#if it's over 4 hrs i will probably bounce

[finncakes]

fearnie <3

#critical role #cr3 #bells hells #fearne calloway #critrole #happy thursday! #this took me forever to finish....too much work rn #but i had some days off so i got to rest and finally had the energy to fix her up. #gonna try to watch live tonight! we'll see #if it's over 4 hrs i will probably bounce

[loveandthings11]

How Deep My Love Goes, Chapter 13

Read on AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 Ch 12

Very Tall Somethings

Fic Summary: A Kenrava-focused fix-it alongside canon 💗

Chapter Summary: Hunting and Safe Room, redone. Or, the story of Kendall and Rava's chaotic Christmas week. Kendall tries different tactics to get Logan to agree to save Vaulter while trying to stay apprised of goings-on within the company from afar. Rava is terrified when an active shooter situation hits Waystar with Kendall inside. The incident causes Kendall to struggle with his past demons and to try to reconnect with Shiv. Kendall and Rava exchange Christmas gifts and see how much they mean to each other.

On December twentieth, Kendall lies on the couch in the great room and stares up at the ceiling.

“I-I mean, he didn’t mean that, right?” he asks for the fourth time since his call with Logan yesterday. “That was nothing? He wasn’t really offering it to me when I turned it down. Was he?”

“Mind games…” Rava says absentmindedly as she turns the page of her book in a nearby chair.

“Yes, mind games! Fucking- manipulation, yeah? He’s always done shit like that. What- what do I even do with that?”

She can feel his chaotic energy.

“Have you considered calling HR?” Rava says drily.

“Uh-huh. Okay. They’re all at the fucking corporate retreat in Hungary doing God-knows-what with the company-“ he looks at her eyes running across the page. He’s more stressed by the day not to be able to attend any management meetings right now and it couldn’t be clearer that she doesn’t want to hear about it anymore. “Whatever. I need sunflower seeds.” He gets up and goes to pace in the kitchen as he pours the bag into his mouth.

She tries not to look at him while he’s doing it because she knows what that means. He walks back and forth and looks around.

“You know what? I’m gonna be in the gym,” he says as he walks down the hall toward it.

“Twice in one morning?” Rava asks.

“That was floor stuff, weights. Now it’s cardio. Why, you don’t want me too ripped?” She lets him turn the substitute addictions into a joke. Whatever works.

“No,” she laughs. “Go get ripped. That’s…. great.”

“You laugh now,” he says. “You’re not gonna be ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready,” she nods sarcastically. “You should go back to drawing, or music. You used to do more art.”

“Uh- yeah. I did. I should. Just- yeah, I’m going to work out right now.”

He flashes her a smile and walks away. When he comes back in the room she looks over his ever-so-slightly mussed hair. He locks eyes with her.

“Yeah?”

She raises her eyebrows and tilts her head to the side as she chuckles. It doesn’t look like he was going too crazy with the workout, but she does like what she’s seeing. She notices a grey smudge on his hand and nods at it.

"What is that?" she asks. He looks down at it.

"Oh, it's nothing. From the treadmill I guess."

“Okay... well, you are looking good.”

“Feeling good,” he says. But he sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself. “I haven’t heard from Roman in a couple days,” he says.

“Well, there’s probably not much privacy in jail- I’m sorry, the retreat. I always get those mixed up,” she returns.

“Right.” He heads to the shower and, after fifteen minutes, enters the room and starts pacing again. She looks up from her book.

“You’re making me nervous. Come sit down!” He goes to sit down next to her and she watches his foot bounce.

“I’m gonna text him again,” Kendall says with worry in his voice. He types out a message.

Rome. You gotta give me something, man.

He taps his fingers on Rava’s thigh as he looks at the screen. After a couple of minutes, Roman sends a text with a news screenshot and accompanying message.

Preview of an article Karolina sent us. Merry fucking whatever. You’d better not forget this.

Kendall looks at the screenshotted headline and gives a little smile at his screen.

Waystar Royco subsidiary Vaulter lives to fight another day; President Lawrence Yee stays in role under embattled Waystar CEO Logan Roy’s leadership.

“Roman saved Vaulter,” he says out loud in disbelief. “I’ve seen this kind of thing, though. It’s just a temporary extension for now, but it’s a start.”

Rava smiles.

“Good Christmas present,” she replies. “Speaking of which, it’s about time to do the finishing touches on the tree now that you can breathe again. Only a few days til Christmas! You know the kids are going to be ready for holiday stuff.”

“Yeah, for sure.” He pauses a second. “I feel kinda fuckin’… bad that we’re not going to my mom’s. She always wants us to go and Shiv would never do it, but Roman wanted to too. Maybe next year? Or can we- could we go see her next month or something? I just- you know, things were actually good with us at the wedding. It was kind of weird. But, yeah, good.”

“Yeah. Sure, we can go see your mom. Whenever you want.”

Kendall nods and gets up to go to the kids’ rooms to coax them out with promises of hot chocolate and ornaments as Rava looks through the boxes of decorations the staff had been taking out earlier to find the last bits of tree decor. Kendall and Rava have always done this part themselves.

Rava shows Kendall a ceramic ornament they’d bought at a Christmas market in Belgium in one of their first holiday seasons together. The little red frame says Merry Christmas in green and features a sweet picture of 24-year old Kendall and Rava with big smiles on their pink faces pressed together. Kendall’s first Christmas free of his family had been one for the books.

Kendall looks at it and wordlessly returns her look of love. He takes his phone from the glass coffee table and walks the few steps over to her, bending down to her and putting his cheek on hers before taking a quick picture of them smiling once more. Rava nods at the picture and gives him a grin.

“We’ll get a new one made to match,” he says.

“Love that,” she says.

…..

On December twenty-first, Roman calls Kendall.

“Hey, fuckface,” Roman starts. “I’m so hungover I might kill myself.”

Kendall doesn’t know if this is about to be an alcoholic joke or if Roman really just called because he would understand.

“Uh, okay. Well, I’d go throw up and pour yourself an Irish coffee, always worked for me,” he says sardonically to head him off at the pass.

“No. Jesus. I’m not drinking at least until this afternoon.”

“Solid restraint.” Kendall wonders for the millionth time why he’s the only sibling who got the addiction gene. “How was last night? Little bit of corporate trauma bonding?” he asks, stretching out on the couch and enjoying the fact that he spent last night sipping hot chocolate by the Christmas tree while the kids watched Elf.

“You missed a fantastic round of Boar on the Floor. De-licious. Got it all on film, I’m gonna watch it and jerk off later.”

Kendall massages his forehead.

“Jesus. First of all, delete that immediately- or, actually, send it to me and then delete it.”

“I don’t share my porn stash,” Roman says.

“Bro. Seriously. That kind of abuse of power could help our case.”

“Your case. I’m not fucking over Dad. Why do you want it, are you giving it to the biographer? Because Dad will know it’s you.”

Kendall sighs.

“No. I- I mean I got a call, but I didn’t return. Didn’t you get a call?” he asks.

Roman’s quiet before he responds.

“Yyyyeah, of course I did. I’m the most important one.” He changes tone. “But seriously, Dad’s fucking paranoid right now. Someone talked. He doesn’t trust anyone. He’s being… you know. Scary.” He switches back to being cavalier. “He’s gonna find out who it is and it’s gonna be sweet punishment time.”

“Well. It’s not me. But if he wants to know who’s got motivation to talk shit about him, he should look to literally anyone else he’s talked to in the last twenty years.” Roman makes a hurt face and Kendall can practically see it through the phone. “Dude, it’s- it probably won’t even go anywhere. Don’t worry about it. But- yeah. Try to stop people from talking if you can.”

“Why would you want to stop them? You hate Dad,” Roman mumbles.

“I- I don’t- come on, bro. You know that’s not true. It’s tough with us, though.”

“Whatever. This isn’t your ridiculous therapy time where we talk all about how you want to fuck and/or kill our parents and possibly our sister, although you should know she’s mine.”

Kendall rolls his eyes.

“Did he make you play Boar on the Floor?” he asks. The protective older brother in him comes out no matter how annoying Roman is to him.

“Of course not, Dad loves me, Ken. Not something you would understand, but-“

“He never made me play either.” It’s true, but there was always a present threat to both of them at retreats. “Well- good,” Kendall finishes.

“Frank’s here,” Roman says angrily. Kendall feels a momentary pang.

“Yeah? How is he?”

“Being a corporate cock-suck like always. My fucking babysitter.”

“Frank knows what’s doing,” Kendall says. He’s glad Frank is back on at the company, but he misses his guidance. He’s a little envious that Roman is getting the advice he wants. He wonders if he could get Frank on board with his side.

“Ugh. This godfatherly love thing is annoying. Dad’s only bringing him back so he can suck up to the Pierces.”

“The Pierces?” Kendall asks in disbelief.

“Oh, fuck,” Roman laughs. “You didn’t know about that? Man, you are out of the loop.” Kendall squirms at his brother’s glee.

“What do you- Dad’s going after them again? This is his solution. Old tech again.” His mind starts running and he makes a note to text Sandy and Stewy right after this call ends.

“I didn’t tell you that!” Roman exclaims, partially regretting having the shared the information. Kendall can tell how he’s feeling.

“I would’ve found out anyway,” he informs him.

“I guess.”

Kendall decides to change the subject.

“You, uh, see Connor’s video?” he asks.

“Giving away all our secrets to never paying any taxes. Idiot. I mean- love him and his desperate ploys for attention- obviously- but, like, perhaps he shouldn’t be making a joke of our last name?”

“Yeah, thought that was your job.” Kendall sends the rare jab his way.

“Fuck you,” Roman spits back. But he has another thing to discuss. “Um… hey, what do you think of Gerri?” he asks.

“What- Gerri?” Kendall asks. “You mean, like, is she trustworthy? I mean, yeah. She’s all in for Waystar.”

Roman scrunches his face and runs his hand through his hair.

“No, I know, I mean, uh… like as a… human woman? Did she and Dad ever…”

“Fuck?” Kendall chuckles. “I dunno. Maybe. She seems like she’d tell him to go to hell though. Not exactly a warm and fuzzy, fuckin’… take you to bed type.”

“Well, you don’t know. You don’t know her.”

Kendall’s confused by Roman’s sudden defensiveness.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I don’t- nothing. No reason, I just want to know if she’s trustworthy.”

“Okay.” Did I not just say that? Kendall thinks. “Well, yeah.” His interest is piqued by the questioning. “Why’d you think of that, her and Dad?”

“I don’t know, nothing. She’s just… you know, she was probably hot, once. I should’ve hit on her when I was, like twelve. That would’ve been saucy.” He swirls his finger in the bowl of grapes next to him and doesn’t eat any.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Kendall half-laughs.

“I don’t know. Whatever.” He sounds defensive again and Kendall is more amused by the second.

“Are you trying to fuck Gerri, bro?”

“No, gross, fuck you. She’s, like, efficient. And old. Fuck off. And text me what pills Dad’s supposed to be on.”

“Uh- okay. He- he said I would know?” Kendall’s surprise is evident in his voice. He feels a brief warmth in his chest followed by anxiety that he might never get to experience the closeness he craves with his dad in person again. But he reminds himself that this is a good sign for the future.

“Yeah, don’t get excited. He won’t trust anyone he hires. Thinks they’re all gonna send the list of meds to Michelle Pantsil for the book.”

“Wow. Sure, I’ll- I’ll send you the list.”

“Ugh, just do it, don’t make it a big deal. See you whenever.”

Roman hangs up and Kendall is left with a moment of mixed emotions before refocusing and sending a text to Sandy and Stewy.

Dad’s going after Pierce. Good news. He has no real option if his only plan to get the company even more bloated. Just wants an excuse to chase the old dream. No chance Nan Pierce lets this happen.

Rava pokes her head into the office.

“Are you working?” she asks.

“No- that was Roman, but I think he just called to catch up, actually.” Kendall surprises himself as he realizes that is exactly what just happened.

“Oh?” He’s not the only one who’s surprised.

“Yeah, I think, uh, I guess Dad wanted him to ask me about his pills.” Kendall can’t help but smile a little bit.

“Really?” Rava asks hesitantly. “And that’s- a good thing…?”

“Yeah. That’s a good thing.” He looks at her and gets up to hug her. “Let’s go sit by the tree before the kids go to bed.”

Rava already has had Christmas music playing for the kids, who are inspecting every wrapped present under the beautiful, towering tree.

Kendall notices Sophie subtly peeling back the wrapping paper on the corner of a present addressed to her.

“Uh-uh, Soph. Santa can see that,” he scolds. She looks shocked to have been caught and stares up at him.

“Tell him I didn’t do it! You know the president!”

Rava puts her hand over her face for a moment.

“Santa is more powerful than the president,” Kendall says seriously. “Up, away from the tree. You’ll unwrap it in a few days.”

Iverson looks concerned and Rava goes to smooth his hair.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures him. “Santa knows you’ve both been good this year. That’s what really matters. It’s time for bed now.” The kids groan. “Up, up, up,” Rava continues. “The faster you go to sleep the faster you get to Christmas!”

They stand up and Sophie runs ahead of Iverson, who looks over his shoulder at the festively lighted tree and the many perfectly wrapped boxes underneath it.

Kendall and Rava savor the moment of wonder and innocence and she sits next to him on the couch and leans into him. He kisses her head and they gaze at the glowing tree together.

…..

On December twenty-second, Kendall is at Waystar. He’s here to save Vaulter and he can��t do that without talking to his dad. But he won’t answer the phone and his assistants are denying Kendall at every turn. So here he is. The only way was to come in person. He sits nervously at his desk waiting for any sign that Logan is back on the floor so he can make sure his acquisition isn’t going anywhere. It’s proof he deserves to be here. He glances over to Logan’s office. In there. Heads turn at the sight of him looking out at the floor. He feels self-conscious but strangely proud. They all look away once they've been caught. They've been staring all morning. He bites a nail.

Jess walks into his office. “Hey, Ken?”

He's startled out of his nervous haze and looks up. “Yeah?”

“It’s Rava.”

They exchange the briefest of moments. She hasn’t said that in years. Even though it’s been a few months now, he still gets the rush of remembering she’s calling because she wants to talk to him, not because she’s mad or just to coordinate the kids’ schedules. For a while, it had sent shots of anxiety through him to talk to her- another opportunity to fuck up. But not anymore. He smiles.

“Oh. Yeah, of course put her through.” She turns to go. “Jess- can you just- always put her through.”

She nods with a tiny smile.

“Yeah.”

He picks up the office phone.

“Hey.”

Her voice is honey sweet.

“You didn’t text me back.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, hang on.” He picks up his phone and reads her latest message. He thought nothing could scandalize him but he’s been proven wrong.

“Wow. Uh… are you going to act that out later, or-?”

“Maybe. How’s everything going? What are the guys saying?”

He’s still looking at the text and now he really doesn’t want to admit that he might have a colossal failure on his hands.

“I- I don’t remember, I’m a little distracted.” She laughs.

“Tell me!”

“It, uh, it- it’s not… great. But I’m figuring it out. I’ll have it by tonight. I will.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“I will.”

It’s like he doesn’t know anyone he doesn’t have to convince.

“I know, Ken. You don’t have to prove it.”

He takes a breath.

“Right, yeah. Okay. I have to go but, yeah, I’ll text you back.”

“Okay.” She knows when work’s not going well, nothing is right in his world. She sounds disappointed and he can’t let that happen either.

“Hey- it’s- it’s five hours til I’m home.”

She can hear him trying and she sighs dramatically.

“Suuuure it is. See you at midnight.”

“I’m coming home at 7:00.” Knowing he’s going home to her makes him feel like he can do this.

“You’ll at least come home before you have to go to some other thing tomorrow, right? I mean, you have to change?”

“Okay. Yeah. See you at 5:00 AM,” he deadpans.

“Ken!”

“I’ll see you at 7:00. Seriously. Maybe we’ll go out.”

“For breakfast? When you get home in the morning?”

He shakes his head.

“Yes. For breakfast. Okay. I have to go save this company now.”

“God, I love how important you are.” He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm but he can hear her smiling and he loves it.

“Bye.”

There’s a tentative knock on the glass and Kendall looks up to see Greg nervously standing at his office door. His voice is muffled as he calls through the glass.

“Uh- hey- hey Ken. Can I come in and talk to you?” He smiles awkwardly. “For a just a- a min? A sec of fam time?”

Kendall’s feeling generous.

“Sure, Greg. Come in,” he calls back. Greg swings the door open.

“H-hey, cuz! What’s up on the anti-corruption, you know, the anti-Roy train?” he attempts.

Kendall gives him a small smile.

“Just anti-corruption. And anti-dictator behavior. What’s up, Greg?”

“Uh, well, you know, just… hangin’ with the fam on the private- private planes and livin’ that high life. I mean, not, like, high. Like not drugs. Not that- uh, I didn’t mean-“

Kendall shakes his head.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Um, so, you know the biography of your dad? Michelle Pantsil?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Um, well, I didn’t exactly meet with her, but I did, like, a pre-meet? And-“

Kendall sighs.

“So it was you. And you said some things you can’t take back now?”

“I mean, kind of?” Greg starts. “It wasn’t anything terrible, but maybe things that shouldn’t be in a book? You know? And Tom said Ratfucker Sam is, like, doing research, and apparently he’s not the best guy?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean, Dad’s not gonna love it, man.”

Greg looks panicked.

“Well- well, isn’t there something you can do, or, like-“ he takes in a short breath, “-protect me, maybe? Because I am gonna be able to help you if you win. Or, actually, I can help you win.”

Kendall looks at him.

“Well… I’m not sure what I can do,” Kendall begins.

“I, well, I think you should give me a job if I lose this one?”

Kendall raises his eyebrows.

“No. Dude, come on. If you lose this one? Second choice?”

“I mean, I’m just saying? I have some very, potentially, extremely useful information that I think you could use.”

They look at each other. Kendall thinks about whether he should believe him. He considers the consequences of turning him down and letting the mysterious information stay hidden and the positives of letting it go and staying a small team. He already has one person who’s straddling two sides of the line. But then he considers his dad’s tendency to play as dirty as possible and wonders if he has anything planned to destroy his reputation again. It would be good to have something to stop him this time.

“Okay, Greg. You got it. I think you should leave this side sooner rather than later if you’re going to do it.”

Greg nods.

“Uh, yeah, totally. I- I’m kind of, like, moving up here, though? But also I agree so yeah, yeah.”

The most wishy-washy person alive is on his team, Kendall thinks.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay, well… gotta finish this stuff,” Kendall gestures at the stack of papers on the desk in front of him.

“Right! Yeah! Gotta get to work, for sure.” Greg smiles a nervous smile and backs out of the room. “See ya!”

….

On the afternoon of the same day, a news headline flashes across the PGN screen and Rava’s heart stops for what feels like minutes.

“ACTIVE SHOOTER AT WAYSTAR ROYCO: BUILDING BARRICADED WITH SHOOTER INSIDE”

“What?” Her hands shake as she grabs instantly for her phone and there are tears in her eyes before she can even process it. The most terrifying images and future rip through her mind and she fights as hard as she can to make them stop. The one day Kendall goes back. Was it someone looking for him?? Is he hurt? Hiding? Worse?! She can’t breathe right. The phone rings and rings as she dials his number. He doesn’t answer and she starts hyperventilating as she runs for the car. She calls her driver and manages to choke out “Waystar building, right away, please.”

Her coat half on in the freezing air, she jumps into the waiting SUV and calls him again. When she hears his voice on his voicemail, she starts feeling truly terrified. Why would he not answer his phone in the middle of this?? She doubles over and tries to breathe as heavy rain starts to pound on the car.

Her driver glances back at her but she’s too scared to even try to explain. She dials again, still no answer. Just the voicemail message. She frantically pushes away the thought that that’s how she’ll hear his voice now. She waits to hear the beep.

“Kendall!” She practically yells. “Call me! Call me, please call me and tell me you’re okay. Call me. Ken. Call me. Please.”

The drive seems to take hours. The rain makes the traffic even worse than usual and she curses her lack of recollection of the subway system. She dials Jess and is relieved that she answers on the first ring.

“Hi, Rava,” Jess answers through panting and panic.

“Is Kendall okay?” Rava asks helplessly. "Are you okay?"

“Um-“ Jess sounds like she’s running. “I don’t- I don’t know, I’m being taken to a room somewhere but I don’t see him- but that doesn’t mean anything. Everyone’s running around. I’m sorry!”

“Oh, my god,” she lets out a yelp of true terror. “How is this possible- is anyone- you know?”

“I don’t know, I just heard a shot and some people said maybe more than one? But I haven’t seen anything- um, okay, they’re making everyone hang up so we can hear safety procedures? I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything or if he shows up. When he’s here, I mean.”

Rava covers her mouth. She can hear the blood pounding in her ears.

“Stay safe, Jess! Please call me! I’m coming.”

The beeps to end the call seem louder than normal. Rava panics and dials Roman.

“Oh, good, a connection to what almost passes for civilization,” he answers. She drops her head back for a second and realizes she forgot that Kendall told her he’s been out of the office at management training all week.

“Roman,” Rava starts tearfully. “You don’t know? There’s a shooter at Waystar.”

“Oh, holy fuck, what? Are you fucking with me?”

“No! Kendall’s not answering his phone, Jess is being hidden somewhere and he’s not there. I have to call Shiv.”

“What the f-“ Rava hangs up and dials Shiv. Straight to voicemail like it’s off. She begins to really cry and falls toward the seat. He said he was coming home at 7:00.

The car pulls up and she practically falls out of it trying to get out as fast as she can. Armed guards stand outside and look suspiciously at everyone in sight. Police cars line the street, scattered protesters stare up at the building, news crews are everywhere.

“Excuse me! Is Kendall Roy in there? Is he okay? Where is he?” she calls desperately to the nearest security guard.

“Please stand clear, ma’am. Police orders. This is a crime scene.”

“NO! My husband is in this building and I need to know if he is safe! Kendall Roy.” The guard appears unmoved. “As in Royco?!” She has never talked to anyone like that in her life, but she will do whatever it takes.

“We’ll update everyone when we have more information.”

She practically screams in frustration and calls Kendall again. The rings end early and his live voice sends waves of relief like she couldn’t even imagine over her.

“Hey! Fuck, sorry, I just heard your message and I was going to-“

“Oh, what the fuck,” she sobs into the phone. “Ken! Are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you?”

He sounds like Jess had, being hustled through hallways.

“I’m- yeah, I’m fine, I was making a call on the roof til it started raining and I didn’t even know about this until about a minute ago when these guys came and found me.” He covers the mic. “Excuse me! Where are we going?” he asks the security guards. Rava can hear heavy breathing and yelps and alarms and hurried footsteps in the background.

“Safe room,” Rava hears a guard’s muffled voice through the noise. “With Logan.”

“With- uh- what, no, is there a different-“

“Kendall! Go to the safe room!” Rava yells into the phone. He looks at the phone in surprise and then it really hits him what she must have thought.

“I’m going. Hey, I’m sorry, I’m fine. Really. I mean, it’s possible this was all orchestrated by Dad to get me alone and threaten me.“

Neither of them knows if he’s joking. Rava puts her hand on her face.

“Please. Are you almost to the room? Have they caught the- whoever was-“

“Uh, I don’t know. Not sure, we’re almost there, though.”

“Do not hang up on me,” Rava says sternly, but he can feel where it’s coming from through the phone.

“I won’t. It’s okay. I promise.”

He can’t promise that and she knows it, but hearing it in his voice makes her feel a little bit better. She doesn’t want to be too dramatic.

“Can they just let you out of there? I-“ her breath catches. “-it would be really good to see you right now,” she tries, knowing there’s no way they’re just letting one person out.

“I agree, but they’re not letting anyone out. These guys have the kind of guns Ravenhead loves to talk about.” The door opens in front of him.

“We’re here, head inside, please,” the guard orders.

“Okay, I’m here at the safe room,” he reports to Rava. She’s suddenly beyond exhausted and plops down onto a bench in the wide courtyard in front of the Waystar building.

Kendall steps inside, dreading what Logan’s reaction will be, whether he’ll even let him in. But Logan’s up and striding over as fast as Kendall has ever seen him.

“Kendall!” Rava hears Logan’s voice through the phone. “Are you all right, son? Where were you?”

Kendall can’t believe the embrace he’s getting. He hesitantly hugs his dad back and finds himself wishing against his will that it could last longer.

“Uh- yeah, I’m fine, Dad. I was fine.”

Logan nods and pats his arm before going to sit back down. Kendall takes half a second to remember that he’s still his father’s son, regardless of what’s going on with the company.

“You’re in? You’re okay?��� Rava asks nervously.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Thank God. Fuck. I don’t-“ she shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life.” The adrenaline has kept her warm so far but now the cold is getting to her and she zips her coat, gazing up at the building and willing him to come walking out the doors. She longs to feel him against her, to squeeze him and feel his heartbeat.

“I really am sorry, I- I should’ve answered, I was on a call and thought I’d just call you right back and then they came up-“ he begins.

Gerri hangs up her phone and interrupts the moment.

“It was an ATN employee… a suicide,” she tells the room delicately. Kendall glances down and he’s suddenly pulled away from his conversation, from the present moment. He has uncomfortable flashbacks to wondering if anyone would notice. If anyone would care. Logan looks at him for a second and Kendall feels a disturbing connection to know it’s in his head too. The only other person who knew how he used to feel. It’s a wake-up call to see how worried his dad was just now. To hear Rava’s panicked crying at the mere thought. He thinks maybe he’ll never tell her what he used to think about when he was left alone for too long.

“Uh-“ he clears his throat as he and Logan break eye contact and he turns his attention back to the call. “I’m not sure if you heard that… someone- killed himself… at his desk. It’s- it’s him only. No one else.” He wonders what they would have said about him.

“Oh,” she breathes out. “That’s sad… Does that- um, are you coming outside now?” she asks, knowing that’s much too hopeful.

“No, I think we have to be in here a little while longer?” But his head is elsewhere. “Hang on a sec.” He taps one of the guards near the door a bit nervously. “Um. Do you know who it was?”

The guard shakes his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step toward Gerri. “Who was it, do we know?” he asks her.

“A- Mark Johnson?” she says, scrolling through an email from Karolina about the incident. Kendall knew there was a small chance he’d know the name, but he still feels guilty that he doesn’t.

“Oh. Okay.” He wonders if there’s anything that could have been done. The therapists told him there was always something to live for.

“Did you know him?” Rava asks.

“No,” he answers.

But it’s still more upsetting than he’d like to admit. He looks around the room and thinks he should go to talk to Shiv. It’s been a while and he wants to know what’s going on. Maybe she can distract him. Or maybe she can talk. He glances at Gerri and Logan talking to Rhea and wants to make an appearance in that conversation too. If Logan’s going after Pierce, Kendall needs to make it clear that he won’t.

“Uh, I’m going to go make sure everyone else is okay,” he says into the phone. “Yeah? I’ll call you as soon as we get the go-ahead.”

“Oh, okay. I’m right outside for you,” she says. He likes the sound of that. “I’ll see you soon.” She doesn’t like this situation but she knows it could be hours.

“Okay, thanks, Rav. I love you.”

“I love you.”

They hang up and Kendall cautiously makes his way over to the corner where Gerri and Logan and Rhea are talking. He wouldn’t have normally attempted it, but Logan’s concern prompts him to think he might be allowed in.

Gerri’s talking in a low voice about Mark Johnson.

“Apparently he emailed a close friend last week, talking of a ‘culture of bullying.’”

“It’s a newsroom, not a kindergarten,” says Logan as he rolls his eyes. Gerri hesitates.

“Tragically, he also had a history of incidences of – well, not really, mental illness, which he was medicated for through our health plan?”

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t get out and muddy the waters,” Logan replies darkly.

Kendall feels like someone’s punched him in the stomach and changes his mind about being a part of this. He walks over to Shiv. He wants out of this room and into Rava’s arms.

“Hey,” he starts.

Shiv’s scrolling on her phone and glances up at him, pressing her lips together for a second as she decides on a tone.

“Hey,” she says carefully, with just enough attitude to make it clear that she’s on Dad’s side.

“Can we talk? Like…” he gauges her weirded out reaction. “Actually talk?”

“Um… I guess?” she says as she glances toward Logan.

They move around the corner and she looks at him expectantly.

“So you’re working here now?” he asks.

Her expression turns suspicious.

“Just observing. Why? You know, that’s company information, not for outsiders,” she smiles. He nods and raises his eyebrows.

“Right. But you’re not an outsider?” he challenges.

“Oh! No, I am,” Shiv says with a sarcastic nonchalance.

“So, Rhea,” Logan says smoothly from the other side of the wall. Kendall and Shiv both turn their heads at the sound of his voice moving back into business mode. “Let’s get into it. There’s a price. Let’s cut the bullshit.”

The siblings look at each other warily as they both lean in Logan’s direction to hear better.

“Well, I’m a mere conduit, so feel free to give some numbers, but it’s a hard no from the Pierces.”

“Twenty-one billion.” Shiv looks alarmed and her eyes dart to Kendall. She’s dismayed to see his lack of surprise.

“Why aren’t you more shocked by this?” she asks. “Oh, fuck. You’ve been in contact. This is all an act? Is this why you’re here today?”

“No, Shiv. I’m here because I need to keep up with what’s going on here and I’m not shocked because I’m taking over the company I’ve worked at for seventeen years. I know what Dad wanted to bid.”

“Fuck off, I don’t believe you,” she whispers as they both quiet down to listen to Rhea’s low-key reaction to the staggering number.

“It’s like Shiv said, the cultures just aren’t compatible,” Rhea answers. Shiv gives Kendall a smug look. “It’s an emotional matter for the Pierces. Money is not irrelevant, but how can I put it-?”

Kendall knows Rhea is really here to shut it all down. He makes a split-second decision to call her bluff. Maybe there is no number big enough. Before Shiv or Logan can stop him, he steps back out into the main part of the room.

“-Relevant?” he finishes. Logan and Rhea look up at him and he feels his heart hammering in his chest. “I mean, let’s be honest here. What is it- twenty-one five?”

Shiv runs up behind him.

“Excuse me?” she looks at Logan. His expression is complicated. “Dad! He can’t just say numbers. Can he?” Kendall holds strong and hopes his dad won’t shut him down.

They’re both glued to Logan’s face and Rhea seems reluctantly enthralled by the family drama. Logan’s anger at the move is simmering under the surface, but Kendall can see that he’s grappling. He wants Rhea’s yes more than he wants to shut Kendall down. The moment feels like it lasts a week but finally, Logan nods. Authority approved.

“Bidding against yourself,” Rhea smiles. Kendall’s emboldened.

“Twenty-two,” he says without breaking eye contact with Rhea.

“Jesus, Ken.” Shiv stares at him.

Rhea’s grin continues.

“That doesn’t sound like a real offer.”

“It’s real,” Kendall confirms more confidently. Rhea raises her eyebrows.

“I’ll really have to take this to the Pierces,” she demurs.

“Uh-huh,” Logan says. “Thank you, kids. Rhea, I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you.” His phone rings and he steps away to answer it. “Marcia. Yeah, yeah, fine. Just some ‘mental illness’ fuck…”

Shiv walks over to a couch and calls Tom, leaving Kendall standing with Rhea. He tries to read her face.

“This isn’t what the Pierces want,” he says, as both a statement and a question. Rhea smiles.

“No,” she confirms. He was right. If she’s saying no to twenty-two, there’s no way this is happening.

“Well, frankly, I think you deserve complete transparency. I don’t think my dad should start something he can’t finish. His tenure, as storied as it is, is going to come to an end when I take over. And I agree with you. It’s just not the direction we want to take the company, Sandy and Stewy and I.”

“Mmhmm. Yeah. I understand that. I have a feeling your dad won’t give up until he gets a solid answer from Nan Pierce though.”

“Right,” Kendall says. “Well. I think we can be confident what that answer will be.”

Rhea gives him an enigmatic look. She can communicate with just her eyes and he knows she sees the same future he does.

“It is going to be you, isn’t it?” she says, more as a statement than a question.

He takes a breath.

“Yes. It is.”

She nods subtly. He nods back and she goes to sit down.

Kendall takes a second to collect himself before sliding back down into the current reality of what has happened today. He looks over at Shiv hanging up the phone and thinks he’d really like to try again to connect to her. He cautiously makes his way over to the corner she’s standing in behind the side wall, hidden from the rest of the room. He can’t help himself and lowers his voice.

“Hey. Did Dad promise you… something?”

Shiv tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Nope. No… did he promise you something?” she asks, concern bleeding through her façade of calm.

Kendall decides to keep it vague. The sadness starts creeping up again and sucking away his adrenaline.

“Well. He’s promised me a lot of things.”

“Old news, Ken.”

“I mean, it’s not. Turn on the literal news and they’ve been talking about it.”

“Mmhmm.” Shiv returns to her phone before flitting her eyes back up when she feels that he’s still looking at her. “…What?” she asks.

“Did you know the guy?”

“Who- the guy who- with the gun? No. Why, did you?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Fucking… terrible, though.”

“Yeah,” Shiv shrugs. “Sad,” she adds in an obligatory tone. He’s too quiet. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

“I mean, no one knows him, or- cares? Dad was over there talking about publishing his mental illness, like…” She looks at him expectantly. “You know.” She gives him a blank look. “It’s what they would say, Shiv. About me.”

“Well, they’re speculating with him. But everybody knows for sure how fucked up you are,” she jokes. He doesn’t laugh and his eyes stay on the table next to him.

She gives him an uncertain look. The news is really sinking in now and making him more upset by the minute. The fact that an employee brought a gun in the office, the fact that someone in his company killed himself because of policies Kendall could have improved. The idea that more than one person thought he might have been dead today. The things Logan and Gerri would’ve said if he’d gone through with it years ago. The distance between him and his siblings now. It’s too much. He just wants it all to go away for a minute. She sees his face and doesn’t really know what to do.

“Come here. Give me a hug,” he says quietly.

“Wha-?” she starts. He pulls her in and stays there for longer than she’d expect.

“Ken. Hey. That’s not you.” She rubs his back for a second and pulls back to look at him. “Wait, you’re not, like.. thinking of-? Because, you know, Dad would be pissed. Who would he talk shit about to the lackeys?” Kendall has to restrain himself from asking if she’s kidding. She looks at him like he’s crazy. “It is just a company.” He looks at her like she should know it’s not. “It is. Not really worth…” She gestures at him. “…this, you know.” He shakes his head.

“Not the company. Not really. I just… I don’t know. Someone should have noticed something with this guy. They just- should’ve noticed.”

She gives him a long look.

“You wanna talk some more?”

He looks at her and hates that he feels like he can’t trust her to keep it all to herself. He flashes back to holding her as a baby and wants to cry at the thought that he can’t tell her anything. It’s so quiet for a second that they can hear the rain dripping down the windows outside.

“I- I really can’t.”

….

After what feels like an eternity, Kendall finally trudges out of the Waystar doors into the drizzle. Rava’s head snaps up at the sight of him and slides out of the SUV to run across the courtyard and throw her arms around him in her puffy coat.

“Oh,” she whispers. “You’re here.” He lays his head on her shoulder and just lets the news photographers snap their shots. He’s so relieved and lets his shoulders drop. He hadn’t even realized they’d been practically around his ears. She doesn’t let him go for a whole minute and she’s teary again when they separate just enough to walk over and get in the backseat. She’s a little surprised that he’s teary, too. She opens her arms again when they’re inside and the door is shut, enclosing them in the safe, heated interior with tinted windows. He leans into her and stays in her arms the whole way home. He tells her the whole story and she tries to stay even-keeled while telling him her side. When they’re home, she takes him inside, and even though he has to email Stewy to tell him about Rhea and figure out how he’s going to get Roman to tell him the whole truth about PGM as things develop, he’s just feeling emotionally exhausted. So he lets Rava lead him to their room and slowly pull on some pajamas before she guides him into bed and holds him to her. She takes the remote from the bedside table and starts the fire in the fireplace. While the flame shadows dance on the walls, she nestles into him and slowly kisses his cheek, once, twice, three times. He closes his eyes.

Her lips touch his and he needs them to feel like one. He pulls the comforter over them both and rolls her on top of him for a deep and slow connection that they both need after everything they’ve been through since this morning. He needs comfort, needs to give comfort, and she wants to be taken care of after such a dangerous day. He holds her close and they share each other’s air. They’d rather have less oxygen than be more than an inch apart.

They end the day lying still in the light of the fire, wrapped up in each other with no plan to move. They don’t need words to express themselves and he’s grateful just to have time to exist where there’s nothing to prove. She just wants him to lie there with her. Deep tiredness hits him hard after such a taxing day. Even though he has no idea what time it is and is pretty sure it’s still early evening, he lets himself slip into sleep. His even breathing and the way he cuddles up to her in his sleep make Rava feel like utter mush and she kisses his head before she follows after him and floats into sleep.

….

On December twenty-third, Rava wakes up still on her side facing Kendall as he lies on his back. She glances at his phone screen as he scrolls. An Instagram profile full of professional photos, galas, upscale restaurants and bars… she squints a little in her morning haze and sees the username clearly. MarkJohnson.

She blinks and he realizes she’s awake.

“Hey,” he says, closing the app. He looks haunted.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to close it,” she says. “I thought you didn’t know him.”

“Uh, yeah, I didn’t.” He pauses. “Probably should have. I dunno. I wish I had.”

She runs her fingers over his forearm. She’s still getting used to his newfound enlightenment and desire to be the one to help post-rehab.

“Oh, Ken, you couldn’t have done anything.”

He doesn’t love that attitude but he reminds himself it’s coming from not wanting him to feel guilty. He looks at the comforter.

“He sent an email to his friend saying it was a culture of bullying. My company. I could have done something.”

“You can’t control everyone at the company,” Rava sounds too indifferent and it makes him kind of upset. He doesn’t want to say anything. She glances at him. “I mean, you couldn’t have known, his Instagram looks like a lot of fun,” she prompts. He nods.

“Yeah.” They’re quiet for a moment. “I might start a foundation.”

“For this guy-?”

“Yeah, I mean, you know, for people who are struggling. Like… it doesn’t have to end like that.” He considers how differently he would’ve felt if he’d known that in the future he would be lying next to Rava and on his way to taking over Waystar.

Rava’s a little touched.

“Well, that would be nice,” she affirms as she sits up in bed and reaches for his sweater to pull over her tank top.

“Or- something for addicts, maybe. Maybe both. There’s kind of a lot of crossover. You know? Maybe he had a problem. He had a lot of party pictures? I- I was at some of those galas.”

Rava looks back and realizes his voice was wobbling.

“Hey,” she says, laying back down and giving him a hug. “You don’t know what caused it. It was probably complicated.” She pats his back.

Everyone’s so quick to dismiss and he tries not to spill a tear onto the sweater she’s wearing. But she notices.

“Oh, Ken, what’s-“

“Nothing. It’s just- fucking… sad.” He sniffles and sits up. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

She looks at him with concern.

“You sure?”

He shrugs.

“Uh- yeah. I’m gonna get some breakfast… yeah? You want something?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in in a minute,” she says.

He nods slowly and gets up and walks toward their bathroom. She thinks he looks like he has a hundred pounds on his shoulders. She follows him into the bathroom after a minute and finds him leaning against the wall by the sink with the water running and a silent tear on his face.

“Oh,” she pulls him close and he lets her. She turns the water off.

“Uh…” he wipes the tear from his face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s sweet that you care. It is sad!” She keeps one arm around his waist and touches his face with her free hand.

“It could’ve been- anyone. You know?” He finds himself wishing she did know.

“Sure,” she says.

“Dad’s gonna publish that he was insane because he was on some prescription through the company. You- you know he’d do that to me. He basically already did.”

Logan’s shaming for being a human being never seems to stop, Rava thinks.

“Well,” she says, “that would pale in comparison to the headlines I’d get printed about his Viagra use. And of course his death by daughter-in-law.” Kendall laughs a little through the tears and she squeezes him. “He’s such a…. fuck him,” she says. He nods and tries to get it together.

“It’s okay to fall apart,” she tells him.

He shakes his head.

“Not doing that.” He takes a deep breath and she nods and takes his hand as they walk out to the breakfast table. He sits down and looks at her across the round edge of the breakfast table. “So, tell me what’s going on,” he says. “Something else. It’s- it’s not good for me to think about this anymore.” She gives him a worried look but obliges. She sighs as she forces herself to talk about her situation.

“Well, I called that firm Robert knows to take the case,” she says a little regretfully. Her face is pained. “I- couldn’t handle it on my own I guess.” She smiles a forced smile of embarrassment. “I’m still the attorney of record,” she adds, feeling like she must sound lame, “but they’re mostly handling the day to day now.” She shrugs. “It’s… disappointing. But I’m staying up on it as much as I can. They’re already making more progress with getting documentation.”

He nods and holds her hand. He knows the feeling of failure.

“Well, it’s good for those guys. Tony, yeah? And the other guy?”

“Yeah,” she says reluctantly. “Yes it is.”

“I don’t mean you weren’t good. I mean- you know. If they can solve it. If they can find the guy who disappeared. What’s the resort company called?”

“Um, Triangle Properties.” Kendall thinks for a second about whether he recognizes it. No.

“Uh-huh.”

They look at each other and it sinks in that they have nothing good to talk about at this moment. They pick at breakfast for a few minutes.

“You want to watch tv?” she asks.

“Yeah. That would be good.”

They take their coffees and head into the family room for some low-key zone-out time. She flips on the set and spreads one of the blankets over them both.

“The kids are out?” Kendall asks.

“With Malaya, at the new science museum exhibit. Iverson wanted to go.” Kendall nods. He kind of wishes they were going, too. He could use a distraction and he thinks Rava could, too.

“I’m supposed to have lunch with a couple of the girls today,” Rava says, more like it’s a question than a statement.

“Oh.” Kendall tries not to make his disappointment obvious. “Uh… yeah. Okay."

"I just promised them because it's been so long."

“Right. Sure,” he pushes a smile onto his face. She should have a distraction.

After the show has ended and Rava has gotten ready, she walks over to kiss Kendall, still in his robe in his armchair.

“Don’t go,” he says, only half-serious.

“Ohh, I’ll be home before you know it. But you could have a friend over, too.” She smiles, “or don’t you have any of those?” she teases.

“I have friends,” he insists.

“Outside of business acquaintances?”

“Well, Stewy’s not a business acquaintance.”

“Business partner,” she says as if that distinction is not the point.

He feels regretful for having given up so many of his party friends from the old days, but he’d known he had to do it.

“It was part of rehab to end those other friendships,” he says, trying not to sound annoyed that she would forget that. “You know that.”

“Ken, I’m messing with you. You’re fine.”

“Ivey will build the Lego skyline with me when he gets back.”

“Adult friends, Ken,” she smiles.

“Uh, well, you’re my adult friend,” he says as he purposely looks her up and down.

She smiles a little sadly and glances down at herself.

“Not exactly looking my best these days,” she sighs.

“What? You look good every day.”

She looks at him for half a second and looks away. He can tell her confidence is shaken by the loss of control over the case.

“Come here!” he says lightly.

She walks over and he gently pulls her down to kiss him.

“What are you going to do while I’m out?” she asks him.

“Uh, just work out, and… yeah, I have to call Sandy.”

“Okay. I should probably join you in the gym. Gonna go eat instead,” she’s says in a regretful yet amused voice.

“Hey, stop that. Seriously. I have to work out,” he says seriously. “You know. Every day it has to happen. But that’s my shit.” She nods. “You look hot.” He means it but she laughs it off.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you when I’m back,” she says without a lot of feeling.

….

On December twenty-fourth, the Waystar Christmas party is in full swing. The cocktails are flowing, the festive attire is sparkling, the band is playing, and Rava is grimacing. Kendall looks over and doesn’t miss the expression.

“I know, last place you want to be right now,” he sighs. “It’s only 4:00. We’ll be out of here in no time. I just have to talk to Dad.”

She nods because she gets it and she sighs because she doesn’t want to get it.

Logan’s across the room and she hopes he’s feeling as un-grinch-like as possible. She watches Kendall eyeing him cautiously.

“This is the last chance I have to save Vaulter,” he says nervously. “Next time I see him- I don’t even know. A month? Argestes? It’ll be too late.”

“Oh yeah,” Rava says. “I forgot about that trip.” She always liked it out there, minus all the networking. “Well, go do it. You can get this taken care of and we can go home?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You know, it’s kind of fucked up that there’s this party when Mark Johnson…” his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. She squeezes his hand.

“I know. But you’re here to fix the Vaulter situation for all those people. They need you,” she reminds him.

He nods and takes a deep breath and summons the strength to walk to where Logan is standing with Colin not far behind.

She watches from across the room as Kendall approaches his dad. He starts off nice, and she can see his harder business persona come out as she’s sure they’re getting into the nitty-gritty. After a surprisingly brief conversation, Kendall bounds back over to Rava.

“It’s done. I convinced him. He’s keeping it.”

“Just like that?”

“This- this is a new level, I think. I’m playing him, Rav. We’re playing chess. Like equals. He fucking listened to me.”

“He’s listened to you plenty of times before!”

“Yeah- yeah, but this was another level. This was real shit, like- there was respect there. I showed him I did the work, I had the full answer for everything he asked. He said Roman agreed with me.”

Rava pats his arm.

“Honestly, that’s great, Ken.”

He’s basking in the glory of being heard as Rava glances around at the attendees. Her eyes stop when she sees a tall, thin blonde with fake cleavage spilling out of her tight dress walking by and smiling at Kendall.

“Hi, Kendall,” she says in a breathy voice as she passes them.

Rava turns her head and swings it back around to stare at him. He’s looking at his watch.

“Um, who was that?” she asks, eyes a little wider than necessary. He shrugs.

“Nobody, just, uh, some girl I went on a date with last year.” She keeps staring at him. “It was nothing.”

Rava looks down at her corporate-appropriate dress and takes in a bit of a sharp breath.

“Oh. You… went out with her?”

“One time.”

“Oh. Okay.” She raises her eyebrows and wishes for a mirror. He saw her, he asked her out.

“What?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing, you know, just that she can’t be more than twenty-five.”

He shakes his head and tries to brush it off.

“I don’t know how old she is. It doesn’t matter, it was nothing.”

She reaches behind her head to fix her hair.

“Mmhmm. Okay.”

He half-smiles at her. She can’t seriously be worried about this.

“Nothing even happened.”

She grimaces at the idea of anything happening, of him comparing her to that girl. Nothing happened. She wonders if they kissed at the end of the date. The idea makes her sick.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, I promise.”

She tries to seem casual, like she’s making a joke.

“But you wanted it to, though.”

He looks right at her.

“Actually, I didn’t. She’s really not my type.”

“Right, yes, I’m sure you hate perfect, beautiful, young-”

He smiles.

“Stop. You are perfect, beautiful, and young.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Oh, right,” she says, walking ahead of him a step. He reaches for her hand and grabs it.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, the dermatologist?”

He shakes his head and laughs.

“Don’t say that.”

She looks back at him.

“Stop smiling!” she insists.

“I’m smiling because this is ridiculous.”

“Oh, you were so miserable without me,” she says in a mocking tone.

He looks at her seriously.

“I was.”

She shifts uncomfortably and he slips his arms around her waist, looking into her eyes. She squirms a little and avoids looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She starts moving away and he keeps her there.

“Hey. I mean it, I was.”

She wrinkles her nose.

“Please, I didn’t even look like that when I was twenty-two.”

“I don’t want you to look like that.”

“You asked her out.”

He doesn’t know whether the truth is better or worse.

“Actually-“ He drops his head down and looks up at her. He tells himself not to mention that Rava had a whole pseudo-relationship and tries not to smirk or gloat.  “She asked me out.”

She sucks in one cheek.

“Oh, good. A slutty model,” she says semi-seriously.

“I wouldn’t know. One date, Rav.” He gazes at her and she avoids eye contact. “I-I wished she was you. I fucking wished everyone I talked to was you.”

She sighs and finally looks at him.

“Really?”

“Of course, really. Fuck, don’t get all… fake at the doctor.” He shakes his head. “You’re perfect. Come here.” He pulls her in and she leans against him. She’s briefly amused that he’s blissfully unaware of her expertly-done skin treatments.

“Does she know you’re married again now?” she asks in that fake-joking voice again as she squeezes him to her.

“If she reads Page Six.” He still can’t believe she would care about this. “Can we go home now?”

She looks up at him with a small smile and imitates the girl’s voice sarcastically.

“Yes, Kendall.”

He shakes his head again.

“Stop. Let’s go.” He puts his arm around her and they walk out.

….

On December twenty-fifth, Rava hands Kendall a wrapped present after the kids have gone to take post-unwrapping naps. He takes a look at the gift tag.

I thought about sneakers, but this seemed somehow even better. Something for the man who has everything.

The phrase used to be a dark joke to him. He'd thought he had nothing for the longest time and it had always been impossible to explain to anyone but her. He opens the wrapping paper and beholds a well-loved journal.

“It’s my diary,” she smiles. “From the first years we first started dating. I thought you’d like to read what I- well, how I saw you, versus how you saw yourself.”

“I didn’t even know you kept this!” he says with wonder. He opens it up and starts flipping through it, catching snippets on different pages.

If he could take a month away from the Roys, he’d start to see how brilliant he actually is.

I wish I knew how many colors are in Ken’s eyes. I tried to count them once but he blinked. I could honestly look into those eyes forever.

I didn’t know it was even possible to think about someone so much. All I want to do is lie in bed with him every minute. It’s like I physically need him. I don’t know how I’m going to focus on classes when I have to go back to law school next week. I can’t be away from him anymore!

He’s speechless when he looks up at her again. She’s blushing but she’s happy it’s having the intended effect. He glances back down and flips the page one more time.

If Kendall doesn’t propose to me this year I might actually die!!

He chuckles and points to that line, holding it up for her to see.

“Wow,” he laughs. “Good thing I did.”

“Yeah,” she smiles and they gaze at each other. “It is a good thing.”

“This- this is amazing,” he says. “I don’t even- wow.” He looks at her again. “Can’t believe this is real.” He looks down at the book and smiles again. “So, uh, I guess you’re kind of into me.”

“Mmm,” she says as she kisses him. “I guess so.”

He pauses.

“Did you really count the colors in my eyes?”

She smiles.

“Four,” she whispers in his ear.

“Four? No, three.”

“You’re missing the darker green,” she says.

It’s his turn to feel a little hot in his face.

“Okay. So, you’re actually obsessed with me,” he smiles.

“And look how happy you are about it!” she replies.

“You just took out all the bad stuff,” he insists.

She shrugs. “No missing pages!” He flips through the whole thing again. She’s right.

“Okay, I’m absolutely reading every word of this today. But first, I’ll get your gift.”

He pulls out a wrapped gift that’s clearly a frame.

“I don’t know if this is- yeah, this is probably not, you know, great, but- you said you missed when I did art, so…”

She pulls the paper off of a close-up sketch of her smiling in bed, sheets wrapped below her bare shoulders and slightly messy hair framing her face. Sunlight streams through the window behind her.

“How I see you,” he says. “Versus how you see yourself,” he adds.

“I can’t believe you drew this,” she whispers. “It’s so beautiful, I love it. When- when did you even have time to do this?”

He shrugs.

“You know. I made it work. Got the idea at the wedding, the way you woke up,” he smiles. “I just think you should know…” they look at each other. “You know.” She nods. “Come here,” he says quietly.

She cuddles up to him and they wrap their arms around each other. Today, they do have everything.

Chapter 14 💗

#merry christmas! #merry jeremy strong day! #it's a long one again #rewriting one of the most popular episodes fkdjngkdf #ok enjoy! #succession #kendall roy #kendall x rava #kenrava #kendall roy fic #rava roy

[frothing-at-the-mouth]

Superboy really wants to watch his soaps alright? Rob and Imp are there for company, but Imp jumping between doing other things cause he's bored with the plot lol.

(ID- In the foreground Robin, Superboy and Impulse sit on a couch, Robin on the left side of the cough sits with one knee up, in one hand he holds a white mug, in the other he holds a folder fanned open as he reads it seeming at ease. In the middle of the couch superboy sits, he looks shocked with a gapped mouth and one hand hovering over it, it is implied he is watching a show in front of him off canvas. On the right side Impulse sits, leaning back and tossing popcorn in the air and catching them in his mouth, one of his legs are raise over the side of the couch, There are effects on his lines to imply he is moving quickly. In the background 4 more illustrations of Impulse can be seen doing various things, one leans over the back of the couch looking over Robbin's shoulder at his file, another paces in the background playing with a paddle ball and is mildly concerned pondering how intimidating a giant gorilla would be. A third bounces on an exercise ball as he plays space invaders on a switch. A fourth Impulse is in the far corner of the image leaning over a table, what he is specifically looking at is off canvas and up to interpretation. There is a door way at the far background of the image and a Batman poster on the wall -ID End)

So, I was going to draw them all in casual ware but then I thought Superboy's clothing is already sort of normal and comfortable clothing, and Robin being who he is would probably stay in uniform unless there was a specific need for other wise when around them, So just Bart is in casual wear, which is fine because even if an emergency happens the speedy lad could zip into his uniform quick anyways lol.

Robin is not interested in the show so just brought some case papers to read. Superboy is so shocked about the events of his soaps.

This took like 14 hrs of work time but I really like how it ended up.

(Image frame from Young Justice(1998))

(ID- A single comics frame, it is a close up of Robin and Superboy's faces, they bother look very angry at each other as they argue.

Robin- You're stressed over a stupid television show?

SuperBoy- I've never missed an episode, and it's not stupid.

Robin- It is stupid!

Superboy- It has a lot of meaningful subtext! -ID End)

#bart allen #impulse #young just us #impulse fanart #robin #dc impulse #tim drake #dc tim drake #Tim drake fanart #superboy #kon el kent #kon el fanart #superboy fanart #robin fanart #young justice #dc young justice #young justice comics #Bart paddle ball

[justasparkwritings]

The Littlest Dumpling {9}

Previous: The Littlest Dumpling {8}

Pairing: Min Yoongi x OFC

Genre: Non Idol AU / Author AU

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing! Talking About Sex! Kissing! Making Out! 

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: A meeting with HR decides the fate of your relationship and an unexpected visitor sends Yoongi into a panic spiral.  

Master List

Tag List: @4ksj, @jagiya, @ot7nem, @knjkitten, @teamtardis-notdead​, @canarystwin​

Tag List

        Lil King Yoongi seethed, smoke coming out of his ears as he stared at Hee-Young.

        “You betrayed me!”

        “I did not!” She yelled.

        “You went against my orders!”

        “Your orders were going to destroy the kingdom! There didn’t need to be such  -

        “How dare you speak to your King that way!” Yoongi shouted.

        “My king? Your highness I thought you were a friend,” Hee-Young said, tears in her eyes.

        “I’m not friends with traitors.”

Lil King Yoongi Vol. 4

December

        “So that you’re telling me is that you hate Christmas?” Seokjin asks Yoongi over mulled wine and hot toddies at Moonbeam, a new restaurant near the office.

       It’s atmosphere is more upscale than The Ruby Poppy, with intricate vines and greenery shrouding tables from each other, wrought iron work throughout the restaurant with small black and white hexagon tiled floors. The dull candle centerpieces illuminating the marble tabletop, the light from the fading sun gleaming through the glass ceiling, rays bouncing and bounding off the golden support beams. This season, winter, it’s decorated for the holidays with twinkling lights doubled in the greenery and holiday themed beverages being served by Colin, the bartender extraordinaire.

        “I don’t hate Christmas,” Yoongi corrects.

        “He hates the capitalization of Christmas,” You answer for Yoongi.

        “Exactly.”

        “Isn’t that your problem with all holidays?” Jin asks.

        “The capitalization and commodification? Of course.”

        “Wouldn’t Lil King Yoongi look so cute in a Santa hat? Instead of his beloved crown?” You suggest.

        “Bite your tongue, he would not,” Yoongi argues.

        “He would, if Jimin drew him,” Jungkook says sitting down. Jimin joins him, and they wait patiently for the waiter to return to add their drinks to the long list this group is having.

        “Jin, isn’t your girl coming too?” Jimin asks. “And I do think the Lil King would look darling in a Santa hat, probably a red suit too if we could get the author to agree.”

        “She’s on her way,” Jin answers.

        “I will not write a Christmas book!” Yoongi declares. “Why is no one listening?”

        “We are honey,” you say, placing a hand on his thigh.

        “Honey?” Jimin teases.”

        “Honey?” Jin laughs.

        “Fuck you both.”

        “I believe for one of us, that was once true,” Jin teases.

        “I refuse to work with him on any other project, I never want to work with him again,” Yoongi tells you.

        “I know; it’s already written down that post The Littlest Dumpling, you will never have to work with Seokjin again should you stay at Serendipity.”

        “Great.”

        “Do you do that for other authors?” Jimin asks you.

        “Yes, but no one’s ever asked as persistently as Yoongi. And to keep Yoongi’s books, we’ll make the agreement.” You tell them.

        “Not because he’s your man?” Jungkook asks.

        “No, not because of that at all,” You say.

        “It’s because my charm is so great he can’t fathom standing in its shadow for long periods of time,” Seokjin says.

        “It’s often beneficial for authors to work with different editors on different projects to create a new vibe or really build a totally new world. The separation helps some authors create new authentic existences. For some it doesn’t, and they like working with the same person over and over again,” you explain to them.

        “Makes sense,” Jungkook agrees. “Yoongi what happened to your old editor?”

        “He left the company and moved to Manhattan.”

        “So you were searching for a new editor, and got Seokjin?” Jungkook asks.

        “Unfortunately,” Yoongi says.

        “Please, you’re looking at a best seller. Don’t hate me because I’m good at my job,” Jin teases, then stands as Violette enters the restaurant and heads for them.

        Yoongi turns to you, concern in his eyes.

        “Did you set the meeting with HR?” He whispers to you.

        “Yes, for tomorrow at 9AM. I sent you a calendar invite.”

        “Oh, I saw it, but forgot,” He says apologetically.

        “That’s okay, just show up,” You lean in and kiss his cheek.

        “Has everyone met Violette?�� Jin asks, standing next to his girlfriend.

        “I think so,” She says.

        “Great!”

        “Violette,” You start, turning to the only other female in your group. “Tell us, what do you do?”

        “And why are you in love with him?” Yoongi adds, genuine curiosity coming through instead of his impossibly stubborn and asshole demeanor.

        “Why are you in love with Y/N?” She asks instead, cocking her head to the side. She enjoys watching Yoongi squirm.

        “I – uh,”

        “I loved Yoongi too,” Jimin interrupts. “What’s not to love?”

        “I can think of about a dozen things,” Jin laughs.

        “No one asked you,” Yoongi says.

        “The point is, it’s nice to meet you Violette, and I apologize for the buffoonery of these men, well not Jungkook. He’s a gentleman,” You say, course correcting the conversation.

        “Thanks, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard only good things.”

        “That’s because Y/N is the best,” Jimin says with a wink.

        “I try,” you answer.

        “Well whatever you’re doing is working. I wish I had a strong female boss to shadow or look up to,” Violette comments.

        “Oh?”

        “I work for a gallery and my boss is a bit flighty but also very…. White man.”

        “Ah,” You say, fully knowing what she means. Everyone at the table knows exactly what she means.

        “Do you like the gallery?” Jungkook asks. “There are so many art galleries, you could go somewhere else?”

        “I want to, but you know it’s scary, starting somewhere new. Doing something different from what you’ve been breathing for the last few years.”

        Yoongi understands that fear. “Luckily, you have someone you can rely on if it doesn’t go well.”

        “Are you saying something nice about me?” Seokjin asks.

        “Yeah,” Yoongi says, not adding any additional snark or commentary.

        Jin nods, maybe their relationship can be repaired.

        The head of HR for Serendipity Publishing is named Olivia, and she’s well… difficult. It’s well known that HR represents the best interest of the business but should have some form of a poker face when dealing with company workers. Olivia does not. She works in fear and intimidation, making it almost impossible to come to her with any quandaries about the company. In a way, she does her job very well, she protects the company and its assets. The other way, or other side of the coin, she doesn’t leave room for the company to grow because she is so tough. Which is why most people report their complaints to their higher ups, so that the small group of leaders can handle Olivia and not the other workers.

        Today she stares at you, hardened brown eyes watching as you shift in your chair. You’ve squared off against her before, she knows you’re equally as tough as she is, and that you hide it with a kind smile. But today you might be in the wrong, and that gives Olivia the upper hand.

        “So, what did you want to talk about today?” Olivia asks.

        “I am dating someone within the company, and I would like it to be on record that we are together,” You say.

        “Is it someone that works below you?”

        “Tangentially to me, more like.”

        “An author?” She guesses.

        “Yes.”

        “I see,” Olivia begins typing on her computer, filling out paperwork that will need to be printed and kept both in a physical file and digital.

        “We began seeing each other a number of months ago, and while I did preliminary research into the companies’ policies, it seems that the best way to handle this is to talk to you openly and figure out what to do or if this relationship cannot move forward.”

        “Authors are tricky because they are tangentially related to what you do, you don’t supervise authors, you supervise their editors and the artistic department. If you were dating an editor, it would pose a larger problem.”

        “Yes.”

        She sets her jaw in discontent. “How long is this author’s contract, and what is their name?”

        “Yoongi Min,” you say.

        “Ah, my 10AM meeting. You two must’ve had fun colluding on that.”

        “It made the most sense, I meet with you, then you meet with him,” you answer. It had been planned, what could the two of you do to make this go smoother? To not ruffle any of Olivia’s feathers? Certainly back to back meetings would make her life easier, and you were right.  

        “Yes, it will make this much easier,” Olivia won’t come out and say thank you, but this is pretty close.

        “So, what do I need to do, to make this legitimate in company eyes?” You ask.

        “Answer a series of questions that may seem deeply personal but are the company’s way to gage that nothing illicit happened on company property or non-consensually.” She answers, a glint of impending torture in her voice. She wants to make this difficult, to make you suffer, to ask invasive question after invasive question so that she can crush your dream of falling in love with Yoongi.

        “Okay,” You say, adjusting in your chair.

        “Where did you and Mr. Min meet?” Olivia asks.

        “In my office. He came in to discuss his next book idea, and I wanted him to sign with us.”

        “Did you have romantic feelings for him, then?” She questions.

        “No.”

        “When did romantic feelings, a crush, begin?”

        You don’t have to think about it, having written down an outline of your relationship with Yoongi last night. “When he came back from his writing retreat, and we started talking more.”

        “Texting?”

        “At that point, no. Strictly when he came into my office to discuss his book.” You inform her.

        “At what point did you begin texting?”

        “July,” You answer definitively.

        “Were the nature of your texts flirtatious?” Olivia asks.

        “We agreed to meet for working happy hour.”

        “Working happy hour?” Her brow raises, certainly people didn’t drink and talk about work? Maybe her friends, if she has any, didn’t.

        “Yes, I had to discuss his relationship with Mr. Kim and drinks seemed like a better place to tell him to fall in line than the office,” you answer.  

        “Why did it seem like a better place?” She inquires, fingers momentarily stilling above her keyboard.

        “It was going to be a tough conversation, and from my experience working with Yoon- Mr. Min, it seemed like a more relaxed environment would be more beneficial than scolding him in my office.”

        “So he was in trouble?” Olivia smirks.

        “He was being difficult.”

        She stops typing momentarily. “Is he still?”

        “He’s gotten better under the promise that if he stays with Serendipity after his three book deal, he does not have to work with Mr. Kim again.”

        “Is that a fair deal?”

        “Yes.”

        “Is that common?”

        “Are you asking if I give him preferential treatment because we’re dating?” You ask, searching for your own clarity in her murky question.

        “Yes.”

        “No, it is not preferential. I have a few other authors and editors that work under similar guidelines. Sometimes, for whatever reason, an editor and an author don’t work out. We want them to have a strong working relationship, so we make exceptions and pair people up in different ways.”

        “And Mr. Kim and Mr. Min do not?” Olivia asks again.

        “They have preexisting history that precludes them from being friendly let alone friends. Getting Mr. Min to see Mr. Kim’s work as valid is a daily struggle.”

        “Did you put them together because you knew it would be difficult?” She inquires.

        “I had no idea they knew each other prior to Mr. Min telling me he didn’t want to work with Mr. Kim.”

        “Yet you forced them to,” she says.  

        “Mr. Kim is our most successful editor of children’s books. I want Mr. Min’s project to be a best seller, one for the record books. For that to happen, he needs the best editor in the company. That is Mr. Kim,” You explain to her, then reach towards the floor for the water bottle you had smartly brought with you.

        “When the two of you went for drinks, did you kiss, hold hands or sleep together on that date?”

        “Wow, way to go from first to fourth base without warning a girl!” You laugh.

        “Answer the question please,” Olivia doesn’t show any signs of finding your joke funny.

        “No, there might’ve been light flirting, but no physical contact that was sexual or could be interpreted as such. We sat on opposite sides of the booth; we didn’t kiss goodbye.” You answer.

        “When did your relationship become sexual?” She asks, reading off her computer screen.

        You blush. “In August we went out again, and his hand rested on my thigh.”

        “Did it move past that?”

        “No, there was a hug goodbye but that was it.”

        “Again, when did things become explicitly sexual?” She presses on.

        “What is the point of that question? In all this time, he had already signed with us. I told him dating would be risky, for myself and him. I told him of my past, of my fears.”

        “Yet you kept seeing each other.”

        “I think they call it falling in love,” You mutter.

        “Have you or Mr. Min had any physical contact on work property that would be deemed sexual in nature?”

        “No. The most we’ve done is shake hands.”

        Olivia keeps typing, then begins scrolling through your answers. Frankly you thought there’d be more. More questions, more details she wanted to pull from you. It seemed it was heading that way, how many questions could she ask about your sex life before it breached not only the level of decorum her job required, but became gauche? She could ask about your first kiss, or if you ever discussed your relationship on company property. You had, twice that you can remember, but that’s been it. Strictly above board. It’s not like Yoongi comes into the office all that much anymore, now that he’s settled into working with Seokjin and The Littlest Dumpling book 1 has been submitted. He’s been focused on book 2, and working diligently to not fall into his depression hole, which frankly, he’s struggling with. There’s no time or opportunity to engage in any behavior that isn’t above board at work.

        “It seems to me that you two, have not broken any rules of Serendipity Publishing.” Olivia says, breaking her silence.

        “Really?” You ask.

        “It’s shady that you waited this long to talk to me, but not illegal or against company policy. As you are not his direct superior, you are not, from what I can tell, using your power to coerce him into this relationship. If anything, he pursued you. I will give an official report once I speak with Mr. Min.��

        You sit back, surprised. Surprised it was that easy, that she didn’t ask any more about your physical relationship or when it started, that she didn’t drill into you about the power dynamic in your relationship. What had happened to the Olivia that tore people apart just to watch their careers crumble? Hadn’t she looked down upon you after your relationship with Taehyung became public, called you a cheap trick after you edited his book? Wasn’t she one the main people vying for you to not get the job here?

        What softened her?

        Taehyung Kim sits in the lobby of Serendipity Publishing, smirking devilishly at Alexis as he taps his foot softly on the area rug. He’s been waiting to see you for ten minutes, though to be fair, he isn’t on your calendar. No, Taehyung showed up ten minutes ago, and through his charm willed Alexis to see if you could spare some time to chat with him. She’d found a little time, if you came back from HR early.

        “How long have you worked for Y/N?” He asks. As the only person in the waiting room, he’s allowing himself to speak at near full volume. He pitches his voice lower, so Alexis really has to lean forward, over the desk, to catch everything he’s saying.

        “Um, almost a year,” she says nervously giggling.

        “Do you like it?”

        Alexis, for what it’s worth, has every idea who this man is. How could she not? She did her due diligence and googled her boss the minute she got the job, and what she found was scathing and polarizing. Either person viewed what happened between Y/N and Taehyung as her fault, blaming her for ruining a relationship that seemed far more established than the one she was creating. Or, the opposite side, condemned Taehyung for his behavior but was skeptical that Y/N really deserved her promotions. Neither side seemed to like Y/N very much, which is exactly the opposite of Serendipity Publishing, where every person can’t stop singing your praises.

        “I love it,” Alexis says and glances to the elevator as it dings and you step off, a satisfied smile on your face.

        “What are you doing here?” You ask, stopping at Alexis’s desk and squaring your shoulders to Taehyung, effectively blocking her behind you.

        “I wanted to talk to you, and hello.”

        “Hi. I don’t have time to talk today, can you schedule an appointment and come back?”

        “I could, but I wanted to present an idea to you first before I meet with my agent and talk to him about it,” Taehyung says, smug smile on his lips. He knows that’s the magic phrase to get you to talk to him, bringing his agent into the mix.

        “Fine, come on,” You say and guide him back through the hallway and to your office. He sits readily on the open chair and starts talking.

        “I have an idea for a new book,” Taehyung says. “It centers on the fall out after Two Affairs to Remember and is about the destruction that comes to both women once they’re outed. They then start getting to know each other, a little First Wives Club homage, but eventually fall in love.”

        “You want to take two women who were wronged by a man, and turn them gay?” You ask, staring at him firmly.

        “I do.”

        “That’s horrible.”

        “Why?”

        “You really think readers want to read a story about women that were so scorned by a man that they only have one choice, turn to lesbianism?”

        “That’s not what it’s about though. It’s about discovering these parts of yourself that you didn’t know existed, seeing who you are on your own, and how surprising that journey can be,” He explains.

        “No one wants to read that from a cis-hetero man unless that man is discovering he’s gay or poly or queer in general,” You tell him. “No one.”

        “I –

        “What is making you want to write this? What is creating this desire in you? Are you going through some shit?” You ask.

        “No, I’m just, the moment is over, but I want it to continue.”

        “You want to keep capitalizing on it. Aren’t you working on the script for the series?”

        “Yes.”

        “So?”

        “I think there’s more story here!” Taehyung declares, a flourish of his hand and raised voice accompanying the statement. “I want to tell more about the lives these people lead, the relationships they hold what happens not that their lives are shattered.”

        “Tae, I can’t stop you from writing it. But please do not include me in the process.” You request.

        “You’re the only person I trust to edit it.”

        “That can’t possibly be true.”

        “It is! You edited the first one so beautifully, I need you on this project.” He pleads.

        “Tae,”

        “At least consider it?”

        You think about it. What’s the harm? So much harm, and of course Yoongi to consider. But this could be good, after all Taehyung is a beautiful writer. “I’ll consider it when you have pages for me to actually read and consider.”

        “Okay, that’s fair. Proof,” He agrees.

        “Yeah, I want proof that this isn’t just some last stitch grab at fame, but something real and tangible from you.”

        “Give me a month, I’ll have pages for you,” Taehyung says.

        “Great.”

        “So, what had you smiling so much?” He asks, leaning back in his chair.

        “What do you mean?” You ask him.

        “Coming off the elevator, you were smiling like you had a secret. What is it?”

        “That is none of your business.”

        “You seeing someone?”

        “Again, none of your business.”

        “Okay, okay,” He says holding his hands up. “But if you want to talk about it, I’m always around.”

        “We’re not friends, Taehyung.”

        “But we could be, Y/N.” He smiles, and damn if it isn’t the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

        “Your next appointment is here,” Alexis says, stepping into your office.

        “Oh –

        “Hey, so I was thinking,” Yoongi says barging in. He freezes when he sees Taehyung, and glances between you quickly. “Fuck I didn’t know someone else was in here.”

        “Yeah, an impromptu meeting,” Taehyung says as he too glances from Yoongi to you and back.

        “Taehyung Kim, this is Yoongi Min, author of the Lil King Yoongi saga.”

        “Oh shit, I know your books!” Taehyung stands and extends his hand.

        “And I know you,” Yoongi comments, loud enough that Taehyung hears it.

        This causes two things to happen. First, Taehyung stares down at Yoongi, tightening his grip, drawing conclusions to the way in which Yoongi made his comment, and the way his eyes are staring past Taehyung to you. Second, it causes you to give a pleading look first to Alexis, then to Yoongi, who releases his grip on Taehyung’s hand.

        “Well, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Taehyung says. He feels the tension in the air, and wonders if he’s right about you and Yoongi. “I’ll email you pages.”

        “Fine,” You resign.

        “Nice to meet you,” Yoongi says as he sits in the chair opposite the one that Taehyung previously occupied.

        “You too.”

        Taehyung follows Alexis out, but not before he casts another gaze at the two of you. “Are they together?”

        “Y/N and Mr. Min?” Alexis asks.

        “Yeah, they’re dating, right?” Taehyung asks again.

        “Oh, I have no idea,” She says. Though his question sparks in her curiosity, as she too has always noticed a weird tension between the two.

        “What was he doing here?” Yoongi asks.

        “He has a new project and wants to send me pages,” You say.

        “Why?”

        “Because it’s related to –

        “Your affair?”

        You roll your eyes. “I don’t love it when you call it that. Yes, he’s got ideas for a second book.”

        “And he came to see you?”

        “Are you jealous?” You ask.

        “No, I don’t love walking into my girlfriend’s office, after I’ve been subjected to scrutiny from HR about the nature of said relationship to find her talking to her ex like he didn’t break her heart and nearly destroy her career,” Yoongi snaps.

        “Why are you so mad? He came in to ask if I’d read pages, that’s it.”

        “Why do I feel like he wants more?” Yoongi asks you.

        “I don’t know, but you know I don’t.”

        “I know,” He mutters.

        “How did your meeting with Olivia go?” You ask.

        “She fucking hates me,” He comments.

        “She hates everyone.”

        “Not like she hates me. She asked about when I first had sexual feelings for you, and if those sexual feelings clouded my judgment. She asked why I’m working with Jin, if it’s some favor to you and if I’m getting special treatment because you and I are, and I quote her here, intimate.”

        “Yeah, she asked me similar questions, though she didn’t ask about the first time we had sex, which surprised me.”

        “She wanted to know how soon after we texted did we start fooling around, again her words. What kind of question is that?” He asks.

        “An invasive one.”

        “What is the point in asking that, if she already knew we didn’t start seeing each other socially until what, four months after I signed? We didn’t even start texting for longer!”

        “I know, I told her that too.”

        He adjusts in his chair. “It was gross, having someone document our relationship like that.”

        “And yet, we both have committed those things to memory.”

        “Yeah, because we’re in the relationship. We’re, are you finally my girlfriend?” He asks.

        The question doesn’t all together catch you off guard, but his tone does.

        “What, annoyed I don’t have a label?” You laugh.

        “Actually, yes.”

        “Yoongi, you know why I’ve wanted to wait.”

        “You spent the night last night; I don’t really know what you’re waiting for.”

        You sigh. “Do you remember waiting for your report card, in the summer right after school finished, just to make sure it said you were moving to the next grade?”

        “I mean I never doubted or worried about it, but yes.”

        “I just want her written seal of HR approval that we’re above board, and then I’ll be more than thrilled to walk around introducing you as my boyfriend,” You explain.

        “When will that be?”

        “By the end of the week I hope.”

        “And if she somehow, for whatever reason, decides we’re not above board, then what will we do?”

        “Yoongi,” You sigh.

        “I’m serious. What if she decides that we actually engaged in behavior that is harmful to you as publisher and director, and we can’t be together as long as I’m an author at Serendipity?”

        “She won’t.”

        “But what –

        “Yoongi! Stop spiraling! She isn’t going to decide that we can’t be together. We already have been together for the last few months and nothing has happened. So can we please not doom spiral about it?” You request, tone biting and harsh.

        “Sorry,” He says, eyes rolling as his embarrassment flushes his cheeks.

        “I didn’t mean to snap… I just can’t keep going on and on about what happens if we can’t be together. We’re together, already, so why talk as if we’re not?”

        He glances up at you, a gentle smile of fondness on his lips. “You like me, don’t you?”

        “Yeah, Yoongi. I like you a lot. That’s why I’m fighting for us, for you.”

        “And so that I don’t crawl back into bed the minute I leave your office?”

        “Absolutely that too.”

        “I like you a lot, too. For the record.” He smirks, and it reminds you of this morning, sleep still in his eyes, but a devilish look clouding them as he rolled on top of you, weight pressing against your body, a smirk on his lips and his shaggy black hair falling over his face.

        “I want to kiss you,” he had said.

        “So do it,” you remarked, bratty in the way you stared back at him, defiantly. You wanted him to make a move, to make a declaration, to force his hand before he forced yours. He did, kissing you with so much heat you rolled on top of him, finding a punishing pace as the sleepiness drained out of you as pleasure overtook.

        “I know you do, I was there this morning,” You comment.

        “Will you be there tonight?” He winks. He doesn’t think he’s much good at it, but he loves the way your eyes melt whenever he does.

        “Yeah, my place?”

        The thing about Yoongi’s anxiety and depressive episodes is that they hit, almost without warning. In hindsight he can see all along that it was coming, but in the moments before everything seems totally fine. He left your office, and with every step towards his car he felt the weight getting heavier and heavier. The panic over Taehyung showing up in your life, right as HR was going to give your relationship the company seal of approval, his impending writing retreat for book two and three, the realization he can’t go back and edit book one anymore… all began to bubble and turn inside him.

        By the time he gets home, the panic is so great he does what he does best, crawls in bed, under his weighted blanket. He rests his eyes, and before he knows it, it’s 8PM and you’ve called and texted. He wants to return them, to text you back, to keep you updated… but he can’t.

Next: The Littlest Dumpling {10}

#justasparkwritings #justasparkmaster #the littlest dumpling #min yoongi #houseofddaeng #purplearmynet #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #kpopccc #OT7 series #BTS series #Min yoongi x reader #Min Yoongi x you #lil king yoongi

[stillchaoticlogic]

Fated: The Beginning

Pairing: Reno x Reader

Summary: Ordinary days sometimes house the most extraordinary moments, even if we don’t know it at the time. On that fate filled day you would have never expected the red haired boy to one day become a Turk. You had no idea that your kindness would be repaid in ways you’ve never dreamed about. You had no idea he was the one you were meant to be with. Here’s your story.

Prelude

Today is a day just like any other day. Sitting at your desk among your many co-workers, you are part of the HR team at Shinra. Is this want you wanted? Not really. Okay, not even close, but it pays the bills. Another email about an internal issue in another one of the departments have you sighing in exasperation. 

There is suddenly an excited murmur among the department and you turn in just enough time to see a tall lean redhead come sauntering up to your desk. You recognize him immediately; even though he is no longer lanky having grown into his height, with lean with broad shoulders. His shirt stretched taut over his muscles making all the women stare. His hair is a vibrant healthy red no longer dulled by malnutrition. His gaze is almost sultry as you are locked in place by his deep green eyes. You blink up at him in confusion at a loss for words.

Reno…

No, not just Reno… 

Reno of the Turks.

He smirks down at you before he sits casually on your desk, like this is a common occurrence in your world, as if he does this all the time, and presents a letter to you. 

“I wanted to be the one to deliver this to you,” he says with a casual shrug at your silent question, his voice is deep and velvety. 

“Thank you,” you say in shock as you take the letter into your hands inspecting it while ignoring your curious co-workers around you.

“I bet you don’t even remember-” Reno begins.

“I do,” you interrupted as you glance up at him through your lashes, “I remember you, Reno. You’ve done well for yourself.” You say as you lean back in your seat to look up at him easily, casually opening the envelope in your hands. A delivery from a Turk is rarely a good thing and your curiosity gets the better of you. 

He sends you an easy grin, completely comfortable and confident in his place and in himself. Of course, you had heard about the successes of Reno. Your dad kept up with his progress and would casually mention him to you from time to time. But even if your dad hadn’t kept you up to date, the Turks are quite notorious, and Reno isn’t exactly one to blend in.

“Indeed I have, though it’s not exactly the life I had pictured,” he leans forward conspiratorially and with a wink he murmurs, “it’s even better.”

You chuckle as he casually leans back, a smirk on his handsome face regarding you before he indicates the letter in your hands. You pull it from the envelope and glance over it before you gaze up at him with wide eyes. He winks and puts a finger to his lips.

“So, long time no see, how’ve you been?” Reno asks just like you are old friends, shifting his posture comfortably on your desk. Though, perhaps you are at this point. 

“I’ve been good, you know, just working and hoping to move up,” you say with a shrug.

“How’s your dad?” Reno asks good-naturedly. 

“Oh, that’s right,” cuts in a snarky voice, “the ‘princess’ gets things handed to her on a platter.”

You glance over at your co-worker as she regards you with disdain. Reno glares over at her and asks in a sharp tone, “did we invite you into this conversation?”

“Uhh… N-no…” Your co-worker stutters, trying to avoid his menacing gaze.

“Then mind your own business,” his voice is almost a growl that sends a shiver down your back. She shrinks down into her seat and quickly averts her eyes back to her work.

You giggle at him, “I had wondered if I was going to get to meet him.”

“Meet who?” Reno asks as he glances down towards you in confusion, the hostility from a second ago completely vanished. 

“‘Reno of the Turks’,” you say with a smile. 

He sends you a sly look, “well, if you wanted to meet him all you had to do was ask.” He leans forward on your desk, holding your gaze before pulling away with a subtle wink.

“‘Wanted’ is a strong word, I think I’m happy with just ‘Reno’,” you say with a soft smile.

His eyes soften, if you hadn’t been watching him you would have missed it. 

“So, you never answered my question,” Reno says clearing his throat, “how’s your dad?”

“He’s doing well! He’s now head of his department, and his people love him.”

Reno nods his head, “I may need to stop by and see him, it’s been a while…” 

“You should, he would like that. He’s very proud of you, you know…”

“He is?” The surprise is evident in his voice. You know he has no biological family of his own, the Turks had clearly become family for him. 

“Of course, you made him look good,” you say with a wink.

He laughs with you, “Of course I did. How many of his recruits became a Turk?”

“Only one, but seriously, he keeps up with you and he doesn’t often keep up with any of his recommendations. He even keeps me up to date with you, so I know he’s really proud of the fact that you made it.”

“He’s a good man,” he says with a nod as he avoids your eyes. 

“Thanks, Reno. So, what turned you into my delivery man?” You ask as you lean your elbows on the desk and rest your chin in your hand grinning up at him. 

He chuckles as he rubs his chin, “well, I recognized your name in the stack and knew that I needed to stop by and see you. After all, you are perfect for this.”

“I am?” You ask with a tilt of your head. 

“What?! Of course! You aren’t afraid of anything,” he winks as he stands up and checks his phone. He regards it with an exaggerated frown, you nod your in understandment. 

“You’re right, I’m not…” you smirked as you watch him walk away. 

“Not even the Turks?” he inquires teasingly over his shoulder, the phone now at his ear.

“Not even the Turks,” you repeated, a sly grin sliding onto your face.

“See you soon,” Reno dismisses with a wave as he heads for the door. He’s speaking low and fast into the receiver.

“See you…” You lift your hand up in a half-wave, you aren’t sure he even saw. You’re still more shocked at seeing him after all this time, and now the letter in your hands. The letter is your chance to move up, and not just by a little bit, but to the top; to achieve a more exciting life, instead of just barely getting by and pushing papers at a desk surrounded by hostility.

“Are you a Turk candidate?” Whispers one of your co-workers. You could almost call this particular one a friend, if only she wasn’t so exhausting to deal with. 

“Umm… No… Reno and I just knew each other briefly when we were younger. He was just stopping by to say hi, and deliver some mail he found.”

“Are you sure that’s it and you’re not just his next whore?” The snarky coworker from before spat bitterly.

“What is your problem?” You ask in annoyance turning towards her.

She gives you a haughty smirk, “you just think you’re so great because of who your daddy is and this job was basically handed to you on a platter. Now you even have a Turk to fight your battles for you? How pathetic.”

“We literally have the same job, doing the same thing, and you think this is glamorous? I work just as hard as you, probably harder since I’m not sticking my nose into everybody’s business. Maybe focus more on your work and less on your spite and you might actually get promoted. Also, my relationship with Reno, regardless of what it is, is none of your business. But you can trust me when I say I don’t need him to fight my battles. I can do that just fine,” you bite back.

She scowls at you, about to hiss another retort when your name is called over the com system, along with 4 other names, to meet at a specific conference room. With a shaky breath, you stand up and head out. You can feel your heart racing as nerves wrack your body. 

You gaze around at the other candidates, three men and one other woman, all looking equally confused and gripping a similar letter in their hands. No one says anything before the screen on the far side of the room springs to life, on the other side is the Rufus Shinra. 

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m sure you are all very confused as to why I have called you here. As you have ascertained from the letter given to you this morning, I am in need of a personal assistant and you have all been selected as potential candidates. Since this is a time-sensitive matter, we will be doing the interviews today. You have all been chosen since you are the best at what you do and hold qualities that are valuable to the position. You all also come highly recommended by a member of the corporation and I look forward to speaking with each one of you. Thank you.”

Quick and to the point, you would expect nothing less of Rufus Shinra.

The first man called into the office is a serious-looking man named Chase. Your right leg begins to bounce with nervous energy and you just stare at one spot on the wall in front of you. You were not expecting this to be what you did today. Next up, was a man that resembled more the likeness of a snake than an actual man. You don’t bother listening to his name, he’s too smug for you to pay much attention to. Shortly after, your name was called next and you walk into the room with your back straight, a serious look on your face.

You regarded the four Turks in the room calmly. They are positioned behind Rufus Shinra’ desk and you read it for what it is -- an intimidation tactic. You catch Rufus’ eyes and give him your most professional smile, holding out your hand to shake and introduce yourself confidently. 

“Miss. (L.Name), you have come to me highly recommended. Please, tell me what you could bring to this position?”

You give him another one of your best smiles before you begin your answer, “thank you, sir. I am very efficient, hard-working, and reliable. I always strive to solve problems creatively and effectively. I work independently, as well as in a team with no problems. I-”

“These are very wonderful answers, Miss. (L.Name). However, everyone I have chosen today is efficient, hard-working, and reliable. They are the best in their current department. What I want to know is what sets you apart from them.” 

Your eyes widen from being suddenly interrupted. Rufus Shinra regards you coolly from behind his sleek marble desk. Your eyes are in your lap and you glance up just enough to see the Turks gazing at you with unreadable expressions. You inhale a sigh, a smirk slides its way onto your lips as Reno’s words echo in your mind, and you throw caution to the wind.

“Well sir, I was told recently I’m not scared of anything. And I mean anything. I don’t just mean work-related challenges, even though I can tackle them head-on as well. I mean, I was almost assaulted on my way home from work last week and I had to beat three drunks into the ground with the lid of a trash can,” your gaze is fierce as you regard the past week’s events,  “I don’t take anyone’s shit, and I don’t particularly care who they are or how important they think they are, I don’t tolerate being disrespected. So to put it frankly, if you are looking for an assistant that will wipe your ass every day and praise everything that you do… Then I am afraid I’m not that person. However, if you want an assistant that will contribute valuably to Shinra and it’s future, all while actually getting things done, then you can do yourself a favor and hire me now.”

The room is silent at your speech and you know in the next moment you are either getting promoted or fired. When a smirk slides onto his lips and a light chuckle escapes them, you start to feel the tension leave your shoulders. 

“He was right about you… You are perfect…” Rufus muses more to himself than to you. 

“My father?” You ask instinctively. 

“Reno,” he says as he indicates the redhead to his left, “he said that you’re perfect for the job. I admit at first I didn’t believe him. You seemed too compliant, but, as it turns out, he was right.”

“So, I start Monday?” You ask with a sly smile as you regard the group before you.

“Yes you will, unfortunately, I still have to do interviews to keep up appearances. The job is yours though.”

You can’t stop the smile on your face, “thank you, sir! You won’t regret this.”

“Let’s hope not…” Rufus glances between you and Reno, just as Reno sends you a signature wink. 

“We shall discuss the details of your new salary on Monday, in the meantime, you have the rest of the day off. You will be moving into your new apartment closer to Shinra and my condo.”

“Oh?”

“Someone will be in contact with you this afternoon about your new accommodations.”

“Thank you, I look forward to working with you,” you say sincerely, getting up to shake his hand once more before leaving the room. 

Your expression gives nothing away as you leave the room and head back to your desk to gather your things. Though, there is an energetic skip in your step as you head to the door. 

Several hours later, as you are finishing cleaning off your bookshelf there is a knock at your door. You furrow your brow and go to answer it. Opening it, you find Reno on the other side. He looks up and into your eyes the moment the door opens. 

“Figured you might be hungry,” he says, indicating the pizza in his hands.

You smile as you open the door wider, “a man after my own heart.”

Reno smiles as he walks inside and inspects the place. 

“Nice place! I think you’re gonna love your new one too, though.” He sets the pizza box down on your kitchen counter. 

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do. You’ll be pretty close to all of us too.”

You walk to the cabinet to grab plates for you both. You hand him one before he opens the box and you both dig in. 

“You’re right on time. I was starting to get hungry.”

“Yeah? How’s packing going? You need any help?” He asks around a mouth full of pizza.

“I couldn’t ask you to help me, Reno. You’ve done a lot for me already, recommending me for this job and all.”

“What are you talking about? You were already a candidate. I just put the bug in the boss’ ear. Plus there is no way that I could stand Tseng’s pick,” he says with a shudder.

“Let me guess! That really serious looking guy!”

“The one who never even changed his tone the entire time,” Reno says with a groan. 

“Yeah, working with him would have been brutal…” You say as an afterthought as you take a bite of pizza. 

“There would have been two of them then…” You share an overexaggerated look of horror with Reno before you both burst out laughing. 

“I’m glad he picked you,” he leans against the counter sending you a sly look.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Well, you actually have a personality, plus you are WAY easier on the eyes than those other guys.”

You scoff as you playfully punch him, “so you just wanted me to have the job because of my looks?”

“Hey! I said you have a personality first!”

You laugh heartily, glancing over at him. “Thanks, Reno,” you say, bumping him lightly with your shoulder.

“Don’t mention it,” Reno shrugs.

You both fall into a comfortable silence before you head to your fridge and pull out some wine. 

“Want some?” you offer, as you go to grab a glass from the shelf. 

“You don’t have any beer, do you?”

You frown slightly, “No… You want anything else?”

“Naw, the wine is fine…”

“Sorry, I’m not much of a beer drinker…”

“S’okay, it’s your house… Plus I should have grabbed some on the way over.”

You pour him a glass and hand it to him. He thanks you quietly before he takes a sip, “not bad…” he regards the liquid in his glass. 

After a few minutes, Reno claps his hands, “come on! We gotta get you packed!”

“Reno! I told you that you don’t have to help!”

“Well too bad because I am!” He says as he undoes the clasp on his suit jacket and throws it over the back of your couch. 

“Is the apartment furnished?” You inquire as you glance around your own place. 

“Nope, I’m taking you shopping tomorrow while the movers come to pick up your things.”

“Wait! What? Tomorrow? The movers are coming tomorrow?!” You begin to panic.

“Yep! That’s why we gotta get you packed!”

You curse under your breath, “you could have said something sooner!”

“And ruin dinner? That was top notch cheap pizza!”

You hide your smile and roll your eyes, “you’re ridiculous…”

“You love it,” he smirks as he grabs a box and heads into the kitchen. 

It’s at that moment a small meow is heard from the floor and Reno looks down in surprise. His eyebrows practically jump up into his hairline and his mouth opens in surprise. 

“Is this!?” He exclaims.

“It sure is!” You giggle as Milly skirts around Reno and rushes to you. You pick her up as she regards the new person warily sniffing the air in his direction. You pet her to help calm her nerves and speak gently to her as you do so. She eventually relaxes against you while still regarding Reno with distrust.

“I can’t believe you still have her… Then again I don’t know how long cats live,” he scratches the back of his head in slight embarrassment.

“They live for a while. I once heard of a woman whose cat was 32 when she died.”

“The cat or the lady!?” He asks in surprise.

“The cat!!” You laugh.

Reno chuckles as he slowly approaches you and holds out his hand for the cat to sniff. She does so hesitantly before rubbing her face against his hand. He chuckles again as he pets her, astonished that she is in your arms. 

His eyes soften as he watches her rub her face against his outstretched hand, no doubt recalling the last time he saw her. 

“It seems so long ago… a lifetime…” Reno says softly. 

“I guess for you it was…” You glance up at him with a smile. 

“Yeah… My life changed a lot that night… I owe your dad a lot,” he murmured wistfully, “He got me off the streets, helped me make something of myself. Even when I was talking about my dreams that night, I didn’t know if I would ever escape that hellhole. Now look at me, I’m a Turk. Not exactly the life I was picturing back then, but I’m not going to complain about it.”

“I’m happy for you Reno… People were so cruel to you…”

“Hey now! Enough with the sappiness! We’ve got to get you packed! You move in tomorrow!” He turns away abruptly leaving Milly meowing in annoyance that her pets stopped suddenly. 

“Oh! Right! Okay!” You exclaim in surprise at the sudden topic change. You understood though, he doesn't want to relive his old life, he left it behind so many years ago. Perhaps this time though you’ll get to be the friends that the two of you never got to be.

With that, you both get to work packing up your apartment, throwing jokes and comments at one another along with knick knacks that you each find along the way. The playful banter is something you didn’t know you needed, it keeps the nerves at bay. Or maybe it’s Reno that you didn’t know you needed...

Notes: Apparently there is a... cam guy? I don’t really know anything about him except his name is Reno, every time I’m looking for Reno gifs his gifs show up too. So there are just clips of this guy shaking his ass on the bed and I’m always so surprised when they show up! I can’t... Anyway long time since this was updated but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! Shout out to my Beta: @westsideeffectsvary​

Please like, reblog and comment! You know all that good stuffs!

#reader insert #Reno #reno sinclair #reno x reader #ff7 reno #Reno Of The Turks #reno imagine #reno sinclair x reader #ff7 imagine

[maisondenachtai]

Boss pt 2 (Y’lan Noel x Reader)

Part 1 

Late nights were nothing new to you. You were well accustomed to seeing the office clear out and hearing the stark noise of silence punctuated with the sounds of vacuums and the gentle hum of electricity. You knew almost all of the janitors that came up after hours to clean up the office, and knew to give them ten minutes or so, so they could clean up your area without you being in the way.

What you were not used to was another person being in the office with you while you were working late hours. Y’lan Noel, or Y’lan as he kept reminding you, was also grinding gears after hours. You could see him pinning things to a board through the clear windows that gave you an open view of him. He was completely focus on his project, not even noticing you had been staring at him for a least five minutes.

No, you had not been staring. Just observing.

You had observed that when he seemed to get stumped on something, he placed his hands in his pockets and stared at it like he was doing now. You wondered what he was stumped on, you knew whatever it was he would figure out and come out of it amazingly.

           Despite your words with him days before, you knew he was a talented editor and writer. Christine had talked about him so much, that he was a star and that he was going places. At the time you hadn’t heard of him, but after researching him and reading a few of his pieces, you saw what she saw and yeah you were impressed. He hadn’t just been handed the job because he was a male, he earned it and deserved it. But of course, you couldn’t tell him that.

           You tilted your head a little as he bounced on and off his toes. Whatever had him stumped really was throwing him through a loop. You were just about to smirk and laugh when his head quickly turned and his eyes lit up when they met yours.

“Shit.” You mumbled, focusing again on your computer, typing up a storm as if you had never stopped to stare…observe him.

It was too late though; you heard the wind slightly woosh as he opened up his doors and could hear him make his way over to your area. You continued to type though, willing yourself to pretend that he wasn’t there.

“You’re dedicated.” He said.

You didn’t say anything, only kept typing. Wide leg pants are in-

“…I saw you looking at me. No need to front.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I was not staring at you.” You stopped typing, looking up at him. He had settled himself against the wall behind your desk set up, leaning across as if he was a neighbor talking over a fence.

He smirked, “I never said you were staring.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m busy.”

“I see that. You know since you’re working, you could still be on the clock.”

You shook your head, “This isn’t work. This is a competition. So no, I can’t be on the clock.”

Y’lan shook his head, “It’s work. If you win, your magazine becomes the month’s issue so, it’s work. Doesn’t matter, I clocked you back in hours ago.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You folded your arms.

“You don’t have to ask me. I’m your boss. It’s my job.” He smiled and turned around about to go back to his office.

“What’s your angle?” You stopped him in his tracks and he turned around again, walking back over to your area.

“I don’t have an angle.”

You rolled your eyes standing up from your desk. You stretched your neck first, then the rest of your body. When you opened your eyes from stretching, you noticed that Y’lan’s eyes were just coming back up from a long trip down your body. You fought the smirk coming to your lips.

“Of course you have an angle. Everyone does.” You sat back down, leaning back in your chair making a long line for Y’lan to admire with his eyes. “When I first got here, I was angling to become editor in chief in five years. So I sucked up. I’m not proud of it but it got me far. Nancy in graphic design has been flirting with every higher up at every office party, she wants a higher position. That’s her angle. You are being very nice, what do you want from us? What do you want from me?”

Y’lan’s hands were in his pockets again, but he wasn’t bouncing. He stood confident, staring at you like you were a new problem to solve. “I want what every magazine editor wants. A good staff that produces good results. I’ve been at publications where the work environment was hell and the editor was a disgusting human being. You know what that publication is doing now? …Nothing. It shut down two years ago. Bankrupt. Bad work environments leak out. I don’t want that for Black Style.”

You nodded, “That’s commendable. I’m not mad at that.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head a little. “I’m glad I got your approval. …As for you Ms. YLN.”

You leaned forward eyes widening, “As for me what?”

“You asked me what I wanted from you all…and you specifically. I told you what I wanted for the company as a whole. Now I want to tell you want I want from you specifically.” His voice had lowered significantly and it made you draw into him, leaning closer than what was probably appropriate.

His eyes drifted down your face quickly and then back up to your eyes. You gulped a little. “And what is that Mr. Noel.”

He smirked, letting the silence linger for a moment, “I want your respect. Even if you win the competition, I want you to respect me as a peer in the field.”

You let out a small breath, for a moment you imagined that he might say that he wanted you, in the physical sense. You couldn’t deny the fact that Y’lan was quite handsome and had confidence about him that absolutely made you hor-

You could deny it. And you absolutely would.

“Ms. YLN.”

“Yes. Sorry.” You picked at a piece of imaginary lint on your shirt. “Respect is not given it’s earned.” You said, talking down to that imaginary lint that was still stuck to your shirt.

His hand reached out and gripped your chin gently, only pressing upward with the barest of force. You looked up at him all on your own, and found yourself looking at a man with no fear, and the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

He was over stepping many of the boundaries HR laid out for you all, but honestly...you couldn’t care at this point. “I know.” He was speaking just so you could hear, barely over the sound of the vaccums and the powerful AC in the building. “And I fully expect to earn all of your respect.” He grinned at you and then moved his hand off your face, turning and walking away from you. “Oh, and those are really nice pants.” He shouted back, throwing up a hand in goodbye. “And that is wildly inappropriate!” You shouted back, awaken from your stupor.

He turned around, smirking, “It would be...if I was on the clock. Do you know how bad it looks for a Editor to give himself 4 hours of overtime, especially for something that’s not work related? What kind of Boss do you think I am?” He chuckled, going back into his office and closing the glass door behind him. You grumbled and went back to typing, nails clicking the keyboard harder than before.

“Bastard.”

___________________________________________________________

This looks a little different huh? ...Yeah...I don’t feel like doing all that title stuff. Yall know what this is lol! This has been sitting in my drafts for a month or two? lol.

@chaneajoyyy @wawakanda-btch  @blackmissfrizzle @quietpoeticheart @bigsisbria  @toni-toni-toni-toni  @blvkqueen1​  @palmstreesallday​  @hey-taylor-hey​  @myakai13​  @shinywrites​

#y'lan noel x reader #y'lan noel x black reader #y'lan noel #y'lan noel fanfic

[lordchaney]

Time for another prison story.

My couple days as a Sergeant I was pretty excited not going lie but that excitement died out. One night it was about 0200 hrs I heard another Sergeant call for help on the radio I ran to her dorm it was right next to mine, this Sergeant is one of my friends and she isn't startled by much at all. Well when I entered her dorm she was standing in front of the restroom and took a step back like she was scared and called for help again on the radio. I'm thinking what the hell I go up beside her and look in the restroom too and there is a inmate on all fours bouncing around blood every where he is foaming at the mouth grunting and growling like a animal with rabbies. She had already used chemical agents on him and apparently didn't do nothing to him at all. I say fuck it...that my go to phrase lol...and charged him by my self and tackled him to the ground and at that point it was a fight this man probably 130 pounds was putting up a fight felt like I was wrestling a 200 pound man that been working out, not only that he had chemical agents all over him which exposed me to it....the burn sucks...Before I knew it 4 other Officers came running in to help it took 5 of use to put restraints on this man and get him to medical when it was all over with we where covered in the inmates blood and all bruised up.

The inmate himself was never a trouble inmate at all he had always kept to himself and just wanted to go home. After he sobered up he apologized for everything and told us that some one gave him a smoke apparently it was not tobacco... the joint was found and was k2 mixed with a unknown substance.

#my story #memories #prison story #past experiences #danger #myjourney #my experiences

[jenna-jayde-the-renagade]

So my life has gone to shit.. I dont trust anybody anymore, and honest to god I cant help but keep thinking of ways to end it. My mom keeps telling me how to feel about this whole thing, that I should be grateful that i got in finally to see a specialist. Reality is I dont even trust those subhuman animals anymore, and frankly they're gonna have to earn my trust. After 4 fucking years, my life, my future being ruined. My mental health going downhill, all for the second time now. Add on to that, I dont get any meds for the pain so this has pushed me into addiction now for a second time. I've been dehumanized and humiliated, treated with nothing but the utmost disrespect while being stigmatized for being mentally ill, transgender and a recovering addict for most of it. They ignored me for 4 years, my body is damaged, and frankly help just might have came too little too late. I wont just suffer through the next one, the next time this happens I'm gonna end my life, my suffering on my own god damn terms. Atleast I still have control over that..

Fuck the canadian healthcare system. Some days I honestly just want to start selling drugs, and fly to a country where I can just pay to play and get the best care in the god damn world. Cause 4 years now I've been telling them to refer me to a specialist, I've been telling them that it's probably crohns or some other GI issue. They need to do a colonoscopy and a scope to find it, so that's what I would ask for. I would never get it, so i more or less gave up on the healthcare system. They would leave me on the floor thrashing in pain for hours. Treating me like a drug addict in withdrawal when I didnt even have any opioids in my system. I would be lucky if I got an IV for fluids, and even more lucky if they pumped me full of a bunch of over the counter drugs and others that didnt work like gravol, tauridol, buscopan, zofran, and haliperidol. I would tell them each time, that this was the hundredth time they tried gravol, and it doesnt help people when they're screaming in pain. They treat the nausea. Its bullshit because I am in so much pain that its making me nauseous and until they get rid of the pain, the vomiting is just gonna continue. They always treat me like I'm full of shit, and when I turn out to be right and continue puking, thrashing and screaming in pain, they just get angry at the fact they were wrong. Our doctors and nurses are a bunch of sociopathic, apathetic adult children who in my experience take pleasure in watching you suffer. The worse I get the more they smile. They are so stupid, blind almost because if their stupid fucking machine says I'm ok then I guess it's all in my head. They only think that theres nothing wrong with me because theyve only ever done a blood test or an xray. Never ever once have they done a single test that would have found the issue, crohns cant be found just on a blood test. The emergency room doctors think it can be, my family doctor and everybody else I've talked to says otherwise.

On January 1st I was having another flare up, and they shoved me in the psych observation room because they genuinely didnt want to deal with me. They ignore me, and I keep going in because I want help. I dont want to end up relapsing again cause I cant take the god damn pain! But nope, I get treated like a crazy person now.. they did it against my will. And they even tried to take my phone and my keys. I was puking constantly, I needed water to keep hydrated and they left me for 4 hours, locked in, no meds, no help or nothing. So I just cracked.. I had nothing to barf in, to wipe my nose with, or to wipe the cold sweat off me. So I puked in every corner of that room, I puked beside the bed especially because a mop wouldnt fit in there. I pissed in the corner, I would hack up some phlegm and spit it all over the floors and walls, I blew snot rockets on every surface too! After a while some nurse came in and gave me a barf bag. I threw it on the floor and just continued to puke over every hard surface in the place. I was puking every 5 seconds I swear, and the doctor finally came in at 3 hours and 15 minutes. At 3.5 hrs they give me two pills. I straight up tell them there is no point in even taking them. I couldnt even keep water down and these people are stupid enough to make me take pills? Come on. You need to hold it in for atleast an hour to see even the most minimal affects. I was puking every 5 seconds, to the point that I puked before I took the pills, and I puked them out the moment after I swallowed. They had given me a fucking gravol tab, and some Ativan, the latter of which I couldnt even hold under my tongue long enough. I barfed it onto the floor when it was half dissolved. They come back with this clear liquid shit in a shot glass. I swallowed it right after I puked. The liquid burned my insides, and i puked that shit out even quicker. I asked them to give me IV medications for that exact reason, I always ask for IV medications cause its literally a waste of your time and mine to just pump me full of pills when I can't keep them down and they hurt my tummy as they dissolve. They tell me to just "breathe deeply and relax" and to "just try jayden, you gotta try", so then I try, and when they end up being wrong, and I can't take shit. They end up saying that I'm manipulating, that I'm drug seeking or I'm not trying hard enough to make it work. Absolute bullshit, over the course of 4 years I have quite literally told them what to do. I have multiple family members with this disease, and my grandmother was ignored like this too. She told me to ask them for a colonoscopy and a scope, and to ask them to treat the pain, not the nausea cause the pain literally causes the nausea. The sooner the pain is gone the sooner I can be normal and tell them what's going on. Instead I'm left to suffer in the worst pain a human being can feel. I get treated like shit and told it's all in my head. I gave up on getting a diagnosis in year two. I just want to shoot dope whenever the pain comes. Dope atleast takes it away, after all they would be giving me some of the strongest shit they have at the hospital if I was some boomer with a sprained ankle. It would take the pain away. Thats for sure. Being a mentally ill, drug using, autistic tranny they just see that. I get nothing. No help, no answers, not even some relief when my screaming can be heard far and wide.

I want to die right now, and I keep trying to think of a painless way to do it.. buying $400 worth of street fentanyl and slipping into a nice, peaceful opioid coma seems like a wonderful idea right now.. that would end the fucking suffering atleast..

I wont be wearing a colostomy bag. Colostomy bags arent sexy, they are fucking disgusting and you cant just be body positive when you have a fucking bag full of your own shit hanging off you, and your only way of having penetrative sex sewed up permanently and taken away from me. Not like I could even be a decent fuck for anybody at this point anyways. Its painful to shit, let alone anything else. I dont want to give up food either. I love food, food is literally my life and the only way I have to bond with certain people! Like my family for example. Nothing makes me just want to slip.into that coma more then the worry of the future.

Will I be sitting at a family gathering eating bland gluten free, dairy free, all organic 100% vegan fair trade horse shit on a plate while my family actually gets to enjoy the food I used to be able to eat? Moms spaghetti, grandmas meat pies, the baked goods, fresh tomatoes out of my garden and others. A good fucking steak even? Cause honestly a birthday isnt a birthday if I dont have my birthday meal.

I know for a fact my body is damaged from 4 years of suffering. I used to bounce back, now it takes the wind out of my sails for a month.

Needless to say, I just want to fucking die more then anything else. Positivity and anything I love is gone, and all that I have left is knowing that Alberta health services, coast mountain health services, providence health services, and interior health services have all fucked me in the biggest way humanely possible. So thankful for free fucking healthcare!!

You get what you bloody well pay for!!

#thisiswhattranslookslike #girlslikeus #transgender #mtf #trans #transition #hrt #transgender girl #transformation #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically sick #crohns disease

[xsaintseraphx]

This week has been the first week in a while where I have to wake up early to go to work. So I've been sleeping less. Probably get 4-5 hrs the night before work. Im not as groggy and dead feeling. But at the same time I feel like I'm like bouncing all over the place while at work. I feel restless. Maybe I'm meant to sleep 4hrs.

#idk i havent felt this manic #is it mania?idk #just up #in a while #so idk #personal

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 23

Prompt: Decay Rating: G Words: 1,496 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Nate Sewell Summary: Two research specialists in their natural habitat comparing technology. Note: Takes place a few months or so before Book 1.  Special appearance of @asaucyginger‘s Fiona just because.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

The Facility Archives was a vast expanse of knowledge.  It may not have the aesthetics of a well-stocked library, but the colder metal shelving held large amounts of books and the long tables were excellent for spreading out.  The cooler temperatures maintained the integrity of older books, but it did mean that sweaters were a necessity.

It was a good thing that Cam had plenty of thick, woolen sweaters to choose from when he decided to go on a research dive.

The table he had set himself up at was also occupied by one of his favorite fellow researchers.  Nate Sewell was a longtime friend of his and the two of them often bounced ideas off the other when it came to different avenues of searching.  The man was pleasant to be around and was an ideal research partner: even sprawled out, his books and notes were always kept neatly to his side of the table and he didn’t distract with unnecessary conversation.  

Cam’s thoughts went to Unit Zulu.  He wasn’t entirely sure if Agent Fiona even counted as a Research Specialist, he’d seen her moves in the training room and thought she was better suited as a Combat Specialist instead, but she was not keen on keeping her material or herself to one side of the table.  She had a fixation with his hair, her fingers always finding ways to play with the thick brown strands, and she tended to lapse into a sultry Irish brogue.  It was close enough to the Scots-Gaelic he spoke for him to know that she always gave him an open invitation to her bed, but he’d always politely declined.  Fellow agent or not, she was Fae and it never was a good idea to be impolite to the Gentry, even when they were your co-workers.  There were some things that you just didn’t want to bring HR into if you could help it.

“What are you looking for today?” Nate asked, the nib of his pen scratching faintly against the notebook he’d brought with him.  It was a leatherbound book, the pages thick and cream colored, which told Cam it was probably expensive.  It made the beaten up pocket sized black and white speckled composition book he kept most of his immediate notes on and the blue ballpoint pen with the missing cap look sad in comparison.

Cam looked up from his laptop.  There’s where he kept the bulk of his notes, his notepad only for when he was at the stacks and he didn’t want a thought to escape between where he was and his makeshift study headquarters.  He and technology worked virtually seamlessly together: he mostly had Nicky to thank for that, seeing as his friend was always on the cutting edge of any new thing.  He snorted: Nicky had been one of those people who had camped out for over two days to get the latest iPhone one time.  He’d been furious when he came back, phone triumphantly held in his hand, to find that the rest of his team was already updating their contact lists on the very same model.  He hadn’t known that the Agency had already scored the upgraded phones and had one set aside for him to use.

“Just some random things, mostly about bog spirits in Florida and Louisiana.  I’m trying to see if there’s any connection between them and the ones over the water in other countries.”

“Interesting, I know there’s a book over on the fourth row, over in that section,” Nate pointed over to a section of bookshelves to the left of their table and squinted, as if attempting to recall the exact position from memory.  “Possibly the second shelf, maybe the third.  Green cover, so I’d wear gloves in case it possibly starts to leach arsenic.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.  I’m still in the note-making stages of research, but I thought it would be best to start here, to let the books inspire me.”

Nate smiled and went back to his reading.  A curious look told him that he was looking at human physiology and something about genetic mutation.  “Working on that bloodwork case?” Cam asked.

He nodded.  “It’s just so strange.  I have no idea what a vampire would want with a human holding a mutation to their blood.”  He ran his hand through his hair.  “The last victim had enough blood left in their body for the science team to extract and sample, but I thought that maybe doing some of my own research would come up with an angle outside of the box, so to speak.”

Cam started to type.  Luckily, the Agency spared no expense and the internet was incredibly fast, even so far underground as they were.  “You may want to try looking at some non-supernatural reports.  If you want, I can work up a list of papers that have been done on the study of genetics and how certain mutations affect how organisms interact with their environment.” 

“Oh!  I hadn’t thought of that route.”  Nate scratched at his chin.  “It would make sense, seeing that beings evolve to overcome difficulties in their environment...hmm.”  Nate made a few notes in his notebook.  “Thank you for the idea, Cameron, but I wouldn’t want to drag you away from your own work.”

Cam grinned.  “Actually, this is mostly an excuse to hunker down.  Nicky decided that it would be a good idea to have a…” he searched for a word.  “Fling with one of the admin secretaries and it turned messy.  Like hunt him down and make him suffer messy.”

Nate winced.  “It’s a good thing that he can’t technically die,” he joked.

“Yeah.  I think she’d be happy killing him and then calling it even when he wakes back up, but still.”  Cam shook his head.  “I really wish he would pick his dalliances better, especially when it comes to supernatural women.”  Part of Cam had a thought that Nicky chose the people he slept with on purpose, hoping that one of them would finally kill him for good and that he’d be able to rest in peace.  He wasn’t immune to the fact that Nicky put himself into danger the most out of everyone in the team and had a fatalistic viewpoint when it came to death and dying.  It was a morose thought, and one that he’d brought up to his friend before.  Over the years, he learned that it was best if he left the subject alone.

“But back to your research,” he said, shaking his head and pulling out his phone.  “Give me a few and I can send the list to you.  A couple are behind paywalls, but I’ve got yearly subscriptions to a few places and a few connections to get behind the ones I don’t, so just let me know which ones interest you.”

Nate looked up from his book and smiled.  “Thank you, I really appreciate the help.”  He gave a glance towards Cam’s laptop.  “You know, I prefer more…”

Cam grinned as he typed.  “Archaic?”

Nate rolled his eyes.  “Personal methods of research, but I do have to admit, having information at your fingertips like this does cut down on time.”

“I could show you how to do this, you know.  I’m pretty sure IT has a spare laptop they can assign you.”

He shuddered.  “No, I have one, it’s…” he took a breath.  “Let’s just say that technology and I don’t mix.”

Nicky’s words came to mind.  Those of us who resist change are bound to decay with time, my friend.  Besides, it’s fun to look back and see all the changes we’ve adapted to over the years, no?  Cam wisely kept those comments to himself.  “Well, the offer still stands.  If you ever need something looked up quickly, just let me know.”  He jumped as his phone began to vibrate at the table.  Picking it up, he saw that Winona had texted him.

Nicky’s dead again. Help me collect his dumb, horny ass from Hallway D-4.  He owes me a drink when he wakes up from having his head thrown down the hall.  Ew.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” he sighed, putting his laptop away in the bag he’d brought with him.  Luckily he hadn’t gotten around to pulling books out yet, but he slid his notebook back in its usual spot in his back jean pocket and the pen in an unused pocket of his laptop bag.  “Hopefully Helen will call things even now that she got her hands on Nicky and we can get back to business.”

“Good luck.  Give my sympathies to the cleaning staff.”

Cam waved as he left, shouldering his bag and wondering about how big a mess someone could make of a dead man without a working circulatory system.

Then he sighed.  As Nicky’s Commanding Agent, this was going to be one hell of an accident report he was going to have to write up.

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #cameron buchanan #nate sewell

[excindrela]

If You Take a Demon to Thanksgiving... (18+)

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV  x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff/ Humor and SMUT

Warnings: Explosions, Destruction, Unprotected sex (wrap it up people), foul language, use of the word “cock”

Word Count: 3277

AN: This is a continuation of Summoned so if you haven’t read that one, I recommend you read that one first! 

12 Days of Demon Ayno (Christmas) : Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

Happy Thanksgiving!

In retrospect, taking the boyfriend you had only been with for a month to Thanksgiving probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had. The fact that said boyfriend was also a demon that had been summoned specifically to fulfill your sexual fantasies, and your family was dysfunctional at best made the idea really really bad.

As distasteful as the idea of actually being human was to him, Ayno made a concerted effort to pretend to be one – to the best of his ability. As a demon, he didn’t need to sleep or eat or shower…or anything…he was just available 24 hrs a day to fulfill your every desire…and the fact that he always knew exactly what you desired- be it a cupcake or his cock- the moment you desired it, sometimes made things a bit complicated. Especially when it involved anyone but the two of you.

You had spent the week leading up to Thanksgiving explaining the holiday to Ayno, and going over a rather detailed chart you drew up of the part of your family you’d be visiting. He memorized the chart and asked questions about your step-father with his need to baby the dog and unhealthy addiction to reality TV, your mother’s obsession with decorating the house via Pinterest and her perpetually drunk brother, and your worthless step-brother (in the process learning what a “misdemeanor” and a “felony” were)…but really he just wanted to watch “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving” over and over.

You arrived promptly at 11 for a 2pm “dinner” with the promise to Ayno that you’d leave as soon as the dishes were done.

You barged through the door of your childhood home loudly calling “Hi Mom!” as you headed straight for the kitchen. “Hi honey! Oh! …and who’s this?” she asked glancing speculatively at the handsome stranger lurking over your shoulder. “Mom, this is Ayno. My…boyfriend. Ayno, this is my Mom.”  “Hi” he greeted. Sticking to the plan of keeping things simple and saying as little as possible. “Hello Ayno. Welcome.” Your mom replied before turning to you and saying pointedly “I wasn’t aware you were dating anyone…” You shrugged. “Surprise? I have a…boyfriend.” You said unapologetically. “I’m going to show Ayno around.” You said as you dragged him away from your mother before she could start asking questions.

In the den, you found your step-dad, milk-toast aunt and alcoholic uncle watching the football pregame while drinking beer and eating chips & dip. They barely acknowledged your presence, and if they were surprised to see you with a six foot Asian man following you around, they didn’t show it.

You poked your head into the dining room and checked out the table, already resplendent with a lace table cloth, battery powered pillar candles, and a giant turkey shaped tureen in the center – despite the fact that no soup was set to be served.

The living room, you explained as you crossed through it, was for looks only. Touching- or worse, sitting on-  your mother’s special furniture or disturbing her artistically arranged designer throw pillows was not tolerated.

Large sliding glass doors in the living room led to the patio and backyard. The patio had been swept and there was a stack of plastic chairs and tables to be set up. Your step father’s adored mutt, Patches, came running right up to Ayno, putting his paws up on his leg, demanding ear scratches which the soft demon happily supplied.  “What is that?” Ayno asked, pointing to a metal cylinder sitting in the middle of the yard. You walked over and examined it. “I think it’s a deep fryer.” You said suspiciously. “I think my step dad and uncle are going to try to deep fry the turkey.” You shook your head- this seemed like a bad idea. “At least my mom is making a ham, so something will be edible.”

“What is that?” Ayno asked again, this time pointing to the large oak tree in the corner of the yard. You laughed, “That is my treehouse! It was my favorite escape as a kid. C’mon, I’ll show you.” A moment later you had dragged Ayno across the yard and were climbing up the rickety ladder with him. You shoved hard, and the hatch opened to reveal the small space that had seemed so big in childhood. It was covered in dust, and the walls still had faded posters from your pre-teen years. “I spent hours up here. It was my happy place. I always envisioned it as being an escape and a private place during my teen years…but…that’s not how things worked out.” Sensing your wistfulness, Ayno bent his head and kissed you sweetly.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a car door signaling the arrival of your step-brother and voices in the yard. “Oh good! Ayno! C’mere & give us a hand with this.” Your step dad called as you descended the ladder. Ayno squeezed your hand reassuringly and went to help them.

The rest of the day proceeded like most awkward family events. Inappropriate and embarrassing stories were told, too many snacks and too much alcohol was consumed. Ayno stuck by you working in the kitchen, happy to do whatever was asked of him, and content to let you deflect conversation and answer questions about him. Eventually he felt comfortable enough to go sit on the patio with everyone and listen to your family’s chatter. Everyone seemed to think he was nice, if not a little odd.

You had serious doubts about the sanctity of the meal when your drunk uncle announced it was time to do the turkey, and came into the kitchen where you were assembling more snacks and yanked the still frozen fowl from the freezer and headed for the backyard.

In the next 3 minutes of your life events occurred simultaneously in what felt like slow motion.

“Will ya all jist shut the hell up? I know what I’m doin’!” your uncle said as he lowered the ice block of bird toward the overfull deep fryer. He released the clip and the turkey dropped like a bomb splashing into the vat and sending boiling oil flying into the air and cascading over the edges of the deep fryer straight into the flame below it. As soon as the frozen meat hit the scalding oil, everything exploded into a giant fireball raining hot flaming oil and chunks of turkey all over the dead un-mowed backyard, causing the whole thing to burst into 3 foot high flames.

The sound of the deep fryer being blown apart startled your mother so badly that she dropped the pan with the ham in it that she had just pulled out of the oven. The chunk of pork bounced out and the pan landed upside down in the middle of the kitchen floor, bubbling ham juice running out and turning the white tile brown. Something brushed passed your leg, and you looked down just in time to see Patches run into the kitchen making a beeline for the downed ham. Your mother saw it too, and she tried to run and grab the meat before the dog made off with the only (mostly) surviving entrée, forgetting about the bourbon and brown sugar grease lake that now coated the floor. You watched helplessly as her feet hit the grease and slipped right out from under her and she landed face down in the gooey puddle with a thunk on her right arm.

A blur out of your opposite eye diverted your attention back to the yard where your step-father was beating your slightly- on- fire uncle with a dry crispy chamois from the garage yelling “Roll, Duke, roll!!” He was distracted and missed the moment it became obvious that your step-brother had flunked high school chemistry class, because he turned the hose on to the raging grease fire turning it into what would later be known in your family as The Turkey Inferno.

You stood there, stupidly, as the mayhem raged around you, with a useless crudité platter in one hand and your forgotten cell phone in the other. You heard sirens in the distance, and hoped they were heading your way. And then, another sound: laughter. You looked over to see Ayno, laughing so hard he was crying, huge smile and face lit up, so delighted he was slumped back in the plastic lawn chair clapping his hands and his feet. “It looks just like the Seven Pools of the Damned!” he cried excitedly.

*          *          *

Two hours later, you were a hot, sweaty, filthy mess. After the fire department had arrived and hosed down the back yard in some kind of foam, and the ambulance had taken your mom and uncle to the hospital; you got to work cleaning up the kitchen, which was not only a disaster from the whirlwind of cooking, but now included the ham lake and burned sweet potatoes that had been forgotten in the oven. Ayno had helpfully begun un-setting the table and cleaning up the back patio.

Patches, having feasted on a whole ham and who knew what else, began throwing up and having explosive diarrhea all over the house. It was while cleaning up the 5th pile of puke that you discovered your good for nothing step-brother was sitting in the den watching football leaving you to do all the work. You handed him the paper towels and cleaning solution and told him to get off his lazy ass and clean up after the dog…he elected to go to the hospital to “check in on everyone”.

That was it. You were done. Everyone but you and Ayno had gone to the hospital, you hadn’t seen him for a while, and you weren’t sure where he was, and at the moment you didn’t actually care. You had a splitting headache and you were not doing this by yourself. You walked into the guest room and fell face down onto the bed.

You had no idea how long you had slept, but it was dark when you felt Ayno gently shake you awake. “No? Wha-“was all you got out before Ayno gave a soft “Shhhh” and placed his finger to your lips. He looped your arms around his neck and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up, yanking the quilt off the bed and wrapping it around you as he carried you through the dark house and across the still smoking backyard. He walked straight to the treehouse, and climbed the rickety ladder with you still wrapped around him like a baby koala.

Now you knew where he’d gotten to. He had cleaned up the tree house, and covered the entire floor in pillows that he’d swiped from the house. He’d even grabbed the battery powered candles from the dinner table, so the whole thing was bathed in soft fake candlelight. He set you down in the pile of pillows and closed the hatch.

Without a word he pulled you onto his lap and began kissing you. Softly at first, his hands on the sides of your face, but becoming harder and more needy by the second as his fingers threaded through your hair and his tongue plundered your mouth. He broke away long enough to pull your sweater off over your head, before returning his lips to your now exposed neck. His mouth worked its way from your jawline to your shoulder in a long trail of wet kisses punctuated by gentle sucking and bites that were just harsh enough you knew they would leave marks. You were so distracted by his mouth that you almost missed his hands unfastening your bra and tossing it to the side. The cold air coming in contact with your fully exposed breasts caused them to immediately flush and harden. You reached down and grabbed Ayno’s sweater and turtleneck and yanked them both off of him at the same time, desperate to press your cold skin against his unnatural warmth. He obliged you, taking the opportunity to begin marking up your shoulder as he hiked your skirt up over your thighs letting it pool around your waist. His hand slipped down to begin rubbing your throbbing clit through your silky underwear. You moaned softly and pressed your mound harder against his hand. Ayno lifted your hips slightly and re-settled you on his right thigh. “Ride it”, he whispered. You nodded and began rolling your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans, trying desperately to satisfy the ache he had created in your core. You gasped as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud, and then hollowing out his cheeks and sucking. You quickened your pace and trembled slightly at the friction. Breathy moans spilled from your lips as you felt your climax building and your thighs starting to shake. “Ayno…” you moaned, without slowing your pace, causing him to release your nipple with a lewd pop. “Ready to cum baby?” he asked rubbing your sides soothingly. You nodded and whined as your walls began clenching around nothing, feeling your wetness release and soak through Ayno’s pants to his skin. You dropped your head to his shoulder “Not enough, not enough…” you whined into his ear, “Fill me…please…” you begged. Ayno laid back into the pile of pillows unbuckling his belt so you could drag his pants to his ankles. You wasted no time pulling his boxer briefs down behind them, watching as his erect cock sprung free. You straddled his hips and he gently stroked himself a few times before holding it vertically so you could slide onto him. You moaned as you felt the tip of his length at your entrance, already so wet that you pushed him easily between your folds, until he was fully buried in you. Soft high pitched noises came from your mouth as you circled your hips feeling his slight movements deep within you as his fingers rubbed circles on your clit in time with your movements. Knowing you needed more, he lifted your hips up, and began jackhammering in and out of your sopping pussy from below. Every stroke the head of his cock pounded into your cervix, causing you to throw your head back and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Oh fuck yes! Don’t stop…” you gritted out through clenched teeth as your vision got hazy and your second orgasm hit you and you could swear the whole room was moving. Ayno released his grip on you and let you slide back down his shaft while he rolled his hips to let you come down from the high, but you still felt like you couldn’t get enough. You put your hands on the top of his pecs, fingers digging into his shoulders for leverage as you began lifting your hips up and slamming back into his harshly. The whole treehouse creaked and moaned with every thrust. “Not enough baby?” he asked breathlessly. “Noooo…” you moaned, “I just…I need…you feel so good…” you whined.

You thrust down hard and suddenly there was a loud crack. Not your imagination this time, the whole floor jolted down and tilted to the left. You froze. “Ayno…I think we have a problem…” He opened his mouth to reply when there was a loud snap and the entire floor detached with you and Ayno riding it like an elevator to hell, and went crashing to the ground below, pillows flying everywhere. Unable to be harmed by something as trivial as a six foot drop, Ayno wrapped himself protectively around you, holding your head to his chest and covering you with his arms.

Suddenly the still of the evening was split by the sounds of voices you knew all too well. “Oh my God!!” “What the shit was that?!” “Oh hell! The patio cover didn’t collapse did it?!” as the backyard floodlights came on and your family, having returned from the hospital unnoticed by you; came running across the yard to find you and Ayno, mostly naked, obviously in the middle of copulation, laying in the middle of the destroyed treehouse. You stared at them. They stared at you. Then it seemed your mother gathered her wits and took in the situation, a look of horror crossing her face as she screamed “OH MY GOD!! ARE THOSE MY CHENILLE THROW PILLOWS??? THOSE ARE POTTERY BARN!!” Ayno burst out laughing.

*          *          *

An hour after you got home you were feeling much better having showered off the horrific events of the day and slipped into your PJs. You found Ayno lounging on the couch in flannel pants and an oversize sweatshirt…hair having suddenly turned platinum blonde but his eyes still a deep chocolate brown according to your whims. He sat up just enough to grab you and pull you down to lay on top of him, wrapping his arms around you and giving you a quick kiss in the process.

“I have enjoyed this ‘Thanksgiving’. We should definitely participate in this more often. When is the next one?” Ayno asked happily.

“Sorry sweetheart. Thanksgiving is a once a year thing. There won’t be another one until November of next year.” you informed him.

“Very well. Then I will look forward to it.” he said with a smile.

“Ayno? You do understand that I mean 365 days from now?” you clarified.

He nodded. “I understand your measurements of time.” he said matter-of-factly.

You laid there stunned for a moment. Ayno was talking about a year from now…still being here a year from now. This was the first mention of anything long term, of some kind of permanence to the situation.

Ever attuned to you, Ayno looked you straight in the eyes and asked softly “Am I really your boyfriend?”

“Do you know what a boyfriend is?” you countered.

“Yes! ‘A male that is close to your heart. He is the one you can't stand to go a day without seeing. He provides everything you need, including sex, love, protection, comfort and an escape from the world. A lover who admires you for who you are. Knowing him makes you a better person. And being with him makes you smile.’”

Well. That was a startlingly accurate description. “Ayno, where did you hear that?”

“Urban Dictionary.”

“…and did Urban Dictionary tell you what a girlfriend is?”

“Uh-huh. ‘A female who you love, admire, respect, and desire to be with; a girl who makes you laugh, smile and who brings out the best in you, the one person that you should value over every other thing. You must protect her for she is the most special thing that could ever happen to you. She’s someone that you want to hug and kiss all the time and make love to, and is also able to bleed for a week without dying.’” He paused. “I find this description to be accurate of my feelings toward you...but I do not know if I meet the boyfriend requirements.”

You smiled down at him. “You more than meet them. Do you want to really want to be my boyfriend Ayno?”

He grinned. “Yes! In over 800 years I have never had a ‘girlfriend’. I promise I will take good care of you.”

“You already do.” You said as you snuggled into him and laid your head on his chest.

“So since I must wait for Thanksgiving again, is there another holiday that…how did your mother put it? We can ‘ruin forever’?” he asked hopefully.

“There’s a whole calendar full babe”, you laughed ruefully, “A whole calendar full.”

#ayno #vav ayno #vav smut #ayno smut #vav #noh yoonho #noh yoonho smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #demon #thanksgiving #ayno fluff

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

How to bear the unbearable?

Quarantine week 9, chemo week 15, cancer week 67

[Originally posted May 14, 2020]

I was hoping to write a longer, more thoughtful post about how heroism is boring, day to day, and how ill prepared we are for what it looks and feels like. And hopefully I will! But since I know that it's been a while since I've posted about how things are going, I thought I'd at least catch up those of you who don't follow me on Twitter.

The format makes it easier for me to write briefer updates there, but tonight I wrote more than Twitter usually likes to see about how I feel about my next chemo visit tomorrow (May 15th), which is my sixth on this (3rd) treatment course and the last before I get another set of scans. It's also the 3rd since quarantine began (I snuck one in on March 12th when I was still allowed a companion for the trip instead of chauffeurs). Here's my Twitter thread about it:

"I have chemo again tomorrow bc even though time is a construct I still have to go every 3 weeks. My emotions are all over the place. Most simply, I am tired & don’t want to go through this again. However, it’s some  of my only human contact so I’m also oddly excited.

I don’t mean physical contact (which is minimal & as distant as possible) but sharing space w/another person in silent company. It’s an exceptional circumstance so friends will drive me or sit on my (9 ft) sofa. I want to weep with relief about it, but also I’m angry. (2/)  

Why am I angry? Well, first we all are. This situation is outrageous, unbearable, & yet we must bear it. Second, I live with & suffer from cancer all the time not just every 3 weeks. I’m wracked with guilt & sadness about how much I need my people around me yet cannot ask. 3/)

I want them to make exceptions for me more than once or twice every 3 weeks. I don’t want to ask, though, bc many of them feel stressed by compromising even this much. They cry when they tell me they wish they could be here or, if they are, that wish they could hug me. (4/)

I have to talk my parents (80 & 76 w/an underlying condition) out of traveling to be with me & suspect & worry they will do it anyway. Of the 504 hours in 3 weeks I spend conservatively 480 alone (& I’m awake for probably 350 of them). It’s unsustainable, unbearable. (5/)

This is what I’m doing to help stop the spread. Living by myself w/stage 4 cancer, working FT, spending 160 hrs a week alone, excited for chemo so I won’t be. I’m angry that more is not offered me. But I’m furious that others don’t have more perspective on their own suffering.6/)

I have been doing this for 9 weeks. 9 weeks is more time in my lifespan than it is for most of yours. Do not take away another 3 months, 6 months, a year or two from me. I do not have that much spare time. I know it is unbearable, but please bear it a bit longer. (7/)

But also: if you do see me (or anyone) walking with a friend or sitting together in the sun, do not assume we are being irresponsible because we are young or because one of us has purple hair. You have no idea what people are bearing in private. Be cautious, but be kind. (fin)"

These past few weeks have felt strained for me too. Mostly I've been doing what everyone has been doing and just trying to get by, enjoying the sunshine when we have it (although it's been spitefully cold and rainy for spring), reading and watching TV, throwing myself into work (especially if it benefits other people), and burning myself out on video calls seeking connection.

When I'm at my least generous, I resent other people (including those I know and love) for only having to endure quarantine itself, or for getting to endure it with someone who loves them and whom they love. I resent the idea of the nuclear family that sanctions a group of 4 seeing one another in one instance, but which makes my friends (living in 1s and 2s and also isolating) feel that they cannot see me. I resent the idea of couplehood that makes me feel that what I'm enduring is somehow a just punishment for my singledom (already viewed as a defect). I feel these resentments, but then I remember to be kind, which is the braver and better thing.

But it cannot be denied that going through this with cancer, as I do every moment of every day not just when I have chemo, is worse than doing it without cancer. If I am quiet on here, or bad replying to texts, or not able to do another Zoom call, it may be because the situation is quite literally exhausting me. It is taking me longer to bounce back from chemo sessions than it used to (now a full week) and I am not able to tell whether that is because of the cumulative effects of the chemo drug (which I was warned about) or because of the psychological drag of the quarantine. I also now find that I can't even really talk on the phone after chemo--that my energy levels are so depleted that only the comfort of having another person around physically works for those worst couple days. It's hard to have the capabilities of your body cut you off from what might be psychologically nourishing.

Thank you, though, for all the good wishes and messages you send from afar (which, now, is nearly anywhere). They absolutely make a difference, as I check my phone repeatedly and incessantly to make sure that, really, I'm not as alone as I may feel. I hope that you are doing as well as you can be doing too, and that you are finding comforts where you can.

Love, Bex

#my life as a cancer patient #treatment update #may 2020 #covid and cancer #quarantine life #metastatic breast cancer #mbc #stage 4 #my fast-paced life #triple negative breast cancer #tnbc

[ansgar-martinsson]

Fair Winds and a Following Sky - Part 4

Kaffe Lilljekvist,  Malmskillnadsgatan 50, Stockholm, Sweden. Five Minutes Earlier...

Ansgar Martinsson squirmed in his chair, his knee bouncing a tattoo beneath the table, hidden by the white linen cloth.

The waitress had just delivered his kaffe. He had just lifted it to his lips, the scent of it wafting - thick, bitter, delicious - a fleeting moment of relaxation in a cup. He’d taken a small sip, smiling, when his phone had gone off. It wasn’t the normal single vibration that would signal a commonplace text. Rather, it was the insistent triple buzz designating a message from his head of security.

His body tensed. Almost fearful of the message, he drew the phone from his breast pocket and read the incoming text. 

[UA 3300 DFW-ORD-ARN arr 19 June 1300 hrs. Foreclosure sale 450k USD to bank. Last loc: Middagattan Hostel Stkhlm 20 June 0904 hrs.]

“Well,” he muttered, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip, “that’s a bit unexpected.” With a sigh, he set his thumbs on the screen of his Iphone and sent a message back.

[Current location?]

He stared at the screen, waiting for the indication that his message had been “Read” and for the three little dots which told him that his security chief was going to be johnny on the spot with an answer. 

But, he wasn’t. Wasn’t fast enough. Not enough for Ansgar’s rapidly fraying nerves. Bad enough that he’d learned Anna Fair Sky had been put through the hell of the loss of her barn, the rapid decay of her finances. Bad enough that Ansgar had known every sad, sordid detail, but had done fuck all about it. Worse now that she’d lost her home, that everything, according to his security chief, had been ripped away from her. 

And again, he did nothing. What could he do?  What should he do? What, swoop in like the saviour and.... No. She would never have let him. It had been over a year and a half since he last saw her - but she had been firmly on his mind the entire time. But again, what would she have him do? 

She’d have wanted you to tell her the truth, you asshole, he thought. You knew exactly where she was. You could have contacted her, called her, texted her, fucking snail mailed her, anything, but you didn’t. 

You spied on her, kept tabs on her like some creepy-ass fuck, when you could have... you could have helped her.

You God damn coward.

And now she was there, in Stockholm.  But where? But.... but why? Not to see him. Not to come to him for help, no... surely. Not to... 

“Fucking hell,” he swore, and again bent over his phone, thumbs moving over the screen.  

[Mickhail, you idiot, tell me where the hell she is!]

Ansgar resisted the temptation to slam his phone down on the table, to break the useless thing in half, to burst forth with a dissatisfied and angry growl. Rather, he took a deep breath, slid the device back in his breast pocket and slowly stood from the table. He closed his eyes, drawing a long breath in through a jut jaw, blowing it back out again on puffed cheeks. His coffee and kanelbuelle nearly untouched, he tossed a 500 kronor note onto the table, straightened his tie, and turned.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, seeing her... Anna Fair Sky Travidge... in the flesh. She sat in the high-backed chair across the room, eyes closed and seemingly asleep. He froze, uncharacteristically unsure of what to do, what to say, how the hell to approach her. He contemplated slipping away through the back door as was his wont; imagining himself in a cartoonish image, high-knee tiptoeing past her, his hands curved at his chest like a garishly masked Scooby Doo villain.

I’d have gotten away with it, too... if it weren’t for you meddling kids....

But that wouldn’t do. Not after he’d spent thousands of kronor keeping track of her, not after she’d flown thousands of miles... 

And so he decided to do what he did best. 

He adjusted his jacket cuffs, cracked his neck, and strode directly toward her. In spite of his footfalls on the wooden floor, in spite of the schuss and slip of his clothes, in spite of the sound of his breath, she kept her eyes closed - a strange, almost beatific look on her face. 

That was, until she opened her eyes, and nearly screamed her lungs out at the sight of him. “Ah, shit!” Her legs kicked out beneath her and she grasped the sides of the armchair, fingers splayed and stiff. Her face, in any other situation, would have been quite comical - dark eyes blown wide, brows nearly to her rounded hairline, and her mouth an almost perfect ‘o’. 

Ansgar had nearly laughed, but he let his mask of control fall into place. He pursed his lips, hardened his gaze, and cocked a sardonic eyebrow. “Do you mind telling me what the fuck you are doing here?” 

“I... I don’t....” She peered sharply up at him. “Do you... do you know me?”

He frowned, blinking. “Odd question, but, yes,” he said slowly. “I do know you.” His lips curved into a wry bow. “In fact, I know you quite intimately. And you know me, Sháńdíín.”

A strange expression crossed her features, a melange of sadness, shock, regret, desire, and relief. Yet, she looked, in Ansgar’s estimation, ill - absolutely shredded. Her eyes were dull and shadowed, cheeks hollowed and lips streaked pale and dry. She remained quiet, too quiet, merely staring at Ansgar for a long moment, as if the world had suddenly stopped around her.

Ansgar let his own visage soften, showing her a small, genuine smile. “Anna, darling, I know it’s been some time, but... it is me,” he said, reaching for her. “I swear.”

She swallowed, shook her head emphatically, and said, “No, I can’t do this.” She grabbed her backpack in a flurry of movement, and made a beeline for the front door. “Sorry, gotta go,” she muttered, slinging her pack on her shoulder.

“Wait!” Ansgar dashed after her and caught her up, his hand clutched around her upper arm. “Anna,” he breathed. “Stop, don’t leave.” He pulled her gently toward him, his thumb caressing her skin just beneath her black short sleeve. “Not yet.”

“Alan, please,” she hissed. “Let me go.”

“My name isn’t Alan, but you probably already got that.”

“Sheh. I knew that the day I met you,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “But... I know your name now. It’s Ansgar.“

He smiled. “Top marks. You’ve done your research.” He stepped closer to her, keeping his grip on her arm. “Come with me, right now,” he whispered, and turned her carefully around to face him, keeping her at an arm’s distance. 

He peered around the cafe, ensuring that no one was watching them. Satisfied to be out of the sight of prying eyes... or cameras... he brushed his hand down her arm and wound his fingers in hers, his palm to her palm. “Come back to mine, and we can talk. But first, you’ll rest. You’re exhausted.”

#fair winds and a following sky

[fuckingfroggymemesorsomeshit]

Yknow I’ve spent the last 3-4 weeks day in and day out doing nothing but playing monster hunter world trying to beat it and since I’ve spent well over 100 hrs on it I’m going to make a long post on how I feel about every monster fuck you

Great Jagras - A very well designed first monster. He has a cool gimmick, he introduces the new player to the initially clunky feeling combat and is visually appealing. His end game switch axe is surprisingly good.

Pukei-Pukei - A very good second monster. He’s still not difficult to fight at all, but introduces status condition and flight, as well as a severable tail and more interesting environments to fight in. Very visually appealing, that tail is just begging to be cut off.

Kulu-Yaku - First bird wyvern you fight, and it’s meh. It’s a very fun fight if you use big, heavy hitting weapons like the hammer or greatsword, as he just gets absolutely fucked. His reactions to getting hit are probably the only thing that makes the fight interesting. One thing to note, he is the first monster with a truly heavy hitting move, his leap attack. This introduces you to stun and also backing the fuck away.

Barroth - One of my favorite monsters to fight with a hammer. Really a monster you can just butcher as there’s so many breakable parts on him. Breaking all the hardened mud is satisfying enough, but cracking part of his scalp off and severing his tail almost makes me feel bad for him. Doesn’t bring anything entirely new to the table though other than slinger thorns and environmental traps. Another underrated switch axe on this one.

Jyuratodus - Like the Barroth, this is a fun monster to break up, however the lack of actual severing makes him a bit less interesting. Introduces you to environmental hazards for the hunter, the deep water.

Tobi Kadachi - This monster is the first “difficult” monster you’ll fight, even though he isn’t the most challenging. He has the ability to paralyze you and his rapid attacks can also stun you. He often uses a high damage slam with his tail and moves around faster and more often than any of the previous monsters, and has less attacks that leave obvious openings. He’s the first real monster you fight, very pretty, some really cool looking gear.

Anjanath - One of the poster children of the game, Anjanath seems almost misplaced in this game. Most monsters seem somewhat alien or altered enough from the animal they’re inspired by to fit in this fantasy world, but Anjanath is just a T-Rex. He does breathe fire in his enraged form and his fins give him some uniqueness, but his normal form is just boring. As for fighting, he is quite difficult to begin with, and he has some real hard hitting moves. You may even cart three times to him or run out of time the first attempt, as his weak spots are harder to hit and his damage is higher than any monster before. Very cool weapon designs and okay armor.

Rathian - Rathian is very intimidating at first. Coming off the fight with Anjanath, this seemingly bigger and badder monster appears to be a step up the food chain. And Rathian is somewhat challenging, with access to heavy hitting moves, two status conditions, and true, albeit short and infrequent flight. However, once you realize you can just flash pod flying monsters out of the air for a free knockdown, and that Rathian is significantly weaker after severing her tail, this fight really isn’t too bad. My favorite gunlance in the game comes from Rathian, and the overall design is good.

Tzitzi-Yaku - The Barroth of bird Wyverns. Something about this wimpy Kulu clone with a blind is just so satisfying to bludgeon. I think it’s the fact that you can break his photophores and he will attempt to flash you anyways, despite not having the ability. He has the expressive reactions of Kulu-Yaku and the satisfying breaks of Barroth, with some actually sort of cool armor. What more could you want?

Paolumu - Surprisingly difficult. Paolumu’s tail and hind legs are tough and easy to bounce off of, and he has some truly devastating attacks coming from his front side, making fighting him feel a bit weird. He also stays in the air for a really, really long time, forcing the player to either flash pod or use high hitting moves instead of their normal rotation.

Great Girros - The least satisfying punching bag in the game. This fight in concept is supposed to have you outnumbered, where the real boss is the adds. However, if you use any wide hitting attacks, you will kill all the less Girros before they become an issue, making Great Girros kind of just a slightly larger, lone Girros with more health. Probably the least interesting fight in the game.

Radobaan - The largest monster you’ll have fought so far, Radobaan is truly a spectacle. His appearance is one of the most unique in the game, with tar covering his entire body and bones from other monsters sticking to it and forming an armor for him. Breaking these bones is incredibly satisfying, and his rolling mechanic is somewhat fresh at this point in the game. Armor is quite cool, 7/10.

Legiana - The first apex predator you fight, Legiana can be quite challenging. Her Iceblight makes stamina management a hassle and most of her moves do very high damage. The best way to fight her is to flash pod her out of the sky and mount her as often as possible, keeping her grounded while you focus on her head and stun her. Armor is nice, monster design is very pretty.

Odogaron - My least favorite apex predator. Odogaron does have some nice armor and weapons, but there’s just something about fighting Odogaron that just feels bad. He moves around more than any monster you’ve fought yet, excluding maybe Legiana. Perhaps it’s because I’ve only fought him with heavy hitting, slow weapons, but this fight just feels unsatisfying. He never sits still, and even when he’s knocked over or stunned, he’s flailing about wildly, making his head hard to target. As a hammer user, you see the issue.

Rathalos - Rathian’s boyfriend and an icon of the series. Rathalos is basically just the real Rathian fight. He has true flight that keeps him airborne often and for long periods. makes better use of his fire, has poison talons, and is much more aggressive. This armor is some of the coolest in the game and his sword and shield are my favorite SnS in the game.

Diablos - My favorite apex predator. Diablos is what got me into hammers in my first play through. I had settled for bows, the hunting horn, and the insect glaive before this fight, but something wasn’t working. Diablos was fast, had one shot attacks, and kept me staggered with either his roar or tremor, either knocking me out of the air or keeping me in one spot due to my slow weapons while he charged me. I picked up the hammer, and with it’s increased move speed and stun power, the Diablos was easy to beat. Also, another good monster to just brutalize. You can break both horns as well as chop off the tail.

Kirin - The first elder dragon fight. Kirin, despite giving me a similar situation to Diablos, is a monster I think I hate. It’s fight is definitely the most unique in the game, and it makes you change your play style to fit how it wants you to play, but it just is frustrating to play against. Every other move stuns you, every other move paralyzes you, and this wouldn’t be a huge deal if every other move wasn’t a one shot. Getting caught off guard twice in a row is a death sentence. I haven’t even mentioned that unless you’re hitting it’s ridiculously small head, your attack will bounce off, and then while you’re stuck in the bounce animation, you’ll probably get stunned. Wear thunderproof mantle, use gunlance, and the fight is trivialized, but still not fun.

Zorah Magdaros - I really don’t consider this monster a fight, since you just run around on its back or shoot cannons at it from afar. Okay design, kinda boring, and cool armor/weapons.

Dodogama - Cutest monster in the game, another one you can just go to town on. Break it’s jaw, break it’s tail, break it’s back. This monster has some massive damage, but it’s very telegraphed and easy to avoid, while giving the player every opportunity to punish. Pretty cool armor with good stats.

Pink Rathian - Rathian but pink and with harder scales, an okay monster but overall nothing special.

Bazelgeuse - One of my favorite monster designs. The sleek, smooth scales on the monster make me wanna pet it really bad. A fun fight, his carpet bomb is nothing to scoff at but he never feels like bullshit. Some of the coolest armor and weapons in the game.

Laviosoth - Maybe the most forgettable monster in the game. I really forget what this monster does.

Uragaan - Radobaan wishes he could be Uragaan. The easy to break bones of other monsters that coat Radobaan are overshadowed by the home grown plates of steel that cover Uragaan. His fire attack and bombing runs are devastating, and his chin can one shot you. Also you can mine his back, neat. Armor looks a bit goofy, but I guess so does everything in this game.

Azure Rathalos - Just like how regular Rathalos is the better Rathian, Azure Rathalos is the better Pink Rathian. This is a subspecies that actually changes the way you approach the Rathalos fight, as Azure Rathalos is almost always airborne and spamming fire attacks. Bring flash pods as always, but he may become immune to their effect before you kill him, making the fight much more challenging for melee users.

Black Diablos - Literally no different than Diablos, what’s the difference supposed to be? I dunno. They seem to fight the exact same, but one is black. I think Black Diablos has a new move that functionally is no different from the move it’s a variation of except it has a back hit box?

Nergigante - The best fight for hammers, and the star monster of MHW. The initial area that Nergigante spawns in is filled with places to slide attack with the hammer, really making the fight trivial, given the aerial attacks from the hammer are the best in the game. Nergigantes design is okay, I really think it leaves something to be desired, and the regrowth mechanic seems kinda weird for some reason. I dunno, I don’t like Nergigante as much as I could.

Teostra - One of my favorite visual designs, Teostra has some of the coolest looking armor in the game and a fairly fun, if not uninspired and bland fight. The fire dragon has fire attacks except they’re technically blast, nothing special. Very soft looking, would pet.

Kushala Daora - I think they nerfed this monsters tornado spawn rate since I first played, but my initial encounter with this monster was the most annoying of anything. Kushala is almost always airborne and moves very quickly. Kushala will becomes immune to flash pods. Kushala spawns a lot of tornadoes. At one point, this monster had spawned so many tornadoes that the area I was fighting in was literally filled by tornadoes and there was no walkable area, my poor character was permanently staggered and I could do nothing until Kushala decided to leave. Cool design though, and honestly very cool armor, but I am too afraid to fight Kushala again so I will never farm it

Vaal Hazak - Easiest elder dragon fight, I think Capcom figured that Vaal’s ability to cut your health in half was very strong, so they counter balanced it by giving it no good attacks. Everything is slow and telegraphed and it’s full of weak points. I really don’t have much to say. Okay armor, really cool weapons.

Xeno’jiva - Man, am I glad this isn’t really the final boss. This fight is uninspired, boring, and a slog. There is no part where you are in danger, every move is slow and telegraphed, the only challenge is staying awake. Xeno’jiva is visually uninteresting and has some of the worst weapon designs in the game, they’re literally just stock weapons with Xeno’jiva skins on them, it’s so fucking gay. I am so glad Iceborne’s final boss completely blew Xeno’jiva out of the water.

Pt 2 and Iceborne next post

[fortunatelycooltrash]

So people love to say that America doesn’t have free healthcare because the quality would sink and the waits would go up. Now, while those are valid worries despite being no excuse for the atrociously high prices of even minior procedures, I’d like to share some bullshit that I’ve experienced involving normal US hospitals and medical branches alike.

My root canal is going to cost 2500 dollars because it is not covered by most dental plans despite it being a completely necessary procedure that directly affects my health. Absorb that then absorb the fact this plan covers some of braces. The crown alone is costing over 1200.

I almost died in a hospital waiting room because my ‘stomach ache’ that was causing me so much pain I was sick with it wasn’t severe enough to qualify for immediate attention. Undiagnosed Appendicitis.

My nephew and sister almost met their end because an incompetent doctor misdiagnosed my sister with a URI. She had type A flu.

My cousins father had a doctor who refused to diagnose him despite him coming back constantly because of lethargy. Said he couldn’t find anything wrong. Her father was poor and had really bad insurance. Finally he went to another doctor and was diagnosed with kidney cancer. He could have lived if he had been diagnosed a year or two prior before it spead but by the time he got his diagnosis, it was too late. He died, I believe, a few months later but I was young so he might have made it a year or longer.

I suffered from chronic nosebleeds as a child to the point that blood didn’t even scare me anymore. The doctor told my mother that it was coming from wounds inside my nose and I was most likely picking at it and there was nothing medically wrong with me. My mother, knowing even as a child I knew not to waste her money, took me to another doctor. Severe Anemia. Still suffer from it too this day. Have to take those horrid tasting red pills🤢.

My aunt constantly butchering her budget because she needs her insulin and it’s cost keeps getting higher despite it remaining relatively the same. Luckily my state is looking to cap it at 100 though if that will actually go into effect isn’t determined yet.

My mom, bless her, repeatedly going in for her back aching only to be told pain was normal for someone of her weight and age. Nope, she is a nurse and turned people that were 300 pounds or more. She had completely blown her back and had a pinched nerve that was so severe she could barely stand without pain. The doctor that diagnosed her was surprised she could even walk.

My sister, having a grand mal seizure in the nurses office of a high school. They told her to stop faking. That bitch wasn’t even a real nurse so this one doesn’t count but I had to mention this because why the fuck wasn’t a registered nurse hired?

My (other) aunt having minor chest pain then suffering a heart attack in the waiting room because they had her wait so long since she didn’t seem serious. I’m sure that’s going to have lasting damage that could have been easily prevented.

My sister giving birth and getting a 28,000 dollar bill for a room and care for her and the baby. She was there for a day and a half. She didn’t even have a long or complicated delivery.

My mother being told she was completely fine to continue working despite having an off feeling about her third pregnancy(about 24 years ago) the doctor told her there were no complications and she could go on as normal. She miscarried her seven month along daughter three days later because her placenta was underneath the baby and tore. That doctor is still in practice.

The nurses in my mothers delivery room ignoring both her and the monitor. Which, if they had been looking at, clearly desplayed my older brother with his umbilical core wrapped tight around his neck. He lived because my moms main doctor walked in and had a conniption fit when he noticed the vitals dropping. He’s the doc my sis uses now. A good man.

(Same bro)My older brother turning blue everytime he cried being brushed off. Hole in his heart that has since closed.

When I was younger, I slipped in the shower and hit my head so hard against the metal lining of it(stall shower) that the skin split open and abscessed. My doc treated the abscess but did no further testing after a 4 hour wait. As we were leaving, I don’t remember much of this week my mom told me, I vomited and passed out in the parking lot. Had a concussion.

My brother being misdiagnosed with the flu, strep, and a few other things over the course of a few weeks before one doctor finally tested him for HIV. It was positive. Luckily he only had one partner. Unluckily, the partner was the one that gave it to him via cheating on him.

Me, almost dying of a violent case of strep throat because they said I had a sinus infection. My fever peaked at 104 then, blessedly, broke. I do not remember this as the memories of the days I was sick are incredibly fever burned but I remember wrapping blankets around me because I was so cold.

The strep attacked so quick and harshly that if I had lived alone it probably would have killed me since I wouldn’t have been able to get help and I would’ve kept trying to get ‘warmer’ and helped raise my temp over 106. You typically don’t come back from that one unharmed. If at all.

My older bro(cord baby) being told suffering from auditory hallucinations was a common thing(not wrong but they should have actually asked about his family history and idk, did more??) he had undiagnosed bipolar disorder. He is medicated and much happier now.

Me breaking my gotdamn pointer knuckle and the x-ray person getting blurry x-rays that she used despite the fact that they weren’t accurate. Thank you bitch, now my abnormally short pointer finger clicks because it began to set wrong.

Theres a few more but I’m currently giving my bro a hard time for texting me a text meant for his bf so imma bounce for now. May add more later. The whole point to this was to show people that don’t want free health care because the ‘quality would go down’ or the ‘wait would be too long’ that the wait is already long enough for you to die anyway and the quality already sucks ass if you’re poor because they will not diagnose you correctly.

Or They will misdiagnose you then blame YOU when you sue(happened to my mom in that miscarriage one but because he hadn’t wrote a release back to work she had no actual proof he’d told her she could.)

Or They will overcharge you for things that have a far cheaper value simply because they can and you can’t do anything about it because you need that procedure or medicine to keep your health good.

I can understand things like heart surgery or transplants, you know, the big major stuff not being free because yeah that shit takes a fuck ton of resources and care so I get it, I do. I can reasonably say “Yup that should cost thousands.” I mean, I’m don’t even avocate for fully FREE healthcare, I just want a limit on their overpricing bull shit to where it matches with economic standards.

You can’t expect someone with an average 7-4 job that pays 10/hr(oooh ya, y’all think I’d go higher? Guess what, young people starting out their careers also get sick!) to drop thousands upon thousands of dollars for whatever. The sad thing is I can say ‘whatever’ and you can actually think of multiple things that aren’t that major or that resource draining yet still cost thousands.

Even someone making 15/hour couldn’t do that and I’d be hard pressed to say even 20-25/hr could do that. They may have it better and be able to pay it off faster but they’d still be in debt for a while or have to work years after their planned retirement to make up for the lost savings if they were lucky enough to have them.

I’ve also heard people complaining about it raising taxes but you’ll spend way more getting something done at a hospital then you’d spend on those taxes in a year.

Besides, if you’re so pissed about taxes then to even it out protest the stupid taxes. Your house? Taxed. Your inheritance that you gain but also leave behind to care for your family? Taxed. Your property that you bought 100% full price paid? Taxed every year. Your car? Taxed.

How bout getting pissed about those instead of getting pissy about people getting their health fixed? There are plenty of ridiculous taxes so I don’t know why people are so against having one that actually helps people.

Sorry for this rant, I know it’s not centered around my profile theme but I am majorly pissed off that I’m about to have to let a tooth rot out of my head because my insurance decided that: covering something cosmetic like braces? Yeah! Covering a completely necessary surgery that can actually harm/kill the person via infection if left untreated? Nope, that costs us more!

I can’t drop two fucking grand on dental surgery. It’s just not happening. I don’t know anyone who can do that shit. Anyone who gets pissed off about me posting this: go slam a hammer against your tooth until it cracks down the middle, exposing your nerve to the harsh unforgiving world then let it develop a cavity around it.

Afterwards, try to eat literally anything: hot, cold, hard, soft, it doesn’t matter. You’ll cry, I promise. Now imagine being told the only way to fix that is to cough up over two grand and if you can’t well then oh fucking well? Kinda hurts ya a bit. Not nearly as much as the tooth but still.

Hell, I know dental probably wouldnt even get covered if they made healthcare reduced or free but this whole situation has reminded me just how fucked you are if you get anything remotely wrong with you in the U.S

#freehealthcare #no i dont plan on having kid too many bad genes #america #americanhealthcare

[angryinternetduck]

Good Years

1.7k words on Zayn in One Direction and potential inspiration for Good Years.  Warning: this fic deals with anxiety and also a little bit of alcohol abuse! Please stay safe!  Also - slight use of bad language.  When she was little, Walihaya Malik loved to sing karaoke. She loved to sing her heart out, and the only thing that made the whole experience that much better than a fancy microphone was singing with her older brother. 

Which meant Zayn was constantly roped into the singing festivities. And most of the time, it was fun. It was only less than wonderful when she asked him to play about every other night. Singing the same songs over and over again multiple nights in a row wasn’t exactly Zayn’s idea of a good time. 

It was exhausting. There was nothing worse than that heavy feeling of weariness that came with the lack of energy that it took to have fun. Or worse, to look like you’re having fun, which happened any time Walihaya gave Zayn the puppy eyes when he’d collapse on the couch after a song. 

Going on tour with the band was trying to look like you’re having fun constantly. 

Constantly meaning every single night. 

For a year. Straight. 

And then again. 

And again, and again. 

_____________________________________________________________

Zayn felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

He felt like his ribs were contracting, like his chest was caving in on his lungs. 

They had a show in a few hours. He didn’t think he could do it. He felt light-headed and sick and he had a headache. Liam kept telling him to eat, but Zayn couldn’t even look at Niall’s jumbo platter from Nando’s without wanting to hurl. 

All he wanted to do was go outside. He wanted to sit in front of a tree and draw and just be alone in the silence and the sunlight. He wanted to breathe, to feel the wind and the sun and the nature and watch the clouds and the birds and the flowers. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even open a bloody window without hearing the screaming masses. He loved the fans, he really did, but they got on his nerves when they stopped him from going outside and suffocated him. 

He went through the motions during rehearsals and sat in the toilets during the in-betweens, almost wanting to throw up just to get the feeling of nausea out of his stomach. It didn’t work, and Zayn wanted to call quits on the show. 

He didn’t. He couldn’t. 

_____________________________________________________________

1 AM, GMT+1 - 2 HRS. POST-SHOW

LONDON, ENGLAND, UNITED KINGDOM

ROOM 112, THE RITZ

“You think we’ve wasted all our good years?” Zayn asked quietly, staring at the ceiling of Niall’s hotel room. “No doubt about it,” Louis replied. There was a clink, and Zayn looked up to see his glass of whiskey magically refilled. 

“Ah, cheers,” Zayn murmured, taking a sip. 

“Bloody hell,” Harry sighed, reaching for the bottle himself. “We’re gonna be dead tomorrow.” Zayn gave a wry smile. “Wouldn’t mind that all that much,” he said, and Liam nodded. “Be a bit of a relief, wouldn’t it?” 

“It’s too late for this shit,” Niall murmured, and Zayn smiled, knowing that he was curled up in his bed, practically already asleep. “Go to sleep, Ni,” he said. “You’re just -” Niall cut him off with a pillow thrown in his face. 

“I’m trying,” he insisted. “You lot are too bloody loud!” 

“Oi!” Louis exclaimed. “You’re the one who invited us!” 

Niall groaned. “No, I didn’t! I said I had a few bottles of Guinness, and if you wanted to come up for a few minutes, you could! Not that we should stay up talking shit until two in the bloody morning!” 

“You should really know better by now,” Harry said through a yawn. 

“We really should sleep, though,” Liam murmured, but he didn’t make any moves to get up. “Maybe we should just… not,” Zayn said. “We could just… refuse.” That got a laugh out of Louis, who chuckled and stood up with a stretch. 

“That,” he said, heading for the door, “would be quite entertaining. Good luck with that. Night, lads.” Zayn yawned, shifting into the sofa he was lying on. “I’m not moving,” he grumbled, and Liam sighed. “You’ll get yelled at tomorrow…” 

“You know how many fucks I give?” Zayn asked, and Liam sighed again, evidently already aware of his answer. “How many, Zayn?” he asked tiredly.“Zero, Payno,” Zayn said. “Zero. No fucks. Nada. I could not care less if I tried. And I’m not trying.”

“Right,” Liam said. “Night, then. Harry? Comin’ with?” 

A clink. Zayn peeked an eye open to see the bottle of whiskey, empty on the table, and Harry dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” he slurred, and he followed Liam out of the hotel room. 

“Night, Ni,” Zayn mumbled. 

Niall gave him only a loud snore in reply. 

Zayn got in trouble the next morning. 

He still didn’t give a fuck. 

_____________________________________________________________

Zayn closed his eyes, gripping his mic tight and holding back the tears. Just an hour more, he told himself. One more hour, and he’d be in bed. No more people, no more screams, just him and the silence. 

The music began. The crowd roared. 

Zayn bit his lip as the tears threatened to spill over. 

A crowd of tears, he thought miserably, forcing a smile to his face. 

A crowd of a thousand tears. 

_____________________________________________________________

“Honestly,” Louis said softly, watching the crowd with a frown, “I would rather be anywhere else right now. Like, the North Pole sounds about perfect at the moment.” Zayn gave a weak attempt at a smile. “Imagine leaving, right now? Just… walking out? Think there’d be a scandal?” 

Louis laughed. “Oh, you bet. World would probably go up in flames, it would.” 

“If only,” Zayn murmured. 

“If only,” Louis echoed. 

And then he was smiling, running down the platform with all the energy in the world, and screaming and bouncing and jumping up and down and singing with all his heart like it was no big deal. 

As he walked down the platform himself, barely keeping a smile on his face, Zayn wondered how the bloody hell Louis could agree with his miserable notions one moment and be beaming and laughing the next. 

For the life of him, he just could not figure it out. 

_____________________________________________________________

MIDNIGHT, PDT - 1 HR. POST SHOW

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES of AMERICA

A CLUB SOMEWHERE IN BEVERLY HILLS

Zayn felt like 

he was on top 

of the world. 

Everything was spinning, everything was blurry, he heard voices screaming loud as bloody hell and Zayn loved it because nobody liked silence after a good show. He was drinking some sort of alcohol, dancing with the boys, drunk off his face. 

He was a superstar, he kept thinking. 

He was at a club, in Beverly Hills, in the United States of America. 

Him. Zain Javadd Malik. That little boy from Bradford.  

Was a star. 

Who’da thunk?

Not Zayn, that’s for damn sure. 

 He wished he could feel like that forever. He was absolutely content, bouncing and laughing drunkenly but somehow completely calm and still and collected at the same time. He could breathe, he could think (mostly), he didn’t have a worry in the world. 

Nothing in the world could ever bring him down. 

He was sure of it. 

The hangover the next morning brought him down. 

It was rubbish. 

Zayn vowed never to drink again. 

He broke that vow the next night, after the next show. 

The next morning brought another vow, and the next night brought another broken one. 

It was a vicious cycle. 

_____________________________________________________________

A fan. 

Zayn couldn’t remember her name. 

She was nice, and proper fit, if Zayn recalled that much, and had a nice smile. 

And she asked Zayn, Are you okay?

And she said in such a way, in such a tone, that Zayn almost broke down and started crying right then and there. She’d touched his elbow, just a bit, and looked into his eyes, and asked, and it took all of Zayn’s strength not to collapse in sobs. 

“‘Course I’m alright,” he said instead. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Shows in your eyes,” she said quietly, “when you’re upset. If somebody holds pain, deep inside them, they can usually keep it off their face. But you can’t keep it out of your eyes, Zayn.” She paused, giving him a smile. “Don’t keep it all in, eh?” she told him. “Can’t have you dying on us.” 

Zayn swallowed back the tears and nodded. 

“I’ll do my best,” he said truthfully. “Just for you.” 

_____________________________________________________________

Zayn stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, a little drunk. 

He watched the ceiling fan spin round and let himself think.

He was done with One Direction. 

They’d go off, do their thing, and Zayn would do his. 

ZAYN. 

They were already starting the album process. 

Zayn hummed a melody they’d pitched, remembering that drunken conversation in the Ritz of London. He thought of all the crazy times he’d had with the boys, all the insane concerts and ridiculous fan experiences. He thought of the amazing fan mail and the countless compliments, of the trillions of Tweets and colorful signs. He thought of the kindness of the fans and the love they’d given, of their loyal support and unrelenting adoration.

But then he thought of the drugs and alcohol and hung-over mornings spent face-first in the toilets. And he thought of all the mornings spent face-first in the toilets not because of hangovers, but because of pressure and tension and fear. He thought of the panic attacks and stomach-wrenching stress and suffocating afternoons spent trapped in screaming-mass surrounded hotels.

Staring at the ceiling fan, Zayn realized with a start that he was already 22 years old; he’d basically reached his prime in life but was only just beginning his career as a soloist and - dare he say it - his career as a serious artist with respectable music. 

All he could do now, he thought tiredly, was pray he hadn’t wasted all his good years. 

_____________________________________________________________

Tell me: 

1. your thoughts on Icarus Falls 2. if any of the boys’ solo songs makes you cry  3. if you’ve ever been to a 1D or solo concert 4. your thoughts on panera bread or! 5. Tell me anything!!! Feedback is always much appreciated :) 

#zayn malik #zayn malik drabble #zayn malik blurb #good years #stream icarus falls #!!!!!! #zayn #zayn fanfic #zm #zayn drabble #zayn blurb #idk #one direction #fanfic #anxiety tw #kinda sad #protect zayn malik!!!