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dariuskurwa · 11 months ago

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Was searching for get to know my OC meme and discovered this huge 100 (!) questions to your OC post! Sadly no one will ask me cause this blog is currently at 0 followers, so I decided to just reblog it on this page and provide a more or less full guide to my own OC using these prompts (so everyone who wants could get to know him a little bit better). To make it clear, my OC's pronouns are he/him.

1. He usually starts off as a likeable guy, trying to get as close as possible. Just keep in mind that all information, which he would pretend to be getting from you face-to-face, must have been collected in advance.

2. Animals? Ofc, he does!

3. Bro's style varies according to the mood and occasion. What is particular about it is that black is a staple color in his closet.

4. His two primary languages are Spanish and Nahuatl. He also has good command of English.

5. It used to be him, his older brother Hernando Yaotl, his dad Cualli, his mom Guadelupe, his adopted older sister Nenetl and his dad's Xolo dog called Cipactli.

6. Bro is one of the leading antagonists.

7. He might not be the star of a hand-to-hand combat, but his reaction time and shooting skills keep him safe.

8. Disney villain's background type of story.

9. He was given two proper names: Miguel and Tlanextli. Miguel is a Spanish name and has the meaning of "who is like God". Tlanextli translates from Nahuatl as "radiance, splendor".

10. V-13, El Huracán and El Poca are his nicknames within the cartel. When he was younger, he was also called Migui, which is a diminutive form of his proper name used by his family members.

11. Bro is constantly into someone.

12. What doesn't kill him, makes him stronger.

13. He himself is his closest ally.

14. He's hunted by the spirits of the dead in the aftermath.

15. Flexible, charismatic, ethusiastic, playful, brutal.

16. He was among the top 5 characters who started it all, however, didn't have much personality until 2021. In 2021, the universe expanded, and more background data and characters to interact with were added to the plot. Hence his personality evolved.

17. Yes, he does. If the others don't get along with him on the other hand, then it's their problem.

18. Being too handsome, ikr?

19. He messes with a lot of people.

20. Tall, handsome, sus creature with dark, long, curly hair and magnetic look in his eyes.

21. Jewelry making.

22. If I researched this correctly, "a tick" is what makes a person behave in a certain way. So, he might be a bit silly around girls (or boys) he's madly in love with. He also has a thing for mango fruit cups—the whole world's gonna wait until he has one.

23. Ew, nah.

24. Bro loves wildlife, he considers his jaguar female one of the most precious possessions he's ever had.

25. His person of choice would most certainly be the one being too unhinged to have crossed the line, and the prank wouldn't be really a prank, it would be a whole ass homi€ide.

26. Bro has successfully survived until the age of 21, so definitely.

27. He isn't into fiction that much, so street smart. He's pretty good at strategy though.

28. Bro is usually either smart enough or just lucky to have the situation be worked out by his older sibling who's in power.

29. All at once.

30. He enjoyes vibing to cumbia and tejano.

31. With pain. No pain, no gain.

32. He's strong in the moment, but always breaks thereafter.

33. If we're talking magical abilities, then not really, but his night vision is extremely superior to that of an average human.

34. Developed from being a cinnamon bun weirdo to an emo villain sporadically out of control. There's kind of a redemption arc going on, but its authenticity is questionable.

35. There was a very close friend of his whom he treated like shit once. He's now gaslighting himself into believing they're still friends.

36. On hiatus.

37. To some people—absolutely.

38. It depends on the perspective.

39. A lot of them.

40. He is a failed and spoilt person.

41. Pretty cool until the pandemic happened (we're talking cholera back in the 90s) and someone came to destroy his little fairytale world. It just started to fall apart.

42. Bro doesn't need anyone for that, he's perfectly fine to do it himself.

43. Bro is very adaptable, he has mind of a mastermind.

44. Soft spoken around the people he admires, hot-headed around those who are bold to get on his nerves. Can be rather vulgar in pillow talk, by the way.

45. Bruh IS the violence.

46. It's on the 15th of March.

47. He has his icks, but he'll always give a chance to make sure.

48. Probably, how vulnerable he in fact is.

49. Yes, definitely. He's nice around the people he respects, likes and wants to be nice around. He is a bitch is he feels attacked or exposed.

50. He does. His home screams ultimate Pinterest aesthetics boss.

51. He's interested in botanics for the specific reason. He's also keen on linguistics (it's not a science discipline, but needs to be mentioned).

52. He is logical, but gets very emotional real quick.

53. Not in the most healthy way.

54. By crying his poor fate out alone in the room with the lights turned down.

55. Wealth, power and true love.

56. He might have not met a worthy enough person yet.

57. Make everyone around just as happy.

58. As a coin. No matter how nice he is, there has to be the other side to him.

59. He is prone to giving stupid or insulting nicknames and never hesitate to sprinkle with them here and there.

60. Side.

61. The crowd doesn't bother him.

62. By playing videogames with his buddy or by engaging in his hobbies.

63. He's constantly abusing someone verbally. He was also responsible for some horrible acts of violence that still haunt him to this day.

64. The moment great music is turned on, he's unstoppable.

65. His environment is rather hostile to get around so you need at least an off-road vehicle to visit.

66. Thinking too much of oneself. This is how he defines it.

67. Due to partial mydriasis he's impared of sharp vision in the daylight.

68. There's a particular rare species of orchid he is always pleased to get.

69. I don't think so.

70. VERY MUCH.

71. Those who have the audacity to talk back.

72. Divide et impera. Divide and conquer.

73. He has a cut scar crossing his face and another one around his neck left with a metal cord.

74. Once.

75. Losing authority.

76. Could be destroying the existing world and building a new flawless one from scratch.

77. He is very perseverant.

78. It depends on the enemy surpassing him in power.

79. It looks like human life has zero value for him, but there actually exists such person.

80. *don't know how to answer this question*

81. Bro currently doesn't have any.

82. I guess, he's fair at it. Not the most important skill for him.

83. See Q17.

84 Bro is on energy saving mode.

85. He's driven by the question of life and death.

86. Redirecting discontent onto someone else doesn't feel wrong to him.

87. Yes, and he hates recalling that feeling.

88. Artsy messy.

89. He keeps track of everything he considers essential.

90. Cartel boss's younger brother, aspiring to seize the power.

91. Being young and reckless, he doesn't feel much respected within the cartel, as all props go to his brother unconditionally, so he abuses power from time to time to force his people to respect him. Of course, even within such social group there is a club of devoted fans who do believe in his ambitions genuinely.

92. He would cast a portal to go back in time and re-live a precious moment of his childhood in a full family.

93. Violence of a greater scale is his coping mechanism. Neither mentally nor environmentally healthy at all, but it is what it is.

94. 100% dominate type.

95. He used to keep a resplended quetzal named Cualli in honor of his dad and a black jaguar called Aruma.

96. A huge stash of weapons and a decent air vehicle park. His personal weapon is Glock 28.

97. Has lived in his hometown Apan, Hidalgo for 10 years of his life with his family, then moved to the Lacandon jungle in the region of Chiapas, where he's based with his troops.

98. With a nice treat or treatment.

99. Unfortunately, it's his weakness.

100. Night person, but a morning lark.

100 OC Questions

1. How do they present themselves to others? 2. Do they like animals? 3. How do they dress? 4. How many languages do they know? 5. How big is their family? 6. What is their purpose in the story? 7. Do they know how to fight? 8. What is their back story? 9. Why is their name, their name? 10. Do they have any nick names? 11. Do they have a romantic interest? 12. How do they cope with struggles? 13. Do they have anyone they can lean on? 14. How do they react to someone dying? 15. Can you name 5 personality traits they have? 16. How did they become a character? 17. Do they get along with others? 18. What flaws do they have? 19. How do they influence the story? 20. What do they look like? 21. What are their hobbies? 22. What are their ticks? 23. Do they like children? 24. How do they react to being around wild animals? 25. If they were given the task to prank someone, who would it be, what would they do, and would the prank work? 26. Do they have any survival skills? 27. Are they more book smart or street smart? 28. How do they get out of a difficult situation? 29. Do they use their body, mind, personality or force to get what they want? 30. What music do they enjoy? 31. How do they overcome obstacles? 32. When faced with a difficult decision do they get stronger or break? 33. Do they have any special powers? 34. How do they change throughout the story? 35. Do they have any friends? If so, are they close knit? 36. How is their family life? 37. Are they likable? 38. Are they the hero, or anti-hero? 39. Do they make questionable choices? 40. How do they become who they are? 41. How was their childhood? 42. Are they close with anyone who is going to screw them over? 43.How do they adapt to different situations? Do they adapt at all? 44. How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot heated, vulgar 45. Are they opposed to violence? 46. When is their birthday? 47. Are they quick to judge? 48. Do they have anything they are trying to hide from others? 49. Do they act different around different people? 50.Do they enjoy the arts? 51. Do they like science? 52. Are they more emotional or logical? 53. How do they deal with their emotions? 54. How do they cope with sadness? 55. What is something they care about? 56. Would they die for anyone/anything? 57. What do they do when they are happy? 58. How would they come across to other characters? Examples- messy, lazy, childish, caring ect 59. Do they have a phrase they use over and over? 60. In a crowed room are they in the corners, sides, or in the middle? 61. Are they comfortable being in a crowed room? 62. How do they relax? 63. Have they ever harmed anyone and regretted it? Verbally or physically? 64. Do they like to dance? 65. How do they get around their environment? Examples - horses, bike, vehicle 66. What is their pet peeve(s)? 67. Do they have a disability? 68. How do they react to getting flowers? 69. Would they ever wear a flower crown? 70. Do they like themselves? 71. Who do they dislike? 72. What is their motto? 73. Do they have any markings on their body? 74. Have they ever been abused? 75. What is their biggest fear? 76. What are their goals? 77. How do they go about achieving their goals? 78. Do they have a fight or flight response? 79. Is there someone in their life that they care about more than themselves? 80. How would they fair in zombie apocalypse? 81. Do they have any tattoos? If so, are they significant? 82. Are they good at mental math? 83. Do they get along with others? 84 Are they lazy? 85. Are they self motivated? 86. How do they cope with anger? 87. Have they ever been in a situation where they were helpless? 88. Are they organized or messy? 89. Can they remember a lot of information at once? 90. What is their occupation? 91. Do other characters respect your OC, if so, is it out of fear? Or do they respect your OC because they like them? 92. If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say? 93. How do they deal with stress? 94. Do they have a more submissive or dominate personality type? 95. Do they have a pet? 96. Do they have a stash of weapons? 97. Where do they live? Who do they live with? 98. How do they calm themselves down? 99. Are they co-dependent? 100. Are they a day, or night person?

#fiction #fictional universe #my fiction #artists on tumblr #oc artwork #my oc stuff #my oc art #original characher #original art #get to know my oc #get to know my oc meme #100 questions #miguel tlanextli farfalla

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neonfretra · 1 month ago

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HEYYYYY ^_^ rambling below the cut

@sevennone

"New Spanish-Language Website Highlights Latest LosVGK Initiatives" from vgk

The new site is accessible by clicking “EN” or “ES” or the globe icon on the top right corner of the English site. Vegas is the first NHL team to produce a version of its website in Spanish and the second to offer two languages (joining Montreal, which has English and French).

NO WAY???

i doubt yall want to see me recite the los vgks (vgks hispanic and latino inclusion initiative) accomplishments but if i ever cared about what yall wanna see i dont think we would be two reblogs deep here now would we

(you could see it for yourself on the article itself!)

because THEIR PODCAST HATES ME i can only find the episode i believe youre referencing (Knight Time at Noon, episode #97) on amazon music. it is also a 47 minute episode and im not transcribing that within a reasonable span of time.

...unless?

the answer is i actually dont usually do well with podcasts cause i accidentally start tunin them out and then i gotta rewind it over . i do this a couple times LMAO

(also my bones disagree with transcribin right now. this post does NOT need to be longer trust me.)

for the interested, the section concernin los vgk goes from bout 15:10-23:20!

brings a tear to the eye :') genuinely worth the read + listen!

@stereax

right off the bat i had no idea what hockey night in canada was until right now LMAO i am unfortunately a sharks blogger through and through i dont know anything about hockey outside of the san jose sharks

(for anyone in a similar boat, hockey night in canada is the cbcs nhl cast ^_^)

IN PUNJABI? YOU PROMISE?

i will make an active effort to be normal. but thats CRAZY <3

(hello, neonfretra in the future! i failed.)

its fairly unfortunate that its ALSO a post season exclusive service, punjabi speakers canNOT listen to nothing games ... !

(i do wonder WHY its such a common trend but my guess is just finals are when viewership spikes and thats when broadcasting companies benefit the most from multiple language streams. unfortunate!)

theres this segment from "Hockey Night in Canada, with Mr. Chapared Shot" by Harnarayan Singh that piques my interest actually! (warning: the article contains sikhophobia and islamophobia against a sikh person)

The most famous term on the show, hands down, is chapared shot. We don’t have a word for slap shot in our language, so we took the word that means a slap to the face and added on shot at the end. It’s been a HUGE hit. I’ll be out shopping or something, and I’ll hear, “Mr. Chapared Shot!” Or kids will come up to me and demand that I say it. There are others that I really enjoy, too, though. When we mention the penalty box, we use Punjabi words that equate to “the box of punishment.” And we’re always referencing chai tea. Like, if your team had a bad period … maybe they need a cup of chai tea during the intermission.

THIS IS CRAZY FOR ME ACTUALLY...

PUNJABI CAST IN JOKES AND MEMES... thats awesome... hello... sounds good sounds natural... <3

actually i cant stress enough how crazy it is to read when casters put cultural terms into casting to ME! its really fascinating to read, ESPECIALLY because the two broadcasts we have read in this post so far are about selling the sport to a new demographic of nonhockey fans

to me it does feel like a sort of bridging of the gap in that sense with their new fans by not just tossin them into the deep end with technical terms or literal translations

which is what makes something a good translation and adaptation while existing as a completely separate cast!

yeagh...

A lot of times, it’s spur of the moment, but I’m proud to say that the general style I use has its roots in Punjabi culture. If it’s a big enough goal, and if the name fits, I always try to let the last syllable go on as long as I can — at the very least, I try to beat out the goal horn. And that comes from Punjabi singers, who are known for trying to compete with each other to see who can hold a note the longest.

(note: emphasis my own)

AWESOME. NO NOTES. i have nothing of worth to add. i love the way cultural raisings imbue you with certain associations .

(again the full article is worth the read! it follows the personal journey of singh as a caster and the work put into getting hockey night in punjabi off the ground and on air)

i feel the need to stress that there ARE other leagues and that nhl isnt the only way to watch a game in preferred languages. but it would be incredibly nice to be able to watch an nhl game in punjabi or asl any time of the season the same way french and spanish are options (AND WITH LIMITATIONS AT THAT...!) (the french are region locked.)

however i will spare the side search of what other leagues out there are and what languages they broadcast in.

REALLY cool is that hockey night in canada actually has provided broadcasts in other languages as well: italian, inuktitut, cree, hindi, tagalog, mandarin, and cantonese

im lookin at wikipedia sorry yall LOL

they chose these based off the most popular languages in the city each canadian team is based in, which does raise the question of WHY THE HELL IS THERE SO MUCH PUSH BACK... its not even love thy neighbor its more just. can we start with thy neighbor EXISTS??? racism is stupid and more breaking news with neonfretra at 6.

also it was baffling to see fully serious, uncritically posted pro forcing assimilation views. hold your opinions, ill hold mine, my opinion is you people are a tar pit .

but to be a little bit embarassing, it is actually incredibly exciting to realize how much there has been on a larger scale level for quite a few languages <3 its not a secondary language, non white non english speaking communities DO exist and ARE worthy of acknowledgement and involvement <3 i WANT other people to watch my terrible no good team. EYE know that anyone, me or my friends or my enemies or the stranger i will see twice in my lifetime, have a place in somethin as indulgent to watch as sports without havin to assimilate to the english speaking demands of the times!

... but only for the playoffs

do you see the problem with me talkin about my personal feelings towards these sorta casts. nothin new to be said and anythin of interest ALREADY covered in these articles <3

@planesandtrainingwheels

oh howdy! :) unfortunately this years schedule hasnt seemed to be posted yet u.u but aptn has a designated hockey in cree page if you want to look out for it! i wouldnt hold my breath, last seasons schedule was posted in january

they also have a dictionary of key vocabulary which is always interestin! ^_^

not all phrases included have an english translation and im not goin to try to figure how to do it myself in live time, so ! make do ^_^

(but if you ever wanted to learn a new language you can always hit up the plains cree language resource website though! just dont make me do it over the span of one post)

Roughing – ē-wī-pāspinē-nōtinikēt (he is almost going to fight someone) (...) Slashing – ē-kakwē-wīsakatahiwāt (he is trying to hurt him) this one can be translated several ways but the intent of this is trying to impede another player with their stick by hitting them and hurting them Too many men – ē-osāmiyaticik (there are too many of them)

you know what this actually explained the difference between a roughing and fighting penalty to me LMAO

(also laughed at there are too many of them. THERE SURE ARE! its a really good penalty name in both languages)

i do like the more literal meaning these compared to the more abstracted concepts because let me be honest with you. its INCREDIBLY hard to summarize some of these rules (and even then . how the heck we goin to even simplify slashing here!) (he is trying to hurt him why not) (you could argue they are in fact tryin to hurt each other the way an axe tries to hurt a log)

all this talk does make realize WOW hockey rules have some pretty weird names huh (WHAT IS INTERFERENCE!!!)

another article that caught my eye personally was "Veteran broadcaster hopes Cree 'Hockey Night in Canada' can help save language" by Gemma Karstens-Smith

i really did mean gatherin interest and supportin language learners in my first post (im part of the problem of dying languages! HELP!!!) and to know that hockey night in cree shoots for the stars does make me. you know. want to just carry that same hope! ^_^

The 60-year-old broadcaster from Canoe Lake Cree Nation in northern Saskatchewan is set bring the sport he loves to his community in a whole new way next month with the debut of "Hockey Night in Canada in Cree." "It means a lot. We're losing our languages across Canada," said Iron, who'll do play-by-play in Plains Cree for the six national NHL broadcasts. "We're trying to save the Cree language. And it'll help. Even to call a hockey game in Cree, it's a big thing."

one of the major things about castin in all these different languages is the connection ^_^ watchin sports is honest to god one of the biggest social experiences ive had and its an easy conversation facilitator.

ive observed a LOT of readings of peoples personal gaining from these casts being that they created connections with their peers that they felt a cultural gap with, having a similar grounds for a love of sports, and their family members they felt a generational gap with, learning the language of their family or having a way to include their non english speaking relatives in the conversation.

and from a completely unrelated angle, how many friends do you got tryin to learn japanese or korean because of the things they watch or read or listen to! my friend found music and television to be a massive help in her own journey to learn a language!

bringing your own culture and language to a massively popular platform like the nhl is HUGE to sharing and keeping it alive

crack open a broadcast in a different language! toss yourself into that show whose tropes you think are weird! its fun, trust me :)

also unrelated, their tag line? of sorts is "kitāskwēw, pihtikwahēw" means "he shoots, he scores" like baby i wish my team knew how to do that

GOD I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF. we are NO LONGER going back to elaborate. we are NOT adding any more.

thank you yall for real though! would not have known bout ANY of this otherwise <3

and POST!!!

maybe nhl in asl has given me a taste of the epic highs and now i am too spoiled . whats stopping us from doing this all the time ... whats stopping us from casting games in whatever popular languages in the area of a teams are ... maybe spanish speakers want to watch nothing games as well as the stanley cup final what then ... have you never wondered what kind of translations of your favorite players names there are out there ... heres how we can force people to actually learn those two or three or four languages theyve always wanted to pick up ... gather interest in learning less well known languages ... ill go first and then get dragged for exclusively sayin nothing related to the game LMAO

#neon etcetra #reboggle tag #my bodys explodin ^_^ chose a hell of a time to get into long form writing #SUFFERING for my art #<- the suffering is taking breaks until my hands feel normal #AND THEN MY ANKLES FEEL ABNORMAL #LMAO my complex inner life #YALL ENABLE ME TO YAP!!! SO MUCH!!!#HI :3

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onp4012 · 3 years ago

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Pick a Card: Channeled Message From Your Future Spouse

Pick any photo/number from above to receive a message from your future spouse

feel free to suggest PAC ideas

Please like and reblog 〽️

The songs are the overall vibe they gave me while I channeled their message

©onenormalperson4012

masterlist

Pile 1

The Sun, The Star, Page of Swords, Death, 2 of Pentacles, 7 of Swords, 6 of Wands, 4 of Cups

“Heeeeeey gurl/boi, what’s uppppppp. You’ve been looking for me weren’t you, huh? Yeah, I’m not planning on coming towards you so soon lol, stay mad. I wanna live my youth to the fullest until I meet you. Look, I’ve been through some shit lately and I gotta pick myself up. There’s this douchebag/bitch who keeps on stressing me out and I fucking hate him/her. I had issues with myself. I realised how childish I am and tbh, I’m not willing to change anything. I’m happy with myself. I wouldn’t wait for myself the way you do lmao. Stop waiting for me. We’ll meet at some point, but not now. Wait a year or two or maybe even 5 (wtf). I’m a sNeAcKy son of a beech. I’m not gonna apologise for the lack of seriousness I have right now since I know you don’t give a fuck anyways. You know I’m joking, right? Yeah you do babygorl/babyboi. If you don’t, stay mad, lmao. I am gonna enjoy some time with my friends and you —… idk, do whatever you’ve been doing. I’m not searching for you ‘cause you’ll come anyway. Let me grow up a little. How’s your mama doin’ btw. Yeah, I don’t know what else to say. Anyway, I’m not gonna say anything besides “kisses and see you later” so byeeeee.”

Y’all this person is really funny. I had to stop writing because of laughing. They are really funny istg. They can literally be a living meme. I heard “me’s a very freaky girl” HAHAHAHA wtf is wrong with this person. They don’t take life seriously so I don’t think you should. They keep on making me thinking of fucking memes. Damn. Even the song I hear is funny lol. They can be an ESTP/ESFP. They give me that vibe lol.

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Pile 2

King of Wands, The High Priestess, 7 of Swords, The Devil, 6 of Cups, 8 of Swords, 2 of Swords, 10 of Wands

“I…am anxious. Really anxious. I am normally a strong and steady person but at the moment I feel like I cannot be myself. I’m feeling trapped, I can’t speak. I’m pulled in all directions. I don’t want to do anything. I’m afraid to risk everything I have. Look, I love you. I dreamt you and I love your energy, but I am extremely scared of something. I don’t feel like speaking right now. I can’t find my words. I’m sorry if I’m not what you expect. I’m sorry if I don’t sound romantic enough. I’m too stressed and I don’t know you yet. I mean, I haven’t met you but I know you because I’ve met you through dreams. I feel like I have something stuck in my throat. I kinda lack confidence at the moment. My voice sounds so bad. I hope you can’t hear it. Okay, I can’t say anything more, I’m feeling like I’m questioned by the police.”

Your future spouse seems stuck in a toxic situation. They might’ve recently went through a trauma or are currently going through a trauma. I currently feel like I have something stuck in my throat. They might be in a toxic relationship and they are too afraid to get out of it, especially if they’re a woman. Some of them may face abuse in family. They might be even depressive. I would recommend you to pray for this person’s well-being. It will help them

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Pile 3

9 of Wands, 6 of Swords, Ace of Swords, 8 of Cups, 10 of Swords, Justice, 8 of Swords, 10 of Pentacles

“Oh, hi. Nice to see you. I’m going through a massive change in my life right now. I wouldn’t say I can’t carry it, but it’s of course difficult. I mean, yeah. Change is change. I have my family with me at least. I love them so much. They’re great people. I’m a bit scared since I did face some changes in my life and they left me stuck to the ground lol. Like a fly. I’m someone strong tho and I can handle it. I know my value and I know I can take it. You’re my future spouse so I’d like to tell you what I’d like in life. You’ll find out anyway, but why waste 2 minutes in the future? So—…I want to have a family. I want to have a beautiful family like my parents have. I need some time to change tho. Give me some time please. We’ll meet when I’ll have time for that, but don’t worry, I’m not gonna forget about you. I really want that happy ever after thing from Shrek and I know I’m gonna get it, but still, I wanna let you know since you seem more pessimistic than me haha. Ah, I’m tired. Talk to you later.

Man, this person is physically and mentally tired. I’ve been yawning since I started doing this reading. They seem kinda calm for the cards. They’re good at keeping their horses lol. They react very good under pressure. Their family sure raised them psychologically healthy.

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Pile 4(tw)

The Emperor, 9 of Swords, 4 of Cups, 5 of Cups, 5 of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, The Hanged Man

“Hey, I’m yo’ man/woman. You said you wanna get a message from me, right? Look, I do have some financial issues at the moment but don’t worry about me. How are you tho? Did you overcome that ED? Did you make your voice heard again? Did you started to love yourself already? I hope you did. I’ve been thinking about you for a while. I really need a little bit of hope that someone loves me. If not my friends then who. I believe you expect me to tell you how I see you in the stars and all, but I’m not that type of guy/girl and I don’t have anything romantic to tell you… The only thing I’d like tell you which you could call “romantic” is that I want you to know I’m not dating stupid people and if I’m gonna marry you, be sure you’re a smart one because I hate blank people with no personalities. I like wearing blue as well, I don’t know if you care. I love wearing blue fr. It’s my favorite color. Goodbye 👋🏻 “

Your future spouse seems to go through some hard times regarding their finances. They seem very selfless bruh, like, they really believe they’re made out of stone. They want you to be patient with them. They’re someone strong and patient who loves blue.

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Pile 5

3 of Cups, 3 of Wands, Strength, The World, 4 of Swords, King of Wands, 3 of Pentacles, The Hierophant

“Helloooo beautiful. How are youuuuu? You have no idea how happy I’ve been lately. I’ve finally had time to chill and relax and have fun. I’ve been working A LOT, you got no idea how much I worked my ass this year. Now I’m finally enjoying the vacation I deserve. I had time to develop myself spiritually. I’ve been listening to music, do you like rock and jazz? I had no idea rock could’ve been so calming. Heard of Linkin Park? All I do now is take a deep breath and exhale for fucks sake. I AM FREE, I can do everything. I’ll finally have time to work out how much I want and learn how much I want and what I want. I felt a bit detached lately from my spiritual side and I’m sorry I didn’t connect with you, but I literally didn’t have the energy to do so, plus, I’m not really the type of person to believe in lovely-dovely fairytales. Right now I’m having a drink with some friends. I’d invite you too but I don’t know who you are yet. I just told one of my friends about you and they don’t believe me when I tell them what kind of person I’d like to spend my life with. They’re like “oH BuT mIcHAeL U dOn’T KnOw tHeM yEt”, man, fuck them. Anyway, luv u, bye bye”

Your future spouse’s name could be Michael or something like that haha. Michael/Michelle or Richard, Mary, Jane or Marko or Vlad. Something like that. It’s not mandatory of course. Only 2 or 3 people can relate to this. This person seems feel free to let their guard down. They are very calm and they feel free to do whatever they want.

—————————————————

I hope it resonated and I’ll be continuing to do pick a card readings and I’ll see you next time. Bye bye

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crushng-a · 2 years ago

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“ sorry— i don’t mean to stare. you just look…radiant. ” (Okay listen I know you didn't reblog that meme here BUT my brain instantly thought of Damien saying it to Gin I'm sorry ;A; )

it’s a near-familiar face looking back at them. hot haze of coffeehouse blues and glass steamed like milk between me and you. warm wooden interiors in dark espresso.

the man watches, all soft lines and thought. apologizes, but gin’s pretty sure they’ve been staring too. have we met? or will we meet? it’s a dreamlike feeling. (we’ve been here before.)

a blinding bright smile — radiant! i can tell you why. there’s stars buried under my skin.

two names are called one after the other. order’s up. gin takes their coffee cup, as big as they could convince the shop to part with, and takes a mouthful of cinnamon-dusted whipped cream. they couldn’t put the lid on otherwise, anyway.

their name is spelled wrong. they turn JEN inwards towards their chest and wish they hadn’t tipped the barista quite so much. the other one’s in a looping hand, DAMIEN, and gin just bets she asked A or E? before she wrote his name.

he’s still smiling. blueberry scone, too sweet and sugary, but there’s substance there. there’s something worth pursuing. gin could roll him out like pre-baked dough, just add heat and knead well!

radiant. is that a thing people say? is gin radiant? there’s definitely a flush tingling in the tips of their ears, if that counts. i could show you radiant, you know. the molten core of a star is nuclear. you’d glow, too.

“i’’ll take radiant,” they say after a moment. “but you can just call me gin,” — exaggerated lean to check the styrofoam cup “— damien.”

damien. damien. have they heard that name before?

#[ ɥʇɐǝɹq ǝuo ʇsnɾ oʇ sʇunoɯɐ ɓuıʎɐɹd ɹnoʎ ɟo llɐ ] asks #[ ʍopɐɥs ɹnoʎ ɯoɹɟ ǝpıɥ ʇ‚uɐɔ noʎ ] damien | blueheartedmayor #( damien most beloved is always welcome here )#food /

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

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Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS.

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones.

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight.

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

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whostarlockeda03 · 3 years ago

Note

Would you consider “tiny hands in big hands” hand-holding with Pelna’s kids? If you are reblogging for your own inspiration and don’t actually want asks, I apologize; please ignore this.

Hello dear!

No problem, no problem, I am aaaalllllways happy to take a prompt/ask, prompt meme or no!

As for this particular one though, it has ended up being an excerpt from a future chapter of Papa Pelna, I hope that's okay?

Enjoy under the cut!

“So, will he change back?”

Pelna sighs, hands curled around a much-needed cup of coffee, and then shrugs. “I don’t know. We’re all in the dark here, nothing like this has ever happened before.”

Selyse lets out a thoughtful hum as she finishes brewing the tea and brings the pot over to the table, along with four cups.

“And if he doesn’t? What, we’re meant to raise him as a Khara?” She asks, eyebrows raising up towards her hairline.

“No, he knows he’s -”

Pelna is cut off abruptly by a loud shriek coming from the living room. He meets Selyse’s eyes, and is sure that the building look of dread in her eyes is reflected in his own. They both set their cups down on the table, but before Pelna can so much as push his seat back, there’s thudding footsteps, and then the door pushes open to reveal a very worried looking Nyx.

“Pelna!” He cries, then rushes over to Pelna’s side. “I didn’t-”

“It’s alright, Nyx.” Pelna says, brushing a hand through his hair gently, before herding him back towards the living room where Mellyn is still wailing like a banshee. After yesterday’s less-than-spectacular first meeting, Pelna already has a sinking feeling he knows what’s going on here.

Selyse goes ahead of them, eating up the distance between them in quick strides.

“Mellyn, honey, what’s wrong?” She asks, kneeling next to him without hesitation and reaching out one hand towards him.

Mellyn doesn’t answer her, but he does pause in his crying long enough to look up at the both, and as soon as he lays eyes on Nyx - still hovering nervously by Pelna and chewing at his nails - his face crumples, and the wailing continues, somehow even louder than before.

Scrubbing one hand over his face, Pelna steps around Nyx and goes to his son’s side. He kneels next to Selyse, and gently pulls him into a hug. Mellyn falls bonelessly into him, and clings onto his chest as his cries subside into little hiccoughs.

Pelna rubs a hand up and down his back soothingly, patiently waiting for him to find his words.

“You’re my papa!” He eventually gets out between hiccoughs, clutching onto Pelna’s shirt even tighter. “Not his!”

On the other side of the room, Nyx makes a confused noise.

“Of course I am,” Pelna murmurs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Mellyn’s brow. “Of course I am your papa, Mellyn. That won’t change just because Nyx is here.”

“Then why is he here?!” Mellyn sobs, pushing weakly against Pelna’s chest.

“Oh sweetheart,” Selyse says, resting one hand gently on his shoulder. It only seems to make Mellyn cry harder. “Nyx isn’t here to replace you, you understand?”

“Okay. Nyx, come over here.” Pelna says, and when Nyx gets close enough, pulls him towards his lap too. With one child settled on each knee, Pelna sighs, and wonders where the hell to start.

“Mellyn, I know this is confusing, okay? And I know it must be strange for you, to have another kid here, but this is the situation, and it’s going to be the situation for a little while.”

He licks his lips, running his hand softly across Mellyn’s back.

“Nyx is not here to replace you at all, alright, chetho?” He explains, watching Mellyn closely. Thankfully though, Mellyn doesn’t get worked up, instead he seems to be paying close attention, even if he still does have a fistful of Pelna’s shirt clutched in his hand. “Nyx is here because… well, because something happened to him while we were working, and now he’s five, which means he needs parents to look after him, just like you do.”

“So you, and your mama and I, are gonna need to make him feel welcome and safe here, and we’re gonna look after him,” Pelna falters a little, staring down at Nyx curled up in his arms. It still hurts so much, the notion that Nyx will never know his old life, and everything it entailed. “Just like Uncle Nyx did for us when he was grown up, right?”

“But if he’s Uncle Nyx, why didn’t he know me?” Mellyn interrupts, pouting as he let go of Pelna’s shirt and crossed his arms.

“I don’t remember being grown up.” Nyx whispers, hiding his face in the hollow of Pelna’s neck.

Mellyn blinks at him, eyes wide in astonishment. “So you didn’t know papa either?”

Nyx shakes his head, and peeks out at Mellyn.

“Oh.” Mellyn says with an almighty frown, deflating.

“Alright? So no one is being replaced, boys. Our family is just going to be bigger for a while, okay?” Selyse asks, shuffling closer to them until she can reach both boys.

Nyx and Mellyn both nod, then, after a slight hesitation, Mellyn reaches across Pelna and awkwardly wraps his arms around Nyx.

“Sorry,” Mellyn whispers softly, then makes a delighted noise as Nyx hugs him back.

“So are you two going to try and get along?” Pelna asks when the two part.

Mellyn wipes a stray tear from his cheek and nods enthusiastically, offering a sincere - if a bit wobbly - smile.

Pelna smiles back at him, plants a kiss on his brow, and takes one of his hands in his. He brushes his thumb over Mellyn’s knuckles, marvelling at how small his hands are. Then, he offers his other hand out to Nyx. He takes it without fuss, cuddling closer to Pelna’s side.

Selyse quietly takes Mellyn’s other hand in hers, and then waits patiently for the ten seconds it takes Nyx to decide he trusts her enough to hold her hand. She smiles at him, when she does, and Pelna gives his other hand a light squeeze.

For one rare, peaceful moment, they sit in a content silence, just the four of them, holding hands, and it feels like the rest of the world ceases to exist. It’s just him, his wife, and their boys, and it’s perfect.

“Mama, I’m hungry.” Mellyn says, and like that the moment is over, but the feeling of contentedness stays, as they all get to their feet and head to the kitchen.

It’s the nicest family breakfast he’s ever had.

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starman-john-tracy · 4 years ago

Note

mmmmSKSKSKSKSK I sent this to the wrong blog but,,,for the prompt list thingy you reblogged, misc 13 with 2 characters you want

(I HOPE TO JESUS IT'S YOU WHO REBLOGGED IT THIS TIME)

“I’m worried about you.” [From this Ask meme]

The best response John can manage, at that precise moment, is a vague, dismissive flick of his fingers as he swipes his older brother’s hologram off of his screens, ending the call.

He’s busy, damn it, Scott.

Alan and Kayo have taken Thunderbird Three out to an asteroid between Mars and Jupiter to help a returning deep-space shuttle with engine failure and Alan’s got twelve minutes of air left in his tank, blood-red holograms ticking the numbers down at the corner of John’s vision. Thunderbird One’s been deployed to the Alps in the sub-zero temperatures of a snowstorm following reports from the family of a missing skier, and John could really have done with all the little comments about their Mom that Scott had decided it was a good time to slip in amongst receiving his instructions, probably in an attempt to keep it together himself. To crown it all, Gordon’s in the middle of a risky deep dive with Thunderbird Four in one of the darkest parts of the Atlantic Ocean, trying to find a missing ocean surveyor, with Two coasting overhead despite the fact there’s not much Virgil can do but clutter John’s airways with his worries. Penny’s apparently in the middle of some kind of bank heist in England, and so can’t take FAB1 to help. John, in an almost Scott-like fit of insanity, is almost itching for The Hood to turn up, just because he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to hit something very hard with the mooring claw…

It’s been like this for a week solid. John’s not slept in thirty-two hours and colours are desperately trying their best to become audible. His mouth tastes stale with jumbled numerical readings and directions and what-his-brothers-need-to-do-nexts.

The astronaut takes a deep, ragged breath and rips his hands from the blue glow of his holographic array. He rubs the textured blue fabric of his fingertips hard against gritty eyes, trying to force away the tired moisture that’s gathering determinedly there from trying not to yawn.

This should all be routine by now. He’s got a schedule. A delicate balance of exhaustion and focus. John knows his body’s limits and how to push himself past them - swaddling himself in a cocoon woven of holograms and the loud, urgent voices of people who need his help until he’s lightheaded from the brightness and downing enough caffeine to make his hands shake is the only thing keeping him going.

It’s not a good system, but it works.

Well, sort of works.

John scrubs at his eyes harder, pushing against his closed lids until phosphenes bloom fractal galaxies across the darkness from the pressure. He’s so tired but there’s no way he's gonna be able to sleep this one off. Not with everything going on all around him right now.

Not until these people are sa…

“John.” Fantastic. Scott’s back. Calling on his wrist Comm this time, and big brother doesn’t exactly sound pleased about being hung up on. John thinks better of ignoring him twice, though he rolls his eyes about it. “You’ve been running Comms for three days straight now, you need to take a break.”

“I’m fine, Scott.” John’s mouth shapes the words even though he feels anything but. He has to be fine. “I’m just doing my job. Go get on with yours. And fly a little lower, the wind speed’s up.” The holograms had started swimming alarmingly over two hours ago, most of their words blurring beyond legibility, but John knows what the warning orange blob and its proximity to the logo of Thunderbird One means regardless. Focusing is getting harder and harder and that’s probably dangerous because what if he slips up, what if he gives one of his brothers the wrong instructions and something bad happens, what if...

John really wants a coffee. Another coffee. That’s probably a bad sign in itself because John, ninety-nine per cent of the time, doesn’t drink coffee. Certainly not like his brother’s do. Thunderbird Five’s got a massive range of teas vacuum packed in little silver packets, mostly courtesy of the Lady Penelope, because John far prefers it, but there is a sturdy metal tin of strong, Indian coffee in the galley, waiting ominously for him like a red break glass in case of emergency box.

John’s been choking down up to three mugs of the stuff, black and thick as tar, spiked with crushed caffeine pills, every other hour, in an attempt to keep himself with it enough to do his damn job.

The system works.

He grinds the heel of his palm against his forehead, trying futilely to prevent his pounding headache from getting any worse. He thinks there’s a bottle of painkillers in the first aid kit, Brains’ good ones, and mixed with another mug of caffeine John reckons that should get him through the rest of today even though he’s hungry and exhausted, and all his muscles have a dangerous, creeping ache that warns of atrophy, of too much time spent in Zero G. John just knows his whole body is going to kill the minute he relaxes, and that, if the constant chatter of the globe weren’t enough, makes taking even a little break just not an option. He ignores it all like a pro, slipping out of the segment of Five’s ring with the globe in, and drifting toward the galley, his fingers uncoordinated and clumsy on the handrails.

Coffee. Black. Two capsules of painkiller and another of caffeine, crushed into a powder with his fingers and dumped in.

He snatches up the plastic cup of coffee and heads back toward his globe, lifting the cup to his lips.

“John,” Scott says in his ear. “You can’t seriously be going to drink that…?”

John does, in fact, drink that. He knocks back the boiling beverage so quickly he doesn’t even need to swallow and chases the scald down with another cold cup of coffee that’s been left on his countertop from who-knows-when in the past three days. It’s gritty in the bottom from the drugs. John swallows hard at the acrid taste, coughs, and shakes out his shoulders.

“Alright,” John manages, suppressing the urge to throw it back up. “I’m good.”

Scott just blinks at him like he’s clearly a moron. Which, John thinks, is a bit rude when he’s the one with two PHDs.

“How long has that mug been there?” Scott asks, gaping slightly. It’s not at all like John to leave liquids out in the open, and especially not in space. “John, it had a layer of mould floating on it.” Not like him at all.

“Yeah,” John offers him, with a weak, crooked smile that doesn’t make sense on his face. “Penicillin. Adjust your tail flaps thirty degrees, you’re coasting too low. You need to compensate for the way the wind’s being channelled between the rocks.”

“John,” Scott’s voice comes back dangerously low, “John, when did you last have a proper break?” John’s head throbs and he’s saved from trying to work out any kind of reply to that because Gordon takes the opportunity to check-in. It doesn’t matter that John’s vision is blurring, as long as he can hear his little brother just fine.

Crackling static buzzes in the spaceman’s ears long after Gordon clicks off again.

The newest shot of caffeine is slowly starting to soothe his frayed nerves, though everything’s a bit… hazy, if he’s honest.

“John!” Oh, Scott’s still here, huh. “Ok, little brother,” The elder of them puffs his chest out and folds his arms, but John’s not paying enough attention to his hologram to notice. “If you string yourself out much longer, I’m going to put you on medical leave until you die, alright? Nothing can stop me.”

“I don’t need med leave!” John exhales all of the air in his paper-bag lungs at once. “I’m fine and I’m doing a damn good job monitoring everything! I never take sick days…”

“You never take vacation days, either.” Scott cuts pointedly across him.

“Irrelevant.” John dismisses him again, flicking the point away like it’s a hologram he’s done with, “I’m just doing my job. If you want to come down on me for working hard, then you’re the one with the issue here.”

“You’re going to kill yourself,” Scott growls. “Your exhaustion and carelessness puts everyone who works under you at risk and I don’t know what the answer to your workload without Dad around is, but it sure. isn’t. this.” A sweeping hand encompasses his brother head to toe - taking in the coffee stains on John’s blue fingertips and the darkness smudged under his eyes. “We’ve got to, I don’t know, there must be something that can take some of the pressure off. Alan was talking about wanting to try a rotation.”

“Alan’ll be bored to death within five minutes alone up here,” John points out, “he’s still too young.”

“Gordon then, or Virgil, hell I’ll do it. I’m sure we can scrape together something.”

“Scott.” John’s voice comes out much softer this time, certainly softer than intended. “We’ll work something out but… just… not right now, ok?” It sounds almost pleading. A little broken. Perhaps Scott shouldn’t have brought up their Father, or perhaps there’s already too much for John to focus on without throwing himself into the mix. “We can pick this up later if you want, when we’re finished,” He goes on to offer, hollowly, “but right now you need to check your heat scanner and find that missing skier before those kids who called lose a parent.”

There’s a harsh intake of breath from Scott at that. He knows as well as any of them why they, why John, does all this. If they can keep together just one family, compared to their own loss, anything seems worth it.

Doesn’t mean Scott’s got to like it though.

He clicks off and John closes his eyes for one, very long moment - the residual Comm chatter swirling in his ears. It’s tempting to just press his forehead against the cold glass beneath his feet and just not exist for a few hours... But Alan needs to get back aboard his Thunderbird with the crew members, and Gordon’s discussing going EVA with Virgil in the background and Scott’s thermal scanner has just picked up an orange blip amongst all the blue.

There’s always a later. When everyone’s safe. John can rest later.

#Thunderbirds Are Go #Thunderbirds 2015 #John Tracy #yEET #bonsaiiiiiii #heheh yeah it was me XDD oh nooo hehehe #tw: really sad tired john ??? XD #tw: a man who hates coffee drinking too much caffine

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aboutiroh · 4 years ago

Note

Do you ever just sit down and read some fanfics about Zuko and Iroh? Like REALLY good ones that have tears streaming down your face as you realize that Zuko's trauma and yours are similar. But knowing that there's no Uncle Iroh there with a proverb and a cup of tea. Which means I have to get up and make my own tea and come find this blog for a proverb or a funny meme to get my mind off it. I wanted to say thank you for running this blog. It means more than you'll know.

I just reblog posts every now and then and it’s hard to believe this blog is actually helpful in any way, but I’ll take your word for it.

Reading this made me teary-eyed, it really means a lot to me. Thank you for reminding us that none of our actions are insignificant.

#anon #iroh’s two lotus tiles #i’ve been thinking about this ask the entire day #dear anon you sound like such a strong person #who’s going out of their way to take care of themselves #and to heal #that is not an easy thing to do #i wish i could do more #know that you’re always free to message me #i’m still just a person on the internet and can’t offer much #but you have my support

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roanoaks · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 721 times in 2021

68 posts created (9%)

653 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 9.6 posts.

I added 565 tags in 2021

#memes - 440 posts

#good art - 34 posts

#shitpost - 31 posts

#minecraft - 27 posts

#a classic - 10 posts

#the choccy guy!! - 6 posts

#rowrites - 5 posts

#mood - 4 posts

#tea - 4 posts

#yes - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#like i will admit when i started out my ocs were all stock white mary sues but learning to write diverse and varied characters respectfully

My Top Posts in 2021

I fucking read it/its as tits/tits on my own god damn psot about my own pronins

7 notes • Posted 2021-12-06 04:45:38 GMT

Day 1 of making minecraf oc memes no one but like, three people will understand

Adnan: Im hiding being half-ender so well!!

The local villagers of Milpies: Oh thats adnan, the one thats to dumb to actually be half-ender.

Adnan: ITS WORKING

Also Adnan: oh no i mean im allergic to water but like its not like an enderman thing its judt like uuuuuh zombies! You know how they turn- yeah? Okay cool- oh uh the black patches are uuuh w- wither rose scars a- nd ⁱ ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵖᵘʳᵖˡᵉ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ-

7 notes • Posted 2021-08-03 23:06:30 GMT

Tempted to make an absolute bastard of a minecraft oc

Absolutely vile lil man, i could do it.. just a terror of a person

11 notes • Posted 2021-08-19 18:51:27 GMT

Mutuals rlly have the audacity to say "i never get to talk about X" OH? YOU DONT? CHECK YOUR INBOX COWARD. SEND ME A DM COWARD.

11 notes • Posted 2021-10-14 21:06:27 GMT

You can have a romance trope without the romantic feelings homie

Like this isnt to diss when stories are romantic i just mean that like, not every story thats intense and emotional and describes a visceral connection with two characters.. has to be romantic.

I think the levels get a lot better when love is fluid and also when love isn't quite there, or when love is the closest word they can find

Like theyve killed each other, because one will always eat and the other will always take and it took xeir life and xey ate its being and theres a level of like they have killed each other, they have taken each other to their very cores and shattered it and its that deep understanding that they are both creatures destined to end the way they lived. One will always eat, the other will always take. And its not love, its understanding. Its sitting there holding the heart you took from xeir chest as they feast on your essence and not saying a word because you both know that it was always going to end like this, even if theyd never known each other until that very moment. Its not love, its understanding, its a deep and aching sense of knowing.

And then theress like, the thought of one crying their eyes out because theres a dead body, he killed him! He killed him and god theyve never seen a body before and its him gently cupping their face with bloody hands and saying "its okay, i protected you," and its in them knowing that he will never understand that their scared because he killed someone, not because they were in danger. Its taking soft gentle touches from someone who is hopelessly and utterly and completely devoted and loyal to you with wvery fiber of his fucking being... and looking into his eyes to know hes a killer. That he will never understand life the way you do. And thats not love, no matter how devoted and kind and loving he is to you. It might be, someday. But right now its hearing "i protected you," and realizing with dread that the killer is bound to you. Its bloody hands cupping your face as you shake.

Sometimes its starting in hatred. A good enemies to lovers hits different hut in this case its no lovers. In this case its being there, always there for centuries. For lifetimes. Its always fucking being there and god, hes insufferable, hes arrogant, hes a piece of shit, but fuck. He's always there. He's always fucking there, and he's the asshole yanking him down to avoid being spotted to say "you idiot" while your heart skips a beat because you didnt even see the person that couldve caught you. Hes the fucker you kissed in a blind fucking rage. Hes the piece of shit that can call you out on yours because damn, hes been stuck with you forever. And its always fuckin him, god, god is it always fuckin him. No matter where he ends up the others going to follow. Its trusting deep in his fucking bones that he'll be there. And they do say "i love you," once, sweetly, "i love you," again, violent, in a kiss that bruises, "I love you," angry, clawing, and it feels the closes to right they can get. But it isnt love and it isnt hatred, its a searing trust. Its knowing thst no matter what, itll always be him.

12 notes • Posted 2021-09-10 06:17:27 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

Text

When We Were Young

Chapter 6

Description: Leaving the only home your daughter had ever known wasn’t part of the grand plan. But then again, sometimes taking chances can change your whole life. And you should know that, you’ve been doing that since the start.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing maybe. Over use of the word goodnight. Fluff. Alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 3,926

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long! I’ve been battling major writer’s block. This chapter is a little long than the normal word count I post with this series, so I hope you all enjoy. As always, this is strictly for fun and I mean no harm to this actor. Please let me know your thoughts as I love to read them. Likes and reblogs give me life.

*Italics are internal thoughts*

Catch up with Chapter 5

“Great job, Carmen!” you yelled then immediately cringed at the volume of your voice.

In your defense, a bowling alley on a Saturday afternoon was not a quiet place. All lanes were in use and frankly it was hard to hear yourself think. Carmen gave you a friendly wave before taking a seat next to Ellie.

You were supervising six fifteen and sixteen-year-old kids as part of Ellie’s sixteenth birthday. This was technically celebration two of three. Being that her actual birthday was on a school night, just the two of you went out for crab legs and root beer floats. Her pick which you were perfectly fine with being that you loved seafood. Root beer floats were an afterthought as the two of you window shopped down the busy street from the restaurant. Cookies strategically placed in a window display drew you in, but ice cream sounded better. When Ellie ordered a float, you followed suit. This afternoon she wanted to go bowling with her friends followed by pizza at your place. It had taken a good hour picking up the five other kids in your trusty Cherokee, but you didn’t mind.

“Mom, are you sure you don’t want to play?”

“Nah. You kids have fun.” You stood, reaching for your purse resting on the empty seat next to you and looped it on your shoulder. “Do you guys want something to drink? I can grab a pitcher of Coke or Sprite.”

“Could we get both? Please mom,” Ellie asked.

“You got it,” you said with a smile before turning away.

They were old enough to bowl by themselves, so you really just wanted to give them some space. None of her group of friends drove yet, so rather than having everyone get dropped off, you volunteered to pick up. Ellie insisted that you stay rather than driving home just to turn around to come get them. According to Ellie, you had been dubbed the “cool” mom. You weren’t quite sure what you did to deserve that title. Sure, you were always willing to drive one of her friends home and you always had snacks at your house, but none of that made you feel cool.

Most of the kids you knew except for Aaron. You heard Ellie mention his name a time or two and heard her on the phone with Carmen mentioning his name again. Your sneaking suspicion was that she had a crush on him. He was a polite kid that was a bit on the tall side and a little lanky. Ellie had never approached the subject of dating with you, but if she wanted to do it in a group setting, you were more than fine with that. She was sixteen now, so even if she wanted to do a non-group date, you probably wouldn’t fight her on it.

As odd and surreal as it was, Chris was currently at your house setting up the bonus room for Ellie. You had caved and decided to make the first floor of your row home a bonus space for her. When you discussed it with Chris, he had asked to split the cost with you. It threw you for a minute, but he argued that he wanted to give her something for her birthday and didn’t know what to buy her. He threatened to buy her a car when you initially told him no, so you agreed to split the cost of the room. Chris had recently purchased a new couch for his home, so he was giving you his old one. The large space was also getting a table and four chairs for school work and craft projects with friends. A flat screen tv was being mounted to the wall and a couple of bean bag chairs were being added to the space. You’d let Ellie pick out some knickknacks and framed art to finish out the space the next time you two went shopping.

Things had gotten better after your heated conversation with Chris. He felt bad and the poor guy wore his heart of his sleeve. He was beyond sweet and timid with you the two times he was over at your place after that day. You actual had to pull him into the kitchen with you and tell him to knock it off. You were fine. The two of you were fine. Families could be difficult and you knew that from experience. It was over as far as you were concerned and you just wanted to move forward. Chris had started to reach out to you more by texting every few days to see how you were or send you a meme or two. It was nice. You couldn’t argue with that.

Chris had made himself scarce by the time you brought the kids back to your place. Only Chris’ family and Gwen knew about your family situation so he couldn’t just be hanging at your house when you arrived home with a group of teenagers.

“Oh, my goodness! Mom! This is amazing!” Ellie exclaimed once she stepped through the door. “How?” she asked, throwing her arms around your middle.

“Happy birthday baby girl,” you whispered into her hair. “Chris and I did it.”

She pulled her face back, wide eyed. “Chris did this too?” she whispered.

You nodded your head yes. “It’s our birthday gift to you. We’ll go shopping next week so you can decorate the space a bit. Sound good?”

“Yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she cheered pulling from your embrace and stepping into the room.

“I’ll order the pizzas,” you shouted as you walked up the stairs.

You sent Chris a quick text letting him know that Ellington loved her new hangout spot and was currently entertaining her friends in there.

Chris: Glad to hear that sweetheart

Whoa. That’s new.

You hummed to yourself before quickly exciting your text thread to order pizza. Once that was taken care of, you poured yourself a glass of wine and waited for the pizzas to arrive. Gwen had sent you a string of texts confirming that she had her flight booked for her trip in July. She was staying with you for a week and wanted to do all the touristy stuff. That was fine with you because you hadn’t gotten around to doing that yourself.

Your phone rang and you quickly clicked the accept button without paying much attention.

“Dude, yes, we’ll do the freaking tea party thing.”

You heard a chuckle that most certainly did not come from Gwen’s mouth.

“When do you want to do the tea party thing?”

It was Chris. Of course, it wouldn’t be the friend that had been non stop texting you for the last twenty minutes.

“H-hey! H-hi Chris,” you said, promptly clearing your throat. “What’s up?”

He chuckled again. “I’m trying to figure out what tea party you’re talking about.”

“Oh! Oh, I was just making plans with my best friend for when she comes to visit in July. I thought you were her calling.”

“Well, that still doesn’t answer my question. A tea party?”

“You know. The famous one. She wants to see all the Boston things.”

He chuckled again and if you were being honest, you really liked the sound of that.

“Ahhh. That one. Of course,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you drawled out. “So, what’s up?”

“I was just calling to ask that you call me when the kids are gone for the night.”

Your heart rate picked up. You could feel it thumping wildly in your chest.

“Call you?”

“Yeah,” he answered lamely. “I want to help clean up.”

Oh. That.

“Plus, I still have your spare key, so I want to return that,” he added.

“Ye-yeah. Sure. You don’t have to clean up though. It’s just pizza and cupcakes.”

“We’ll see...Give me a call or shoot me a text and I’ll stop by.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later then,” you said softly

“Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Chris.”

Ellington was gone for the night as she was sleeping over at Carmen’s house. The other kids had been picked up by another parent shortly before. The house was in relatively good shape considering you had six teenagers over for the better part of four hours. You had failed to pick up paper plates and cups, so you had dishes to do in addition to a table that needed to be wiped down as well as a floor to be swept. Chris was on his way over and he made it abundantly clear that you were not to start cleanup and until he got there. He was really trying to do his part as a parent. Or whatever he was. It was still too new and your mind hadn’t fully figured it out yet.

Not wanting to smell the pizza any longer, you took the three boxes outside and stuck them in the trash can just as Chris’ headlights hit you. Rather than dashing inside and looking like a weirdo, you stayed put and waited for him to exit his SUV.

“You don’t listen, do you?” he said, warning tone in his voice as he reached you.

“I couldn’t take the pizza smell anymore. I’m pizzaed out.”

“Likely story,” he teased. “And pizza? Thought she wasn’t a fan of cheese.”

“Only in some circumstances. Unique kid, remember?”

Chris hummed at that, following you into the house. “What’s the damage?”

“Surprisingly not bad. I think the older they get, the less of a mess they make,” you answered, as the two of you surveyed the room. “Plus, I think the fact that there were only two boys-”

“There were boys here?” Chris asked, cutting you off.

“Yes, Christopher. Ellie has boys who are friends. Although, I do think she likes one a little more than a friend.”

“Isn’t she a little young for that?” he asked.

“She’s sixteen! I’m surprised she hasn’t had a boyfriend that I at least know of, sooner,” you replied, carrying the six plates up the stairs to the kitchen. Chris was behind you, with the glasses stacked into two piles.

“Yeah, but, still.”

You chuckled at his response shaking your head.

Chris was currently lounging on your couch with a beer in his hand. You rarely drank it, but with him over at least once a week, you started to pick up a six pack every other week to have some on hand. Wine was more of your forte, although you weren’t particular about it. Ten dollar bottle, thirty dollar bottle, it was all the same to you.

“How old were you when you first had a boyfriend?”

“Hmm. That’s tough. I mean when I was a kid, like ten or eleven, I had what I thought was a boyfriend at the time, but of course that was like for a day or two and then you forget about that kid,” you laughed softly. “But dating was different for me. My parents had very particular standards, so I really only dated the sons of my parents’ friends. Kind of arranged courtships if you will. Even though I had a couple of boyfriends in high school, it wasn’t all that exciting or great for me. I dated in college, but nothing terribly serious. But I would consider those real boyfriends because they were with guys I wanted to be with.”

“Your family is pretty uptight?”

“Oh yeah. Getting pregnant wasn’t really in their life plans for me.”

Chris offered you a soft smile. “You went all Girls Gone Wild in college then?”

You ducked your head and covered your mouth as you snorted a laugh. “Hardly. I may have had my independence, but I didn’t go crazy. I was just able to be me for once.”

He nodded his head. You noticed his cheeks were bright red.

God, he’s good looking.

“Sorry!” he chuckled out. “Well, I’m glad you were able to find yourself in school.”

Each of you took a drink, you from your wine glass and Chris from his bottle of beer. It was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. The comfortable silence was welcoming.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chris replied.

“What made you donate sperm?”

Now it was your turn for your face to heat up. You honestly just wanted to know, but damn if it wasn’t a weird question to ask someone.

Chris chuckled and shook his head. “Money,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “I was eighteen and interning in the city. Needless to say, I was making next to nothing,” he sighed. “A buddy of mine had done it a few times and talked up the cash he was making.’

“Understandable,” you said.

“I only did it once. I was scared to death my mom would find out, so it only ended up being a one and done for me.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Well, thank you for doing so,” you said, lifting your glass in salute. “It brought me Ellington.” Chris’ eyes went soft and he raised his glass to you.

After a moment you chuckled and Chris perked up.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just,” you giggled again. “Your file said you were a pediatrician who acted in theater for fun.”

“I swear I never said that. I wouldn’t do that.” His plea was a bit panicked but sounded sincere.

“I believe you! I’m sure they beef up those files. Ellie is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“She is. We can agree to that.”

“El! Did you borrow my earrings again? The white gold hoops?” you yelled from your bedroom.

Tonight, was Ellie’s third and final birthday celebration, but this time it was just going to be her and Chris. He was over at your place making Ellie chicken enchiladas per her request and you were finally having a much-needed night out with your co-workers that you now considered friends. This was the first time the two of them were spending time together without you there. This was also the first time you were having an adults’ since you moved to Boston months ago. It was fine. You were fine. You weren’t freaking out at all.

Ellie came running into your room. “Sorry!” she said dropping the hoops in your open hand.

You pecked her on the cheek. “No problem.”

“You look great mom.”

“Thanks, baby.” You ran your fingers through your hair and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. “How’s Chris doing out there. Hasn’t burned down the kitchen yet, I hope.”

She giggled and shook her head no. “He says he’s a great cook. I’ll let you know.”

“You better.”

Amy, your manager was picking you up in fifteen minutes. A group of ten or so were meeting at a restaurant that had live music on Fridays and tonight was a nineteen eighties tribute band. The plans were dinner, drinks, and dancing. You weren’t sure on the dancing, but you weren’t about to poopoo that plan to your manager. She had become a close friend over the last few weeks, she didn’t need to know that you did not dance. You weren’t bad per se, you just weren’t all that coordinated. Get a few drinks in you, and you were pretty out of control on the dance floor.

“You don’t think I’m overdressed?” you asked.

“No, this looks really good.”

The restaurant was a little on the nicer side. So, even though you were there mainly for the music, you didn’t think jeans were the way to go. Looking in the mirror attached to your closet door, you pulled down on the waist, making the red wrap dress reach your knees. The fabric had a tendency to bunch up, making it hit a couple of inches above your knees. You liked your legs, but your conservative upbringing never really left you completely.

“Any boys going to be there tonight?” Ellie asked, wiggling her eyebrows?

“Boys? Ellington…really?”

She chuckled softly. “Just asking.”

“Yes, there will be men there. It’s a work thing and I work with some men. Plus, it’s a restaurant, so there’s bound to be a few more.”

You started to walk from your room to the living room, shoes in hand.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

You turned around surprising her as she jumped back a step. “Hey! Who’s the mother and who’s the daughter?” A fake scowl on your face which Ellie easily picked a part as she started laughing, throwing her head back.

“What are you two ladies going on about?” Chris said, stepping out of the kitchen with his hands on his waist. His eyes met yours and his mouth parted. “Wow,” he said softly.

You bit your bottom lip and turned back toward the couch taking a seat so you slip on your shoes.

“I was just teasing mom about her night out.” Ellie said, not catching on to the tension in the room.

Chris nodded but kept his eyes on you. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you said with a soft smile.

“Are you getting ready to head out?” he asked.

“Yep. My ride should be here in a few.”

“Good,” he nodded his head. “Dinner’s about ready. Want to set the table for me El?”

“On it,” she said, moving into the kitchen passing by Chris and giving him a slight hip check.

“Smells good. Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells.”

“Funny. I’ll have you know, my ma taught me to cook and I do just fine thank you.”

“Ellie will be the judge of that,” you replied, standing up now that your shoes were securely in place.

“I guess so,” he grinned.

Your phone chimed, so you quickly dug it out of your purse.

“That would be my ride,” you said to Chris who nodded before turning back to the kitchen.

“Ellie, Amy’s here. I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything.”

Ellie jogged out of the dinning room through the kitchen. “We’ll be fine. Have fun. Meet boys,” she said wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

You couldn’t get the damn key to work. It was your third attempt, missing the lock all together on your first two tries. Amy’s car was still parked in front your house running with the lights on.

“Need help there girlie?” she called through the open window.

You laughed louder than you meant to. Drinking two more drinks than necessary was really getting to you.

“I got it! I got it!” you yelled back. The key was in the slot, all you need to do was turn it and you were home free so to speak. “Go home! Love y-”

The door opened causing you to fall forward but before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you by the biceps.

“Whoa,” you whispered.

“You okay there, Y/N?” Chris chuckled helping you to stand on two feet.

“I’m-I’m fine. Thanks for catching me.”

“You good?” Amy called out.

You stepped back out the door and away from Chris’ arms, blowing her a kiss. “All good!”

Amy waved and drove off down the road. Turning back to your door, you stepped inside walking around Chris who closed the door behind you.

You had a permanent smile on your face, mostly due to the alcohol but partly due to the night. You had honest to goodness fun and it had been awhile. Your co-workers were a hoot. The food was good and the drinks were great. The band was high energy and talented. Half way through the set, you were forced out on the dance floor by some of your new friends and you actually had fun. Everyone was dancing too close for you to be too uncoordinated, so your secret was still safe.

“You didn’t have to stick around,” you said climbing the stairs.

Chris jogged up the stairs to catch up to you. “I know, but I wanted to clean up and didn’t want to leave Ellie home alone. She’s in bed already. Aaron called,” he said, giving you a look.

“Ah, Aaron. The boyfriend not boyfriend.”

“Yeah. Whatever that’s about.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “He’s a nice boy.”

“I don’t trust sixteen year old boys,” he said, leaning against the island and crossing his arms.

You smiled at him before reaching into the fridge to grab a bottle of water. You lifted it and waved it but Chris shook his head no.

“Not that quiet and studious boys can’t be punks, but I just didn’t get that impression of him. Besides, Ellie is a smart girl and we’ve had the sex talk.” The last bit was said in a hushed voice.

Chris raised his eyebrows, a small grin playing on his lips. “I didn’t quite hear that.”

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the word sex, but suddenly you were beyond flustered.

“The talk. You know. Not the birds and the bees, but birth control and waiting until you find the right partner,” you said. “Sex,” you whispered.

Chris threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I love that you feel the need to whisper the word sex.”

You shrugged your shoulders and lifted the bottle to your mouth taking a long drink. When he didn’t look away, you just kept on drinking, refusing to continue this side discussion.

He finally chuckled and looked down. “Did you have fun tonight?”

You set the bottle on the counter behind you and pulled that smile back on your lips. “The best time. It was hard moving away from friends. It’s nice to have friends here now.”

“Good. I’m glad sweetheart.”

There was that word again. You belly flipped and you had to grip the counter behind you to stay on your feet.

“I’m going to take off. I’ll call you.”

“Ye-yeah. Sounds good Chris,” you replied.

He started his decent down the stairs and you took a moment to yourself before you followed. Chris was slipping on his boots when you made it to the first level.

“Drive safe.”

“I will,” he replied softly but made no move to leave.

The two of you stood motionless, soft smiles on your face. It almost felt like a game about who would look away first.

“Well.”

“Yeah,” you replied.

Chris chuckled and pulled you in a hug. It was unexpected as the two of you hadn’t hugged before.

“Oh.”

“Have a goodnight sweetheart,” he said into your hair.

You started to pull back, but his arms were still around you. “You too. I mean, you have a goodnight too.”

He smiled brightly at you, nodding his head slightly. It’s then when you lost your mind. Leaning in, you brushed your lips against his. You quickly dropped your arms forcing him to do the same. Your brain was at a loss as to what to do next. Chris’ eyes were wide but he still had a soft smile on his lips. When neither of you moved to take a step back, you decided to end the night before you made it anymore uncomfortable or tried to kiss him again.

“Okay, goodnight,” you said.

“Goodnight?”

“Yeah, goodnight Chris.”

“Okay.”

He opened the door, took a step outside and turned back to face you. “Night.”

“Night,” you replied.

You shut the door and flicked the deadbolt. Pressing your back against the door, you closed your eyes and took in a few calming breathes.

I kissed Chris. What was I thinking?!

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