#kong really probably said that

[ruubesz-draws]

Kong, getting ready to fight Scar King:

Sorry not sorry

Kong after fighting Scar King, Shimo and the other apes:

Poor fella needs a break...

*Spoiler for JJK below*

I feel bad cos I was laughing so hard whilst drawing this

[lilgynt]

i’m gonna COMPLAIN. SHOCKER.

[blueparadis]

LEMONADE + SHIU KONG // f!reader ( she's a sniper), smoking, mention of murder and violence, implicit smut, semi-public ( happens in a car ), little tension between them, rivals to fvck buddies dynamics, he is such a tease here. 1.3 (w.c)

special thanks to @poohbea for beta-reading. without her, i really wouldn't have posted this. i had something in mind and this is entirely different. so i said better luck next time to myself and found the courage to post this. | back to nav. | also tagging @yuujispinkhair

“You’re not nearly as inconspicuous as you believe yourself to be.” Kong mutters off-handedly under his breath, reaching for the latch of your belt. His minty tobacco-laced breath paired with that familiar musky cologne threatens to send your nerves into a frenzy. He’s too close for someone who claims to ‘just wanted to undo your seatbelt’. He had no reason to but he did it anyway, probably because you were asking too many questions. He could have easily pressed one of those buttons on the driver’s side door, the one that unlocks all seat belts at once. The car is fancy enough to have those kinds of luxury features anyway, but you can’t help the racing of your heart when his fingers brush your skin. It’s only when he sits back in his own seat do you register his remark. Did he just scold you? The possibility alone has you licking your bottom lip nervously. 

It’s not as though he never has, but given your history with him, he rarely comments on your professionalism. He has been your handler for almost a year now and has yet to actually correct or complain about the way you do your job. He’s proud of your skills, he has to be, otherwise, he wouldn’t be hiring you for every sniper-kill case he gets.

“I heard you were back in town,” he starts, tapping on his cigarette packet before taking one between his lips. “But I couldn't contact you until I got the green light. That, and I’ve been too damn busy with the bounty offers that keep coming up.” He digs into his breast pocket to fish out a lighter, the flame flicking to life as his thumb rolls over the spark wheel. You look at him visibly confused, something he acknowledges with an amused huff. “Were you really so busy that you couldn't read the briefing I sent you?” He is definitely scolding you, but for what exactly? Trying to stay neutral in the face of his crude teasing, you let out a small breath, choosing to keep his gaze despite the nagging need to look away. He’s changed a bit. There’s worry in his eyes, more than usual, eyebrows creased as he continues. “Ah! I can't let you slip up now — ” 

“Why am I here?” You interject with a frown. 

“What?” He has the audacity to look at you surprised, as if he wasn’t the one to call you here again.

“This is the third time this month you’ve had me meet you… and in case you haven’t noticed, I have a bit of a busy schedule.” Kong lets you speak for longer than ten seconds for the first time in a very long time, his bad habit of interrupting taking the backseat for once. When he doesn’t answer you, you click your tongue, irritation evident in the furrow of your brow. “Why am I here, Kong-san—?”

“Shiu.” He corrects. Guess you spoke too soon. “And you still didn't answer my question. Did you or did you not—”

“I did.” You respond sourly. “And it told me a whole lot of nothing. Which is why I'll ask you again. Why am I here, Shiu?” Despite your irritation, the glaring fact of his contributions to your career as a sniper sits heavy on your shoulders as you sit in weighted silence. He knows it too, and never fails to bring it up every time you try to walk away, try to tell him you don’t need his help. He’s pushed you farther than anyone else ever has. Certainly, you owe it to him, but his ego is already big enough without the offer of such a confession, and you would rather put a bullet in your skull than admit that. 

The air inside the car grows thick with smoke as he takes drag after drag of his cigarette, not that you minded, you’re a smoker yourself, but just to spite him you opened the window by your side. “Isn’t it obvious?” Kong soon discards the butt out of his own window, studying you all the while, observing the mix of question and frustration that creases your forehead as your frown deepens. His lips tug up in one corner ever so slightly, too slight for anyone else to spot, but being around him as often as you have, you knew it was coming. “I’ve missed you.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. What a horrible man… he’s toying with you.

“Hilarious,” you mutter, offering him a sarcastic chuckle. He doesn’t waver, doesn’t look away, that small smile growing at your skepticism. The realization has your heart beating in your ears, and suddenly finding it difficult to keep his gaze.

“Want me to prove it to you?” He dips his head slightly, the leather of his seat squeaking in protest as he leans closer.

“No.” Your reply was instantaneous but you do not move, his hand reaching to play with the necklace resting against your collarbone, the very someone he gifted you after your first successful case. “Aren't we supposed to be doing a job here?”

“You tell me. Haven't you read the briefing?” Again with the same question. He is far too calm in this situation, fingers caressing the hammering pulse that lies just below the surface of your skin. “You weren’t lying to me were you—?”

“This is going nowhere.” You huff, finally breaking the intense staring contest he had trapped you in, finding the courage to withdraw from his touch momentarily. 

“It could if…” he guides you back to him, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gaze dipping to your lips. “If you wanted.”

You bite your lip lowering your head to hide your merriment. “Like the last time?” You ask with a knowing smile. If you wanted. Yeah. Sure. As if he didn’t. Because during the ‘last time’ in question, things were entirely different. You two weren’t out for a job. In fact, you were in a situation similar to this one, in his car, engaging in your usual back and forth. It’s unclear exactly what came over you that day, but those sly eyes and that cocky smile had you seeing your handler as less of a mentor and more of the man he was. The conversation devolved into his lips against yours, his hands against your hips as he encouraged you from your seat onto his lap. Thunder rumbled the heavens and rain battered against the windshield, the perfect mask for inevitable heavy breaths and throaty moans. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, his lips, his teeth, the press of his thigh between your legs that had electricity crackling up the base of your spine. His name fogged the windows, each syllable working its way through the tresses of your mind till that was all you could utter, all that truly mattered. He reveled in that, in the way you gave yourself to him almost entirely. How your body grew hot with every caress, every thrust, every kiss. What did you even call this feeling? Neither of you knew, but it was clear that either didn’t want it to stop. By the end of it, his presence spanned your body, inside and out. 

Shiu laughs at your subtle accusation. It has the kind of warmth that reminds you of cozy mornings during winter. There is a pregnant pause after he says. “Yeah.” Bobbing his head in a ‘yes’. You shake your head slowly, an amused breath leaving your nose as your nerves buzz with memories past.

You sigh, assessing him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what exactly he’s hiding beneath that elaborately organized talk of his. But the man is a vault, hiding behind dark eyes that threaten to reel you in again. It has you playing with your tongue, curling it against the insides of your mouth before smacking your lips. “Was there really any job for me to begin with?” You retort. 

Shiu Kong smiles, his carefully crafted demeanor crumbling in the face of the woman he’s slowly beginning to fall for. “There wasn’t.” He says bashfully.

—

@angelshub @public-safety-network @underratedcharactercorner

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Yvette Mimieux (Dark of the Sun; Joy in the Morning; Where the Boys Are)—She is so enchanting on screen... that ethereal presence paired with her dark, sparkling eyes gives her an almost dream-like quality...

Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong's early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest "silver-screen goddess", "The Great Beauty" and "Audrey Hepburn of the East". Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the "crown princess" among the "Three Princesses of the Great Wall", the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong's leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng's influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, "No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name." In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, "I'm very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I've ever made in my life."

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Yvette Mimieux:

Xia Meng:

[bothoutsiders]

ok so you know the hero gets kidnapped and no one comes and the villain gets pissed on their captive’s behalf and treats them better than their former associates did trope ?

i need that with early red hood jason and robin tim

jason steals tim expecting the calvary to come racing in

but ,,, no one comes

and ok jason can understand why timbit's little baby hero team didn't come

superboy, wonder girl and impulse are all currently off planet

but the batfam isn't

the girls are in hong kong for whatever reason but dick and bruce are across town from where him and tim are

he's had tim for over a week they have to have realized that he's missing at this point

and now jason's like "actually fuck them i'm keeping you"

hello anon! thank you for your request. i think it came a bit small; first jaytim thing i type with my new keyboard B) but it was fun. it's a bit domestic tho, hope you enjoy :)

--

It has been a little over a week since Robin got here. 

It somehow felt like those parents who forgot to pick up their kids at school. Robin had been at the mercy of Red Hood for a week and a few days and there was no sign of anyone coming to rescue him anytime soon.

Jason even went through his notes, every piece of information he had, and his own plan. Many times.

Something didn’t click.

When he kidnapped Robin, he knew Batman would come for him. Knew there would be a big fight, some spilled blood and maybe broken bones. He then would be able to torture Robin in front of Bruce and make him beg, maybe even cry. Satiate his own thirst for vengeance with Bruce’s suffering.

But nothing like that happened.

Robin’s friends were not around and Jason knew that. It was excusable but… What was the explanation for Batman to ignore this? Was he trying to play some kind of sick game with his mind or did he actually not care about Tim?

He didn’t even send Nightwing either. There was no Justice League. There was nobody.

No one.

What was the point of torturing or doing something to Robin if Bruce wasn’t here to witness it?

“Do you have golden grahams?”

Jason turned to look at the teen and thought about what was happening. There was no way Bruce hadn’t realised his new Robin was missing. Nor that Jason had kidnapped him and now was even feeding him.

“No, but I can buy some later.” He said as he placed a windowed box on the table and pushed it toward Tim slowly. “I got you donuts though.”

“Oh?” Robin looked at the box, interested when he had heard it was donuts. Right now he was wearing Jason’s clothes and had come out from a nice shower. “They’re from  Holesome Dough! Great!”

Jason watched him devour one after another while he thought about the situation. He was definitely not imagining things. It was happening.

He looked down and noticed Tim’s bare feet, some drops of his wet hair making a mess around. “I’ve told you to wear shoes and to dry your hair properly. I’m not going to clean that.”

Tim looked down for a few moments before he’d go and sit down in a chair, enjoying his snack.

Stupid Batman was ignoring his own Robin, who was definitely in danger. If Jason were completely fucked up, right now he would have had Tim’s head on display and probably had sent some parts of his body to Bruce, just as a silly joke.

Bruce knew where he was and didn’t even care!

He didn’t care.

Jason rubbed his eyes, tired and frustrated. “I’m not really surprised. Just disappointed.”

“About what?” Tim turned to look at him, a crumb on his upper lip. “Oh. I’ll dry my hair after this. You want some?” He offered him the donut he was eating since it was the last one.

“He’s not coming, is he?” This felt so familiar.

“Bruce?” Tim shrugged. “He might think I have it under control.”

“Replacement, I beat you up. You passed out as you bled when I took you with me. If you were able to handle it, you would’ve contacted him. He didn’t even call you. What’s his excuse?” He snorted and took a seat. “He’s across town, yeah, Gotham is big but not that big that he can’t come to rescue his sidekick.”

Of course it pissed him off. Days prior Jason had gone to check if Batman was around, to make sure he wasn’t out of Gotham doing something else that stopped him from coming to rescue his young, new soldier. The worst of all this? Batman was in Gotham.

It made Jason furious.

This Robin could have the same ending as he did, history would repeat and Bruce didn’t give a fuck about it. It didn’t seem as if Batman wanted a Robin, at least not one to last.

He just can’t be responsible like a proper adult, maybe that’s why he doesn’t have children or pets. Maybe this is why he doesn’t have a family.

He snorted, so close to pulling from his own hair. If someone has a sidekick, they teach them, they protect them. Where was Batman when he was needed? With how things went, Jason suspected that Bruce decided to give Tim to him. As those who throw meat to wild dogs, to keep them busy, keep them away.

“Fuck it. Fuck Bruce, fuck Dick, fuck everyone, I’m keeping you.”

[danrifics]

you all pestered me for it and here it is. the closeness analysis/ theory.

now if you didn't see I basically had this theory that the closer to BIG and COTY we get in the DAPG timeline the closer dan and phil sit to each other. Dan made a comment about how them playing Heartthrob being like a gay soft launch and that got me thinking of some other ways they could have done it and one of those being the idea that as time goes on you get less and less strict and worrisome about what others think of you and so they end up gravitating closer and closer.

This post will be under a see more cos its probably gonna be long af.

I will be splitting it into stages.

2014 -15

2016 - 17

2018

revival

sorry the screenshots arent clickable to make bigger tumblr only allows for 30 on a post so i had to group them together!

(i will not be covering horror games apart from in the revival stage and i will also not be talking much about gamingmas 2023)

2014 - 15

now when i initially went to collect my evidence, i was suddenly worried maybe i kinda had things wrong because i feel like in Donkey Kong Country (the first dapg video, see screenshot below) they're sat pretty close but honestly when we get to how they sit a lot later on you'll see that this is actually pretty far apart

now here are some screenshots for the inital look at at the end of them we'll talk (this will be the layout for most of this post i think)

now of course this is only a selection of those year's videos if i screenshotted them all i fear this post would never end. now these first 2 years are a good mix of at desk videos on sofa videos. i noticed from some other videos not show here that in sofa videos they rend to sit a lot closer to each other than they do at the desk, this is kinda funny to me cos really they definitely have room for a wider frame on the couch if they wanted to sit like normal people.

2016 - 17

2016 and the start of 2017 feel like a mixed bag of how close together they are but i did notice that the more into 2017 we got the more they seemed to be shoulder to shoulder! these also started to wean out sofa sitting games (not 100% gone yet but almost). now if you're wondering why i've kept this screenshot apart its cos this is the last one in the first london apartment.

and honestly from here on out is where i believe the "soft launching" begins!

so lets finish 2017 and see if im right!

just had to single out this screenshot for a sec:

in case anyone wondered that is the face dan made during dream daddy when phil reads "we were roommates for a while too"

softlaunch?

anyway moving on

watching these videos definitely feels like something changed btw, while they still arent as close as we'll start seeing them sit, i definitely noticed more often they were shoulder to shoulder. but like a new room has definitely changed the vibe a little bit between them, and now we can move on to the next and final year of pre hiatus dapg, where things as you will see immediately start to change.

2018

like i said... immediately we are met with this, i would also like to let everyone know that 2018 is my favourite era of pre hiatus dapg

lets see what the rest of this year will bring

now i'm splitting 2018 up into parts because i need to do a whole talk about the tour situations so for now lets look at the above screenshots, now its very obvious that they are sitting so much closer to each other which i think is really funny considering how big that room is and often in this section of videos there is a lot of room either side of them so they literally do not need to be that close.

now lets talk about the tour bus. this is how close they're sitting

thats for sure a 1 person seat yet they've both forced themselves on even tho the sofa literally behind them would have been perfectly fine to sit on, and they cant give me "this is the only place to set up the camera" babe its really not theres a whole surface behind you.

okay thank you for listening to this, moving on to the final part of 2018!

(the last 2 screenshots are out of order oops)

idk about you but yeah i think they are definetly a lot closer than they were way back in 2014. i really dont have a lot to say other than that, and i have definetly proven my theory so now we've established that lets have a brief look at post hiatus dapg!

Revival

Now this is gonna be really brief its just a summary of where we are post BIG/COTY and post hiatus (things my brain still cant quite believe is real)

now here are the revival moments i wanna give a mention!

firstly sims season ep 3 when dan moves his chair away from phil and their wheels are literally locked together, pushing phil's chair too

heres dan looking into the monitor and then moving closer to phil <3

and finally

hand hold

thanks for reading all this and sorry if it didnt live up to the hype lmao

[writingquestionsanswered]

I wrote a book, but my novel is dragging way too long. What's the best way to determine what needs to get cut?

Fixing a Dragging Novel

#1 - Make sure your conflict is clear.

Every story should revolve around a conflict. The action of your story is created by the protagonist's attempt to resolve that conflict by pursuing a goal. Sometimes when stories drag, it's because there is no conflict or because the conflict is weak, leading to a meandering plot. (see: Understanding Goals and Conflict)

#2 - Consider your novel's structure.

Even character-driven novels have structure, meaning there are typical story beats and plot points that need to occur. As with plot-driven and combination stories, there are many different potential structures you can use. You can also follow a structure loosely (taking only what works and discarding what doesn't) or combine what you like from multiple structures. What matters is that it works for the story you want to tell, and that it helps you hit the natural points of a good story.

#3 - Consider your balance of action, exposition, and dialogue.

Stories should maintain a relative balance of action (things happening), exposition (explaining things), and dialogue (characters talking.) Ideally, every scene should have a relative balance, depending on the needs of the scene. If you have a scene that's 80% exposition, 15% dialogue, and 5% action, that scene is really going to drag. And if the next scene is 65% dialogue, 25% action, and 10% exposition, that scene is probably going to drag, too. That doesn't mean you need to have a 33% balance of all three, but you want to make sure that one doesn't completely overwhelm the others unless it's absolutely necessary.

#4 - Consider your pacing.

Even when you balance action, exposition, and dialogue, some scenes will have a slower pace and some scenes will have a faster pace. If you have too many fast-paced scenes in a row, or too many slow-paced scenes, the reader gets bored which makes the story drag. That said, it's a good idea to vary your pacing to create a relative balance between fast and slow. If you've had a couple of fast-paced scenes, stick in a slow-paced scene or two to allow the reader to catch their breath. If you've had a slower-paced scene, try following it up with a faster-paced scene to liven things up.

#5 - Make sure everything pulls its weight.

Every bit of everything that happens, every bit of info given and things explained, every conversation, every scene... all of it needs to be there for a reason. If you're writing a story about researchers going to Skull Island to find King Kong, you can't have a whole scene on the boat taken up by a high stakes card game unless things happen during that card game that are critical to the reader's understanding of the characters or plot. Things can't be there just for fun, or because it's cute, or to give the characters some interaction. Everything has to contribute to the plot in some way. If you have a lot of things happening that don't really matter in the story, it can make your plot drag. That said, go through your story and look at the things that happen. Ask yourself if you can remove that moment, event, or scene without it affecting the overall story. If you can, or if a few minor changes would make the removal work, it's a moment, event, or scene you can think about cutting.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[sanctum-of-ramshackle]

Egg Waffles, anyone?

[TWST AU]: MC/Yuu sells waffles (and other desserts) to get by.

[Synopsis]: In this timeline, what if MC/Yuu starts selling the Hong Kong-styled Waffles and other delicious snacks from their home world? That way it can provide enough Madol for both Grim and themselves than whatever allowance Crowley has given them. (Cheapskate bastard-)

[Gender Neutral MC/Yuu]

[TW]: Little bit of Ace slander

[(A/N)]: I actually work at my mom’s dessert bar and we make fresh waffles with ice cream + toppings or just plain with the option of adding sugar powder. Another note is if you don’t know what it looks like. It’s something like this:

[Original Image Source]: https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.cnn.com/travel/amp/hong-kong-bubble-waffles/index.html

[(A/N)]: There’s also a recipe I found that maybe anyone can try out.

[Egg Waffle recipe]: https://youtu.be/VNDvNUpT-f8

Ever since falling into Twisted Wonderland, MC/Yuu and Grim were the only ones staying at the abandoned building widely known as the Ramshackle Dorm at Night Raven College.

With money being tight and Crowley who probably is a stingy crow, the two need to find a solution for their financial troubles.

Then MC/Yuu remembers something: The Egg Waffles.

MC/Yuu: Wait! I have an idea to earn more Madols!

Grim: Really?! What?

MC/Yuu: Egg Waffles!

Grim: *Confused* What waffles?

MC/Yuu: They’re waffles that were sold back in my home world. They’re delicious. It’s like mini edible pockets: crispy on the outside, fluffy in the inside. I don’t think anyone around here thought of this. Come on. Let’s experiment.

For the next week, the Ramshackle Dorm is filled with the scent of freshly made waffles.

The smell even attracted some troublemakers: The ADeuce Duo.

You see, Ace and Deuce only want to visit their friends as someone wanted answers for Professor Trein’s history assignment. (Looking at you, Ace. You jerk /j.)

Deuce only came along to try talking Ace out of cheating- Taking advantage- purposefully finding answers without effort.

*Sighs* Who am I kidding? He will and always find shortcuts to everything- Little Bastard Boy…

Anyway, the two Heartslabyul students are heading to the ol’ dorm and when they arrived, the fresh smell of Hong Kong style-Waffles hits their olfaction receptors.

Ace: Prefect, we need your-

MC/Yuu: Ace, Deuce! Thank god you’re here. Quick, try these samples. *Shoves some waffles in their mouths*

Deuce: *Muffles* Mm! These are…delicious!

Ace: *KOFF!* *KOFF!* What was that for?!

MC/Yuu: Sorry. I needed honest reviews for these waffles. I’m planning to sell some so Grim and I won’t suffer in money troubles.

Deuce: They tasted amazing. What kind of waffles are they?

MC/Yuu: They’re called Egg Waffles that originated from a country back in my world. Traditionally eaten as plain, but they are trendy with ice cream and other toppings added inside. Anyway, there’s work to be done before it’s ready for everyone.

Ace: Wait. Before you continue these experiments, you did the assignment for Professor Trein’s class, right?

MC/Yuu: …Do you want another waffle shoved up your a-?

Anyway, the ADeuce duo left, with some waffles.

The following week, MC/Yuu asked Crowley if they can open a small business within their dorm so they won’t pester him every time for allowances.

Surprisingly he let them. (Not for their sake, but he also heard rumors within the school that the Ramshackle Dorm is scented of baked goods. He wanted to try them.)

Now, business is open!

[Waffle Joys Official Opening!]

MC/Yuu: I can’t believe this isn’t a dream. We’re gonna be okay, Grim.

Grim: You said it! Can’t wait for limitless tuna… *Salivating from the thoughts of tuna cans*

[Doorbell jingles, revealing the First Years as the first customers.]

MC/Yuu: Welcome to Waffle Joys!

Ace: Yo, MC/Yuu!

Deuce: We came by to congratulate you on opening day.

MC/Yuu: Aww thanks guys.

Sebek: What are the specials? I must know as I heard you can make some with ice cream inside. Not because of me, but for Waka-sama.

Epel: Yeah! I want one before Etiquette class.

Jack: Small snack after practice.

MC/Yuu: Coming right up! They’re based on familiar desserts.

[🧇THIS WEEK’S WAFFLE SPECIALS!!!🧇]

Cherry Pie Waffle

Purin Waffle

Cinnamon Apple Waffle

Sweetened Pear Waffle

Macaron Delight Waffle

[After waiting for their orders, they got their respective desserts and thanked their friend before heading out back to their usual routines.]

MC/Yuu: *Counting the money* You think this will start a successful business one day?

Grim: I think so? Whatever. As long as I get tuna.

MC/Yuu: *Sighs* You and your tuna.

[DING! DING! DING!]

MC/Yuu: Welcome to Waffle Joys! Wait, Azul?

Azul: Charmed to see me, Prefect~?

Jade: It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Prefect~

Floyd: Hey, Koebi-chan!

MC/Yuu: Azul, I’m not falling for another deal after what happened back then. What is the real reason why to came to Ramshackle?

Azul: Oh, how harsh of you to assume I would drag you into another deal.

MC/Yuu: Just spit out what you want.

Azul: I want your business to collaborate with the establishment of the Monstro Lounge.

MC/Yuu: *Wields up their waffle iron* Absolutely not. First of all, I started this business because Grim and I aren’t getting enough support from Crowley and second, how do I know I’m not trapping myself into another unfortunate end because of you?

Azul: I’m not making you a deal. I only decided to come by because, well…

MC/Yuu: *Realization hits them* I’m stealing your customers, aren’t I.

Azul: *Grasps on their shoulders* How did you do it?

MC/Yuu: Easy. I just remember something nostalgic and whipped them up with modern takes.

Azul: *Lets go* I need you at Monstro Lounge. Now.

MC/Yuu: No way. If you want your “precious regulars” back, how about advertising both our respective eateries and with a fair price on our ends. Is that fine with you?

Azul: Hmm…If it attracts more customers, then it’s a deal.

MC/Yuu: *Slams an unsigned contract in front of Azul* By my contract, not your Unique Magic.

Azul: *Taken aback* How long were you holding this?

MC/Yuu: Since I first experimented, I knew you’ll come around.

[DING! DING! DING!]

MC/Yuu: Welcome to Waffle Joys!

Crowley: Greetings, Prefect!

MC/Yuu: Crowley, this is surprising to see you as you’ll only come because of “favors.”

Crowley: Oh no no! I only came to try this Egg Waffle because some students were posting pictures on MagiCam and it’s trending.

MC/Yuu: Well, I did ask permission and you given in the idea. So what waffle would you like to order?

[10 minutes later]

MC/Yuu: Here’s your waffle, Headmaster Crowley! Enjoy your order!

[He ordered a Charcoal Black waffle with Black sesame ice cream and sliced toasted almonds, sprinkled with powdered sugar. On top of that is drizzled with condensed milk.]

[Now Crowley joined the Waffle Frenzy.]

Now I’m imagining that if an Overblot breaks out, MC/Yuu would pull out their waffle iron.

Then, “WHAM!!!”

Knocks over the person in despair, coughing out a Blot stone (Which they caught before Grim could eat it).

The Overblot victim comes back to their normal state, and MC/Yuu gives them a waffle as an apology since they “didn’t know their own strength.”

✨[Reblogging helps creators and creates more content.]💫

[algea]

hi guys here’s some more headcannons for Lars (btw i’m doing these literally right before my exam🥲)

like i said last time, these are my headcannons, they may not be yours…

Lars loves ice cream. Even though he may deny it, he has a massive sweet tooth. You most definitely can bribe him with sweets.

Lars is a cat person. Sorry guys, had to say it. It’s not that he hates dogs, he just thinks it’s easier to take care of cats, plus they’re super goofy. He would probably own a black cat or a calico. Lars would so spoil his cat as much as possible, you think it’s a little unfair.

Lars’ favorite genre of books is dystopian fiction. Something about robots and future make him excited. He really likes the book Brave New World.

Lars takes you on a date every week. That’s how his momma raised him. He may not be from America, but he sure knows how to treat a lady. He really enjoys going to the movies or the beach with you. He thinks you’re so beautiful when the salty air blows your hair softly around you. Lars loves the smell of the sea and thinks that he would definitely propose to you on the beach.

He is super good at video games. Not like the Last of Us or Call of Duty, I mean like Centipede and Donkey Kong. It’s what he grew up playing, so expect him to be insanely good. Also don’t play him in Super Smash Ultimate, he would shit on you fr.

Lars hates when you talk to someone on the phone when he’s with you. He likes being the center of attention when he’s with you. He also thinks it’s super rude because you’re spending time with him. Unless it’s your mom, then he completely understands and gives you some slack.

His favorite comedian is Bo Burnham. More importantly, he likes the music Bo creates. It makes him literally giggle when he listens to it. You think it’s a little weird, but you’re glad he’s actually enjoying something.

Whenever you’ve been at the lab for a few days, Lars always makes you a bath before you come home so you can have some alone time. Probably the nicest thing he’ll do for you, but it definitely shows that he loves you so much.

Lars doesn’t like the heat. He’d rather be in the cold where he can wear multiple layers instead of sweating to death. Poor dude was stuck with that most of his life, so he loved it when he moved to New York.

Mr. Nerd geeks out when someone talks about Ghost Corps in a good way. He’ll yap on and on forever about it if you let him. Sometimes you’ll have to drag him away from the poor soul who struck up a conversation with him.

He has a photo album like the ‘Our Adventure Book’ from Up, which contains photos of you and him together. He looks at it whenever he feels sad or needs motivation.

He has a system of marks for when you looks especially attractive to him. Normally they’re color coded for the color you wear and have a specific shape for what kind of outfit it is.

Surprisingly, Lars’ love language is gift giving. He loves giving you little trinkets that you’ve mentioned you liked. It’s the cutest thing ever. It shows he pays attention to you.

Lars loves it when you wear his glasses. He thinks you look like a nerd and it makes you 10x cuter. If you’re in the lab and you steal them off him, he won’t take them back until you give them to him.

um sorry if these are a little short, i’ll definitely make more in the future

[softstargirl]

Strawberries & Blueberries! (A Sweet Treat For A Sweet Man!♡)

Pic - Pinterest Account: @candytufftie.

I have been thirsting over this cake for wayyyy too long (a day) and our wholesome baby deserves to enjoy it! (I'm delulu) (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Sorry if I butchered the German language ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ I was using DeepL Translator.

König/F! Reader, Baking & Wholesomeness. Fluff & a little bit Suggestive.

Enjoy!!! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Writing tips are appreciated in this household!! ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡ (Seriously, I'm aiming to improve in writing! ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ)

“Meine liebe (my love), there’s no need to do all of this. We can just spend the day rewatching the series you love.” Kong tried to convince you but failed miserably as you pulled out your cookbook and placed it on the table, [f/c] apron tied around your body and your face beaming. A red, silk bookmark stood out underneath the pages before it and a grin shone on your face as you opened it.

“I am not going to hear you out, Kö. You just got back and I have to treat you. Please, it'll make me really happy. Please?”

The large man sighed at the sight of your pleading, shoulders lowering in defeat and with a nod, a smile appeared on your face and you rushed to hug him. “Thank you! It's going to taste so good!” König rolled his eyes, a warm smile on his face as your frame tightly held onto him before you let go.

“I'm so glad I managed to snag a remaining copy of the book. The Pinterest mom who created it said that if I didn't contact her at the time I did I would have probably found them sold out! She’s such a sweet lady. I hope I'll be like her when I’m older. Five whole children and she’s still so active.”

“Gosh, she’s lucky to have all the energy to handle all the stuff that she has to do. Her husband seems sweet too. He was playing with the kids at the park as she was explaining the contents of the book to me. They were so adorable together.”

I truly hope that you and I will be like that too. Probably because of how wonderful of a boyfriend you are. No doubt that our future will look like that”.

König paused as he brought out the egg carton from the fridge. You imagined him being with you for so long? König sometimes wondered how he ended up with someone as amazing as yourself. “Was there no one else who you’d rather commit a relationship to?” “Was he worthy of you?”

Truly, he didn't know. You were, in his eyes, way too graceful for him. Kind, loving and sweet as sugar towards people whom you showed care for. You treated him so well that he sometimes couldn't grasp that he was around you. Around your light. Your presence. Your amazing self.

The whisk rotated firmly as he moved it, not wanting you to injure your soft hands and form callouses and blisters which he had grown accustomed to. König could tell that you were keen on watching his arms as he worked and made sure to flex his muscles as long as you were on sight. The little lip bite you do makes it so worth it.

“Don't try to tempt me, Kö. Gosh, the sugar in the mixture smells divine”. His lips kissed your cheek after his hand grazed your bum as he placed the flour in the cupboard.

You brought out the strawberries and blueberries, basking in their blooming red and blue-purple colour with a grin on your face as they sat on the basket you placed them in after washing them. A smack to your hand made you roll your eyes as you attempted to taste a juicy strawberry once more then a blueberry after you had a couple of them. König took the strawberry from your hand and sliced it. “Dummes mädchen (silly girl), why did you choose to stuff four strawberries and a couple of berries in your mouth?”

“You keep pushing my hand away from the basket. What else am I supposed to do?” You responded, wiping the icing you placed on top of the berries from your lips.

König chuckled and walked up to them. “You've got a little bit left at the corner of your lips. Lassen sie mich Ihnen helfen. (Let me help you.)”

König’s thick thumb trailed over the curve of your lip, making your cheeks grow hot. They grew hotter as you watched him lick the icing off of it, a teasing smile growing on his face at your dismay.

You looked away, desire pooling in you and started wide-eyed when his hand gently moved your face right back to his sight. “I was on the mission for a while. Pardon my boldness, but I just can't wait to feel you right after we’re done.”

“I understand the feeling so much. I can't wait either. I hope I'll be able to walk tomorrow. Knowing you, I doubt it.” You giggled and gently kissed his cheek then moved to place the batter in baking pans.

“Meine Güte, du hast mein Verlangen nach dir noch verstärkt.” (“My goodness, you've made me crave you even more.”)

“It's so good!” You grinned as you chewed on the sweet taste of the cake as you both sat on the couch, cuddling as a show you loved played on the TV.

“Yes, it is.” König nodded then popped a blueberry into his mouth and smiled at you.

You caught his gaze and smiled back. “You've got a little icing...here.” You said and flicked the icing off of his soft lips with your thumb and licked it off of your finger. You caught the desire pooling in his eyes and lifted your head to kiss him. Lowering his head, your lips met his. The fruity taste of the cake resided in your mouths and you savoured one another.

“Hmm! Kö, let’s- oh! eat first.” You told him as your hands caressed his face. His hands moved lower onto your sides and tightly held onto them as he placed you on his lap.

“Lass mich jetzt ein kleine stück von dir essen. Dann esse ich gleich noch mehr kuchen.” ("Let me eat a little piece of you now. Then I'll eat some more cake.")

[cookierunauprompts]

I just finished watching King Kong (2005) and this idea hit me like a truck: Shadow Milk Cookie as King Kong and Y/N Cookie as Ann Darrow!

i have never seen king kong but i sorta understand like... the tiniest bit about it.... So uh, Reader's getting kidnapped for this one as that's pretty much the only thing i know from King Kong.

Requested Prompts #44 - 💓

" White Lily Cookie! Don't! It's a trap!" You try to scream out, but no matter what you say nothing can reach White Lily's ears as she was trapped within your captor's maze. You watched as the flurry of the new guardian's magic went towards the fake tree, reviving it almost instantly to the shock of the eerily real-seeming fake Shadow Milk Cookie. You were the only one to have realized that it was fake, so he'd given the group a question that he knew they'd get wrong no matter what. Thus he'd taken you prisoner back in the 'real' world, one that looked a lot like the world within the Maze of Deceit except the key difference was that there was a lot more goopy, abyssal shadows littered with blue eyes staring at everything. You silence yourself with a yelp as one of the beast's fingers press into your head, because yes he does have actual hands apparently. " Ah ah ah!" You heard him tut, " I don't believe that this play needs any input from the audience, does it now?" Shadow Milk hummed, bringing you up to his face so you could look into his calculating gaze. " Besides, they can't hear you anymore anyways, so why even bother?" You hesitate, he was right and you knew it. You almost instantly deflated, your prior determination to escape filtering out of you like air from a balloon with a hole in it. " Aw, you look so cute when you're all hopeless like that! It's almost making me reconsider your position as prisoner!" He cooed, poking at your face with his claw(not the tip of it though). " I doubt that there's anything worse than being a prisoner to you." You groan, leaning away from his touch. A shriek is pulled from your throat as Shadow Milk grabs onto the sliver tree, or at least what remains of it. He spins around it like those character in musicals sometimes do with poles before hoisting himself up to sit between the branches as if they were a throne. " I' wouldn't be too sure about that~!" He teased, holding you up in front of his face. You doubted that, and it showed on your face. " No offense, but I doubt that there is." You said rather un-enthusiastically. " You really think so?" The beast grinned in an almost wild manner, you got the feeling you said something you really shouldn't have. " Because i can think of a lot of things! Of course, I won't be listing all of them for the sake of our family friendly audience. But there are much worse fates than being a prisoner to me!" " Like... like what?" You asked hesitantly. " Hmm..." He leaned in close, eyes shining brightly as he stared down at you. Some kind of deranged hunger slipping into his expression as he did so. " Like being a little snack." You froze up, the pause between that and his next statement being far too long for your liking. " Oh I'm only joking! There's no need to fret, I don't intend to cannibalize you... yet." You squeaked with fear, leaning away as much as you could as he threw his head back into a maniacal laugh. " Oh you're just so gullible- it's adorable!" He mused, a grin that was still far too wide plastered on his face. " I think I might have to keep you, even if Silly-Lily tries to seal me back up in the tree for real!" Well, at least now you know that unless the others save you you're probably screwed. Yippee.

[woundedtolove]

Hi, i'm sorry this is so out of the blue but would you mind sharing sadomasochistic literature recs pls? I love your other rec lists<33

yo not out of the blue at all. i realise i post a lot of content related to sm.

for fiction: besides the obvious bataille, you should look into colette peignot's collected writings under the name laure.

for some rewritten material on her there's kathy acker's my mother demonology. but everything by kathy acker relates to the subject: blood and guts in highschool, empire of the senseless.

(sidenote from an interview w kris kraus on her biography: According to Eleanor Antin, Kathy worked at a massage parlor in Solana Beach for a while, and she did not give massages. [...] She was also, at the same time, tutoring Latin. / If she didn’t give massages, what did she do? / Well, hand jobs, probably.)

another classic but story of o written by pauline réage plus its beautiful illustrations by leonor fini. it's actually said her fantastical owl masks inspired the character of o + she was really close to andré pieyre de mandiargues, whose one story la marge was adapted by walerian borowczky in immoral tales. then there's sacher masoch's venus in furs. you've probably already heard of anais nin's delta of venus.

i specifically highly rec mary gaitskill. bad behaviour is a great short story collection - one of the stories specifically inspired the film secretary (2002). her essay, the trouble with following the rules, on rape culture and agency published in harper's bazaar (later repub in somebody with a little hammer) is one rare occurrence of nuance and grace accorded to women who've had sexual experiences that are difficult to categorise. it gives a rundown of the ways she personally relates to feminist scholars on the subject too.

there's problems by jade sharma. for a more modern story of the eye, try ryu murakami's ecstasy.

for non-fiction (disclaimer that i mostly haven't read these but they are on my list):

gilles deleuze, masochism: coldness and cruelty ; avgi saketopoulou, sexuality beyond consent ; virginie despentes, king kong theory

if you're similarly interested in boundary-pushing experiences, the limits of the body, attraction to the horrific (i getchu) this is moreso sociology, aesthetics, psychoanalysis focused:

elaine scarry, the body in pain ; anne dufourmantelle, in praise of risk ; sylvère lotringer, overexposed: perverting perversions ; umberto eco, on ugliness

other media: the podcast drunk church, the director catherine breillat.

hope this is of help & if you read anything tell me how it went. i'm always looking for more stuff on the subject too.

[mcmookiemeal]

Can I request a Donkey Kong x Socially anxious human(just reader who came with Mario and Luigi……your choice) Female! Reader? When I say “socially anxious”, I mean as in doesn’t talk alot and often gets nervous around others yet is still pretty stand-offish and seems intimidating despite the small size(but is actually not……just anxiety) but also has difficulty opening up. I also thought it would be a love at first sight thing(like Mario and Peach in the movie) as well as DK being all protective and maybe he gets jealous at one point…..

It can be a whole imagine, headcanon, multi-part story……..imma leave that up to you.😉

Donkey Kong x Socially anxious reader

I’m gonna make you Mario and Luigis younger sister I hope thats okay!!

You and Dk had kind of a rocky start when you first met.

He was just so…out there.

And you were not.

So there were definitely a lot of walls to break before you guys even developed a friendship.

You met at the arena when mario was going to fight in order to win an alliance with the Kong army.

You were sitting up on the balcony with Cranky Kong and peach.

Dk hadn’t even noticed you at first.

He was too busy trying to gain his dad’s attention while showing off his muscle.

Then his eyes shifted in your direction.

And when he saw you he was just struck by your beauty.

“Hey…Hey whats your name?”

You looked around to see who he could be talking to before it hit you like a ton of bricks that he was talking to you.

“I’m (Y/n.)” You responded quietly.

He smiled at you and winked before turning his attention back to his brother.

He was here to fight after all.

After that event it kind of felt like Dk followed you everywhere.

And you didn’t mind, you were just wondering why he had chosen you.

“I’m sorry but is there a reason you’re following me?” You questioned while standing on the porch of the hut

“You’re just really pretty.” He said without hesitation

Did he even know what he was saying?!

Had he by any chance mistaken you for someone else? Never has anyone outside of your family called you pretty before.

In fact, most people considered you intimidating.

You just chose not to respond to his complement because you honestly didn’t know what to say, but that didn’t seem to stop him from keeping his mouth closed.

You didn’t even talk to him much, he did all the talking and you sat back to listen to him.

I mean everyone needed a friend who could listen to them right?

During the events of helping Peach take down Bowser, Dk stayed right by your side.

Seriously he never left once, he was always there.

It was almost like he was a lost puppy.

Mario picked up on what this “smash monkey” was trying to do and he really wasn’t a fan of it.

And the fact you seemed perfectly fine with it bothered him even more.

So whenever Mario would try to separate the two of you and keep you close to him, Dk just wouldn’t have it.

He would snatch you back from your brother and keep you next to him, where you belonged.

You really didn’t like it when they fought over you, but you understood Dk was probably just happy to have a human friend so you didn’t mind.

It was a completely different story from his perspective.

He just had a really really big crush on you.

He just didn’t understand how could a girl as beautiful as you be related to someone as annoying as Mario.

Even though you didn’t talk much, he still loved being around you.

But sometimes it did worry him a bit.

Did you secretly hate him? Were you in love with someone else? All these thoughts ran through his head so finally he decided to ask you about it.

So when you and Dk got swallowed by the giant eel after the big battle at rainbow road, he figured this would be the time to ask.

“Do you hate me?” He asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him and raised a brow.

“No.” You responded before looking back down at your feet.

Then why do you never talk to me? Did I do something to upset you?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“No you didn’t…It’s an issue on my part.”

His face contorted from one of worry to one of confusion, He didn’t understand what you mean’t.

“I’m just not good with other people. It’s not that I don’t like you, i’m just nervous around everyone.”

He didn’t understand how you felt, but he didn’t need to understand to help you.

He grabbed your hands in his very large ones and squeezed them reassuringly.

“You never have to be nervous around me.”

You blushed as he stared at you with those big eyes you just couldn’t bring yourself to turn away from.

You know…since we might die in here, I’ve got something I wanna tell you.”

You look at him with a curious expression, wondering what he’s going to say.

“I really like you.” He confesses.

“Huh-?”

You really were not expecting that.

You didn’t know what to expect from him but it definitely was not a love confession.

“I just think you’re really pretty and nice and cool and I just really like you.” He continued

Your blush only grew darker and darker as he continued with his confession to you.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I get it.”

You sat in your own thoughts for a second, contemplating on what you should say next.

You liked him too but you have never been a romantic person so you really didn’t know what to say right now.

He anxiously looked at you, obviously waiting on your response

You couldn’t keep him waiting forever so it was now or never.

“I like you too but I- I’m kind of scared of getting in a relationship.”

“Scared?”

“Yes I’m scared. It’s a lot of commitment, trust, and it just sounds so scary to be in love with someone.”

He wasn’t sure on how to comfort you, this was obviously a personal issue that he stumbled into by accident.

“Whatever you decide I hope you know I’ll always protect you.”

You look up at him with glossy eyes and nod, wiping away any tears that had stained your cheeks.

“Thank you, but how about we continue this conversation when we get out of here.” You said remembering that you were in an eels stomach.

After escaping the eels stomach on a barrel from Dk’s kart, you two made your way to go crash Bowsers wedding.

Fighting your way through the koopas like badass couples do(you’re not a couple yet but you act like one)

You and Dk came in as the fight was still at its peak, so you helped out by fighting some koopa troopers who just so happened to be in the way.

The fight at the Mushroom kingdom looked like it was about over, You and Mario found Luigi and had your moment as you were reunited, the same went for Dk and his dad.

Everything was fine until Bowser released that giant bullet onto Peaches castle.

Mario stepped in and led it away into one of the pipes which seemed like a smart plan at first, but it ended sucking all of you in with it.

You all landed in Brooklyn and Dk made sure to keep you in the backlines.

The two of you had been through so much together, he didn’t wanna risk loosing you now.

But when Dk has his little brawl with Bowser it wasn’t looking too good for him.

Bowser had him up in a chokehold and was getting ready to punch the life out of him.

You needed to help but you didn’t have anything on you so you grabbed a brick from one of the buildings that had been destroyed and threw it at bowsers head.

He dropped Dk and slowly turned his head towards you.

He huffed and angrily ran in your direction but before he could get to you Dk pushed him out of the way.

“(Y/n) go get the star!” Dk yelled and nodded over to the star.

You understood and ran as fast as you could over towards the star but sadly Dk wasn’t able to hold Bowser off forever and Bowser came after you once again.

He caught up to you and grabbed you by the collar, throwing you back with intense strength.

Dk caught you in his strong arms and didn’t let you go.

He wouldn’t let you go. He couldn’t let that crazy turtle freak hurt you again.

“You’re okay I got you.” He comforted as he stroked your hair with his finger.

You clung onto his big fuzzy arm, shaking violently as a few tears escaped your eyes from the fear you just felt.

The rest of the fight you and Dk sat back to let Mario handle it since you had done all you could do by that point.

The conclusion to the battle was sweet, Bowser was defeated and everyone was happy.

You decided that you didn’t want to stay in Brooklyn anymore, Instead you wanted to go back to the Jungle Kingdom with Dk.

Your brothers chose to stay in the Mushroom Kingdom meaning they were always close, which you were happy about.

Dk and you got together(obviously) and ended up having a pretty successful relationship.

Sure it took a lot of effort to get to where you are now, but you’re so happy you put forth that effort.

Dk is pretty happy you got together because he was really wondering if that crush would ever go away.

A/n: Hope you enjoy!!❤️❤️

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong's early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest "silver-screen goddess", "The Great Beauty" and "Audrey Hepburn of the East". Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the "crown princess" among the "Three Princesses of the Great Wall", the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong's leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng's influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, "No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name." In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, "I'm very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I've ever made in my life."

Anita Ekberg (War and Peace, La Dolce Vita)— I'm going to be frank with you. Every time I look at this woman, I lose my ability to form sentences.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Xia Meng:

Anita Ekberg:

“I haven't seen much starring her (YET) but the scene of her in the Fontana di Trevi in La Dolce Vita is some of the most jealous I've ever been of Marcello Mastroianni maybe and that's saying a lot. Cinema history. Historical.”

[setsugekka]

『atarashī 』 ; 09—𝐹𝐼𝒩𝒜𝐿

❝ the other side of love ❞ | mlist  ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [6,3k wc] ch cws: smut, the truth, angst, the bad guy doesn't lose i fear.

It's not often that the Akademiya halls find themselves graced by your presence.

Every vibrate of your phone, every receiving of an email or incoming phone call has your stomach in knots even days after you divulging your deepest, ugliest secret to your best friend. Seonghwa swears that he won't tell Yeosang—won't be the one to go behind your back and tell your husband the information that he is deserving of knowing—because it's yours, but it doesn't make the impending stress of it all feel any less suffocating as it hangs on your shoulders.

Nights with Yeosang back home have been quieter; more space created between the two of you since that night approximately a week ago. Home less, or locked away behind closed doors more than he might have usually been. The distance between the two of you feels so much larger than it ever has been. Before, as a result of his career. Now?

As a result of you, most likely.

Hurrying down the halls and towards your destination, you have plans for the early afternoon of today that this particular coming together of colleagues has the potential to impede. Yunho always has picked the worst possible times to ask you to come grab a snack with him, but today especially is doing you no such favors.

You stop in front of the door that brightly hangs his name atop a shiny bronze plaque, knock twice, and are quickly answered to shortly thereafter by the man himself cracking open the door, glancing to see you, and then just as fast ushering you inside and shutting the door behind you once more.

"Long time no see, we don't often meet here," you say, playful. 

Yunho doesn't answer though—unlike him, usually just as silly in his banter with you. Instead, he brings himself back around to sit behind his desk, pulls a folder up in his hand and brings your attention to it.

"We should talk."

Equal parts of you know exactly what that is, and the other desperately hoping to pretend that you don't—that you're wrong. Nervousness strikes through you, tingles at your fingers tips as you slowly sit yourself down in one of the large, plush chairs that stand in front of his desk, as if you're a student yourself being reprimanded for one thing or another.

But you don't have it in you to break the ice of this topic. Instead, you wait in silence as Yunho stares you down, something judging but equally compassionate in his gaze towards you; like he knows what you have gotten yourself into, and like you never stood a chance to begin with.

He inhales, long and heavy. "I'm sure you can guess what this is," he says, slowly opening the yellow file and carding through some of the pages. "That student we discussed not too long ago, Kim Hongjoong. It was a bit more difficult than anticipated locating the rest of his sealed files—suspected that he had a pretty close relationship with someone on the admin board back at one of his other schools if he was able to get something of this degree locked behind these kinds of walls."

Something of this degree.

Yunho reaches over to his side, takes his reading glasses between fingers and put them on his face just before looking back up towards you again.

"Wasn't quite expecting this, however."

Silence falls between the two of you then. A part of you—probably the strongest part—doesn't even want to know what it is that your friend has unearthed.

"What has he told you about his stint in Hong Kong?"

You reel at the question, but for two reasons. You ignore the main part of it, the most obvious part, for the thing that underlines it. "Nothing really, why would he tell me anything?"

Yunho glances up at you again, briefly, eyebrow raised.

You continue on. "He just said that it didn't really work out for him, he burnt out and flunked out. Not really anything worth telling I guess."

"Has he ever asked you for anything that may pertain to your status in regards to the Akademiya, Aurelia, or the people that you may know by familial and social association?"

Chest tightening and throat dry, you feel a particular clamminess to your hands that doesn't often find you. Heart beating strong and fast behind your ribcage, but you have no other choice than to attempt to steady yourself—swallow all of these feelings down, quell the tremble in your breath and soon to be your voice.

"No."

It's then that Yunho spins the folder to face you, pushes it across the desk for your reading and sits back against his chair.

"The reason he was removed from the school in Hong Kong was because he was discovered to be engaging in an affair with at least one person on the admin board. I say one because only one admitted to it, but with how tightly sealed his record is in relation to it, my guess is that he ended on good enough terms with someone who was able to lock all of his nasty little secrets away."

You don't really want to see it, and it takes you a good, long while before you're able to collect yourself enough to lean forward and take the papers into your hands. 

Yunho continues. "So, I made some calls to that school over the past few weeks to see if I could find out anything else. Of course, it's relatively  confidential information in regards to past students so no one really wanted to say much, but I did get a hold of someone who mentioned that one time his computer was confiscated for something wholly unrelated to all of this, his search history was full of names and people. Industry people, mostly women. Women who could probably help him get ahead if he played his cards just right." He shrugs after that. "That's heresy, but it's not exactly difficult to put the very obvious pieces together, if you ask me."

You're different. This is different. What you have, what exists between the two of you, is not at all like whatever this is—whatever this was, has been in the past. 

Quickly and with a soft but firm sound, you shut the file. Push it back towards Yunho and away from you, as if its proximity capable of poisoning a truth that you seem so sure of. Yunho's eyes fall upon you instead of the item in question, which you don't like. You don't want to hear this, don't want to be seen in relation to this. Yes, you asked to know, asked to find out, but that was then.

And this is now. None of that matters. None of that carries any relevance to your relationship with Hongjoong now. You catch yourself considering how jealous a woman she must have been to get him expelled for their goings on, but quickly squash that just as fast as it rears its ugly head in your mind.

"Thank you."

Standing, you quickly whirl yourself around and head back towards the door that you've only recently just entered. Yunho allows it, allows you to go without much of a fight, and with a hand on the doorknob you nearly make it free of the prison that his office feels like before he grants you his final words.

"I saw you."

You still, frozen in place as terror creeps up through your bones. No strength to turn and face him, but you can hear him lightly shuffle in his seat as he reaches towards the file across the way.

"A couple of weeks ago, at a cafe down the street—" You know precisely when and where he means, the recent memory of you and Hongjoong giggling in a booth together in public, for anyone to see. "With him. You two appeared...close."

There's nothing to say in response to it. What could you possibly say?

"He's certainly smart, I'll give him that much. You're not technically employed by the Akademiya yet you have everything and probably even more to offer him than someone from the Akademiya would."

"It's not like that," you bite back, cutting. Displeased by the implication of his words.

"It, and what is it, exactly? Your affair?"

The two of you silence, and you crack the door open to leave.

"You need to call this off."

"Or else?"

"It's not a threat," Yunho says, sympathizes in a way that you can hear laden in his tone.

Then don't punish me for it.

You don't wait to find out if there's more, back down the hall and in the direction from which you came prior.

After all, someone is expecting you.

Repeated banging on the wooden door in front of you, seven, eight, nine—it opens relatively calmly halfway through your attempt at the tenth—calm, considering the urgency in which you pound upon it.

Fist stilling in mid-air, you look upon the man standing in front of you; someone that you have grown so fond of in such a short amount of time, a whirlwind romance that has caused you to lose sight of yourself, your morality, the vision that you've always had towards your husband, your marriage, and especially yourself.

Hongjoong leans on the door, cocks his head to the side somewhat expectantly, none surprised by your being there of course but even beyond that, seemingly unbothered by the stress that wears blatantly upon your form.

"You're late," he says, playful in delivery. His hair is messy atop his head, strewn about like he has only just decided to roll out of bed now that you've arrived, and likely anticipating only ending right back there. 

You push your way inside with no fight from him, Hongjoong closes the door behind you and you drop your bag in the middle of the floor—pacing a little, back and forth along barely waxed wood flooring that hasn't seen much tender love and care since the man in question has moved in. He watches you as you do, doesn't bother saying anything and likely under the assumption that you very much have something to say to him instead, should he simply wait for it. Not wrong, but how do you go about it? How are you to say it?

"I—" you start, then stop just as quickly.

Hongjoong turns his head slightly, inquisitive. "You?"

But instead of words outright, you rush to close the distance between the two of you. Arms coming up to wrap around his neck, pulling him against you and lips fast and hard finding one another. You can feel the shock laden in his body, though there's no reluctance to be found in the action as he is just as quick to follow through to meet you as he always is—always has been—because he is just as enamored by you as you are for him. Just as obsessed, just as everything. Hongjoong wants you, no, needs you just as urgently as you do him.

And so, you part from his mouth, though only enough to speak against it, still so close that any attempt to look at him renders you crosseyed.

"I'm going to leave my husband," you say with finality. "I want to be with you."

You can feel the switch flip beneath your grasp, the tension in his body at the words as he gently pulls away—creates more space between you where you stand in the middle of his living room.

Hands on your shoulders and quite literally holding you at arms length, Hongjoong inhales with something of a hiss, eyebrows pressing together in thought, in unsureness, certainly not in pleasure.

You feel a little bit as though you're dying at the sight of him like this.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he answers, hesitancy deeply embedded in his tone with no room for miscommunication in as much. "I—we never started this thinking that you were going to leave him, that this was going to become something permanent, right? It was just something fun, something for you to do when you're bored and your husband isn't around."

That's not what you've said. That's not what you've implied. The realization of so many things comes crashing down on you like the weight of the ocean, and similarly, you starkly feel the press atop of your chest. Like you're drowning. Suffocating. All of the oxygen having been sucked out of the room in an instant. Just that easy.

"Hey," he says then, reaches out a hand towards yours, pulls you close again so that the other one can lightly press fingertips into the flesh of your neck, your ear. "Don't think about all of that stuff, you came over here for a reason, right?"

Hongjoong's head dips down, warm lips ghosting across your jawline, settling at your neck just below. Your heart still threatens to beat straight out of your chest, fall through and settle on the floor between both of your feet. He doesn't seem to be all too bothered by that fact though.

And with how weak you are rendered by him, even in times like this, suppose neither are you.

Rolling your hips, you sigh out into the open air of his bedroom. Hongjoong's hands sitting tightly settled onto your hip, one on your waist as you grind against him. One tried and true method of forgetting everything else around you that you wish not to acknowledge nor think about—turns out it works even in the case of him, too.

Gazing up at you from below, Hongjoong watches you intently as you work him. Bottom lip pulled up between his teeth and eyes never for a second leaving you, your body, anything about you. Always you, never anything else but you—and still, Yunho's words from earlier set so heavily on your mind in a way that you hadn't quite anticipated them to; the idea that all of this has been so carefully, perfectly orchestrated by Hongjoong, the idea that much of this is a facade.

How much of it has even been real, and since when has it started? Since the first day you met him? Since that evening at the jazz lounge?

Or maybe even before all of that.

How early on in the hunt does a mouse know that it is prey? Perhaps depending on the aptitude of the predator—it never does. Not until it's far, far too late.

Hongjoong pushes his hips up, pulls down down with a perfectly timed grace. Like he knows you're deeply muddled in your thoughts and he's trying to break you out of the trance. It works temporarily, whining and meeting his efforts halfway once you remember where it is that you are, and what it is that you're doing.

"You're in your head," he says, an obvious statement. Hongjoong takes the opportunity to sit up and roll you over so that you lie beneath him instead. Pushes himself back inside with a slow, calculated drive. You wonder if it's part of his plan to always fuck you like this when he feels as though you're getting away from him a bit. Slower, gentler; the deception of love.

You think about the woman back at his school in Hong Kong. The women. 

He kisses you, teeth lightly nipping into your lip in just the way that you like—and even still, even now—it brings about the same response. A desire for him, an unbridled want. He's so good at this, whatever this even is, in totality.

"Joong," you whisper against his mouth, he hums in acknowledgment of it. "Do you want to be with me?"

The question is purposeful, and you mean the words that make the sentence up, but even more than that it is a test; a test to see the way that he responds physically. Hongjoong kisses at the corner of your mouth, withdraws only to slowly press his hips forward again—tip to full length. Makes sure that you feel everything, all of him.

It tells you everything.

"The only thing I want is for the both of us to get exactly what it is that we want from the other." A surprisingly honest and thorough reply, all things considered. You can't help but guess that he is catching on to your understanding of things now.

Slipping a hand down and between your bodies, he starts to rub careful circles against you as he fucks you—slightly harder, just a bit faster as if intentionally trying to take you to a place where you're teetering on the edge of release. 

And even with the knowledge that you seemingly have, it works. A man that knows you and your body so well, in ways that you've not previously thought possible. Hongjoong has wrapped you tightly around his finger in every possible way, and though you try to bite back the moan that sits strangled in your throat because it's just too easy for him, and perhaps he doesn't even deserve it in the same ways he once has, it's still not enough. Not entirely.

"I know what we both want," he says, airy but sultry as he continues his drives against you. "You, you want a distraction from your utterly boring life. Someone to pay attention to you, someone who makes you feel special, like you're the only one in the whole world."

Your orgasm sits just out of reach, but the words are true and in some ways confirm the suspicion that you've now found yourself contemplating: empty words. A man willing to do and say whatever it is that you want to hear, and you, so pathetic and wanting, thoughtlessly eating it up without a moment of concern. Hongjoong had you in the palm of his hand from the first time he called you his favorite. 

Where does that leave him?

When you come, Hongjoong follows shortly thereafter; holds you tightly against him and continues on with the ruse in telling you all of the ways in which you are so special, so perfect, everything to him. When the both of you finish riding the feeling out through each other’s bodies, he brings his face up from the crook of your neck and kisses you deeply and lovingly—just like he always has. As if the walls of the fantasy haven't already come crashing down around you.

"And what I want is to finally catch that big, big break."

Ah.

You lie there beneath him, staring up at the ceiling and through strands of brown hair that don't belong to you. Hongjoong kisses the side of your face, then your jaw once more before pulling himself up and removing himself from your body completely.

"So, this never meant anything to you."

Glancing down to the edge of the bed where he sits, sorting through previously removed clothes, Hongjoong looks back at you from over his shoulder and snorts out a laugh. "Mutually beneficial, has it not been?"

"You lied to get what you wanted from me."

Hongjoong pulls his shirt over his head, lackadaisical. "I gave you exactly what you wanted from me from the start. You wanted me to pay special attention to you, so I did. You wanted me to tell you pretty words that your husband doesn't, so I did. You wanted me to fuck you stupid numerous times a night, make it exciting, an enthralling secret that only the two of us know about...so I did."

You can't help but laugh. Less at him, and more so at yourself. He's not even wrong, and that's the ugliest part about it.

"And you wanted my industry contacts."

He glances back at you again, a beat of silence passing between you before he opts to answer. "I think I more than earned it."

"You're a piece of shit."

Still lying there, Hongjoong stands, pulls his pants up and walks around to the side of the bed—closer to you. Hands you your clothing that he has kindly gathered and extends them nicely.

"All the more reason to be thankful that you're not actually in love with me then."

You snatch them from his grasp, and he makes his way towards the table that holds his glass of water from earlier. Watches you as you dress yourself again, and then the both of your attention drops to your phone as it vibrates with the notification of an incoming call.

It's Seonghwa, and while you're none in the mood to be hearing from him about this, right now, all things considered, it gives you even more of a reason to get out of here—whatever it is that he is requesting from you. Your eyes catch Hongjoong's, and he simply shrugs. None of this matters to him anymore, anyway.

"Yeah."

"Where are you right now? You're not in your office."

You glance up at Hongjoong again who can most definitely hear the man on the other end of the line. He shrugs.

"Why? What's up?" Still can't say it, still can't admit to it even after divulging as much to the man asking.

Seonghwa doesn't reply right away, instead you can hear him engaging in some sort of discussion with another man that appears to be in his presence. Your pulse immediately strengthens, heart leaping into your throat at the thought of who it can be—until a rather distinct verbal tone serves as enough of an indication that it isn't your husband.

It's Yunho.

"Just...can you come down here? There's some stuff that we need to discuss and put to rest once and for all—"

You go to agree, lips parting to speak but before you're able to get anything out, Seonghwa cuts in to give additional instruction for how you are meant to arrive.

"And since I know you're with him... bring Hongjoong."

When the call cuts, Hongjoong puts his glass down and turns on his heel towards the front door—swipes his keys and wallet from the table and begins shoving his feet into chunky black boots.

"Where are you going?" you ask, assuming the worst of him. Assuming an escape.

He looks over to you and down the short hallway.

"Tying up loose ends." He stands, pulling a light jacket down and beginning to shrug it on. "Shall we, then?"

Down the long, carpeted Aurelia halls, students mind themselves along with a handful of staff from the Akademiya meant to oversee the tasks that they are meant to be accomplishing. It feels so disjointed to you, entering the premises like this; less as the groundskeeper of such a place, and more as someone lining up for slaughter at the hands of your best friend and colleague who await your arrival within the confines of your office.

As you make your way, you occasionally and briefly take a glimpse towards the man walking beside you. Hongjoong walks just next to you; hands shoved in pockets and idly gnawing at the inside of his cheek in a way that might suggest a kind of discomfort at what may be waiting for him inside, but to someone who knows him better—to you—you know it to be nothing of the sort. A comical level of blasé, of indifference. Unbothered by the circumstances that have brought him here as a whole.

Because really, why should he? The checkmate has been served, he has already won his hand.

The door is cracked open and waiting for you when the two of you reach it, Seonghwa standing just beside it and peering over once he hears your approach. He pulls it open enough so that you and Hongjoong can slip through, and although your eyes are centered wholly on him, his are instead focused on the man of the hour—the catalyst for your downfall, the method of your treachery.

Inside, Yunho is standing beside your desk with that all too familiar file in hand. Still, Hongjoong is unmoved by it, by the sight of it, despite surely knowing what it is.

Seonghwa locks the four of you inside, and now it feels like a prison. Judging eyes all honing in on you and your grave misdoings. Only one way for this to get any worse, and you're thankful to Seonghwa for that, at least.

"Right then," Yunho starts, clearing his throat and opening the file once more. "I think it's probably best for everyone if we cut straight to the chase."

Yunho is your peer, a colleague of the Akademiya, but in this moment of the time he feels much like an authority figure over you. It's projection, you understand that much; feeling small in the mounting evidence of everything that you've done and everyone that knows about it.

"There are bits of your records that are missing from your file," he says then, questioning. Looking up from it to eye Hongjoong as he stands firmly between you and Seonghwa who appears to be guarding the door. You wonder if he is anticipating a kind of escape from your affair partner. You know him uninterested in doing anything of the sort, perfectly pleased with the outcome of things and no fear of facing the aftermath of them. "Care to elaborate on why that is?"

"Is it necessary?" Hongjoong asks, offering nothing else beyond it.

Yunho sighs, pulls his glasses off from his face and closes the paperwork in hand. "I can hazard a guess. I made a few more calls today to some of the people who handled your expulsion—"

Hongjoong grins, like he's enjoying the verbal chess that he gets to partake in as a result of this. "So, then you know."

"The 'talented college burn-out who can't seem to make it happen for himself' story is certainly a good one, I see it's gotten you far in your endeavors. Getting your permanent record sealed to this degree, getting what you need from other people, avoiding said expulsion altogether."

That makes you reel. With confusion painting your features, you look towards Yunho first—his eyes still glued to the man in question—then to Hongjoong, who takes a moment to meet you at the very least.

"What does that mean?" you ask.

"You weren't really expelled at all, were you?" Yunho says, hardly a question as he cocks his head to the side knowingly. "Rather, you were going to be, but just like you always do, you found a way to leverage that out of the hands of the person intending to cast it down on you."

Silence passes through the room, Yunho cuts through it to speak again. "You always go through life manipulating women to get what you want out of them, or are your efforts best kept in relation to school, and your career?"

Hongjoong laughs at that. "You call it manipulation, I call it equal and fair exchange. Everyone gets what they want, don't they?"

Seonghwa steps forward suddenly, angry in a way that can be seen in every inch of his body. 

"You've ruined a marriage, probably ruined lives."

"I've not told her husband, and presumably neither have you. I have no interest in ruining her marriage, or anyone else's. She got what she wanted from me, and I was happy to give it. As many times as she wanted, as often as she wanted. We were all just playing our respective roles."

"We're talking about people’s real lives," Seonghwa says again, another step towards the man in question that dredges up so much rage within him. You've not ever seen him this angry before, and a part of you sits only mildly concerned in relation to Hongjoong's physical well-being. Not that it would be entirely underserved, not that it might not even be somewhat cathartic, too. "You say whatever it is that you have to say, do whatever it is that you have to do to get what you want from the people around you and then have the audacity to call it something akin to equivalent exchange—but you have nothing to lose, now do you?"

Hongjoong shrugs. "We weigh our options everyday in making decisions for ourselves. If you don't take an umbrella out and it ends up raining, whose fault is that? The weather, or yours?" He turns and looks at you then. "If someone knowingly decides to engage in an affair—whose fault is that?"

"The person who took the vows."

This voice—a different voice—comes from the doorway, behind Seonghwa who has since inched further and away from that place. You know it before your eyes settle on the keeper of it, but it doesn't stop you from doing so in the most defeated manner. In some way, and much faster than you ever might have anticipated, it's calming in a sense—to see him standing there, listening, coming into all of this knowledge—because now you are free from the secret.

Now, everything is laid out on the table in front of everyone.

Seonghwa swiftly turns, sees Yeosang and then just as quickly looks to you. There's a sort of compassion in his eyes that you know you aren't deserving of, but is being given to you on account of him caring for you, him being your best friend for so, so many years before now. 

Hongjoong doesn't bother replying, his point long since having been made and a quiet understanding among all of you that regardless of how large or little his devious part being played in this has been—he will never admit fault for as much. To Hongjoong, your affair with him is as simple as a kind of bartering system between two people; he gave, and then you gave, and everyone was happy.

Hardly his fault that you are now displeased with the outcome of your own decision making, and for that, you can't even really blame him.

Yeosang steps past Seonghwa, makes his way straight towards you. Ignores your friend, ignores Yunho, and even more shockingly, ignores Hongjoong until he stands himself right in front of you: gaze pointed, judging, full of a kind of hate and resentment that isn't only now beginning its rise, but rather something that has long since been festering and now meeting its spark.

Breath trembling, you slowly reach out for your husband's hand. He allows you to take it into your grasp, though he offers you no reciprocation in the act. Staring. Far from thoughtless, but no words granted to you. 

Your resolve crumbles then, a sob choking out loudly into the open air of your office as the people surrounding you watch on. Falling to your knees, you keep hold of Yeosang tightly, the man still willing to give you little more than a disparaging watchfulness.

"How long?" he finally asks, voice firm and plain. You don't have the breath, the capability to answer him, but you're quick to realize that the question is not intended for you when the other half of your betrayal speaks up in your stead.

"Two months or so," Hongjoong replies, hands still lazily shoved into his pockets. "Haven't been keeping count."

"That where you were that night that you didn't come home? Up all night, worried sick, even had your friend lie for you."

"Seonghwa didn't know—" you choke out the best you can. It's the least you can do, not drag him down in your deception like this.

"Spend your days with another man then come home and spend your evenings in bed with me. Did you even love me enough—respect me enough—to use protection?"

You cry harder at that, Hongjoong sucks his teeth at the question before giving the reply that none of you want to hear. "Not once."

Yeosang shakes his hand free of your grip shortly after, takes his leave quietly and without another word. There are no other words spoken within the office where you lie with hands to your face and sobs ripping from your chest. You have no one to blame for this but yourself. 

Yunho leaves next, and Seonghwa just thereafter. He offers you a modicum of solace, at least; hand pressing into your shoulder to remind you that he's there, and maybe even that he still cares for you in some way, shape or form. In spite of your flaws. In spite of all of the ways that you have failed everyone that you love. Everyone who has loved you.

Hongjoong leaves last, and his presence above all is suffocatingly felt as he stands in front of you; calm, collected, wholly unconcerned by everything that has just taken place in front of him, and large in part, because of him. It's a last moment shared between the two of you when you finally gather yourself enough to look up at him from where you remain on your knees—through wet eyelashes and stinging red eyes—the two of you meet gazes once more. A reminder of something shared, because really, how could you ever forget?

His lips slowly thin into a line, neither a smile nor a frown, nothing more than an acknowledgement of your being there in front of him. A part of you still feels desperate to have him care for you, because the idea of it never having been real to begin with twists the knife that has long since been carved into you as a result of all of this. Please give me something, please show me that there is tenderness still.

Seconds pass that feel like a lifetime; memories of your time together with him flashing before your eyes like a film reel, someone else's life that you're watching, not your own. Smiles, kisses, touches, words; except it felt so real in the moment, how could it not have been real.

Hongjoong moves from place slightly, stills for another instant as he looks at you—as if thinking about what it is that he wants to do from here on out. You don't know what to expect from him now, because in such a short time you've come to find out that you have never really known him to begin with. A stranger to you, perhaps only now having just met for the first time today.

You watch him carefully, the way a single corner of his lip curves upwards in such a slight way that you think him attempting to fight it back, but unable to. Too pleased with himself, pleased with what he has done. 

Victorious in outcome.

When he takes his leave in silence, you're left with nothing else. Hongjoong never offers you any sympathy, nor consolation in the aftermath of a disaster that he had very much been a part of. 

Nor does he bother to thank you for everything graciously given to him.

"Can you bring me that box of files, please?"

With the change in weather and the months quickly passing by around the Aurelia Theater, new students come through the halls and make their way in and out of the empty rooms—picking and choosing their favorites, where they wish to spend the most of their time working on their crafts and busying their hands. A man is heart shouting down the way—something about how someone shouldn't be standing on one of the chairs—but you have enough to worry about on your plate, and thankfully, you have help with that.

Said box in hand, Seonghwa pulls around to the side of your desk, plops it on the floor in front of him and straightens himself back up into a standing position, along with feigning the pain of a strained muscle for dramatic effect.

You roll your eyes, seating yourself in your chair and attempting to sort through the immense amount of papers strewn about before you. "You know, you would think by now I'd get all of this shit settled before the new students and staff made their way in for the new semester."

"One would think that, yes. Far from your first rodeo."

"Thanks for coming to help out, by the way. I'll buy dinner tonight, we can go to that expensive place that you like that also sucks."

Seonghwa scoffs. "It doesn't suck, you just don't have a very refined palate. I accept your offer though."

Flicking corners of papers still in search of a particular contract, you rustle through numerous ones and in the flurry of it all, a pen flies from the edge of your desk and onto the floor just beside your feet. You stare at it lying there for far too long—too long for Seonghwa who you're sure wonders what sort of significance this particular item has to you—the sort of thing you can't divulge to him, the sort of thing that is no longer spoken about. Forgotten to the times. Cast out and never to be acknowledged again for as long as the both of you shall live.

You bend down and pick it up, open the desk drawer and shove it inside without a word. Looking up, your eyes meet Seonghwa's somewhat concerned ones, but you take comfort in knowing that he won't dare ask.

"What time should we go?" Changing the subject despite there not really even being one before.

You shrug. "I'm free after four, have to make the rounds with the new students and faculty, sign some more paperwork and then we can meet if you have somewhere to be."

On days like this everything almost feels normal. There are always subtle reminders of the upheaval of your life not long ago, but you're thankful for the forgiveness of your best friend—a man who has always had your back, and even when you're not even really deserving of it. 

It doesn't feel as empty as it would otherwise have to, as it probably should. The emptiness resides in your chest, where it feels as though your heart once sat; playing reckless games with people, and never anticipating having met your match.

Sometimes you see him on television, in magazines. You're welcome, you think to yourself as you pass. In those moments, the emptiness on your ring finger sits that much heavier than all of the others.

Equivalent exchange—you made him, and he destroyed you.

a/n: HOI! the end of another big and dramatic story from your neighborhood longfic-infidelity-drama-angst enjoyer! it was a wild ride and i hope yall had fun hehe. some of you guys suspected parts of the ending correctly, here is your retribution! you win [hand shakes] 💗 as always, ask box is open and i look forward to hearing from you :)

[avatar-anna]

Hey I've had a rly rly bad day :( I'm about to breakdown down n trying to do things to distract myself.. would you mind writing a little fluffy blurb about h comforting reader ??? You don't hve to if you're busy :))

hey! i'm sorry you're having a bad day. here is the fluffiest blurb (w a little bit of angst bc reader has to be crying for some reason) enjoy! 💕💕💕

.

You never knew how little you put yourself first until today.

All your life you considered yourself a compassionate person. Reliable. Dependable. Someone friends and family could count on. And you liked being that person, you liked that you had a prominent role in the lives of the people you loved and cared for most.

And if carried over into your work life too. You were constantly working overtime, saying yes to projects that your boss or co-workers prefaced with, “I knew just the person to come to for this!” And that made you feel valued. Important.

Until today.

You were already behind on a project because one of your co-workers asked you for help with theirs, and without asking why, you agreed as usual. But your own was already kind of kicking your ass and you had a million other things going on outside of work that needed your attention. You really weren’t sure why you couldn’t say no this time. You had valid reasons, yet you still tacked on more work, more stress (and not more pay, either).

“Hey, Y/n, how we doing in here?” your boss said, knocking on the open door of your office.

“A little stressed, but what else is knew?” you said with a smile. It was your normal response, but this time there was a little edge to it you hadn’t expected.

Not even noticing, your boss moved on. “Good, good. I was wondering if I could ask a favor? Our partner office from Hong Kong is coming next week, and I thought who better to show them around than our hardest worker bee?”

He said it with a smile, like it was an honor to be asked such a thing, but all you could say in reply was, “Both of my projects are due next week.”

With a quick look around the room, you saw that you were one of the last ones in the big office space. Either your co-workers took their work home or didn’t have as much to do as you did, and for the first time, that irked you. Why couldn’t your boss ask any of them when you were clearly drowning in meetings and phone calls and spreadsheets and ten minute lunches?

“I know you’ll make it work,” he said, as if he hardly even heard your response. “So you’ll do it?”

“I...”

Tears sprung out of nowhere, perhaps the stress of a task you hadn’t even accepted already weighing down on you. There would be no time, no time for yourself, or anything or anyone other than work.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, hoping that your boss would ask someone else in the meantime.

“Well, I kind of need an answer now—”

“Then no, my answer is no,” you blurted, standing up from your desk to pack your things. “Not only can I not do it, I don’t want to do it. You have so many people that work here that could do this for you, and even though you knew I was up to my ears in work, you asked me anyway. So no. I will not be able to help you next week.”

Your boss floundered a bit. At your outburst, or that you said no, you weren’t sure. He probably hadn’t thought to ask anyone else, had just expected you to say yes. And that once would’ve made you proud, but now you absolutely despised that.

“Well, I mean, this might affect your promotion,” he said, a last stitch effort to get you to say yes.

Could he really not see you were on the verge of tears? Or that you were in the same clothes as yesterday because you fell asleep in your office last night? Or did he just not care?

That promotion was dangled over every project, every favor, every little thing you did at work. It was the reason you did so much. You worked hard, and you wanted a paycheck that validated that. But if your boss took one refusal as a reason for you to not get a promotion, when so many of your co-workers turned things down left and right, then...

“Fuck your promotion,” you said before you could filter your words, then hastily left your office, not bothering to look your boss in the eye.

Tears wanted to fall as you rode the elevator, as you got behind the wheel of your car, but you swallowed them down, pushing them away for later.

A minute into driving, your phone rang, your cousin’s name popping up on the screen on your car’s dash.

“Hey! How’s it going?”

You didn’t have it in you to be chipper. “I think I just lost my job.”

“Oh...Well that’s—Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug.

“Great! Well, I was just calling to ask if you and H have locked down a date for the wedding,” your cousin asked.

With a raised brow, you said, “We sent out save the dates three weeks ago.”

“Right, but my wife and I booked a cruise before you and Harry even got engaged, and our flight to get to port is on the same day as the wedding. You see where I’m going with this, right?”

You did, but you were so furious that you said, “I don’t, actually.” You needed him to say it, to admit what he was asking for.

“Well, you know, since we booked this cruise before you and H got engaged, we were wondering if you could change the date. Move it up or something.”

“Or something,” you said, voice completely devoid of emotion. What would that even mean?

Did you really accommodate so much that a family member was asking to move your literal wedding day for them? Did people really expect you to bend over backwards like that?

The answer was yes. You put so many people first, that you’d become the default, friends, families, co-workers were practically on autopilot when asking for favors, you doubted they even tried to come up with solutions themselves at this point.

“So tou’ll do it?”

You were surprised when you started laughing. Not a giggle, but a full-bellied laugh. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was the ludicrous favor your cousin just asked you, or maybe you’d finally snapped. Your cousin was still on the other line waiting. Because despite what clearly was a nervous breakdown, he was still expecting you to do this for him.

“Shove it up your ass and don’t bother coming to the wedding,” you said when your laughter subsided, then promptly hung up the phone.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry was on the couch when you got home, watching one of his crime shows he loved so much. He smiled when he saw you, the reaction almost involuntary, but it faltered when he got a better look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning the TV off and coming over to you.

“Bad day. Really bad day,” was all you said, voice empty.

“I’m sorry, lovie. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, and Harry took that as his cue to pull you in for a hug. He was much taller than you were, so you were completely engulfed in his soft sweater and the fresh scent of his cologne. You sighed, your shoulders sagging as he squeezed you, as if he was trying to wring all the stress and sadness out of you.

After a couple minutes, Harry let go, but only to look down at you. “So I’m thinking that as your fiance, I need to make you feel better.”

“Yeah?” you said, a small smile forming on your face. Harry seemed to be the only one who put you first, or realized when you needed a break.

“Yeah, which is great because I bought stuff at the store to make that dish you really love. The one with chicken and the red sauce? I just need a little help with—”

“You need help?” you asked, smile immediately turning into a frown. “Like a favor?”

Confused, Harry said, “Well, it’s not really a favor, I just need—”

“And I just need people to stop needing me! Why can’t anyone understand that? I give, and I give, and I give, and I never ask for anything in return, so people keep expecting me to give. Well, I have nothing to give anymore. I‘m—I’m...”

You pulled away from your fiance and stormed upstairs, locking yourself in the bathroom the two of you shared. Your were breathing as if you’d just run a marathon, unable to get a sob out before the next one came over you. Tears were hot on your cheeks, and you knew if you looked in the mirror your face would be an angry shade of red. Sliding down to the cool tile floor, you curled in on yourself and just cried.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting like that, how long you stormed away from Harry. If you had the ability to think rationally for a moment, you would’ve realized that he wasn’t trying to use you or take advantage of your kindness. He didn’t even know that asking for help would’ve triggered you like this (you didn’t either, to be fair). But he just happened to be the person you blew up at, and while it wasn’t fair, you couldn’t exactly take it back.

Not that you could, at the moment. You couldn’t stop crying. No matter how much you tried to steady your breathing, or how much you thought you got out of your system, you just kept crying. So much so that you didn’t even hear Harry knock on the door the first time.

“Lovie? Can you unlock the door? Please?”

You didn’t answer, hoping that would be answer enough.

But he persisted. “I hate hearing you cry all by yourself. Will you please let me in? Let me help you, lovie.”

The sobbing stilled for just a moment, long enough to stand up and unlock the door for Harry. He opened it immediately, but you didn’t see his face before he pulled you against him again.

You didn’t know how long you stood there like that, how long you cried in Harry’s arms while he smoothed his hand down your hair soothingly and kissed the top of your head, waiting patiently until you let it all out. When you finally did, he wiped the remaining tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. You didn’t know what to say or what to do. You knew you had to do something, explain, apologize, change out of day-old clothes, something, but Harry thankfully spoke first.

“I think you need a long, hot shower.”

While you got undressed, Harry turned the water on and made sure it was the right temperature. You thought he would leave after that, but he began shedding his clothes too. You wanted to ask what he was up to, but you couldn’t find the words.

He led you to the shower and stepped in behind you. Once you were under the stream of hot water, he leaned down to kiss you, his fingers delicate as the held the side of your face. “Just relax,” he breathed, kissing the top of your cheekbone before turning you around.

Something like excitement stirred in you, even though you were much too exhausted for sex currently. But that wasn’t Harry’s intention. You heard the familiar squirt of the shampoo bottle behind you, and before you could utter a single word, Harry’s fingers were in your hair, massaging your scalp and working the shampoo into a nice lather on your head.

It was the greatest feeling, your fiance’s hands applying the right amount of pressure to make it feel soothing. Your eyes closed involuntarily, a small sigh leaving your lips as he combed through the ends of your hair. Harry repeated the process for conditioner, then body wash, and even a body scrub and the hair oil you applied after getting out of the shower. He did it all himself. You didn’t lift a finger.

At some point, as the steam and Harry’s fingers and the lovely scents of all the products used on you, you managed to find your voice. “I...I think I lost my job today,” you said, then proceeded to tell him everything. You left nothing out, not a single detail, and Harry didn’t say a word, just listened to you recount your day, and all the frustrations that came with it.

You were in a fluffy pink robe by the time you finished. Harry stood behind you while he combed your hair, careful not to hurt you with each knot he de-tangled. Only when you were obviously done talking did he say something.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, moving your hair aside to kiss your jaw.

“Really?”

He nodded. “I...I’ve noticed that you go...above and beyond for people, but family can be a touchy subject for you, and I didn’t want to upset you by implying that your family relies on you a little too much. But after hearing all of that, I can’t help but think I should’ve said something sooner. Why didn’t you tell me about work?”

“I just thought I was working hard,” you said.

It was true. You never really complained to Harry about work or let on how much you were actually doing. And maybe it was subconsciously because you knew he felt a certain way about how your family treated you. If you looked back, you could see moments where his caution manifested. Cancelling a date or two to pick someone up at the airport, running late because a family member called you at the last minute asking for a favor. It was almost like your life wasn’t yours anymore, it was everyone else’s.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a long stretch of silence while Harry finished combing your hair. “For letting all of that affect our relationship and for earlier. I wasn’t mad at you, I promise.”

“I know,” he said. He kissed your jaw again, letting his lips linger this time. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

You felt like there was, but Harry didn’t seemed concerned about it, just concerned about you.

He went through your skincare routine, applying everything to your face with gentle fingers. With each cream and serum, he kissed you. On your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids, the corners of your mouth. Every inch of your skin was sealed with a kiss and the mumbling of, “I love you.”

Harry helped you dress in cozy clothes—your favorite sweatshirt of his and your softest sweatpants. And when he was done he led you downstairs where a pot of something was waiting on the stove.

“I didn’t know how to make the red sauce,” he admitted. And you blushed at the way you exploded at him for that. He wasn’t asking just because he was lazy or wanted you to make dinner for him, he just needed a little help.

As if he could read all the thoughts swirling in your mind, he kissed your rouged cheek. “But no matter. I made macaroni and cheese for us. Straight from the box.”

“Sounds delicious,” you said. And you meant it, just appreciative that he did so much for you.

Harry served you and poured you wine. He talked about his day and the cute dog he saw while stopping for coffee, all the while holding your hand. And when you were both done, he sent you upstairs to relax while he cleaned the kitchen, threatening to haul you up himself when you tried to take your bowl to the sink.

It was weird to lay in your bed and do nothing. Usually you worked or tried to get some things done for the wedding, but tonight, you just laid in bed and watched some reality show on the television mounted on the wall that faced your bed.

Harry came up a little while later, two mugs with something steaming in them in his hands. He handed on to you and kissed your forehead before setting his down on the night table on his side of the bed and sliding in next to you. You set yours down too, cuddling into his inviting warmth.

You immediately found a comfortable position, tangled in a way that said he wasn’t letting you stand up for a single thing, except for maybe using the restroom. Harry’s cheek was squished against yours, his hand tracing delicate patterns on your stomach while he kissed you whenever he felt like it. It was the most relaxed you’d ever been, you thought. The most at peace.

“I love you,” you whispered, his hands and warmth and endless supply of kisses lulling you to sleep.

“I love you too. Now go to sleep, lovie.

To be taken care of. To hear the promise of Harry doting on you now and the rest of your life in his voice was enough to put a smile on your face as you did just as he said.