouth, barely tasting the coffee. But it only means you still had a lot of time to spare.

“Hey.”

That voice, you pause, the mug still held up to your face even when you were no longer sipping. You were too nervous to move.

But your curiosity gets the better of you, your eyes flying open to see if the world has stopped spinning around you. It has stopped, frozen in time again and a bit off place from earlier. The clocks on the wall were now ticking the right way but still in varying paces — one ticking two seconds in one and the other ticking one every two. A shuffle across you brings your attention back to your table, the seat across now occupied by someone who was staring straight at you.

The boy has both arms on the table, one arm propped to hold him up as he gazed intently. His head was cocked to one side, eyebrows furrowed as if he was analyzing a glass-enclosed relic in a museum. He always looked that way when he was trying to figure things out.

“How did you age five years in the five minutes I went to the bathroom?” 

And for a moment, you’re nineteen again, sitting across from him in the same basement coffee shop and fighting the urge to splash your drink on his face to shut him up. Lee Donghyuck, permanent resident of your nervous system with the way he gets on your nerves all the time, smiles as he tries to coax another reaction from you. 

He was no longer the Donghyuck you were used to. His brown hair was still patted down, bangs forming a curtain over his forehead that ended past his brows. The dark areas beneath his eyes were still a bit lighter and the corners of his eyes still crinkled whenever he smiled—he still smiled, smirking as he waited for you to respond. The white long sleeved café uniform he wore was rolled up to his elbow, their suggestion to cut it to elbow length still pending unlike your present. The navy blue apron he wore over it was still missing a few pins. Even then, after all those years, he was the Donghyuck who felt most familiar. 

“I thought you went home,” he says, peeking at you from behind his bangs. “Wait.” 

He trails off. His eyes pans to the seat, then at you, and back again. There’s a dull ache in seeing this version of him, too far from what you saw in the present. There’s fondness in the way he looks at you, the eagerness to see you even if it was solely to ruin your day. 

“You’re visiting from the future, aren’t you?” he announces, but you neither affirm nor deny it.

You shrug, sipping on your coffee another time, still scalding hot. You have Jaemin to thank for the extra service, extra time.

Donghyuck slumps across you, his mouth twisted into a pout. “How can you not know? You’re from the future.”

You curl your palm on the glass, the heat spreading across your skin. The café was chilly that day even with the ceiling fan turned off, the upstairs weather seeping through the cracks and blowing in every time a downward breeze rustled by. You answer, “It spoils the story.”

“You know I never mind spoilers. You’re the only one who doesn’t get thrilled knowing how things end.”

“Because if I knew!” Your voice comes louder, shocking both yourself and Donghyuck, gaining concerned glances from the other two people inside the tiny shop.

Their head turns away and you slump back into your own seat. “Knew what?” Donghyuck blinks, waiting, but you don’t say anything else. He takes the hint. “Did something bad happen?”

When he asks, the whole situation almost feels ridiculous. Your initial issue with the time-travelling in the café crawls back out from where you’ve tucked it away. It makes you feel bitter, being in a position to be able to make a change in the way things have turned out but not being able to. It almost feels unfair. 

It was one of the rules, the one that discouraged countless curious souls. No matter what you said or did, nothing in the present would change, which defeated the purpose of having gone back in the first place. You knew that, long before you considered trying it out, and still, here you were. Was it really change that you came here for? 

“Did something bad happen to me?” Donghyuck tries again. “Did I die?”

Clearing your throat and leaning forward you answer, “No, but I sure wish you did.”

His lips purse at your reply and a bubble of laughter escapes your throat. “Now that’s the _____ I know. You didn’t change much did you? Personality-wise? Just these clear signs of aging on your face like,” he leans forward to pinpoint spots on your face and you swat his hand away. The feeling of skin on skin feels unreal but you feel it, warm against your own before he draws it back. “How old are you now? You really didn’t change.”

Except you did, drastically. But these were old times, better times. Being in the same space with the old him made you feel like you were reverting back, finally understanding why all those ghosts got lost in time. In his presence, you didn’t want to leave.

“I don't think you want to tell me what led you here, so let me ask you other things. Who poured your coffee? Was it me? Do I still look good in the future?” he asks. The glint of excitement is still there, a sparkle in his bright eyes as he stares at you in genuine curiosity. His eyes looked dull now, maybe with age wearing him or the utter lack of interest. “Wait, what if you get carried away talking to me? You’ll get stuck here and become the new ghost that never leaves the chair. How would that make you feel?”

And it’s almost comforting hearing him ramble away, his words blurring together the longer he talked. When you were still together he’d yap about the last drink he made, his afternoon, the classes he missed, his lunch, his dog, his parents, everything he could remotely think of and he’d spin the boring tales into overly exaggerated ones. You shouldn’t have shut him up all those times before.

“Jaemin poured my coffee and you no longer work here in the future.”

He scoffs. “Me? No longer working here? I was the one who dragged them here in the first place but I’m the first to leave? Nonsense.”

He doesn’t know the reasons yet so you slip a believable lie. “You mess with every customer and barely get anyone’s order right and you think they didn’t fire you?”

“They fired me?”

His distress shows on his face, the idea of his dismissal outrageous, but it makes you laugh. As if fate was allowing you a lot more time than you deserved, you take another sip only to find the drink still hot. It still burns the tip of your tongue, but the flavor seeps into your taste buds after the heat sets. You put it back on the saucer, leaving the teaspoon untouched because scalding was better than stirring it cool.

“I can’t believe you actually tried time traveling. You were such a skeptic and you barely even drank coffee.” Donghyuck shakes his disbelief off, going quiet as he gazes up at the three clocks on the wall. He’s quiet, only whenever he’s thinking. “Something must’ve really happened, huh? Are you a hundred percent sure I didn’t die while we’re that young?”

You shake your head again, turning your own attention away. Even this version of the café felt more familiar than the one in your present. Then there was Donghyuck, the one who still answered your calls with a joke and a light laugh. There were only light banters, nothing beyond shallow resolvable problems. Your words carried less weight then, in through one ear and out the other. They don’t play over and over in your mind like a broken record, haunting you with the memory of cruelness you didn’t mean. 

Something about seeing him again without losing each other’s patience in the first few minutes makes you want to stay in this nook in the past. He hasn’t grown tired of you yet. He isn’t saying you should take a break, he isn’t saying it’s best to split up because you were getting nothing good out of the relationship anymore. Donghyuck here rambles on about the café today, the same story he’ll be telling the version of you in his present. He isn’t thinking about splitting up after years of being together. Here, you were just friends, still friends, on the day before everything changed.

“You’re staring again. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Your eyes refocus and you’re looking at him, the same pair of familiar eyes but in entirely different circumstances. There are too many things you want to say and they’re all coming all at once. You don’t know where to begin, and if you did start you wouldn’t know where to stop.

So you don’t say anything, plugging the spot where everything is becoming too overwhelming. There is a present, a now where you’re wedged in a space in the past but it is short and fleeting. It is not enough, but it should be.

“Come here.” It comes out in a whisper and the world around you quiets as it listens to the beat of two hearts out of sync.

Donghyuck leans too far forward, tucking his arms beneath his upper body as he rests it on the table. 

You pat down strands of his hair that stood out like little horns on top of his head. “Devil spawn,” you mutter.

He glares, pouting, but later smiles at the nickname, bumping your hand with the top of his head. Your palm smooths the mop of brown down, the soft strands bending to your will as you run your hand over. If only things could be this simple again.

“I’m sorry.”

And you feel the weight lift slowly off your shoulders even when you know two words wouldn’t be enough to encompass everything that has happened—that will happen. The present will not change and the damage has been done, but in this little nook in the past you’re making up for other words to be said, actions to be done, pain to be endured. It will not be enough and yet you try it, hoping it will give him a heads up for what is to come. 

Donghyuck is still staring, then blinking. “I must be dreaming. You? Apologizing? Are you sure you’re not an alien taking over _____’s body? I won’t tell anyone.”

When you don’t react he goes quiet. And it makes you want to stay there, in the café with your fingers tangled in his hair, talking nonsense until the afternoon burns out into night. You want to watch him humor the occasional customer with jokes he practiced on you, you want to sit in silence with your legs brushing beneath the table, you want to keep the tape rewinded only playing back the good parts and skipping through the back. You want Donghyuck back, this abomination to your peace of mind who turned your life upside down when he came into your life and left a wreck in his wake when he left.

“I grew on you, didn’t I?” he asks, prying.

There was no point answering something he figured out on his own so you didn’t answer, keeping your mouth shut to keep him guessing even when you knew he already knew. There wasn’t much to say anymore. Nothing more to say, nothing more to do. In the end, nothing would change.

When your hand cups the mug the warmth has faded and the lukewarm liquid is easier to down now. The three clocks, you realized, represent the way time ebbs and flows as it passes; sometimes too slow, often too fast, but rarely ever at its own pace. It’s cruel how excruciatingly slow it has been the past months, the first few without Donghyuck. Minutes passed like hours, your hands reaching for your phone every other minute for messages that would never arrive. But it passes fleetingly today, because your coffee cools too fast and your time is running out.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

Donghyuck has a look on his face, concern and horror morphing into one expression. “Sorry but it’s weird hearing you so nice,” he pauses, raking his mind for the right words. “Do I,” stammering, he says, “Do I get used to it eventually?”

You glance at your cup, the drink already cut down to less than half throughout the conversation. Any more time spent here would only make going back to the present harder. As much as you wanted to stay, you didn’t want to be another ghost in the past. 

“Maybe,” you answer, “maybe not.” 

You down the rest of the drink in one go, gulping the bitterness in a shot and overestimating it. The bitterness sticks on your tongue and its warmth burns its way from your throat down to your stomach. Time’s up. You set the cup back down on to the saucer but you do not find yourself back in the present in an instant.

Donghyuck’s attention is swept away as your image begins to shimmer, losing the solid figure it etched into the past. “It was nice seeing you again.” Donghyuck doesn’t react, he could no longer hear you.

But you could still hear the clang-dong of the café’s door, the scraping of the door against the ground, and the grunt of the man struggling to push it open. Renjun enters, drenched in rainwater from the downpour outside. He mentions seeing you—the past you—on his way in, running for cover. Then Donghyuck turns, his eyes looking right past you as if you weren’t there at all, wandering over to the table at the back where your past self was seated. He rushes over, picking up the umbrella you left behind before dropping everything to chase after you. Their calls after him are left ignored, Renjun’s profanities drowned out as he pushed past the shorter boy on his way out. Behind the counter, Jaemin laughs.

That night Donghyuck manages to catch up to you, offering to walk you home in the pouring rain. You shouldn’t have agreed because the umbrella wasn’t made for two and you both ended up with one shoulder completely dry while the other was soaked through. The nearest bus stop became your temporary safe place, shielded from the rain. The bus takes longer to arrive and you find out later that a few streets were impassable. 

Donghyuck stays, refusing to leave you alone at the bus stop, and after numerous tries to shoo him you finally relent. Hours passed in a blink when he’s chatting away and with your phone dead you don't have much of a choice but to listen. His stories were ridiculous, fabricated at most with a sliver of truth mixed into it though faint. You laugh until your stomach aches, until the night lights were a blur through the tears in your eyes. That night the ice thaws, and you find out that it’s nice conversing with him when you weren’t rushing to shut him down. When you finally board the bus, you find yourself looking out the window, watching him wave at the bus until you turn the corner. Things haven’t been the same ever since.

The café begins to shift again, undoing the reversion. Objects rush about, containers empty out, things that have vanished reappear out of thin air. The walls brown with age, the tables too. In seconds, every trace of Donghyuck is gone and it’s only Jaemin in the café with you—staring at you from behind the counter.

There’s a flush of water and the creaking of the restroom door. The lady with the book reappears inside the room, freshly relieved but scowling. “Move!” 

And you do, finding no other reason to pick a fight with the ghost when you were through with your business. She waltzes over, sits back down in her place, lifts the novel to her face and drowns out the world around her. 

“How was it?” Jaemin asks.

You rake your mind to find a better word for it, the hollowness that replaced the heavy weight on your chest. Not at peace but better than you did earlier, still unsatisfied that you didn’t have the power to change a thing. “Bittersweet.” You say, as you walk over towards him. “Unlike whatever that was that you made me drink.” 

Jaemin mutters an apology between his light laughter, explaining it was part of the tradition. He waits for you by the marble countertop, setting a glass of water down for you to drink. You take it, even when the bitterness lingers in your tongue and in your heart. Your eyes happen upon the wall behind him where a corkboard was mounted, supposedly for pending orders. It was empty save for the developed photo pinned to the upper right corner. Four boys standing by the counter in their newly approved short-sleeved white shirts and denim aprons with their dark school slacks beneath, each one not looking at the camera. You remember how the scene played out through the viewfinder of Jaemin’s camera.

“I think he just needs some time off,” he says and you glance back at him. He’s looking at the same photo. You don’t know if he meant time off from you or from working at the café.

Donghyuck stopped working at the café shortly after the split, their squad turned into a three-man team. If your places were swapped, you would’ve done the same. The café was small, fully covered by your eyesight with one straight look. You couldn’t look anywhere without being reminded of your own visits here together. “He loved the café. I hope I didn’t ruin it for him.”

Jaemin clicks his tongue. “Stop worrying about him too much. In time, he’ll come back.”

“Lucky café. At least he’ll be back here.” 

He glances over at you, a brow cocked at your comment — never missing. “Do you have any other suggestions where else he should be getting back to, or with who rather?”

Did you? It was nothing but a joke meant to lighten up the mood, though it gets you thinking. Playing it off with a shake of your head, you switch subjects. “How much for the service?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Shut up.” You pick a few bills out of your wallet, recalling the price from years ago but paying a little over double. Jaemin takes it, reluctant. “Just don’t tell him I dropped by.” 

He bows to thank you, mirroring the way you zipped your mouth shut earlier. You back away slowly, taking in the café a final time. It might be another while before you revisit it. Bidding farewell, you step out and retrace your steps up, never looking back.

Jaemin watches as you disappear through the doorway, shaking his head when you ask if you should shut the door as you leave. Your footsteps are light but it’s enough to make the old wood creak, fading the further up you got until the room goes silent. A page is peeled off its peers and flipped, a cup clicks with its saucer as it is set back down, and a machine hums but beyond that there is no retracing of footsteps back to the café.

“Heard that?”

Jaemin glances down at the crouched figure on the floor behind the counter. Lee Donghyuck sat on the tiled floor with his knees tucked to his chest, still dazed. The cupboards are but a blank canvas because all he’s seeing is your face as you greeted Jaemin by the door—flashing the small kind smile you used to greet him with. You were there, in the same small space with him for the first time in months, sucking in all the air in the room the second you walked in. 

He feels suffocated, overwhelmed, wanting to both be here and not. His safe haven was narrowed down to a few feet behind the counter where you couldn’t see him. Then you disappear, back in time, and the gears in his mind whir, trying to figure out when you traveled back to and who you visited. It’s probably you, Jaemin suggests as he waited for you to reappear back in the present. But you don’t stray away from the mention of his name when you come back and a quiet hope blooms in his chest that maybe, just maybe, it was him that you came for afterall.

You don’t stay any longer in the café, not even sparing a few minutes to stick around to chat or pass the time. You leave in no particular rush, but with an urgency that tells him that whatever you came for has been resolved. And in those moments between your goodbye and the echoing of your footfalls, there is a fleeting moment of impulse—an urge to leap over the counter and chase after you. But his legs remain tucked in his arms, torn between wanting you back and putting himself first.

“Heard what?” He asks, nonchalant, putting on a face as he stands back up. The café is empty again, save for the ghost on the seat where you had been. You left no trace in your wake but the empty cup you’ve set back on the counter before you left. Things were right where they had been and Donghyuck wishes he could say the same for the thoughts stirring in his head. “How much do I owe?”

Jaemin’s hand dances over the calculator as if there was much to calculate. “Fourteen thousand won but make it double for keeping you behind the counter.”

Donghyuck stills, half his hand still deep in his pocket before he pulls the bills out. “Don’t you dare ask me to cover for your shift again.”

The other boy laughs, storing half the money in the cash register while the other half is tucked safely in his back pocket. Donghyuck rounds the counter, walking to the back to knock on the kitchen door  to bid goodbye to the others before finally heading out. 

Fate was a funny thing, deciding to cross your paths on the one day he decides to head to the café. He was considering coming back, the three month leave he took was enough time to rest and recuperate (and enough time for him to realize that minimal income was better than no income at all). Now, he could look around without wincing, make drinks without accidentally pouring his emotions into it. The head barista once said your mood reflected on your drink; his drinks that were once too sweet now turned bitter or just bland. It was about a week ago when he started to think he was ready now, to immerse himself back in a world he was getting used to a world without you.

And fate decides to play with him, making a mockery of the months he spent readjusting. Or maybe it was a test to determine if he really had made up his mind or he just hasn’t seen you long enough to delude him into thinking he was already fine. Maybe, it was even the world’s way of letting the both of you know that your story was long over. 

Because when Donghyuck makes the climb out of the basement café and onto ground level he sees you, standing on the sidewalk not far from the exit way. You stood beneath an overhang, stepping back as a motorcycle rolled past splashing water onto the cemented pavement. You click your tongue as it drenches parts of your trench coat, turning beige into a black coffee brown. 

He’s staring too fondly and he knows it, reminded of the numerous times the same thing happened to you before. There’s an urge to close the distance, to spark a conversation and say hello, but it’s either said than spoken. Then there’s an urge to run back into the safety of the café and hide the same way he did when he saw you coming in earlier. He never thought you’d wander back into the basement café, always complaining how it was always too small and too secluded to even be remotely comfortable. Availing the café special was even more shocking, and why visit his past self when he was still here?

As if he said his thoughts out loud and you hear him, you turn to the direction of the café’s entrance, catching his eyes before he could look away or run for cover. His breath hitches and his lungs forget how to function. Because you’re staring, your eyes are locked on each other and conveying emotions you both can’t say out loud. The world slows down and the people around are drifting slower, the rain is barely audible as it hits the pavement and roofs. It’s the first day again, raindrops forming a veil around the bus stop, preserving the moment he looks at you—looks through you.

He wants to say something, has to say something but the words are coming all at once.

“You’re still here.” 

He says his first thought without thinking and you give him a tight-lipped smile, muttering something he couldn’t hear over his daze. Then your eyebrows furrow and the moment shatters, “Still here? You were there?!”

The scene shatters, air buzzing with building tension with his cover being blown. You stare with a piercing gaze that seeps into his conscience. Heat rushes up to his cheek and his arsenal of excuses empties out before he could pick one out. You always had that effect on him, compelling him to drop his lies and tricks. Through the years it became harder and harder to get past your no-bullshit defenses, even when he managed to squeeze through the gaps of other parts.

So he chooses to tell the truth instead. “I was,” he says coolly. “I’m thinking of coming back. Unless you have somewhere else you want me to come back to?”

He turns the tables around with just that, patting himself on the back when it coaxes a groan out of you. “I can’t believe you heard that. Can you just,” you say, pursing your lips when you catch the look on his face. “Just drop it.”

“Huh? Heard what?”

“Lee Donghyuck.”

Hearing you say his full name again after so long makes something in him stir, butterflies turning into a whole zoo. Donghyuck steps closer, boots splashing on the puddles on the pavement. The sky is greyish white, overcast with an endless blanket of clouds blocking the sun but not all of its retreating light. You don’t scoot away like he expects you to, rooted onto that ample distance away from him — close enough to touch.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one?” you ask. “The one asking if you heard what I said? Do you want to rub it in my face?”

You tuck your hands into the pockets of your coat as if you noticed the proximity between yours and his own. He wonders if you thought of reaching out to close the distance too, maybe out of longing or instinct. 

“No.” He gazes out into the street instead. “The one where I asked if you wanted me to come back somewhere else besides the café.”

The suburbs streets were quieter than the center of the city, less maintained too. The narrow roads are barely enough to fit two cars at the same time and the potholes were deeper—ignored. Car tires would dip and splash water everywhere as they passed. You’ve been to this street countless times together, both being the ones splashed and the ones splashing water around. Good times, distant memories.

“Hyuck.” 

He turns and you’re there, closer than you were earlier, closing what little distance was left between the both of you. And you’re hugging them, small arms wrapped around his figure, leaning flush into his chest. The shock fades quickly, overcome by his own longing and his own arms coil around you—cradling you. The wait has been too long and the conflict in his mind resolves and untangles the second you’re caged in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go, he can’t think of a reason to.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter though he barely hears it over his own pulse, over the rain pouring around you, or he just doesn’t want to hear it at all. It never preludes anything nice. 

“That’s nice to hear. Can you say it again?”

The vibrations of your laughter travel through him for a moment before you break free from his grasp. His hands ache to pull you back but he respects your choice to keep the distance.

“What for?” he asks.

“I don’t think now is the right time to get back together.”

He knew it, but his heart drops when he hears it anyway. You were both fresh out of college, thrust into an unimaginable world far from what you were used to. There were applications, rejections, rents, and other pains that came with trying to keep up with a fast-paced world that never seemed to slow down. It wore you down, seeping every ounce of joy until there was nothing but skeletons of two frustrated adults having to deal with each other when there are so many other things to attend to.

The wounds from the break up haven’t healed yet. There was a quiet nervousness he couldn’t shake off as he tried to approach, stemming from the fear that you’d snap at him. And you must’ve feared for something too, because shock comes before the warmth of recognition when you see him. Remnants of the past showing signs in the present even with how you both tried to play off as if you were already fine.

“It feels like we’re breaking up again,” he says. The weather, the feeling, the distance even when you still had your hand wrapped loosely on his wrist.

“Think of it more like an ellipsis,” you tell him. “To be continued.”

And he knows you’re only saying this so he’d have something to believe in, the natural pull of a hopeless romantic towards the infinite possibilities of a love without crystal clear closure.

“If it’s us,” you mutter. “Then it’s us.”

He never thought he’d be hearing such a cheesy line from you; that you had it in you to go that far to blunten a blow. “And if it’s not?”

You were quiet, gaze far. He doesn’t want to think about it but it seemed that it was all you’ve ever done. “At least fate let us cross paths.”

Fate, he nearly scoffs out loud, that bastard. The rain was but a tranquil drizzle now, people brushing past and moving again.  

“Aren’t you leaving yet?” He turns to you. “You’re still a way’s off.”

“Are you trying to shoo me again?” There is pain laced in your tone, the crack in your voice telling of yet another hello turned goodbye. 

Donghyuck manages to chuckle, reaching up to pat your head. “It’s because it’s getting late.”

You smile at his concern, lifting his arm off your head as if you’re now the one eager to get away from him—the tables turning as it mirrored the last time you’ve been this close. But you hold his hand, smaller fingers wrapping around his calloused palm and they’re in contact for the first time in months, embracing in ways you no longer were as if to make up for lost time and unsaid apologies.

The squeeze you give him is light. “It was nice seeing you again,” you say, “even when you couldn’t keep your nose out of my business.”

He turns away to avoid your eyes, shy as he remembers the moment of brief embarrassment. His gaze drops to your clasped hands, he doesn’t want to let go yet but you’re already loosening your grip.

“Do I even need to tell you to take care when goons should be the ones wary of you?”

You laugh, a hearty one, the one he only managed to get out of you when he said his best jokes. He hasn’t heard it in a while, still wishes he could hear it as often as he did before — over his shoulder during motorcycle rides, across the café before sundown, down the halls of the university, and in the quiet of the bedroom you once shared. All those spaces in between were now filled with silence.

In the end you were right, it wasn’t time yet. And as much as he missed you, being together might still be doing more damage than being apart. The bitterness of the words you left on each other hasn’t been washed out of his tongue yet. Uncertainty loomed over, you both couldn’t promise you’d withstand the next earthquake without ending up right where things should’ve ended. 

So he lets go, unwrapping fingers one by one until you are free of his grasp. His fingers throb, already missing your warmth.

You pull away, backstepping down the sidewalk and waving when you meet each other’s eyes again. Before you bump into the next person, you turn the right way—walking down the sidewalk, further and further away from him. He wonders if this was what you felt when he walked away the night of the breakup. Did it take you just as much restraint to not look back at him? He’d never know. Because you round the corner of the block, never once turning your head, disappearing into the other road.

What they always told him was that love was sweeter the second time around but never that the bitterness of breakups hit just as hard. There’s a finality to it that the first lacks; the severing of the last strings attached, the end of the epilogue, the roll of credits. Maybe you missed each other, just enough to reroute and start over again. But he knows you, there was no giving in. Your ellipses might as well be periods; dead ends, the ends. Your visit to the café was your own type of closure, the last one before you decide to let him go.

He’s still staring at the corner even when you’ve long disappeared from his sight but not his mind, tearing his eyes away and walking back down to the café. He still sees you with your back turned, walking further and further out of his reach, wishing there was more to your story than just this because he doesn’t like the way the story ends and hopes that by some sliver of a chance you didn’t too.

© neo-shitty, 2022