#( wc; 1173 )

[trueangel420]

kit walker, “time to give in to the kindness of strangers” kinda outta luck - ldr ౨ৎ wc 1173 pt2

You were a mess, albeit you had just gotten away with robbing a man of his piece of shit broken tire truck, and that piece of shit deserved it, for making moves on a small town girl such as yourself. You had driven as far south as a girl like you could, and when you finally found a diner that didn't look like a crapshack, you parked aimlessly. You had settled your shotgun on the floor of the truck out of sight before hopping out of the car. The smell of apple pies and summer nights filled your nose as you strolled in eyes looking around; it wasn't as busy as you thought, and when you passed the old couple with your hips a' swaying towards the counter, you couldn't help but wonder where the waitress was. "How can I help you, ma'am?" a thick Boston accent asked. It was a man standing behind the counter, his brown hair tousled neatly. God, he was all American.

"Well, I don't suppose you have what I need," you replied to him, a doopy smile tugging at your lips. He raised his eyebrows, leaning over the counter and slightly hovering over you. "Well, we have plenty; just tell me what you're needin', darling," he smiled.

"Ice cream float," you said, simply making him nod. Your eyes never left him as you sat down, inching closer to him. "You look mighty fine to be working in a place like this, and that accent—you ain't from here," you whisper. You were curious about this man—maybe a bit curious. "Well, you're right about that; I ain't," he murmured. "I'm Kit, Kit Walker." Kit was trying to figure you out since you waltz in the red and white stripped crop top and the jean shorts. He didn't even know what to expect when you spoke, his eyes trying to stay put on your face, but your tits and the curve of your body in those jean shorts distracted him greatly. Kit was a man of respect; he knew that much, but his eyes when he saw you wondered—he'd hope you couldn't tell. "Nice to meet you, Kit," you said softly, dragging out his name. You liked it.

"Anybody ever told you you look like a young James Dean?" You smiled sweetly—that award-winning smile. His cheeks tinged red, and he shook his head before clearing his throat. "Nah, doll, I never heard that one before." He started making your ice cream float, filling the libbey soda glass with root beer, occasionally looking over his shoulders at you. "Vanilla or chocolate?"

"Vanilla"

He grabbed the scooper, putting the ice cream on top and adding a cherry. He'd never done that before, but he felt like you'd like it. "Here you go, doll." Of course you did what he hoped you wouldn't; you slipped the cherry past your lips, the vanilla ice cream slightly dripping from it. He cleared his throat lowly, trying to force himself to look away. He was a gentleman, of course. "So what brings you around here so late?" He tried to distract himself, asking you questions as you sipped the drink through your straw. "Tire got a flat." He straightened up a bit, his eyes looking behind you. Your red truck sat there a little bit dingier than he expected, but who was he to judge? "I'm a mechanic,” he blurted out, making you smile. Perfection he was—a hot guy who makes you ice cream floats and can get dirty to fix 'your' tire?

"And you can fix it right now?" you asked, stirring the drink slightly as you watched him. "If you don't mind riding back with me to my shop," he says, smiling a bit. "I don't mind one bit; one question though," you murmured, getting up and pushing your hair behind your ear. "Whatcha doing working here?" His eyes widened; he was surprised you even cared enough to ask. "I'm filling in for a friend," you nodded, not asking further.

The ride to his shop was quick. It was dimly lit and neat-looking—a shack in the middle of the road. You were planning on just stealing his car; truthfully, your eyes were drifting between him and yours, checking it out, and his smooth vehicle was just a few steps away. It was tempting, and you were a girl who gave in to her temptations. Oh, how badly you wanted to.

You heard him say something muffled under your car before sliding out. "It’ll be a quick fix, okay, doll?" he said. "Okay," you replied, watching him slide back under. Your first thought was about his keys. You walked to the hood of your car, grabbed his keys, and stepped back. "You’re saving my life, Kit. Thank you," you said, a sly smile tugging at your lips as he said, "You're welcome sweetcheeks." You backpedaled slowly, your feet making no noise in the rubble as you got closer to his car. You turned around, put the key in, and turned it. But before you could, you heard a chuckle.

"Wrong key," he said, laughing. He was laughing at you. He slid out from underneath the truck and wiped his hands on his apron. "Did you just try to steal my car?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice.

Your eyes were as wide as cherry pies when he asked that question, freezing you in place. “No—wh-what?” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest in mock offense. “I would never—never steal a car!” you continued, making him laugh even harder. He walked toward you, his jeans and apron slightly dirt-streaked, as you tried to backtrack. “I was just looking at it; it’s a nice little thing,” you said, sheepishly. He shook his head, his dimples showing as he smiled down at you.

"Just lookin' doll?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded again. "With my house keys?" You cleared your throat, trying to find the words. "Sorry, I just needed a ride, and fast," you confessed, pouting. You’d be more tense, but he seemed amused rather than angry, so you decided to use that to your advantage.

"Doll, just ask for a ride then," he said softly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Can I have a ride?" you asked, your voice strained as you looked up into his chocolaty brown eyes. "Can I have a ride what?" he urged, still wearing an amused expression.

"Can I have a ride, please?" He shook his head, moving closer. "Please what?"

What more did this man want from you? This was embarrassing; you would’ve been better off running away. "Can I have a ride, please, Mr. Walker?" you hoped that would satisfy whatever hyper-specific thing he wanted you to say. He grinned, grabbing his house keys from your hands and reaching into his pockets. "Atta girl," he said, finding his car keys and walking towards the door. He unlocked it and got in. "Come on doll, let’s get you where you need to be."

[vinylfoxbooks]

June 28 - Lawyer | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 1173

Regulus showing up at the Potter Mansion was the last thing that James expected during their summer between 6th and 7th year. But he did. He did show up, a large bruise on his jawline, his hair messy, and his normally put-together clothes rumpled and loose on his body.

James immediately pulls him into their arms, guiding the younger further into his house and onto the couch in the living room, calling out to his parents. Effie is in the living room almost immediately and she rushes over while James lowers themself and Regulus onto the couch.

“Oh dear, what happened?” The woman asks, kneeling in front of the two of them, “Regulus, darling? Are you okay?”

“No… She-” Regulus breaths, leaning further into James’ body heat, “She learned about James and got… upset. She kicked me out.”

“Can I run a spell on you to check for any wounds?” Effie asks, pulling out her wand. She casts the spell when Regulus nods and hums a couple seconds later, “Alright, it doesn’t look like you have any internal wounds. Only bruises and we can take care of those. Have you eaten recently?” 

“Yeah, I had lunch not long ago.” 

“Alright then,” She pats his shoulder gently, “I’ll let you run off with James, if you need anything feel free to come to me.” Regulus nods and the woman presses a kiss to James’ head, telling them something that Regulus can’t hear before walking out of the room. 

Once she’s gone, James turns to him, “Do you want to come lay down with me?”

The younger nods, “I could use a nap.”

“Of course, love.” And with that, James helps their boyfriend stand up and pulls him up the stairs and into their bedroom. They dig around their closet and pull out some clothes for Regulus to change into before starting to crawl into their bed, waiting for Regulus to finish with his clothes and lay down with them. 

When he does, James immediately pulls him to their body, running their hands through his hair and humming a soft tune to help him calm down a bit.

“Where’s Sirius?” 

“Out with Remus. I’m sure mum will tell him that you’re here when he gets back. I don’t know how long he was planning to be out, though.” Regulus hums his acknowledgement then goes silent once again, leaning into James’ body as much as he can. 

Eventually, the two of them are lulled into a sleep and when they wake up, it’s to yelling happening downstairs. James immediately pushes their body up and starts getting out of bed, apologizing to their boyfriend when he whines about the loss. The two of them make quick work of getting downstairs when the yelling starts to get louder, rushing towards where it’s coming from. 

Only to see Effie standing up to Walburga in the doorway. Effie is much shorter than the latter woman, likely a foot shorter than her with Walburga’s heels that she insists on wearing, but the way that she holds herself makes it impossible to tell. Sirius is standing in the living room, watching the two of them as well, though his gaze started flickering between the two women and Regulus when he noticed that they arrived. 

“If you do not give me my sons, I will be contacting my lawyers.” Walburga screeches in Effie’s face, though the shorter woman doesn’t flinch. 

Instead, Effie stands up taller and takes a step forward, making sure to still block the entire doorway in case Walburga makes an attempt to get inside her house, “Contact your lawyers all you want, Black. You disowned your first born and you abused your second when you learned that he was in a romantic relationship with my child. Not to mention the times that both of your children have come running to either myself, my husband, or my child beaten, bruised, and crying after what you did to them. I’m also not sure that your dearest Ministry would enjoy hearing about not only the abuse that you put your sons through, but also about the work that you’re doing with one Dark Lord, would they, Walburga.” 

Walburga sneers, learning down to get in Effie’s face, “You dare threaten me in-”

“In your own house?” Effie asks, cutting her off, “Dare I remind you that this is my house. This is the Potter Manor, not your own. I have given you and your husband several warnings before to not step foot onto my property any more, therefore not only are you threatening me, you are also trespassing onto my property and I can, and will, get you removed if you even think about touching me or any of my children.” Then the woman turns into the house, her eyes landing on James, “Darling, would you mind fire calling the aurors for me?”

“Of course ma.” James nods, smiling at their mom. They turn to the living room and start walking towards the fireplace. 

“Wait!” Walburga screams, backing up, “Don’t call them.”

“I won’t if you leave this property and do not step foot anywhere near this place every again,” James sneers, changing course so they’re walking towards where their mom is in the doorway, “And if I ever hear that you even looked at Regulus or Sirius, the aurors won’t be the only thing you have to worry about.”

Walburga scoffs and glares at Effie, “Are you going to let your son talk to me like that?”

Effie laughs, cruel, “Oh please, Black. I fully support my child. In fact, both my husband and I will be right behind them when they do come for you. Now, I think it’s best that you see yourself out before I do.” And with that, she slams the door shut. The four can hear Walburga let out a very undignified screech through the door before she seemingly apparates away

Effie sighs and shakes his head, “I’m going to have to talk to Flea about getting more spells up around the house.” Then she pulls James into her arms and presses a kiss to their temple, “Thank you for helping me with that wretch. Now, what do you kids want for dinner? Fleamont should be home from his meeting soon.” 

And now, both Black brothers were well aware of Effie’s protective streak, and they were both fully aware that she was where James got it from, but neither had ever expected the sweet, warm Effie to get in the face of Walburga without flinching and threaten her point blank. 

Sirius laughs, bounding towards where the woman disappeared into the kitchen, “You’re so cool, mum.” Which makes said woman laugh, this time bright and ringing clear like a bell with no trace of the cruelty of her previous laughter. 

Meanwhile, James makes their way over to Regulus, pulling him into their arms, “You’re safe now, love.”

“I have no doubt of that.” Regulus smiles, pulling James into a kiss that they’re more than willing to return with love.

[x0llaz]

Bro Code. Kim Gyuvin.

Chapter 25) under the bleachers

written~ 1173 wc

When yn got to practice, the boys were running warm ups. Gunwook yelled over for her to join them, and she walked up after placing her things down. The team huddled around her, asking how she’d been, Ricky nudging for Gyuvin to step forward a bit. 

Gyuvin joined in their talk, standing a little closer to YN, smiling down at her as she spoke. The team asked YN about her student council stuff. The team picked up on her and gyuvin’s shared glances, their little smirks at each other, and how they subconsciously stayed closer to one another. 

Through their small talk, yn and Gyuvin could tell hanbin wasn’t in a good mood. He looked from one to the other, noticing how the two of them exchanged glances from time to time. Jiwoong called for them to get back to work, and YN went back to the bleachers to get started on her homework. She’d look up fron time to time to watch their drills, waiting for one of their breaks so she could talk to gyuvin. 

About an hour in, with a few breaks between to get some water, she heard Jiwoong call their official break. The team had fifteen minutes to go off and do whatever they needed to do. YN expected Gyuvin to come and talk with her, but after a few minutes there was no sign of him. She got up and went to talk to gunwook, asking about whatever came to mind. 

Soon, she felt a tug on her arm, and turned to see Gyuvin, who looked a little frantic, pulling for her to follow him. She obliged and let him tug her away, doing her best to keep up with his fast pace. When they got out of the gym, she saw Gyuvin scan the area before his eyes landed on something. Someone. He tugged on her again and sped up, telling her to follow. Hanbin was on their trail. 

YN didn’t know why he was following them, all she knew was that she was being dragged along by gyuvin. She picked up her pace to keep up, his hand warm around her wrist as he led her away. 

They’d look behind them a few times, seeing hanbin still following them, a little faster since he realized YN was with gyuvin. Gyuvin looked slightly frantic, yn looked puzzled. 

Gyuvin snagged her around a few corners, eventually ending up behind the bleachers, both of them panting from the run. 

“Wanna explain that?” YN asked, pushing her hair away from her face. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he sighed. “Uh, Hanbin was trying to interrogate me about hanging out with you. Trying to get me to talk, i guess,” He smiled, amused by their little chase. “What did you want to talk about?”

YN smiled. “Hanbin,” She sighed a bit and Gyuvin stood up a little straighter. “He texted me last night saying he didn’t like that we were hanging out. He said you wouldn’t be good for me,” she pursed her lips and Gyuvin frowned. 

“Why?”

“I have no clue,” YN smiled. “He’s an enigma,” she slumped against the wall behind her, looking up at him. 

“That’s just so weird, why would he think that?” Gyuvin furrowed his eyebrows. “I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” 

“Not that I can think of,” She shrugged back at him. “Maybe he’s just weird about it because he knows both of us,” 

“Yeah but he’s not rizzing either of us up, why should he care?” He asked. 

“I asked him the same thing yesterday,” yn sighed. “It’s frustrating, you know? Just being judged for who I like,” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But I can prove him wrong. I’ll show him that he’s wrong, that I am good for you,” he smiled at YN, through his slight nervousness at the thought. “If he’d just give me the chance, i could show him-”

“You don’t need to prove anything,” YN interjected, putting her hand on his arm. “What Hanbin thinks doesn’t really matter to me. And it shouldn’t matter to you. I like you regardless of Hanbin’s opinions on it,” 

Gyuvin felt himself smile. “Cool,” he sighed a little and relaxed upon his words. “Then, that’s all that matters to me,” 

The two just smiled at each other for a minute, taking each other in as the muffled noise from the gym around them got louder. Unspoken words filled the air between them, as both of them realized how close they were to one another. 

Their silence was broken when Gyuvin spoke her name, his hand moving up to tuck her hair back a bit. “YN, I… I really like you,” he told her, his voice soft as his fingers played with the hair he’d tucked away. “You make me feel… good,” his words fell short as he looked at her. “You make me feel happy- i look forward to being able to see you, I love being around you, I-” he stopped his ramble and sighed. “I just need you to know that,” he smiled a little, his other hand finding hers and squeezing it lightly. 

YN smiled, looking down at the ground. “I like being with you too,” she looked up at him, a little sparkle in her eyes as she looked at him. “The feeling’s mutual,” her smile made his heart warm, his hand absentmindedly staying close to her, still fiddling with her hair. 

The two looked at each other, reaffirming their feelings that had only grown through the weeks. Neither of them wanted to go back to whatever they were before, awkward conversations, friendly jokes, and stares across rooms were not what YN and Gyuvin wanted. 

And Gyuvin knew what he wanted. 

He stood up a little straighter, the hand resting in her hair laying gently on the back of her head. He looked at her, and sighed out whatever hesitancy he could push out of his system. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice quiet, eyes flickering down to her lips, then back up to her pretty eyes. 

There was silence, the question surrounding them as they stood. And even in the silence, YN nodded her head.

He leaned down slowly, squeezing her hand as she stood on her tiptoes a bit to meet him halfway. YN’s eyes closed as she felt them getting closer, soon feeling his soft lips against her own. She took in a soft gasp, letting herself relax and bringing her hand up to rest on his cheek as they continued. Gyuvin moved his hand from hers, and wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close, not breaking the kiss- as if he’d wake up from a dream the moment he let her go. 

Outside on the court, The other teammates were hollering for Gyuvin, their break had ended a few minutes prior, and they needed their point guard to continue with their drills. Luckily for Gyuvin, when he got back, there was no suspicion he had just spent a good five minutes kissing Hanbin’s little sister. 

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[adiluv-moved]

♡ ､､ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

꒰summary—wc꒱ poor, poor rosalyne. 1173 words.

꒰warnings꒱ major character death, angst w/ unhappy ending, reader is a fatui soldier, barely edited.

꒰adi moment꒱ still can't believe they robbed us of playable signora when she's literally my wife and we're literally happily married and just celebrated our anniversary together smhhh ꒰struggling to cope꒱! would like to be delulu and hope she gets revived somehow, cuz she fr deserves it. anyway, hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀི১

Celestia does not pity the sinners.

When you'd first found yourself involved with the Fatui, your failure to pay back your father's loans indebting you to the organization, you'd already known that you'd be destined for a bad ending. When you'd first found yourself being placed beneath the authority of the Eight Harbinger, you were surprised that Celestia did not strike you down right then and there. Namely, because unlike the other wide-eyed recruits that stood at the entryway of her manor, your cheeks were not tinted pink by the sub-zero temperatures. 

She was an interesting person, laced in webs of contradiction and mystery. She boasted a haughty personality, a sharp tongue that could slice through the egos of even her most self-conceited underlings. She dressed herself in luxurious shades of red, hair elegantly styled and makeup perfectly applied. But there was something strange that lurked beneath the surface of icy-blue eyes, like a flame, one that was too stubborn to be snuffed out—brazen, and burning beneath layers of snow and frost. Her face was fair, long hair draped over half of it, but in moments where she turned too fast, or the wind picked up, you could see charred flesh beneath it—a reminder, it seemed, to something she wished to forget.

Her home was warm, the furniture all imported from Mondstadt, a land of freedom that many deserters fantasized about escaping to. A fire burned within the servant's quarters, your colleagues and you huddling by it whenever the night fell and you'd been released from your duties. And yet, despite the feelings of positivity that her choices in furnishings tried to radiate, she seemed to be a bitter woman—locked in invisible shackles and tugged along like a doll. 

Oh, and you knew she was aware of your blind devotion, aware of the way that your back straightened up whenever you heard her heels clicking against wood paneling, aware of the sparks of awe that danced around in still-bright eyes.

What you didn't know, however, was the fact that she'd reward it.

The feeling of her arms languidly wrapping themselves around your waist, tugging you close and trapping you on her lap as she'd complete paperwork. The feeling of long nails gracefully sifting through your hair, tugging out any tangles she'd find along the way because, of course, she was not one to be deterred—and it was impossible to be annoyed by this trait when she'd coo so gently in response to your whimpers. The feeling of your lips on hers, flesh soft but oh so cold, with a near intolerable heat that thrummed beneath it. 

All these feelings, and the ways that she'd allow you to spoil yourself in her love. But how, so quickly, she'd push you from her embrace the second a knocking came at her door, leaving you to compose yourself within a second as she beckoned for her visitors to enter. How they'd leave, and in the next second you'd already be draping yourself against her, bodies intertwining in a hardly useful attempt to combat the room's constant chill. ꒰At the very least, it was more effective for her than you.꒱

How the pathway to her personal chambers would become so familiar, with her commanding you to come and meet her after all of the other soldiers you shared your quarters with drifted off to sleep. And, oh, how you'd listen, awoken before the crack of dawn by the feeling of her lips and a soft hum in order to scurry back before anybody could note your disappearance.

When did all of those feelings become familiar to you?

And, when did those feelings become strange once again?

"The Eighth is dead?!" You hear, once again, a shrill shriek that grates on your eardrums as it reverberates through the common room. Another Fatuus has just been informed of her fate, it seems, a newer recruit from the House of Hearth that you hadn't had the chance to properly introduce yourself to. Not that it even mattered anymore. 

You sigh, for what seems like the hundredth time within the hour, a futile attempt at keeping the tears brimming in your eyes from spilling over, from keeping the wail bubbling inside of your throat from escaping.

La Signora is dead. 

Your lover, dead.

Dead, in a foreign land, practically on the other side of Teyvat, on a mission she'd insisted she'd return alive from.

Dead, on a mission that—when you'd initially questioned her about it—caused a prideful sneer to emerge on her face, familiar fingers gently pinching your lips shut as she teased you for your concern.

Dead, on a mission that she'd outright refused to let you accompany her on, half-jokingly stating that she didn't wish for the other Harbingers stationed there to catch a glimpse at you—stating that they might just fall in love at first glance, and she didn't want to share.

Looking back, you should've protested her decision more, insisted more instead of looking away to hide the red hue dusting your cheeks. You should've begged, even, instead of allowing her to steal a kiss from you, lips lingering with an unspoken promise of return that could now never be fulfilled. You should've followed, even if it would've made her upset, instead of allowing her to depart from the estate and board the one-way ship at the harbor, leaving you behind for good. 

Anything, anything. You should've—would've done anything, if it had the chance of making her stay.

Unlike her fellow Harbingers, you would not be granted the honors of peering into her casket, witnessing her remains before her manor—and her, by extension—are sealed away forever—a memory hidden away in the snow. ꒰You cannot decide if that makes you relieved or upset, because thinking about it for too long instead makes you wish to vomit.꒱ 

Instead, you are made to pack your belongings, flowers native to Mondstadt that she'd gifted you pressed beneath your pillow—not that you even slept on it all that often to begin with. You hold them as though they're made of glass, hands trembling and vision blurring as you attempt to keep even a single one of your teardrops from sullying them.

"What a shame, it is, that she was so far out of the Archons' favor." Comes a hushed murmur from another soldier, a recruit who'd been enlisted around the same time as you, devout to the point where you'd questioned their motivations for joining the ranks of such a morally ambiguous force.

A bitter laugh escapes your mouth at that, shoulders tensing as it devolves into nothing more than a strained sob. And while a part of you aches to destroy them, to rip them apart in some cruel way of reminding yourself that whatever you had with that woman is gone—you don't—simply shoving them back into their hiding space, hoping that they're also preserved within the icy wasteland that will soon take over your old home.

Poor, poor Rosalyne. 

Celestia does not pity the sinners. 

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[hdmiwire]

untitled short story wip wc: 1173, lightly proofread

I sit in the car, listening to the patter of rain on the roof, trying to decide if I actually want to go in or not. Sure, this Lincoln Log cabin on a hill is my house, but these days it's hard to consider it home. A more hopeful person might say “Oh Maddy, home is where the heart is,” but I don’t think my heart has been here, not since I was very young. If I go in that house, my Mother will be there, there's no doubt about that, seeing that her beat up Dodge Minivan is sitting in front of me right now.

I lean on the plush-covered steering wheel, exhaling a breath that I’ve been holding for the last twenty years. Closing my eyes, I run over my options: option one, go inside; option two, go back to Magnolia’s; option three -

A series of knocks on my window startles me out of my thoughts. My hand flies to my chest in hopes of keeping my heart behind my ribs while I roll down my window to the signature sound of my grandmother’s laugh - a honeysuckle sweet melody.

“So jumpy, Madds! Get’cha scrawny self in this house and help me with supper .”

Her giggles slowly fade as she pulls my door open, making my choice for me. With a groan, I grab my bag out of the passenger seat and finally force my feet onto the ground, her umbrella keeping the warm brown leather of my boots safe from the cold winter droplets. We walk arm-in-arm up the drive, not in any rush to remove ourselves from the familiar woodsy surroundings. The comfortable silence is only broken once we’re both inside and in the kitchen, a familiar scene for the two of us. 

“Terrance brought by some fresh chicken, so we outta take some supper by his wife in the morning. I heard that the little ones sick again, she could use it.”

“Mhm. I’ll take it on my way out.” 

And thats it. The two of us fall back into our usual routine, working in a dance-like rhythm around the small kitchen, with a backing track of boiling water and knives on wood. It's nice like this, before Mom interrupts the peace. It's almost a wonder she hasn’t come downstairs yet, but based on the silence in the house, I can almost guarantee that Mags told her what-for before I got home. Good, the bitch needs to be humbled sometimes. 

I’m chuckling to myself at the thought of my grown-ass mother upstairs sulking in her bedroom, when my phone chimes - an email. I set down the knife I was using to chop potatoes and rinse my hands before picking it up, knowing its probably just another rejection letter from an influencer’s management team. I look down at the screen and - oh shit!

“Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

My eyes go wide and I can feel my heart beating in my throat. Everything around me seems to be moving in slow motion as I read the subject line over and over a million times: “Welcome to F.I.T., Madison!”

Mags jumps, hand flying to her chest, “Maddy! What is it, what’s all that hollering for?”

I can’t even form words, my hands flap around wildly while I try to show her the email, shoving my phone in her face instead. She takes the phone from my hand and pulls her wire-frame glasses down to her eyes. A beat passes of me pinching my own cheeks while she reads, really hoping this isn’t one of those times where I’m dreaming again.

As she processes what the email says, a grin spreads across her face and she screams, “My god girl! Would you look at you!”

She tosses my phone on the counter and I jump at her, wrapping my arms around her neck and letting tears of relief and joy fall. All these years of dreaming and scrimping and saving and portfolio building and its finally real. It's finally happening, all I have to do is get there, which is the easy part.

A feigned cough disrupts my joy - Marie. Good, just what I need. Mags and I separate ourselves, her humming while she returns to the soup and me rubbing tears from my eyes with the heels of my hands. Mom is holding my phone, a scowl on her face while she reads the notice of my freedom from her.

“You’re not going. End of story,” is all she has to say before dropping my phone back on the counter. She's never wanted me to get out of Blairsville, even when I was a kid, and wanted to go with my dad when they separated, but she couldn’t have that, couldn’t let him “win” me. Usually, I wouldn’t let this bother me - I’d ignore her and go up to my room like I have for the rest of my life - but this time is the last - and I do mean last - time I’m going to let her treat me like this. I sniff and cross my arms, fists clenched under my armpits; I may not want her to think she's going to win this one, but I have to keep a level head. My blood is boiling, and I can feel the heat rising up my neck as I run through a million options of what I could - no - what I should say. 

She's standing across the small island from me, staring me down. Her eyes shift to just above my right eye, just for a split second, to the patch of white hair that, no doubt, reminds her of my father, and makes her blood boil as much as mine is now. I almost pity the bitch - keyword almost - her husband left her and then his business took off, and she was stuck with a living, breathing reminder of the person she hated most in this world: me. Never mind the fact that Mags always taught her to, and I quote, “wrap it before you tap it.” She was clearly never one for listening to others. 

Suddenly, I’m struck by all twenty years of pent up emotions towards her, and can only think of one thing to say: “Fuck you, Marie. Just fuck you.”

I snatch my phone up and make a beeline for the stairs, rapidly dialing my dad’s number and hoping to get to my room before more, less happy, tears spill from my eyes. I lock my door while the phone rings, trying to steady my breath so I can talk to him calmly. 

The phone stops ringing, and at first its just the sounds of a New York subway, and momentarily I wonder if I’m interrupting his evening. 

“My girl, my girl, my favorite girl! Something must be wrong, you never call your father.”

I can practically hear the raise of his white eyebrow, and can’t help but giggle at his apt observation of me - I really do hate phone calls.

[partsfe005]

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[partsfeca]

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[rkwon]

⯁ ROYAL SEPTEMBER EVALUATION: I’LL BE THERE !

A REFLECTION OF YOUR FEELINGS TOWARDS FAMILY PERFORMANCE: I’LL BE THERE BY JESS GLYNNE

( tw !! mentions of/implied corporal punishment and abuse )

once he’d decided who his performance would be for, what just kind of fell into place. he had wanted something a little light, upbeat enough to be a breath of fresh air amongst what will likely be an onslaught of emotional tracks, but deep enough to properly encapsulate the way he feels — to appropriately fill the prompt. the last thing he wants is for the coaches to be disappointed with his first evaluation as a trainee, to wonder why jisub had deemed him worthy of a contract. 

( at the same time, he knew the most important person to make proud would be himself, so he tries not to think about it too much. )

he can’t help but notice the parallels with standing on the mga stage when he walks into the room, stands in the centre with a row of impossible-to-read faces staring back at him. the lights don’t quite blind him or send a wave of warmth down his spine but he certainly feels equally as small with the world unfolding around him. the name of the song sits on the edge of his tongue, desperate to spill out so he can get on with things and stop thinking about how the coaches’ eyes don’t glisten under the light like mingyu’s always had when he’d practised for him. he doesn’t have his comfort blanket, his boyfriend’s fingers tucked between his own anymore and he’s scared. he’s far more scared than he ever had been on the mgas. perhaps it’s because back then, he had a purer motivation and if things didn’t work out, they would always be able to try again. now, he dreads to think what happens if he doesn’t do well. he’s heard stories, seen accusations that make his stomach churn and his life flash on the inside of his eyelids and he doesn’t want to find out if the rumours are true. he just wants to deliver a heartfelt tribute to one of the most important people in his life, someone who helped shape him into the man he is today, the man who got here. 

once he’s ready, he cues the music, adjusts his feet to just slightly apart to give him a more natural position. he doesn’t want to appear as nervous as he feels or feel his knees cramp halfway through because he’s been trying so hard not to move too much. even when the introduction kicks in, he feels his dancer body long to trace out a choreography, but instead, he sways to the quiet instrumental as he starts the opening verse. 

when all the tears are rolling down your face and it feels like yours was the only heart to break when you come back home and all the lights are out, ooh and you getting used to no one else being around

oh, oh, I'll be there when you need a little love, I got a little love to share yeah, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna come through you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you I'll be there, I'll be there for you I'll be there, I'll be there for you oh, I swear, I got enough love for two, ooh, ooh, ooh you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you

his english leaves much to be desired normally, barely experienced in conversation let alone the nuances of each syllable, but a skill won does have is an excellent ability to ignore his lack of knowledge and copy sounds. with a love of japanese pop ( and usually, the japanese tracks of his favourite korean groups — kara and chichi come to mind immediately, but he doesn’t doubt there’s many more ) like his own, over the years, his improvement had been vast and whilst it takes from his singing a little having to initially worry about pronunciation, by the end of the three weeks he’s had to perfect this, he barely thinks about making the distinction between his r’s and l’s — especially with two of each in the titular lines that make the majority of the lyrics. 

regardless, this isn’t a test of his language skills, even a test of how well he can perform, but instead an evaluation of his ability to show emotion in his voice, expressions. it’s more than pinching his leg through his shorts pocket or forcing his voice to shake as he draws out the longest notes. maybe he shouldn’t have to truly feel the song deep in his bones to convey the sort of emotion they’re looking for, but here, at this level, he does and it’s lucky that won’s heart swells with love for his mother figure with so much freedom, so much comfort. maybe he’s a bit of a mummy’s boy, for someone else’s mother technically, but he wouldn’t change it for the world and he doesn’t think sujin would either. 

when it's friday night and the drink don't work the same you're alone with yourself and there's no one else to blame when you still can't feel the rhythm of your heart and you see your spirit fading in the dark

oh, oh, I'll be there when you need a little love, I got a little love to share yeah, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna come through you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you I'll be there, I'll be there for you I'll be there, I'll be there for you oh, I swear, I got enough love for two, ooh, ooh, ooh you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you

he wouldn’t say it’s a flawless performance. he wouldn’t say any performance he completes is because there’s always room for improvement, otherwise everything would get boring far too quickly. he wouldn’t say either, however, that anything about it was inherently bad. he gently sways to the second chorus, just enough not to be rigid, to show how serenely happy he is to be able to dedicate such a beautiful song to someone he loves with his entire heart, but not so much that his voice falters because of it. stability is something he wants to achieve in every performance, consistency key in each stage and overall. as a dancer, he loves being able to tweak things each time, how every time he moves, he spots something new he could try to add a little extra something to his performance, be it more fluidity or an entirely new step altogether. with singing, he wants to be remembered as someone who is strong, and consistently so. someone who doesn’t overpower a performance but helps carry a melody with confidence. 

maybe he’s a little to conscious of how he’s moving, what emotions he’s feeling and isn’t focusing enough on just making all these things natural rather than trying to force them to be. 

when the bridge hits and the climax approaches, he lets go of everything else on his mind, closes his eyes and centres. 

when you're lost down the river bed, I'll be there when you're lost in the darkness, I'll be there I'll be there when your heart is breaking you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you I'll be there

his runs are nothing on the original and he has to cut off the length of the high note before it can truly reach its most difficult for his voice in order to jump into the final chorus. there are so many adlibs he loves that he has to miss because pre-recorded vocals weren’t allowed but perhaps it’s for the best. there’ll be other months, other chances for him to show off all the new skills he’ll learn here at royal but this isn’t it. this is a chance to show them how damn much he loves the woman who gave him a second chance — a new lease of life. he takes a deep breath just in time to belt the note out, moving straight into the chorus with a tone and strength fitting only for portraying the same passion the original holds. 

I'll be there, I'll be there for you (I'll be there) I'll be there, I'll be there for you (ooh, ooh, I'll be there) oh, I swear, I got enough love for two, ooh, ooh, ooh you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you, oh I'll be there, I'll be there for you (I'll be there when your tears are falling) I'll be there, I'll be there for you (I'll be there, can't you hear me calling?) oh, I swear, I got enough love for two, ooh, ooh, ooh (I'll be there when your heart is breaking) you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you, ooh I'll be there for you, ooh I'll be there for you, ooh you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you I'll be there for you, ooh I'll be there for you, ooh you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you

coming down for the outro, his eyes open slowly, a sparkle ( he hopes ) in them as he emotionally rounds up the song, thinking, perhaps this was just another emotional ballad in the mess of performances they’ll be watching today, no different to the crying another trainee will have done from start to finish or the anger in another’s tightened fist but it feels like the whole world to him — it feels like things are starting to fall into place, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for him, mingyu, sujin and hyunwoo; his family. 

[kenzumekodma]

18+, minors & ageless blogs dni

pairing: koushi sugawara x fem!reader

wc: 1173

warnings: dumbification, daddy kink, praise kink, a small bit of oral (f recieving), edging, one instance of light pussy slapping, creampie (wrap it before you tap it folks), cockwarming, aftercare find the rest of my kinktober masterlist here!

Koushi looks up from his book as you close the door behind you.

“You’re home late. Rough day at work?” he asks. You nod, silently setting your bag by the door and sliding out of your shoes and into your slippers. “Want to talk about it?”

“No, but yes, but not really? I just. My brain has a million thoughts and nothing in it at all, all at once. Of course we were understaffed again, which meant I had to do three peoples’ jobs on top of my own and I just can’t get out of that headspace. I don’t know how to relax,” you say, falling onto the couch beside him. He curls you up into his arms.

“What about not thinking at all, will that help?” he asks, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. You look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“We, we haven’t done that in a while. I’d really like it, if you’re up for it.”

“‘Course I am. Wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. Let’s get you to the bed, pretty girl, and let Daddy take care of everything you’re worried about,” he says, leading you up off the couch and to the bedroom. It’s as if the world falls away when you feel the plush of the mattress under your aching body.

“Hips up,” Koushi murmurs. His fingers work their way under the waistband of your leggings. “Gonna make that pretty head nice and empty for you. I only want you to think about feeling good. Let me worry about everything else, okay?” he says, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

“O-okay. Thank you, Daddy,” you say with a look of pure adoration. “I trust you,” you sigh.

“That’s a good girl, that’s my good girl,” he coos softly. He trails his lips up your thigh, leaving gentle kisses in his wake. You let out a small moan as he gets closer to the apex of your thighs. “Such a good girl, let me hear you.” He presses a kiss just above your sex. The whine you let out fills his chest with adoration and the utter need to pull more sounds like it from you. Every moment of learning your body, where to touch you to elicit just the right reaction, where to caress to make you lose control, it’s so worth it when he gets to see you slowly giving into the weightlessness of not having the world on your shoulders.

“‘M gonna tease you a little bit, ‘kay? Gonna get my baby nice and ready for me. Don’t want a thought behind those eyes but letting Daddy make you feel good.”

Koushi spreads your legs wider, hooking each of his hands around where your legs meet your groin. He can’t hold back his groan when he blows a little air on your pussy, all pretty and wet and exposed for him, and your entrance contracts at the sensation. He takes one of your lower lips between his teeth and pulls his head away by an inch or so, teasing the soft skin with his tongue before letting go. Your folds glisten with arousal, and fuck if he’s not one to indulge.

One long finger slides inside of you, slowly pumping and caressing your walls. Koushi peppers kisses around your cunt, simultaneously too close and too far away, just far enough to drive you up the wall. You find the world you know gradually falling away. What day is it again? What’s your boss’s name? You couldn’t answer those questions if they were the million dollar question on a quiz show.

Right now, Koushi is the only thing keeping you grounded to the mortal world, your only tether. The only thing that matters is him, the only thing that matters is how he’s sliding another finger into your dripping pussy, how he’s latching his lips around your aching bud and swirling his tongue. How you feel yourself growing tighter and tighter as he scissors his fingers inside you, the white hot ball of pleasure in your tummy threatening to burst at any moment.

“K-Kou-, D-Daddy, ‘m gonna-!” you cry out. He pulls all contact away from you and you let out an obscene whimper.

“I think you’re thinking too much, baby. Don’t need a brain cell in that pretty, dumb little head. If you can still form a coherent thought then you don’t get to cum,” he says, giving your pussy a light slap and delighting in the way you squeal. Drawing himself up to see you face to face, he lets you wrap your arms around him. Your breathing’s evened out enough for him to decide you’ve calmed down, that you can handle his cock without creaming around his length immediately.

He pushes the head of his cock past your soaked entrance, sheathing himself fully inside you. You’ve taken him countless times in countless positions over the course of your relationship, but the way you groan and clench around him makes it feel like the first time every time. He rolls his hips into you, sinking his fingers into the plush of your hips. Angling you just right, he watches as your eyes turn glassy and unfocused and he knows, he has you right where you want to be.

“My dumb little baby girl, that’s it. Nothing else exists but Daddy’s cock. Stupid girls don’t even know how to cum without help, you’re so lucky I’m around to make my pretty girl feel good,” he coos. You clench tightly around him and he moans loudly. He reaches between your bodies, gathering the mixture of your slick and his pre on his fingers, and rubs circles around your puffy clit, varying his pressure as he pounds into you. You can barely form a word of warning as you drag your nails down his back but Koushi feels it coming on, feels you cumming around his cock. He spears his cock into the spongy bundle of nerves along your walls and groans, feeling you gush around his length.

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Such a good girl, taking everything Daddy gives you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, feeling his own orgasm fast approaching. He thrusts into you impossibly deeply, needing to feel you closer to him as he spills inside you, panting and fucking you both through his orgasm. Keeping his cock inside you, Koushi wraps his arms around you and pulls you both onto your side. You take the opportunity to curl into his chest and relish the warm safety he provides.

“Feeling better, love?”

“Mhm, really needed that, thank you baby,” you sigh.

“You’re too good to me, letting me take care of you. You’re smart, and capable, and independent, and it makes me feel good that you trust me enough to take care of you. Let me see you smile, hm?”

You grant his request, your fucked out bliss showing plain as day across your features. And Koushi thinks to himself that he’s never been more in love.

[daebraeksan]

feeling scared of conflict, scared to advocate for yourself, Osamu listens and supports you

Genre: hurt/comfort, established relationship 

Contents: fear of conflict, fear of standing up for self, fear of advocating for one’s needs, social anxiety, unspecific crossing of boundaries from an unspecified person, unspecific course of action at the end, asking Osamu for help, Osamu listens and supports, exploration of feelings, feeling emotions, insecurity about relationship with Osamu, negative self talk, spiraling, insecurity, low self esteem, fear

Wc: 1173

***

You’re quiet on the way home, grateful for Osamu’s hand in your lap. You play with his fingers and hope that your heartbeat isn’t palpable. 

You don't need to hide your anxieties from Osamu. You know he wants you to share stuff with him and he wants to be there for you.

But sometimes it feels like you’re too much and you are asking too much from him. And maybe he should be with someone easier and with less needs.

You feel bad to ask for your needs met. It doesn’t feel right.

It hasn’t felt right since childhood. 

It was inculcated in you that you were a burden and that you were asking for too much, no matter what you were asking for.

Osamu knows this about you, about your childhood.

He knows that you have trouble expressing yourself sometimes.

Still—it’s not his job to anticipate your needs so that he can meet them without you having to ask. Even if it would seem nice since if you don't have to ask, then you don't have to feel like a burden. 

But it would be better if you could practice advocating for yourself. Even if Osamu can know you best and be there for you and take care of your needs like that, you can’t expect everyone to do that for you. So you have to work on not feeling like a burden no matter what, but especially when you need to voice your own needs.

There’s often a certain level of discomfort you feel lingering after social events, even if you had fun in the moment, and even if you felt very joyful immediately after. Overanalyzing your own behavior and the behavior of is difficult and exhausting. Other people likes you, whether you said the right thing, it’s tiring to parse through those things, even if in the moment, you were able to have fun.

Tonight, you felt uncomfortable by someone’s behavior. 

The avalanche of emotions happens so fast and it’s so hard to pick through them.

You feel scared. Why?

You feel unsafe. Why?

You feel uncomfortable because of something someone did. 

You feel uncomfortable because you “should have” spoken up for yourself in the moment. Why wait? Why be afraid? You “have to” say something because that person won’t know what they did unless you tell them. They’re not a mind reader. They deserve to know how you want to be treated and you deserve to be treated how you want to be treated. 

You feel stressed at the thought of conflict. You feel stressed at the thought of bringing something up that someone did wrong because of how they might react. You think you can control their reaction by not saying anything at all. But that’s out of your control completely. They could get mad at anything you did or someone else did and take it out on you. You have no control. It doesn’t feel good to remember that. 

You feel unsafe because someone crossed your boundary. Threatened, unsafe, and stressed. 

You feel mean even at the thought of standing up for yourself. The fear of conflict is so strong that even advocating for yourself feels like you’re being mean. Maybe people have only ever advocated for themselves to you in a harsh and critical way. They’ve only ever blamed you for their problems instead of realizing that everyone is partially responsible for different things and everyone is wholly responsible for themselves.

You want to be responsible for yourself, and you want to take care of yourself, and you want to be a real adult, and be someone who is functional.

But you need help right now.

And it’s okay to need help right now. 

And you know who can help you in this moment.

“Osamu?” you call quietly.

He lowers his book to his lap, finger holding his place, and looks up from the couch. “Yes, love?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.” He lays the book open and upside down on the coffee table. “What’s going on?”

You sit down next to him and you let him tug you into him. You should have just come here in the first place. Why did you wait until something was wrong to come cuddle? This was nice. You could have this all the time. You can and you’re allowed. 

You don’t want to start off with “I had fun, but” because you don't want to seem like you are sugarcoating the blow or something. You don’t like when people do that to you and you don’t want to do that here. And it’s not even really about him anyway so why would you do that.

Why is it so hard to express?

You start with “I didn’t like—” and you explain.

He looks like he wants to leap into action sometimes which scares you only because you’re already scared in this moment—and you appreciate that you can understand this and feel safe with Osamu. You appreciate in this moment that Osamu is here to support you. You know he’s going to support you in doing whatever you want to do. 

He holds your hand and runs his thumb over your fingernails. He listens until you are done. 

You stop talking and let out a sigh. You take a deep breath and focus on the feeling of his hand in yours. 

He looks at you gently. “Thank you for sharing that with me, babe,” he says.

“Thank you for listening,” you say quietly. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks.

“What should I say?” you ask. 

“You explained it pretty well to me. Would you feel comfortable saying that?”

“I don't know.”

“That’s okay. There’s no rush. But I want you to feel comfortable. Or we don't have to go.”

“No,” you say immediately, because you don’t want to be the reason Osamu can’t go out and have fun. Then you take note of your reaction and then make sure to remind yourself later that there’s lots of options, just he can go and you can stay home, or both of you don't have to go, or many more. It’s not just “if you say this one thing then Osamu can’t have fun anymore and he will resent you and leave, or worse, stay, but unhappily.”

“I support you no matter what you decide to do.”

“Thank you.”

He kisses your cheek and you turn to hug him.

“I’m proud of you,” he says.

You smile into his chest. You feel warm and loved. That little open space in your chest feels like happiness. You’re proud of yourself, too. 

You know that the most important thing is that you know you deserve to be treated how you want to be treated. No matter what course of action you take, you should feel comfortable with it and realize that there are always options. 

You’re doing a good job, and you are being there for yourself, and asking for help, and that’s the most important thing. 

[basedtater]

Masterpost for Winterhawk Bingo Round 3

Literally cannot believe I blacked out my card this year!!! All the fics I've written for this round will be listed under the readmore as to not clog up everyone's dashes. Thank you mods to a wonderful round!

Special Badges I'm going for are the Bucky Badge!!!!

B1 - Feeling Helpless I Don’t Wanna Be Just Friends Ch01 Wc: 909

B2 - Tower Fic Fake Your Death Ch08 wc: 1173

B3 - Sniper Bucky Perfectionist Tendencies wc: 757

B4 - Aw [blank] No We’ll Never Get Free Ch03 wc: 1349

B5 - Bad Coping Mechanisms I Don’t Wanna Be Just Friends Ch03 wc: 1018

I1 - 5+1 Things I Wanna Be Close To You (I know that its worth it) wc: 1214

I2 - Vision Loss Blindsided By You wc: 807

I3 - Protective Clint Barton Keep Me Alive Ch 03 wc: 1579

I4 Deception You’re Something Worth Missing wc: 2262

I5 - Forehead Kisses I Don’t Wanna Be Just Friends Ch 06 wc: 1027

N1 - Makeshift Weapon We’ll Never Get Free Ch04 wc: 1222

N2 - Redroom!Clint + Redroom!Bucky We’ll Never Get Free Ch01 wc: 1814

N3 - Free space We’ll Never Get Free Ch07 wc: 1286

N4 - Shitty Childhood We’ll Never Get Free Ch02 wc: 1417

N5 - Presumed Dead We’ll Never Get Free Ch06 wc: 1616

G1 - Bucky’s Trigger Words Can’t We Just Talk? Wc: 1282

G2 - Haircut Fake Your Death Ch01 wc: 1868

G3 - Near Death Experience I Don’t Wanna Be Just Friends Ch 05 wc: 1274

G4 - Post-Endgame Keep Me Alive Ch01 wc: 1920

G5 - Jealousy I Don’t Wanna Be Just Friends Ch02 wc: 1707

O1 - Panic Attacks Keep Me Alive Ch02 wc: 2059

O2 - Bucky Worries About Clint We’ll Never Get Free Ch05 wc: 1800

O3 - Assassin!Bucky I Don’t Wanna Be Just Friends Ch07 wc: 1369

O4 - Kidnapping And I Swear You’ll See The Light Again Wordcount: 933

O5 - Huddling for Warmth Fake Your Death Ch02 wc: 1224

Final WC: 34866!!

Thanks everyone for a wonderful experience over in WHB!

[rksona]

★ — street performance ;

🎼 bad love — seohyun sui

there were about a million and one things that she shouldn’t be doing at this point, and taking time out of her day to put on a street performance had to be pretty high on the list. from an outside point of view, it made much more sense for dawon to efficiently utilize her time by doing something productive, such as practicing for the upcoming evaluation (that she still lacked confidence in) or having that much-needed discussion with junyeong about whether or not she should risk her spot in nova by participating in the royal survival show.

all things considering, however, she doesn’t blame herself for needing a distraction. her mind had taken it upon itself to wander lately, and, as usual, it seemed insistent on dwelling on the things that she didn’t want to think about. hoseok was gone, finally back on his own two feet and ready to move out, leaving dawon alone once again. she doesn’t blame him, though, not really—she has no right to. they never agreed to be roommates, after all; from the very beginning, it was only a matter of time before he’d be ready to leave.

even now, after several months had come and gone, her thoughts still remained fixated on yoo jiae. she missed her, perhaps even more now than she had several months ago. she thinks it’s foolish, remaining so brokenhearted over a girl that she never had the chance to confess to—but she can’t help it. maybe she’d have more closure if she had confessed only to be rejected, she thinks, but it’s far too late now. everything was over and done with, and jiae was never coming back, no matter how much dawon longed for her.

dawon hesitates, lightly chewing on her lower lip as she readjusted the microphone stand for what felt like the millionth time. she’s not entirely sure why she’s so hesitant to proceed, though she assumes it has something to do with the fact that she knows that she should be using her time for something else entirely. as if on cue, junyeong gives her a reassuring nod, silently reminding her that she wasn’t here for nova or royal or anyone else—she was here to have fun doing what she loves most: singing.

junyeong starts the music, having taken it upon himself to prepare everything for the performance aside from the vocals. he’d arranged everything, including the location. dawon was grateful for his contribution, as she’s almost certain that none of this would have been possible without him and his constant encouragement. she simply wouldn’t have taken the time to focus on anything that wasn’t essential to her training, considering just how dire it had felt to her lately.

너의 진한 향수로 누군가의 흔적을 감추고 태연히 웃어 늦은 밤 내게 또 전활 해 넌 잘 자라면서 어설픈 연기를 해 내 앞에서 모른 척 아닌 척 계속 날 속이고 있잖아

she gently swayed to the backing track as she prepared to sing, her lips forming a faint smile as she attempts to enjoy herself. the chance to perform out in the open was relaxing, in a way; especially when she didn’t have to constantly worry about being evaluated. she didn’t bother to prepare a choreography for the performance, figuring that she’d have much better luck if she were to simply focus on her vocals, considering the performance was for her own enjoyment more than anything else. this was her element, this was where she thrived.

My love is true, my love is you 새빨간 너의 그 거짓말 다 알고 있지 난 Bad love is true, bad love is you 내게서 멀어져 가 버려 날 흔들지는 마

the song was one of her favorites. sui was by far one of her favorite artists and greatest inspirations; dawon wished that she could be more like her. not only did she have a pleasant voice, but dawon was a fan of her dancing, charms, and creativity as well—she was just so talented. dawon hoped to one day be seen in the same light, though she doesn’t intend to get her hopes up. even if she were to debut, she doubts that she’d ever become so successful.

Nananananana nananananana Nananananana nanananana

the entire performance provided her with a much-needed sense of freedom, an escape from the day-to-day trials and tribulations of nova. for the first time in nearly a year, it felt like she could finally perform for herself. there were no special requirements asked of her, there was no one to prove her worth to; she could finally lose herself in the music, and there was nothing that could hold her back.

너의 붉은 입술이 말해 난 너뿐이야 믿어 줘 하지만 니 눈빛은 흔들려 식어 버린 니 사랑은 끝까지 내게 거짓을 말했지 넌 항상 멋진 척 좋은 척 계속 날 속이고 있잖아

as much as she fantasized the idea of singing in the rain as a kid, dawon’s grateful for the pleasant weather. she wasn’t all that eager to perform in extreme heat or rain after what happened last month, especially when she took into consideration the fact that her ankle still ached from time to time. maybe it was all in her head, maybe it wasn’t; in any case, however, the weather only serves to improve her mood that much more.

My love is true, my love is you 새빨간 너의 그 거짓말 다 알고 있지 난 Bad love is true, bad love is you 내게서 멀어져 가 버려 날 흔들지는 마

there was hardly a crowd, but that didn’t matter. dawon hadn’t told anyone that she was coming, and she had specifically told junyeong that she’d like to attract as little attention as possible. there was at least one smiling face that had decided to stick around, and that one alone was more than enough to convince dawon that this had all been worth it. junyeong appeared to be having a good time as well, which only convinced her further.

My love is true �� 한마디 너무 쉽게 내뱉었지 My love is you 내 맘속을 찢어 버린 너란 사랑 Yeah yeah yeah yeah

it’s her favorite part of the song, and easily the most difficult. she’s practiced it what felt like countless times in her apartment alone, though it was always different once she was out in the real world. it only makes her that much more grateful that she hadn’t insisted on preparing a choreography to go with it; the more she can focus on her vocal stability, the better. while not even she would deny her talents as a vocalist, she wasn’t perfect—no one was.

Nananananana nanananana

as apprehensive as she’d initially felt, dawon really needed this. while it was true that she had enjoyed many of the performances that she’d taken part in, it was easy for her to lose sight of the real reason she was doing it all. as a child, she had performed simply because it was what she loved to do. lately, however, it felt as though she was performing because it was something that she had to do.

My love is true, my love is you 새까만 너의 그 못된 말 더 듣기 싫어 난 Bad love is true, bad love is you 제발 좀 떨어져 가 버려 날 붙잡지는 마

this one performance wouldn’t be some magic solution to each of her problems, she knew. her heart remained fixated on yoo jiae, despite dawon’s many attempts to forget her and move on. while she enjoyed this performance, she doesn’t believe for a single moment that everything would be different from here on out. something had to change, but whether or not that something lied with the royal survival show, dawon had no idea.

Nananananana nananananana Nananananana nanananana Bad love is true Nananananana nananananana Nananananana nanananana

the song ends, far sooner than dawon would have liked. maybe she’d find time in her busy schedule to do something like this again soon, though she genuinely doubts it. it was only a matter of minutes before she’d find her mind wandering to topics that she deemed undesirable and saddening once more, so she tries to enjoy every second of the temporary peace while it lasts.

[platoniclokiimagines]

what about a Uncle Loki with reader's child? He was here for that little one since his friend told him about his pregnancy, so maybe he would be overprotective about the kid.

WC: 1173

Rating: G

TW: None

A/N: …been a while, yeah? I promise I haven’t forgotten about this blog. I just have two jobs now and less free time, but I wanted to try and get my inbox cleared out before the Loki show so that I could open it for prompts again then. I promise I’ve made up for it with a bit of a lengthy, albeit not-quite-what-the-prompt-asked-for ficlet for this ask. Thank you so much for understanding, for your patience, and for still sticking with me.

Naturally, with Loki being your very best friend not only atthe Compound, but just in general (aside from your partner, of course), theywere the first one you wanted to share the news with after celebrating withyour family.

It was a rather normal evening, everyone else was scatteredaround the Compound, and you and Loki were raiding the kitchen for snacksbefore settling in for a movie when Loki pulled a wine bottle out of the ratherextensive rack Tony had had set up.

“Red or white tonight?”

You swallowed thickly, realizing you were going to have toshare the news much sooner thanintended. “Ah… Neither…”

Loki’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as they looked at you. “…you’venever been one to turn down wine before.”

“…well, I’ve never been pregnant, before, so…” You let yourcareful sentence sink in, and it only took a moment for Loki to get it.

“Are you?” Loki’s happiness for you was evident, and as soonas you nodded happily, they embraced you warmly, albeit much more gently thanprobably necessary. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’m so happy for you. When?”

“Later this year. Around the holidays.”

Loki nodded, and drew back, taking your hands in yours. “Nomore missions. From here on out. Don’t even try to argue, it isn’t happening.And just so you know, yes I will acceptmy title of Godfather or whatever it is your humans call it, and I will begoing by Uncle Loki and nothing else.”

All you could do was laugh. Leave it to Loki to haveeverything all planned out before you’d even said another word. “I supposeUncle Loki does have a nice ring toit. And just so you know, you’d better not spoil my baby.”

Loki only smiled innocently. “Whyever would I do that?”

———————————————————————————————————–

Over the course of the next eight months, your friendshipwith Loki strengthened in a way that you never knew that it could. They hadalways been protective of you, but now that you were pregnant, they didn’t let anything happen to you. No wrong looks,no arguments from anyone, stranger or Avenger, and they always made sure youwere comfortable before they themself were.

If you were hungry, Loki was the first to jump to their feetto get you a snack. If you complained of sore muscles, Loki was the first to bringyou a cup of warm tea and some baby-safe pain relieving cream.

In short, Loki was spoiling you and the baby.

The closer you got to your due date, the less you camearound the Compound, but that didn’t stop Loki from coming to visit you, oreven setting everything up for your baby shower, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. And then there were the nearnightly calls from them, just “checking to make sure the little one hasn’tdecided to make her grand entrance yet” or to “see if you needed dinnerdelivered, I know your favorites.”

And then your water broke, and in the whirlwind ofeverything you barely managed to textLoki that it was time, and no sooner did you arrive at the hospital did youfind Loki already standing in the waiting room.

“I told them you were coming. You should be all set with aroom. I’ll wait out here until she’s ready for visitors.”

You couldn’t do much more than nod in agreement, gratefulthat Loki had not only gotten everything as set up as possible, but was alsobeing gracious enough to take a step back and let you and your partner getthrough the birth as painlessly as possible.

A few hours later, and you had a very calm baby in yourarms, and a very anxious looking best friend standing at the door, hesitatingto come in.

“I’ve never known the God of Mischief to be shy,” youteased, gesturing for Loki to come in.

“…well, I’ve never been a Godfather slash Uncle before, so…”Loki stepped into the room, and you found that they had a vase with flowers inone arm, and a tiny little gift bag in the other. “For you, and for the littleone.”

You smiled tiredly, watching as Loki set both on the tableat the edge of the bed before stepping closer to look at the baby better.

“She’s the most perfect little thing,” they finally saidafter a long moment of just watching the baby stretch and squirm calmly. “Shecame quickly.”

“Well, she was excited to meet her Uncle Loki.”

Loki laughed, and you did as well, before looking up atthem. “Are you really going to make me ask if you want to hold her?”

“….can I?” Loki’s voice held a reverence you seldom heardfrom them.

“Of course you can. You’re her Godfather slash Uncle.”

Loki laughed, and carefully, as though she were made of themost fragile glass, picked up the baby, holding her so that they could get aproper look at her. “…she has your eyes.”

“We thought the same.”

“She’s quieter than you, though.”

You rolled your eyes. “Great, so then you’ll be watching herevery night when she’s fussy. Got it.”

“Y/N, you’re never getting this baby back from me as it is. Sorry, that’s just how it is now.”

You knew Loki more than well enough by now to know they wereteasing, even though you could clearlysee Loki didn’t want to give the baby back.

“Ten more minutes, that’s it,” you teased, smiling as youwatched Loki smile along as the baby cooed and stretched her arms. “Butremember, she’s gonna be here for forever.Plenty of time to hold her again.”

“Oh, I’m aware. She’s going to be so spoiled. I know you told me not to, but I mean, look at her. She deserves it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“And she’s under my protection from here on out. Nobody’sever going to touch her. Not withouther permission.”

“…you’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Your idiot. Andhers now, too.”

You smiled, laughing softly whenyou heard the baby coo as if she were agreeing. “Aren’t we lucky.”

———————————————————————————————————–

True to their word, as your daughter went from newborn toinfant to toddler, Loki stayed a fixture in your life. They were your go-tobabysitter when you needed a break, and the first one you called for advice whenyou were overwhelmedly stressed.

And just as they promised, they protected her just asfiercely as you and your partner did. Any scraped knees or skinned palms weremet immediately with a band-aid and a silly story to distract her, oftentimesbefore you could even manage to get to her. Tantrums were met with coddling andwhatever silly children’s song they could recall hearing you play for her.

Loki just had a way with her that you couldn’t even fathom;a bond, you thought, that might be even stronger than yours, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[dustingrayves]

auxilium

Pairing: sormik Rating: T WC: 1173  Notes: set in the anime timeline where gramps is alive and helps mikleo cope :’)

ao3 mirror sormik week, day 6 [family]

The familiar door stands before him, and yet Mikleo can't force himself to reach out, to push it open and step inside.

Grass shuffles beneath his sole as he drags it over the breeze-fluttering greenery; his fingers tug at the leather gloves of the other hand. His heart is stuck in his throat, like a lump that refuses to leave, no matter how many times he swallows around it.

Someone passes by, gazing at him with a curious expression. He nods a silent yes to their question of 'are you alright?' Honestly, he doesn't even register who it is, too focused on the wear and tear on the weathered door.

They must leave, because everything fades to quiet again, all seraphim retreated into their homes and only the distant sound of crickets and birds chirping reaching Mikleo's ears. And in the quiet as he can hear his heartbeat with a little too much clarity, he finally reaches out and curls his almost unfeeling fingers around the handle.

And he twists.

Opening a simple door shouldn't be this hard, he chastises himself, but the anxiety still hangs over him, a thick fog settled over his shoulders and weighing him down.

Gramps' house is as warm and welcoming as ever, but not even the usually-soothing sounds of wood crackling in the fireplace calms him down.

"Hey Gramps," he greets, closing the door behind himself a little too carefully.

Gramps is sitting on the floor, smoking from another pipe Mikleo doesn't remember. "Mikleo, did something happen?"

Mikleo takes a deep breath; even still, his ribcage feels too small for his lungs. "I wanted to talk to you about something," he says, sitting down in front of the older seraph, coat spread behind him and fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm listening."

Mikleo tugs at the fabric and searches for words. None of the speeches he'd practiced before come to mind.

"Gramps, I think I love Sorey," he confesses finally, unable to think of any other way than the direct one.

Gramps takes a deep pull of the pipe and breathes out a puff of smoke that rises to the ceiling in lazy swirls. "Is that what you've wanted to tell me?" he asks right back.

Mikleo looks away, feeling like he had messed up more than he'd initially thought. "Yes."

"You've already told me that, Mikleo," Gramps points out. He looks at Mikleo with soft eyes, and his voice doesn't have an angry inflection. "When you were a child, you told me every day for a week."

Mikleo thinks he's misunderstanding.

"Gramps, that's not what I meant... I mean I, think I'm in love with him. I keep wishing he would come back soon so I could kiss him."

Gramps hums, puffing out another big cloud of smoke. "I know," he says simply.

"Are you... not angry?" Mikleo asks tentatively, feeling confused more than anything. He figured Gramps would be furious about his confession, but he wanted to tell him either way.

"Mikleo, why would I be angry about how you feel? Love is a beautiful thing."

"But I- I thought you'd be angry... Since Sorey is a human and a man and all," he explains, starting to feel silly.

"Sorey grew up alongside us seraphim. You two were inseparable from day one. There is no one who knows you better than him and no one who knows Sorey better than you. You could fall in love with no one better," Gramps tells him, a soft edge to his voice that calms down Mikleo's speeding heart and erratic mind.

"Did you already know, Gramps?"

"Of course I did," Gramps answers readily. With each word, the warmth and coziness that was lacking returns to the house, and Mikleo's unconsciously tense shoulders relax. "You've told me a long time ago. I just said that."

Mikleo chuckles, nostalgia overtaking him as he remembers the days of playing around with Sorey when they used to be kids, loud laughter and affectionate glances from the older seraphim and muddy clothes and tickle fights and all the chases around the village. "We were kids. It was a different sort of love back then..."

"Was it, though, Mikleo?"

"Yes, of course! We were kids, we didn't know what-" Mikleo pauses, blinking into the calmly burning wood and sparks flying around the fireplace. "Maybe you're right, Gramps. Maybe I just didn't realize it back then."

"You were children," Gramps agrees, nodding slowly. "It's only natural. But now you know, and I have a question for you. Are you sure that love is strong enough to withstand this? It might be a century, five, maybe a millennia until Sorey returns. It will hurt you."

Mikleo looks down again. He didn't even realize he had started to play with his shirt again, so he lets go of the fabric  and smooths it back down as best as he can. "I don't think I could ever love anyone else. So I have to wait, either way."

"The world is getting better. More and more humans are starting to perceive us," Gramps notes, "You two fought for a better world, and it's coming to fruition. Especially with your researches. So maybe the day you two are reunited is closer than we think."

They lapse into soft quiet and Gramps takes the time to pour leftover tea into a cup and hand it to Mikleo, who takes it gradually. The leaves have been left in too long, so the flavor clings to his taste buds, and the warm liquid filling his tummy feels nice after all the knots and flips earlier.

"Do you think he'll like it?" Mikleo asks softly, looking back up at Gramps. "The world, I mean. A lot has changed, and still is changing."

"I'm sure he will love any world with you in it."

"Thanks, Gramps," Mikleo utters, a smile worming its way onto his face. "That is really nice to hear."

"We both know him."

"Yeah. He would say something like that, wouldn't he?" Mikleo laughs. "I'm sure he won't like when I tell him that."

"Are you going to visit him again?" Gramps asks, taking another drag. Both of them know he didn't even need to ask to know the answer.

"Tomorrow," Mikleo nods, finishing his tea and setting the cup back down next to Gramps'. "So I should rest up."

"You should."

"Thank you, Gramps," Mikleo repeats. His anxiety had fallen off, replaced by the lull of exhaustion.

"Don't thank me, Mikleo. You are like my children, both of you, and I only want the best for you."

Mikleo smiles again. He truly feels silly for worrying, and leans in for a hug before standing up. Another thanks hangs on the tip of his tongue, but since Gramps already said not to say it, he keeps his mouth shut.

He's sure Sorey will love to hear all about this exchange, so he leaves Gramps and retreats to his house so he can wake up early to start his journey.

[muabannhadathanoi]

Chính chủ bán căn hộ 85m2 tại chung cư 54 Hạ Đình, Thanh Xuân, Hà Nội

Gia đình chuyển nhà cần bán gấp căn hộ 85m2 P808A1 chung cư 54 Hạ Đình full nội thất, 2PN, 2WC, 2 Ban công.

Căn góc ban công Đông Nam, .

Nhà diện tích 85m2, rộng rãi gồm 2 phòng ngủ, 1 phòng bếp, 1 phòng khách, 2 WC.

Để lại đồ đạc đầy đủ, chất lượng tốt.

Giá bán: 1.85 tỷ (Có thỏa thuận).

Sổ đỏ, pháp lý đầy đủ.

Điện thoại: 0942338686

Bài viết Chính chủ bán căn hộ 85m2 tại chung cư 54 Hạ Đình, Thanh Xuân, Hà Nội đã xuất hiện đầu tiên v��o ngày Mua bán nhà đất Hà Nội.

source https://muabannhadat.hanoi.vn/chinh-chu-ban-can-ho-85m2-tai-chung-cu-54-ha-dinh-thanh-xuan-ha-noi-1173.html

[guadalajaradispensas]

films 168217&168218- matrimonios parte 4-2/2

https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:9392-6L9B-XD?cc=1874591&cat=29324

001/599 168217

002/600 oah 2520 pt.8

004/602 slate

005/603 continua

006/604 marcelo antonio melendez & maria nieves ramirez / ?

009/607 santiago portillo & manuela carransco / guadalajara

018/616 remigio cervantes & bernarda munoz / atotonilco

024/622 esiquio garcia & maria daria / tepechitlan

029/627 teodoro soto & benedicta yanes / guadalajara

033/631 juan bautista igelsias & antonia lopez / guachinango

038/636 antonio gomez & jacinta alvarez / jalostotitlan

043/641 manuel diaz & ? / tenamastlan

051/649 rafael cobarrubias & diega garcia / autlan

055/653 antonio diaz & viviana casillas / tepetitlan

060/658 teofilo cuellar & bartola cervantes/ san juan

076/674 hipolito salises & ynes mesa / purificacion

081/679 felipe cabanas & agustina fuente / guadalajara

084/682 miguel (?)  blanco & ? / barca

088/686 vicente serrano & jacoba salcedo / ?

092/690 jesus sotelo & isabel villalobos / ?

096/694 antonio zalazar & josefa perez / guadalajara

099/697 agapito (?) & maria placida / guadalajara

102/700 nicolas quezada & agaptia marin / nochistlan

105/703 gervacio romero & romana delgado / ?

109/707 ygnacio padilla & maria jesus gonzalez / jalostotitlan

115/713 ramon degadillo & andrea quezada / yahualica

122/720 pablo cobarrubias & marcela santillan / chimaltitan

126/724 jose flores & senobia maldonado / ponictlan

130/728 domingo razura & rosa gonzalez / ocotlan

134/732 marcos ramirez & diega salas / colotlan *tree 137/735

139/737 francisco garcia & juana nepomucena valdez / jalpa *tree 144/742

148/746 vicente mena & juliana garcia / jalpa

159/757 jose maria hoyo & bacilia martinez / zacatecas

164/762 marcial loya & maria salome de la cruz perez / adoves

170/768 casimiro gomez & maria jesus macias / mexticacan

176/774 teodoro de avila & ygnacia ortega / tabasco

182/780 jose de la torre & maria jesus gonzalez / tepatitlan

187/785 rafael gutierrez & jesus gutierrez / san juan

194/792 jose adame & maria bruna del refugio rodriguez / ojocaliente

200/798 marcelino guillermo & concepcion castro / zapopan

208/806 mateo esparza & petra reynoso / jalostotitlan

213/811 jose cruz cuevas & damacia guadalupe rodriguez / jocotepec

219/817 guillermo campos & tomasa vasquez / adoves

223/821 ? & ? / mexticacan

227/825 juan jose gallegos & gertrudis partida / teuchitlan

232/830 ygnacio ramos & ? / purification

238/836 bernardino olague & juana maria rosales / colotlan

241/839 juan antonio de la torre & esmergilda arias / tepatitlan

246/844 jose maria tagle & polinaria leos / aguascalientes

250/848 antonio avelar & petronila torres / nochistlan

253/851 longino ruiz & agapita contreras / teocaltiche

259/857 simon regalado & agapita aguilar / ixtlahuacan

264/862 maximo miranda & toribia bernal / ahuacatlan

269/867 jose maria sanchez & feliciana perez / zapopan

275/873 apolinario gutierrez & luisa amesquita / adoves

280/878 nieves villapando & magdalena de soto / trinidad de soto

285/883 rafael olea & cipriana gomez / cuquio

290/888 lauriano gonzalez & emiliana moreno / adoves

295/893 jose enrique lucio & estefana flores / venado

298/896 antonio pena & manuela pena / ojocaliente

309/907 julian silva & ? / jocotepec

319/917 jesus loza & juana maria jimenez / jalostotitlan

324/922 nepomuceno yslas & margarita campos / tepatitlan

329/927 filomeno gonzalez & guadalupe salcedo / zapopan

339/937 juan hermosillo & manuela anda / lagos

346/944 miguel medina & refugio aldape / fresnillo

352/950 jose maria marquez & antonia anda / lagos

359/957 felipe cid & rosario flores / jerez *tree 360/958

364/962 jose maria mariscal & leonarda gallegos / yahualica

368/966 andres codina & pioquinta banuelos / jerez *munoz 369/967

373/971 juan sambrano & trinidad terrones / san juan

378/976 francisco casimiro saldivar & felipa ortega / guadalajara

386/984 jose maria avalos & manuela ornleas / san juan de los lagos

392/990 buenaventura alva & albina ybarra / encarnacion

398/996 antonio contreras & juana maria aldana / guadalajara

404/1002 juan anda & narcisa (?) anda / san juan

410/1008 juan sambrano & trinidad terrones / san juan

417/1015 valentin (?) & maria luz / tlaltenango

421/1019 antonio alverete & maria jesus padilla / san juan de los lagos

427/1025 clemente munoz & refugio martinez / san juan de los lagos

434/1032 rosalio garcia de alva & isidra preciado / tecolotlan

441/1039 luis senteno & maria san juan sanchez / jalostitlan

446/1044 maximiano gaytan & felipa de la rosa / asientos

452/1050 ? & ? / ?

456/1054 juan jose yrenio aguilar & mariana decideria lozano / ayo el chico

461/1059 manuel alvarez & anastacia perez / guadalajara

470/1068 juan jose morales & gregoria diaz / zapopan

477/1075 ygnacio corona & rosalia flores / ocotlan

481/1079 ? & ? / ?

486/1084 ciriaco mesa & josefa velasco / ameca

492/1090 ciriaco medina & josefa rangel / asientos

497/1095 gabriel plaza & casimira ruiz / ?

502/1100 juan trujillo & dolores enselda / tapalpa(?)

511/1109 valentin robles & antonina cabellero / guadalajara

517/1115 victoriano delgado & guadalupe calvillo / aguascalientes

520/1118 marcelino alecastro(?) & ? / ayutla

525/1123 jose maria diaz & petra gonzalez / aguascalientes

529/1127 manuel flores & rita flores / ocotlan

534/1132 george padilla & ana padilla / san juan

540/1138 benancio ruan & maria enrique sanchez / nochistlan

543/1141 jose maria alvarez & ana maria moran / teocaltiche

547/1145 pedro velasco & josefa de luna / ?

550/1148 jose maria quezada & francisca flores / teocaltiche

555/1153 jose florencio & ? / ayutla

560/1158 antonio ybarra & petronila salcedo / zapotlanejo

564/1162 bernardo enriquez & rafaela angulo / jalostotitlan

569/1167 ygnacio melendez & gertrudis martin / ystlahuacan

575/1173 tiburcio lara & nestora rodriguez / purification

580/1178 jose maria feliz & petra madera / colotlan

585/1183 antonio rivera & antonia gonzalez / ixtlan

591/1189 luis sandoval & filomena flores / teul

597/1195 juan agustin lopez garcia & francisca jimenez / guadalajara

602/1200 francisco gonzalez & rosalia becerra / ixtlan

607/1205 juan de dios luera & jacinta garcia / mezquitic

608/1206 continua

609/1207 oah 2520 fin

610/1208 end of roll

https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:9392-65SZ-8W?i=1208&wc=3J4S-829%3A171935001%2C171974101%2C1085311702%3Fcc%3D1874591&cc=1874591&cat=29324

1/1209 oah2521 pt.1

2/1210 168218

4/1212 slate

5/1213 continua

6/1214 francisco gonzalez & rosalia becerra / ixtlan

12/1220 juan de dios luera & jacinta garcia / mezquitic

17/1225 manuel gutierrez & matilde ruedas / monte escobedo

21/1229 julian lopez & maria josefa gerarda / comala

29/1237 jose esqueda & rumualda resendes / aguascalientes

32/1240 jose reyes gomez & maria jesus orozco / atoyac

38/1246 catarino delgado & concepcion munoz / lagos

43/1251 jose maria angulo & apolonia hernandez / tepatitlan

49/1257 bacilio muro & diega ramirez / teul

56/1264 calistro herrera & fernanda lara / moyahua

60/1268 felipe gonzalez & gertrudis gomez / extula

65/1273 salvador apodaca & ygnacia aceves / sayula

70/1278 felipe crayo & teresa galvan / guadalajara

74/1282 yldefonzo sanchez & feliciana ramirez / tlajomulco

78/1286 cresencio franco & maria de la o cortez / tepatitlan

84/1292 francisco gutierrez & tomasa gutierrez / jalostotitlan

89/1297 ? & ? / ?

94/1302 gevacio medrano & catarina gutierrez / tepatitlan

99/1307 margarito esparza & eulalia marin / trinidad de soto

103/1311 ramon ramirez & damiana gomez / tepatitlan

109/1317 jose salvatierra & ylaria salvitierra / san sebastian

114/1322 esiquio castro & juana baptista rivera / atemancia

118/1326 victor ledesma & petra perez / mexcalingo

123/1331 trinidad (?) felipa romo /san juan de los lagos

129/1337 trinidad lopez & polonia silva / jilotlan

133/1341 trinidad gonzalez & candelaria jimenez / tepechitlan

138/1346 guadalupe martinez & eusevia trujillo / cienega de mata

143/1351 antonio arteaga & toribia aro / mazamitla

149/1357 ygnacio aranda & ? / lagos

154/1362 jose (?) & damaciana gonzalez / ?

162/1370 regino lechuga & maria jesus palos / aguascalientes

166/1374 crisanto moreno & maria jesus gonzalez / lagos

170/1378 antonio de la cruz & macedonia gonzalez / teocaltiche

174/1382 anastacio ruiz & magdalena delgado / yahualica

178/1386 faustino salas & juliana lopez / ?

187/1395 agustin villanueva & ygnacia samorano / ixtlan

194/1402 antonio rivera & ygnacia manjarres / ixtlan

201/1409 luciano ysa & teodocia prado / zapopan

209/1417 martin martinez & maria de la concepcion gonzalez / encarnacion

221/1429 jose antonio cuenca (?) & petra villa / cocula

228/1436 fin

229/1438 end of roll