#Cabinet with tv and hi-fi

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 18] Preparing for Vacation

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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You’re packing Ren’s bag, a bit in disbelief that you’re going on vacation with your ex-boyfriend. You feel nervous about it, wondering how it’ll play out since your relationship with Satoru isn’t the best– Maybe you shouldn’t really worry about it, he’s doing it all for his son. Perhaps he’ll pay you no mind. Hopefully he won’t pay you no mind.

He has a vacation home in the perfect tropical place, which you aren’t surprised about. You’ve heard of all the houses that the family has around the world, and you forgot about half of them. It was rare staying at a hotel when you traveled with Satoru.

“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. At around five.” Satoru enters Ren’s room to help you pack. Ren is too focused on his cars to pay attention to Satoru, and Satoru eventually got bored of just being another track for his son’s toy cars. You hum in response before you go to a cabinet to pack pajamas for Ren. “Is your suitcase ready?”

“It’s almost ready.” You lie because it’s far from ready. You’ve been simply too busy and tired to come around to it. You’re still working as Satoru’s assistant since for some reason, you suddenly don’t have the heart to quit. Of course, since the truth came out, Satoru has lightened your workload. He doesn’t care if he has to do it all himself, he wants you to come home early to spend time with Ren. You almost hate yourself for not telling him the moment you saw him again… Almost. 

“I can finish Ren’s suitcase while you finish packing for yourself.” Satoru says, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Would that be a smart idea? Satoru is Ren’s father… But he doesn’t know everything that Ren needs for a vacation. Worst comes to worst, Satoru can buy what Ren is missing since he can certainly afford it.

“Fine.” You end up agreeing, neatly folding the pajamas you hold and putting them in the suitcase. You leave it to Satoru to pack everything else up. 

You get to your room and check what you need to pack up, which is almost everything necessary. You hear your name being called, which causes you to come to a stop, “Mommy!”

“Ren!” You yell back, and you turn around to find your son at your door. He walks over to your bed and lays down, grabbing one of your fluffy blankets and throwing it over himself.

“I’m bored.” He announces. Ren can entertain himself playing with anything for hours, but the moment you’re doing something important, he’s the most bored kid in the world. It doesn’t help that you haven’t been allowing him to watch TV since he’s been misbehaving lately, which means he’s more bored than usual.

“Your dad has gotten you so many toys. Go play with them.” You tell him, but that’s not the answer Ren wants to hear. Ren wants to hear you say that he can watch TV, but you’re not saying it which makes him pout.

“Want to watch TV.” He responds which makes you sigh. It’s easier to let Satoru handle it, since he’s been telling you that he has no idea how to properly parent. The only way for him to learn is to practice.

“Satoru! Come here! Ren has a question!” You yell, and Satoru is in your room within seconds. Maybe he should’ve stood in the doorway, but since it’s his son that has a question, he doesn’t really think twice before entering your bedroom.

“What is it, honey?” Satoru looks at his son, patiently waiting for Ren to ask.

“Can I watch TV?” Ren asks, and Satoru is about to nod, but he has to look at you first.

“Since when do you ask that question? I thought your mom–” Satoru begins but you cut him off to explain why Ren is asking the question. The correct answer is no, but you know that’s how you think. Satoru is also Ren’s parent and deserves to have some authority over how Ren is raised and punished.

“Ren has been misbehaving lately. He’s been writing on walls even though he’s been scolded for it many times, and he’s been throwing tantrums to get what he wants.” You explain, and Satoru doesn’t immediately see a problem with it. Why? Because he was raised in a house where the rules were that he did whatever he wanted. No one really dared to deny him anything but he can’t do that with Ren. 

“You’ve been misbehaving lately, Ren. Your mother gave you an appropriate punishment, and I’m not going to ignore it.” Satoru responds, and Ren crosses his arms as he gets up from your bed and walks back to his own bedroom. Satoru awkwardly stares before following behind, because Satoru still has to finish packing. 

When Satoru walks into the room, he finds Ren sniffling in his pillow, and he swears his heart cracks at the scene. He shouldn’t walk over to Ren to comfort him… He’s surely doing it because he’s not getting his way. But he’s not strong enough to ignore his baby boy, not yet at least.

Satoru sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand running up and down his son’s back to soothe him. Satoru sighs before asking his son, “What’s wrong, Ren? You know that your actions can have consequences… And while I love you a lot, I can’t just let you do whatever you want to do.”

“Mommy doesn’t love me.” Ren claims, and Satoru is shocked to hear Ren say that. He had no idea how dramatic kids were. But maybe Satoru shouldn’t judge since he would’ve reacted the same way– Thing is, Satoru isn’t sure if his mother does love him. 

“Your mommy does love you, that’s why you’re grounded. If she didn’t love you, she would just allow you to do all you wanted.” Satoru hopes he’s saying the right words to comfort his son. He isn’t the best at comforting people though, so he’s not sure if that’s going to work. Ren sits up from his bed, crossing his arms.

“It’s not because of that.” Ren will shift the attention. It’s mainly because you’re not allowing him to do whatever he wants. But of course he does feel a bit neglected lately because for the past year you’ve been so busy.

“Then why is it, buddy? So I can talk to your mommy about it.” Satoru says, and Ren debates if he wants to speak about it. Should he voice his thoughts? Is that smart?

“Mommy is never home, and when she is, she’s too tired to do anything.” Ren shares, making Satoru purse his lips together. He knows it’s not something that you can control, but maybe that’ll change in the near future. 

“She’s never home because she’s making sure that you have everything you need and could possibly want. It’s not because she doesn’t love you, it’s because she loves you so much.” Satoru defends you. It’s obviously something that’s difficult for Ren to understand, after all, he’s only four (though he keeps reminding everyone that his fifth birthday is coming up). “Don’t ever say that your mommy doesn’t love you, Ren. She would do just about anything for you.”

“Okay…” Ren answers, hesitantly nodding in agreement.

“Now go give your mommy a big hug, okay? And an apology too. She just wants the best for you.” Satoru tells his son, and Ren gets up from the bed, walking out and running to your room.

It’s fair to say that you’re shocked when you see Ren running your way with his arms wide open. You crouch down to receive his hug. Ren kisses your cheek before he mutters out an apology, “I’m sorry, mommy.”

“Have you learned your lesson, Ren?” You ask and he hums in response, which makes you continue, “What is the lesson?”

“Um…” He begins, unsure as to what the lesson is. You try not to laugh.

“I have rules for a reason, Ren. When I tell you something, it’s for your own good.” You tell him, and he nods. “Now what’s the lesson?”

“To listen to you and follow the rules.” Ren responds, and you smile at him before kissing his cheek.

“Promise you won’t ever misbehave like that again.” You put out your pinky, and he intertwines his own with yours. Ren takes pinky promises very seriously, so you doubt he’ll break it. “Alright, you can watch thirty minutes of TV, but you’re still punished tomorrow and the day after that.”

“Okay. Thank you, mommy.” Ren says before running out of your room, and you stand up. You catch a glimpse of Satoru near the doorway and you signal him to come inside. When Satoru is inside, you smile at him.

“Thank you.” You tell him, going back to packing up your suitcase. Satoru decides that he’s going to try and help you when he doesn’t know what you need.

“It’s my job. We can’t have a disrespectful and entitled child.” Satoru replies, and you’re about to make a joke about it, but you bite your tongue knowing that it isn’t wise. You end up patting his back. 

You don’t really pay attention to Satoru, not until your peripheral vision catches his sudden change in color. His face is burning red when he opens a drawer that he isn’t supposed to open.

“Oh that’s– Not mine.” You’re completely embarrassed. You shouldn’t be, it’s just Satoru. You have a literal child together, and that didn’t magically happen. But your relationship with him has clearly changed. “The toys are… My friend’s.”

“Yeah… They’re your friend’s.” Satoru ends up chuckling, closing the top drawer. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know better than anyone that you have certain needs.”

“Satoru, shut up. You’re making it worse.” Your face is hot. “Matter of fact, go watch TV with Ren.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t try to help you!” Satoru walks out of the room, and you lay down on your bed, grabbing your pillow and screaming into it.

It’s hard for you to wake up the next morning, but luckily your child doesn’t have an issue waking up. He knows that you’re going on a trip with his father, and he’s beyond excited. He’s finally getting on a plane though, and not just any plane but a private one (although he doesn’t know that detail). It’s nice to have someone that’s so energetic when all you want to do is sleep.

Satoru waits in his car for the two of you, sending the chauffeur up to help with your luggage. Throughout the whole car ride, Ren enthusiastically talks, knowing that he’ll be going to the beach soon. It’s a fifty minute drive to the airport, and he nearly drives you insane, but you have to remind yourself that he’s simply excited. 

“I call dibs for Ren as my seat buddy.” Satoru says when the chauffeur opens the door for him. Satoru gets Ren out of his booster seat, and practically runs to the entrance of the plane. You slowly follow behind them. You can’t really complain about Satoru stealing Ren for the plane ride because while you love your son, this morning he’s too energetic for you to handle.

You take a seat far away from them, deciding that you’ll take a nap during the plane ride. You barely slept last night so you certainly need the energy for when you land. But Ren doesn’t see that logic, he just wants his mother close to him, so when you take a seat far away from the pair, Ren leaves his seat and goes to you. He grabs your hand and tries to pull you up, “There’s a better seat.”

You almost groan before standing up, but you follow him. You take a seat across from the pair, putting in headphones. Before you can put on some music, Satoru says, “Do you really want to try to fall asleep now? Before takeoff?”

“Fine, I’ll stay awake for now.” You answer. You begin to listen to Ren talk, simply staring at him as your eyes grow heavy. You’re not sure how much time passes but Satoru certainly does, a frown overtaking his face.

“Why is it taking so fucking long?” Satoru asks, and you glare at him for his language. He realizes and quickly says, “Sorry, Ren.”

Satoru stands up with the intent of asking a staff member but just as he begins to walk, he realizes the reason why it’s taking so long. He crosses his arms, a sigh escaping his lips. “What do you need, Sayo?”

“Just wanted to accompany my dear husband on his business trip. I need a vacation too, you know?” Sayo responds, already fully in vacation mode. She pokes her head to the side, since Satoru blocks her view. She calls out your name and waves at you, and panic begins to settle in your body. She moves Satoru to the side to take a seat next to you, and that’s when she sees Ren.

“Satoru!” Sayo looks at her husband, although she raises her voice but not of anger… But of excitement? “You didn’t tell me you were bringing your son along!”

[jackfrombaskinrobbins]

all fixed up (matt murdock x teen!adopted!reader)

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 967

request: yes / no

original request: "Matt Murdock patches up a teen reader, and there's just a lot of angst and hurt/comfort. PLEASE LET IT HAVE A HUG AND FOREHEAD KISSES :)) (I'm a sucker for fluff)"

warnings: slight mention of wounds, blood, not too much though i promise!!

dynamic: matt murdock x teen!adopted!reader

characters: reader, matt murdock, quick mention of foggy nelson & wilson fisk

a/n: ILYT!!! also erm hey guys🤓i've been gone for way too long i'm sorry :') but i've had this in my drafts for a whiiiiiiile so i figured it was time to post :0 anyways ya feel free to request i have a bunch to get to but i always like new ones!! esp daredevil oop tee hee

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind @ayohitmanddaeng @fiadh-bell

(fill out this form to be on my taglist!)

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“stop it, y/n. just come here for a minute, alright?”

normally matt’s words would be answered with an exaggerated sigh and an eye roll, but tonight was different. tonight was off, and you knew it, he knew it, and he knew that you knew that he knew it. (ridiculous, but true.) it didn’t help that you had wounds to patch up, sore spots all over your body that wouldn’t be going away any time soon – a constant reminder of your mistake.

and yes, as much as matt would deny it, you had made a mistake. a damn big one at that. you should have known better. no matter how gifted you were at defending yourself, no matter how many times you had practiced, it wasn’t enough. nothing would ever be enough. and yet you had stupidly decided to go against a group of kingpin’s lackies, big huge guys who ate kids like you for breakfast. they didn’t hold back, and they beat you up until you were barely conscious, and that’s when stupid matt came and did his stupid thing and saved your stupid ass from stupid death or some stupid thing like that. and now you were here, in this stupid apartment wishing you had just stayed in and done your stupid homework and watched some stupid tv and just stayed out of things for once. 

“i’m going to bed, matt.”

you spoke, too ashamed to face him. but stupid matt always knew, with his stupid heightened senses and the stupid way that he knew you inside and out, ever since he had taken you in a few years before.

“come on y/n. this isn’t something you can sleep off, and you know it.”

and you did know it. so that’s why you sat at the table, a hiss of air escaping you against your will as you lowered yourself down.

“i’ll get the kit from under the sink.”

“matt, really, it’s fine. it’s just little stuff, okay? i’m fi–”

“fine doesn’t smell like blood, y/n. i’m not stupid.”

that earned him an eye roll, which he never saw, but he always knew happened when he said things like that. you watched as he made his way to the sink, opening the cabinet underneath and rummaging around for the first aid bag. A while ago, you had put stickers on it so he could discern it from the other things in there. There were four flower stickers, and one that foggy had given you, with disney princesses that said “together we are strong”. 

matt settled into the chair across from you, exhaling softly. the lights of a police car suddenly filled the dark apartment, screeching sirens accompanying it. you reached for the kit, but matt shook his head.

“no, y/n. i’ll do it.”

you opened your mouth, about to protest, but you could tell he wasn’t going to budge. his stubbornness was something you liked, sometimes. it sure helped when you both wanted pizza for dinner and foggy wanted wings. besides, you knew he would be able to patch you up right, with all the experience he got from helping his father. he had always told you that you were just like him, willing to give anything to protect your honor. but what matt never said was that he was just like his father too, and that if anything, you had just gotten those traits from him. 

“did they get you in the head at all?” he asked, soaking a cotton pad in hydrogen peroxide and gesturing for you to guide it where your wounds were.

“yeah, a little bit. i tried to block ‘em. they just kept coming matt, i couldn’t do anything!” you grimaced as the pad touched the spot on your shoulder where you had been grazed by something sharp.

“i know, y/n. it’s not your fault.”

“see but that’s the issue. it IS my fault, matt!” you spoke, voice getting slightly strained, throat feeling tight. you squinted your eyes to prevent tears from falling, but it was too late. a few landed on his hand, and you turned away, trying to compose yourself. “there was no reason to go out there. i don’t know why the hell i thought it was a good idea. i was just … mad! mad about the way they’re treating everybody in this place, mad about the way they’re screwing over every person they deal with… mad about how they treat YOU, god damn it!”

a moment of silence as you tried to slow your breathing, and for a minute, you didn’t know how he was going to react. he reached into the kit, feeling around until he grabbed a bandage, unwrapping it. you helped his hand go to where it needed to be placed, and once it was, he sat back. only then did you see the furrow in his brow, the deep frown on his face.

“look, y/n. i need you to listen to me, and really hear me, alright? i’m proud of you.”

“come on matt, that’s –”

“no. i’m proud of you. really, really proud. i just … i just want you to be careful, alright? i worry about you. and for good reason, considering all this.” you could see his face start to crack ever so slightly, a quick break in his voice indicating that he really meant it. you moved your chair back, stood up, and hugged him tight, despite a slight lingering pain in your shoulder. after a little while, he kissed your forehead, then patted you on the back. 

“i’d assume it’s pretty late now. how about you get to bed? we’ll figure out if you need to go to school tomorrow, alright?”

“sounds good. thanks matt. love you.”

“love you too, y/n.”

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[fyeahghosttrick]

So I closely look at Lynne's apartment. So in the TV stand there's one small speaker inside the tv cabinet (including to the big ones next to the TV, what looks like a DVD player, what looks like an amplifier, and what looks like a vinyl player, fair enough. But on the open side it's more difficult. A Panasonic Gamecube? A stack of what looks like NES games but with the Famicom cartridge colorscheme? And the shelf balances on the shelf on the other side? And what is the long white thing? A holder for vinyls?

Hm! The prospective Gamecube looks like a small hi fi stereo system to me, with a volume knob, the little screen and buttons... a little like this

mom had one that looked even more like it. The cases really do look like old video games, you're right... the long white thing remains mysterious :0 it would have to be part of the structure for the shelf to stay up but what is it...

[soshiharin]

not so secret

summary: in which harin and jungshin aren’t a secret anymore

set: 7 oct 2014

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mention of food, slut shaming; swearing; arguing

an: words in bold are english. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

harin’s masterlist

Harin clasped her necklace, brushing her hair over her shoulder. She looked among her jewellery, picking out three rings to wear for the day. She left her room, going to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast.

“You’re awake,” she commented, noticing Tiffany standing in the middle of the kitchen. She was still wearing her pyjamas and rubbing her eyes as if she just woke up.

“Can you make me breakfast?” Tiffany asked, not moving from her position.

Harin turned away from the cabinets to look at her member. “You want me to make you food?”

Tiffany dropped her hand, squinting her eyes at Harin as she thought her request over. “Nevermind,” she said, remembering that Harin couldn’t cook.

“Should I go get us something from the convenience store around the block? I can get one of those lunchboxes,” Harin suggested after not finding anything ready to eat in any of the cupboards or the fridge.

“Please,” Tiffany begged, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “I’m starving.”

“Okay.” Harin popped into her room to get her handbag before walking to the front door. “I’ll get enough for all of us,” she called out, opening the door.

The walk to the convenience store was relatively short. There weren’t that many people inside the shop, so Harin was able to quickly pick out the lunchboxes she would need for her and her members, also buying fizzy drinks for them. When she went to pay, the cashier eyed her weirdly. Harin didn’t pay it any mind, though. It hadn’t been that long since Jessica left the group, so people were still very open about their reactions. So when the cashier basically shoved the plastic bag into Harin’s hand, she didn’t think anything of it, instead quietly thanking him and quickly leaving.

She returned to the dorm almost as quickly as it took for her to leave. Walking into the apartment, she took off her shoes, exchanging them for slippers. She passed by the living room, where she saw Tiffany lying on the couch, and went to the kitchen, unpacking the food she got.

“Tiffany-yah, your food is here,” she told her member as she walked to her with her meal and drink.

Tiffany shot up into a seated position, holding her hands out to accept her breakfast. “Thank you. I thought I was dying of hunger.”

Harin groaned as she went to retrieve her food. “So dramatic.” She sat down next to Tiffany as the older girl turned on the TV. They watched one of the weekend morning dramas as they ate their food. Glancing at the closed door behind them, Harin took a sip of her drink. “Is Taeyeon not waking up today?”

“I don’t know,” Tiffany began, “but she was on the phone with someone earlier. I think someone from the company. She was speaking formally.”

Harin nodded and the two continued to eat their breakfast in silence. After a few minutes, their doorbell rang. Tiffany was already in the kitchen putting away their containers, so she went to answer the door. When she saw through the door camera that Jungshin was at the door, she immediately let him in.

“Is Harin here?” He asked, not bothering to greet.

Tiffany took note of how frazzled he looked, nodding her head. “Yeah, she’s on the couch.”

When the two walked past the entryway into the apartment, Harin was still watching the TV. She had changed the channel to a sci-fi movie, trying to catch up with the plot of it.

“Harin-ah,” Jungshin called out, causing her to turn around to look at him.

She smiled when she saw him. “Oh, hi. What are you doing here?”

“You haven’t been answering your phone,” he said, walking to stand behind the couch.

“Uh… Tiffany was using my phone charger last night, I only put it on the charger ten minutes ago, or something.” She studied him, taking note of his shaking hands. “What’s going on?”

“They know,” he breathed out.

Harin felt her body tense as she registered what she was told. There was only one thing that could mean, only one thing concerning her and Jungshin that could make him so shaken up. She sprung to her feet, going to her room to fetch her phone. Once she had turned it on, there was an influx of notifications, texts and missed calls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she saw the articles. Behind her, she felt Jungshin place his hand on her shoulder. She ran a distressed hand through her hair. “An industry insider?”

Jungshin sighed and she felt the air hit the back of her neck. “I don’t know if they mean a Dispatch employee, someone in either of our companies, or someone close to us… My managers said they don’t know who told.” When Harin didn’t respond, too busy scrolling through different articles, he took the phone from her hand and turned her around to face him. “Reading all of that won’t do anything. For now, we need to decide whether or not we’re confirming.”

“We already agreed to confirm it if this ever happened,” she pointed out, voice very matter-of-fact, “so let’s just continue with that plan.”

“Okay.” He nodded. He dropped her phone on her bed, reaching for her hands instead. “We’re going to get through this,” he said in a soothing voice. “Now that people know about us, we’ll be able to go on dates together more freely.”

Harin scoffed. “You can’t be serious,” she groaned, taking her hands from his hold. She walked around her bed, putting some space between the two of them. “You can’t seriously believe that. Now that we’re public, we’ll be able to be together freely and comfortably? If you were dating any other woman — if you were dating a more liked woman — then I would believe that. You would most definitely be able to go out with her, and proclaim your love for her. But you’re dating me.”

“I know you’re a private person–”

“It’s not that!” Although her voice rose in pitch, it did not rise in volume. “It’s the fact that every woman in Korea hates me. With a passion.” She stared at her boyfriend. “Do you expect me to believe that you have not read any comments under any of the articles? Because just a glance–” she reached for her phone– “would let you know what everyone thinks.” She went onto a popular forum. “‘With how slutty she is, he’s probably just her boyfriend of the month’, ‘I wonder what he even sees in her’, ‘Harin really is just a witch’, ‘She just can’t keep her hands off of our oppas’, ‘Isn’t she too much of a whore to be with him?’, ‘She probably has many other boyfriends’... These aren’t even comments from your fans.”

“I don’t care about those comments.”

“I do! You’re someone who’s being fooled into believing I’m loyal, I’m someone who’s sleeping her way through the industry. I–” She sighed. “We can confirm our relationship, but we cannot act as if everything will be fine. The industry insider is the least of our problems.”

He nodded, understanding what she was saying and where she was coming from. “I hear you. I’m sorry.”

She crossed her arms and sighed. “You don’t have to apologise,” she told him.

“They won’t, so I will.” He walked to her and placed his hands on her elbows. “We’ll get through this.”

“Yeah,” she exhaled sharply. “We will.” She looked over his shoulder at the closed door. “We’re coming out now!” She loudly announced, hearring a shuffling behind the door.

The couple walked to the door, opening it to find Taeyeon and Tiffany sitting on the couch. Harin felt her lips twitch watched her members pretend that they weren’t just listening.

“I’ll tell my company that we’re going to confirm it,” Jungshin told her, touching her arm lightly. “I’ll talk to you later today?”

She nodded wordlessly and he leaned forward to quickly kiss her cheek. He waved goodbye to her members, who did the same. They were all quiet as he left, waiting to hear the Beep! of the door closing.

“How are you?” Tiffany asked.

Harin sighed, moving to sit down between her members. She felt the tell-tale signs of incoming tears: a slight ringing in her eyes, a pull in her nose, and watering in her eyes. She leaned her again against the back of the couch, closing her eyes as the first tears dropped.

“Oh, Harin,” Taeyeon cooed, wrapping her arms around her member.

Tiffany leaned forward for the tissue box, putting it in Harin’s lap. She brushed her member’s hair softly. “Hey,” she softly said, causing Harin to open her eyes and look at you, “we’re here for you. This’ll blow over soon, trust me.”

“Thanks,” she said. Seeing as Tiffany also had her relationship publicised, Harin found it easy to believe her words. She took a steadying breath, using a tissue to dry her cheeks. “The comments are–”

“The comments are wrong,” Taeyeon said firmly. “They don’t know you. We do. And we know that you are nothing like what they are saying.”

“Yeah,” Tiffany agreed. “They don’t know the real you. They’re just jealous.”

“I know all that, I do.” Harin sniffled. “I just… I don’t know, I’m sorry. Now you’re all going to be dragged into this.”

“Don’t worry about that. We just care about you and how you’re dealing with this.”

“Oh, I’m practically perfect,” she quipped, smirking slightly. From her room, she heard her phone ring. “I have to go answer that,” she groaned, “it’s probably the company.”

“I told them to go easy on you,” Taeyeon said as she watched Harin stand up. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Thank you, angel.” She went to her room, closing the door behind her. Her phone call with the company lasted ten minutes, there wasn’t really much to discuss seeing as Harin had told them about her relationship just last month and they had agreed to confirm the relationship should it ever be exposed. The only thing they had to do was formulate an official response. After the call, she opened her KakaoTalk messages.

Choi Sooyoung [08:29] I just saw the articles. Are you okay?

Im Yoona [08:31] Unnie, how are you?

Lee Jungshin [08:32] Where are you? I’m coming over to your dorm!

Hahm Eunjung [08:43] Take deep breaths, everything will be okay

Jin Seoyeon [08:47] Don’t panic!❤️

Cho Mija [08:51] We need to discuss this

Harin spent most of the day in her room, only coming out at meal times. Her members didn’t pester her about anything, giving her time to herself. After dinner, the three of them sat on the couch and watched Thoroughly Modern Millie — Harin’s choice, of course. They paused the movie for a bathroom break and to get more popcorn.

“I just wish I knew who told Dispatch,” Harin said as she put more popcorn into their bowls. “I mean, they had pictures of us.”

“That means they knew you were going on a date,” Taeyeon added. “Or they were just in the right place at the right time.”

Harin shook her head, returning to the living room. “It couldn’t have been the first one, because I only told you and he only told his members. So unless one of you has loose lips…”

“It was just a lucky person,” her leader finished, accepting the bowl of popcorn.

Tiffany returned from the bathroom, hopping onto the couch. She placed the throw blanket across her lap and picked up her bowl of popcorn. “It probably wasn’t anyone that you know,” she said, having heard the later part of the conversation. “Maybe it was a staff member that overheard something.”

“That makes sense!” Taeyeon gasped.

Harin nodded, accepting the explanation and pressed play on the DVD. The movie had been playing for another fifteen minutes when her phone began to chime, signifying texts.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Tiffany teased in a sing-song voice.

“He’s probably just saying goodnight,” Harin said with a roll of her eyes at her member’s antics. She picked up her phone, her eyebrow quirking up in shock to see who texted her. She clicked on the notification to see the messages and scoffed. “I know who the industry insider is,” she told her members before showing them the texts.

Jessica Jung [22:48] I didn’t mean for this to happen

Jessica Jung [22:48] Can we talk?

tagging: @lyskooluv (send an ask or dm to be on/off the taglist)

©️ jang harin

[koffeesfancy]

How Mikayla reacts to your time of the month

A/N: I was dismayed at the lack of Koffee content on here and decided to do something about it. Feedback appreciated.

You spent the night a few weeks ago and never left. What initially felt like a sleepover, became a beautiful routine of domesticity.

You awoke next to each other with smiles and light wrestling. You'd catch each other's gazes in the mirror while brushing your teeth and laugh. She'd stare as you attempted to style your hair before asking to try and having fun brushing it in different directions.

You'd make her your momma's pancake recipe and she'd put on a kettle for tea. Your legs would be glued to each other's under the table while you ate. You'd wash dishes together, giggling at the silly remixes of songs you'd freestyle.

You'd hug very tightly at the door, making sure Mikayla didn't leave anything behind. You'd sit on the couch, looking out at the hilly view of Kingston before pulling out your laptop for school work.

Normally, you'd be watching Netflix or in the kitchen starting dinner when Mikayla would make it home in the evening, yet today you were nowhere to be found.

"Mama," she called out, depositing her shoes on the rack and keys at the counter. "Gyal, yuh a leave me?" She shuffled around the apartment, opening doors, heartbeat rising thinking you'd left without a word. Almost accepting the sinking feeling of being jilted, she reached for her phone to call you before hearing a noise from the bedroom.

Mikayla opened the closet door to find you in a fortress of pillows and blankets watching a Netflix show on your tablet with headphones. Your eyes squinted and your neck craned up at the bright intrusion of the door being opened.

"Uh-uh Mama, what yuh fi do in here?" she exasperated, climbing into the mess of pillows. A look of relief and amusement enveloped her face.

"Hi, sorry, I didn't hear you come in," you groaned, worming your way deeper into the corner. Mikayla reached over with a frown, checking your forehead with her hand.

"Oh Mama, you're hotting up, we need fi give yuh some medicine," she arose, "and yuh haffi catch yuh bed and sleep," You groaned at that.

"I'm fine, I get like this every month," you say, rolling over onto your side. You heard Mikayla sigh. "Why yuh nuh tell me nuttin, gyal?" she whispered, hands finding your back to give a few rubs.

At your behest, she pulled you free of the blankets and assisted you onto the bed. She left you in the room with a forehead kiss and after a few minutes of clanging cabinets and beeping appliances, returned with an armful of things.

She set them on the nightstand and lifted the bottom of your shirt with a comforting smile. She grabbed a warm towel from the stash and lay it snug over your abdomen.

"Better now?" she asked, a look of endearment reaching her eyes. You blinked and shook your head in affirmation, enjoying the comfort spreading through your aches.

Next, she handed you a steaming cup of tea and rubbed your messy hair as you drank. You sighed in content, earning a laugh from Mikayla. She presented you with the remote and a few snacks before returning to the closet to collect the remnants of your nest.

She returned and stood on the bed, reaching over you to stretch a blanket across the back of the headboard. You looked up with wide eyes to admire the cozy fortress. She chuckled at your amazement and slid next to you to enjoy whatever show you put on the TV. You naturally fell into her side, head resting on her shoulder. Your hands found each others' and locked. This became your favorite time of the month.

[dawnanddorisqna]

HI DAWN! HAPPY CONCEPT DAY HERE'S UR BDAY PRESENT YA LIL RASCAL!!! I was able to re-acquire my old DDLV account that I thought I lost and I immediately went to work on spiffing up the place for your special day! I tried to decorate this room inspired by you in Disney Dreamlight Valley!

Here's your sun themed door which is perfect for your namesake

Here's the TV area! I gave you a long lounge seat in case you wanted to invite friends over for movie nights!

Here's your study area! You can't see it but there's a bunch of books and bookcases behind my avatar's (Queen Doodle's) head. The little pillow on the armchair even has a crown which matches your headband!

Here's the bed! It's also dawn themed with the celestial themed pillows and headboard. I've also given you this beautiful scenic view of the stars in the night sky.

Lastly we have the gaming/streaming/studying area. Complete with a perfect princess crown chair, piles of binders and books with Toon history for schoolwork, portraits of the most inspirational and famous Toons, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and a videogame cabinet with your high score! I hope you enjoyed this room tour! I've also got to show you Doris's inspired room and trophy room later someday

Oh hell yeah! Disney-fied Doodle living fancy!!! Love it!!!

[amberdagger]

i'm low on gas and you need a jacket

steve-o x fem!reader, set in 2003 idk how to categorise or summarise this tbh lol. loosely inspired by the lyrics of i'm low on gas and you need a jacket by ptv warnings: drugs/alcohol mentioned, swearing, suggestive content, barely proofread (i'm lazy) notes: i wrote this in first person, present tense and i don't know if i like it. i also have zero confidence in my writing lol.

My apartment is dark, save for the light of the TV. I’ve flicked through every channel a few times tonight but haven’t found anything appealing. I turned the volume all the way down and let the images play out silently. It’s never really silent in this apartment, though. Living in LA means a constant symphony of sirens and shouts, often accompanied by partying neighbours. 

Sighing, I peel myself off the couch and wander over to the cabinet that houses my hi-fi system and CD collection. ‘Warning’ by Green Day catches my eye, so I pull it from its spot on the shelf, open the case and place the disc into the player. After pressing play and turning up the volume, I shuffle over to the tiny kitchen and wash one of the dirty glasses laying in the sink. I grab a can of Red Bull from the nearly empty refrigerator and the half-empty bottle of Jägermeister from on top of the fridge, setting them on the countertop next to the newly clean glass. I fish some ice cubes out of the tray in the freezer and they clink as I drop them into the glass. I crack open the can of Red Bull and empty most of its contents into the glass, leaving space for a shot (or two) of the Jäger. 

God, it would be nice to have a balcony to sit on while I drink. Too bad, I have to settle for the couch. The sweetness of the Red Bull masks the bitterness of the Jäger, making it far too easy to drink. Drinking alone on a Friday night. How depressing. I focus on the music, feeling the vibrations and mumbling along with the lyrics. The time passes quickly, slipping away. Before too long, the CD stops spinning and I’m left in relative silence with my empty glass. The one drink was enough to get me feeling buzzed from the mixture of caffeine and alcohol. With nothing to do, I figure I might as well get some sleep.

My pyjamas are in a pile at the edge of my bed. I slip out of my jeans and t-shirt and replace them with the tank top and boxer shorts that I always sleep in. Right as I’m about to turn off my bedroom light and hop into bed, I hear knocking on my front door. Who the hell is knocking at this time? The cops? Why would the cops be here? The knocking continues, getting louder and more obnoxious. Christ. I trudge back out to the living room and peer through the peephole to see who’s there.

Steve-O.

My heart leaps up into my throat and my stomach drops. I haven’t seen Steve in months. What is he doing here? I’m surprised he was even able to remember my address.  “Dude! I know you’re in there, let me in!” He shouts. I fumble to get the door unlocked and open it. He stands there in the dingy hallway with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Unsurprisingly, he reeks of beer and weed. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing here?” “It’s a long story dude, can I come in?” I barely have a chance to nod before he stumbles across the threshold and throws his arms around my shoulders, nearly knocking me over. I drag him over to the couch and let him flop down onto it. 

“So, what are you doing here?” “Me and the guys were all staying in Palm Springs, partying, y’know. We kind of wrecked the hotel room I was staying in so they kicked us out. Palm Springs sucks anyway so I got someone to drive me to LA.” “You got someone to drive you two hours in the middle of the night?” “Yeah, dude. They were heading this way anyway.” I scoff in disbelief. “Okay so that’s why you’re in LA. But why did you decide to show up on my doorstep at 2am?” “Thought you’d be stoked to see me, babe.” Babe? My cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. I pray it’s too dark and he’s too wasted to notice. 

I sit on the couch next to him with a beleaguered sigh.  “What, so you just came to hang out?” I pressed. “Jesus, what’s with all the questions, lady?” I shoot him a glare, prompting him to answer, “yeah, sure, I came to hang out or whatever.” “Steve, I was about to go to bed before you showed up.” “Alright then, let’s go to bed,” he chuckled, practically jumping up off the couch. Before I can even say anything, he’s off down the narrow hall towards my bedroom. I get up and chase after him.

When I reach my room, he’s already laying on the bed doing a goofy “seductive” pose. “Seriously, Steve? You actually think I’m going to let you sleep in my bed?” “Sure, it’s not like we haven’t slept together before,” he said with a cheeky grin. “We did not sleep together. We hooked up. One time. Months ago.”  I stand in the doorway, practically glaring at him, waiting for a response. He was uncharacteristically quiet. After a moment, he speaks. “Come on babe, sit over here with me. Please?” He hauls himself up to a seated position, back resting against the headboard.  I roll my eyes and sigh in exasperation before dragging myself over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. We sit in uncomfortable silence. I’m exhausted, the buzz from the Jäger Bomb has worn off, and I have no clue what to say to him.

We had met for the first time at some spring break party. He was on the patio showing off some acrobatic tricks and I was sitting on the edge of the pool dangling my legs in the water, sipping my drink. I noticed him after he backflipped into the pool, splashing me as he hit the water.  “Sorry dude!” He laughed as I looked down at my soaked dress. He swam closer and introduced himself.  We got to chatting and after a couple of hours and several more drinks I took my chance. After all, he was pretty cute and happened to be famous. So, I’d leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “wanna go back to my place?” In response, he shouted to no one in particular, “I’m going to this chick’s house!” He put his arm around my shoulder and we left the party together. We stumbled to my apartment (it was only a couple of blocks from the party), giggling like idiots as I unlocked the front door. As soon as it was shut behind us, he pulled me to him, one hand on my waist and the other on the back of my neck. We kissed as I led us to the couch.  After hooking up, he fell asleep on the couch and I scribbled my phone number on a scrap of paper. I left it on the coffee table and slinked off to my bedroom.  When I woke up the next morning, groggy from the hangover, he was gone and so was the scrap of paper with my number on it. I had figured that was probably the end of my acquaintance with Steve-O. A drunken one-night-stand.

The next weekend I was stocking my fridge with Miller Lite in preparation for a little get-together I was hosting when my cellphone chimed. The text message read, “party 2nite?” From a number I didn’t recognise.  “Who’s asking?” I sent back. “steve-o” My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the screen in disbelief. I called the number and he picked up after a couple of rings. “Hey dude! What’s up?” I heard him through the speaker. “I’m having a little get-together with some friends at my place later, if you’re looking for a party.” “Yeah dude!” He cheered.

He brought a rabble of friends and acquaintances to my tiny apartment that night and they practically destroyed the place. The party died down after several hours and a lot of knocking from pissed off neighbours, and I watched him leave with one of my friends. Once again, I figured I would never see him again. However, the next morning I woke to the sound of my cellphone ringing. It was Steve-O. “Dude, sick party last night!” “Yeah,” I said coldly. “You and your buddies wrecked my house and I got my first noise complaint.” Anger burned my throat as I held myself back from screaming into the phone. “That’s how you know it was a-“ I heard him say before I hung up on him.

Months passed without a phone call or a text message. I had done my best to forget about Steve-O. 

I feel the bed move as he shifts around, hating the silence. He clears his throat and says, “so… uh…” I turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He looks down to avoid my gaze.  “I’m sorry.” I’m taken aback. I was hoping for an apology but I didn’t expect to receive one. “It was totally shitty of me to wreck your place, I should have come back to clean up. I should have apologised. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I wanted to call you so many times but I couldn’t do it. I fucked up.” I’m completely stunned by his sincerity. I can’t comprehend the fact that he’s actually owning up to his shit. He looks sheepish, like he’s expecting me to rip into him.  “Oh. Yeah, well… um… thanks for apologising, Steve.” I reach over and place my hand on his knee reassuringly. He releases the breath he was holding, relieved. Gently, he places his hand over mine and squeezes it softly.  I move to sit closer to him, leaning back against the headboard. “If you need a place to sleep tonight, I won’t kick you out. As long as you promise not to break anything,” I say quietly, resting the side of my head on his shoulder. He chuckles lightly. “I promise. Thanks, dude.” He places a kiss on the top of my head. “Don’t push your luck, Steve.” I say, giving him a playful shove. 

We fall asleep in silence, save for our breathing and the consistent hum of city noise. 

[randomlycee]

I’ve a lot of thoughts about the sort of apartment Rafael would have so I’ve written it down. Whenever I mention Rafael’s apartment in a fic from now on, this is it. Unless I change my mind 🤨

———-

An ADAs salary doesn’t go as far as people think and Rafael’s apartment is a lot smaller than people assume. All he wanted was somewhere close to the office and close to Broadway with somewhere to sit, somewhere to sleep, somewhere to hang the contents of his extensive wardrobe, and somewhere to put his expensive coffee machine. Space was never a requirement. He never (never!) entertains at home. His mother came once & that wasn’t by invitation. She hasn’t been back.

The apartment isn’t much more than a studio with a couple of flimsy walls. The space is half and half living and bedroom, and the bedroom is half and half bed and wardrobe. A functional bathroom is squeezed between the two. The living space has a tiny kitchenette at one end with a hardwood counter dividing it from the living space. Rafael had to pay to get the hardwood counter fitted, replacing the modern white that was there originally. There’s a cosy, expensive, olive green two-seater couch. A colourful throw made by his abuelita hangs loosely over the back, ready for use. A wall-mounted 50 inch art TV mostly shows picasso’s Lover in a Beret when Rafael’s not watching one of his reality show guilty pleasures. Tucked under the window that looks out towards the city’s garish lights is a small antique oak desk. A refurbished oak filing cabinet from the 1920s that looks like it came straight from the set of a black & white private detective movie fills the corner next to it. An oak bookcase with an eclectic mix of non-fiction and fiction (mostly sci-fi), classics and popular fills the wall that separates the bedroom from the living space.

Rafael’s apartment is his haven.

[smileygoth]

11. Contemplation (If My OC Had Their Own Lo-Fi Screen, Month of Darkness 2024)

This was really difficult to fit into a story! Hopefully I've done alright and given a kind of lo-fi vibe ... I also learned that it is really difficult to spell 'Seneschal' when you're typing it a lot!

CW: Some mild referrals to sex.

Image found on Pinterest, credited to Kerri Ashley Art.

Find the Masterlist here!

Christina opened her front door and ushered Michael inside. ‘This way. Straight up the stairs.’

Her haven – this one, anyway – was a rather modest-looking flat above a bar in Soho. The plain front door at the side of the shop opened on a nondescript set of stairs that went up to another plain door. Beyond that door, however, the flat was anything but plain. Black flocked wallpaper covered the walls above a soft red carpet as they stepped into a spacious living room. A large, plush red sofa stood in the centre of the room in front of a huge tv, mounted above a black entertainment cabinet with smoked glass doors. Long, heavy red curtains framed the windows in the opposite wall, which looked out over dark gardens and rooftops. Between the windows stood a minibar in shining black wood. Doors to the left led to the other rooms in the flat, all of them painted in the same glossy black. The light came from imitation candelabras mounted on the walls.

Sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a video game, Martyn barely glanced up when they first came in. Then he looked again and noticed Michael. ‘Oh, hey,’ he said, pausing the game and standing up. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know Chris was bringing company.’ He paused. ‘I’ve met you, right?’

‘Once or twice,’ Michael replied. ‘Michael Saint.’

Martyn smiled. ‘Right! The priest.’

Michael sighed and shot Christina an irritated glance. ‘Not any more,’ he said.

‘Oh, right. Sorry.’ Martyn fidgeted awkwardly, then looked to Christina. ‘Want me to, uh….’ he began, and stopped as she silently smiled. ‘Yeah, um, I was about to knock it off for the night anyway. Got stuff to do in the morning. Just give me a sec to clear my shit up.’

With practiced speed he saved and turned off his game, grabbed his cigarettes and a half- full bottle of beer from the low glass coffee table, and disappeared through one of the other doors. When he was gone, Michael laughed quietly. ‘He’s well trained,’ he remarked.

Christina shot him a disapproving look. ‘We’ve been together for a very long time,’ she said, crossing to the minibar. ‘Well, come in, make yourself at home. Drink?’

Michael shook his head. ‘No thanks.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Christina poured herself a small measure of whiskey into a crystal glass and turned back to the sofa. Michael was sat at the end nearest the door, back ramrod straight, looking uncomfortable and out of place in his sensible suit and blue tie. She fought the urge to smirk and sat down next to him, placing her glass on the table. ‘Just a moment,’ she said softly, pulling her phone from her purse. ‘We need music.’

Michael watched with interest as she tapped on her phone a few times, and the soundbar beneath the tv beeped quietly. With a few more taps, soft electronic music began to play. ‘Amazing how you can do that from your phone,’ he remarked.

Christina smiled. ‘Martyn keeps me up to date with these things,’ she replied. ‘Especially when it comes to music. He knows it’s important to me.’ Setting her phone and purse down on the table, she picked up her glass again and leaned back into the sofa. ‘He put me onto this music, actually. It’s not something I listen to, really, but it makes for wonderful background music.’

Michael nodded politely. ‘And what is it to be a background to?’ he asked, his voice not quite level.

Christina’s smile widened, and she leaned in closer to him. ‘That’s rather up to you, darling.’

His eyes softened, and he leaned toward her, just a little, as if he didn’t realise he was doing it. ‘I, um, I think I know what you’re alluding to,’ he said, dropping his voice so that Martyn wouldn’t hear. ‘And as … wonderful as our last time was, there is actually something I wanted to talk to you about.’

Christina pouted, leaning in close enough that their lips almost touched. ‘Boo. You got me here, all alone, in this frankly stunning dress, and all you want to do is talk?’

Chuckling, Michael leaned back to put some space between them. His eyes flicked down, taking in the black satin evening dress she was wearing. It clung to her curves, accentuating her figure, and in the faux candlelight it gleamed like midnight rain. ‘It is a lovely dress,’ he replied, his voice low and husky. ‘I wouldn’t want to tear it.’

‘Hmm.’ Christina sat back, stretching her arms over the back of the sofa, opening her body to him. She crossed one leg over the other, letting the side split of the dress fall open to reveal an expanse of bare thigh. ‘I could be persuaded to forgive you.’

He made a sound like a growl, deep in his throat, and shifted uncomfortably. ‘Christina….’

She laughed. ‘Fine! We’ll just talk. That’s what I like about you, Michael – you’re always a challenge. What did you want to talk about?’

Something between relief and disappointment flashed across his face, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. ‘Um, well … you know I’m not one to gossip….’

‘Heaven forbid,’ Christina remarked, her eyes wide in mock horror.

Michael gave her a stern look. ‘Indeed. Well, the reason I was asked down to London was because the Prince wanted to consult me on something quite important. You know we’ve known each other for a long time.’

Christina nodded. ‘I remember when you were Seneschal.’

‘Well, that’s the thing.’ He paused. ‘This can’t leave this room.’ Christina nodded her understanding, and he continued. ‘The Prince has reason to believe that their current Seneschal is passing information on the inner workings of the Court of London to someone. They don’t know who yet, but after all the … unpleasantness of a few years back, they don’t wish to take any chances. So there are plans in place to remove them. However, that will leave a position open. And the Prince wanted my opinion on who should fill it.’

Christina sat up. ‘And why are you telling me this?’ She frowned. ‘You’re not going to sit here and tell me how you sang my praises to the Prince, are you? It didn’t exactly end well the last time. If you get me stuck in an even worse job than this….’

Michael held up his hands in defence. ‘No, actually, I didn’t get the chance. The Prince asked me about you directly. They didn’t say they were considering you for the position, but they did seem to think you’d be interested. They asked me to invite you to a meeting about it tomorrow night. The candidates will be there. I don’t think they know that’s why they’re being summoned.’ He paused. ‘I think the Prince wanted me to get you there with some excuse, but you always seem to see through my lies.’

‘That’s because you’re a terrible liar.’ Christina sighed. ‘So am I being considered for the position or not? I’m confused.’

Michael shrugged and spread his hands. ‘I really don’t know.’

Christina scoffed. ‘Nothing’s ever straightforward with the Camarilla, is it?’ She lifted her glass to her lips and swallowed the whiskey in one, relishing the burn in her throat. ‘Well, you can send the Prince my apologies. I have plans tomorrow night.’

‘Really?’ Michael looked confused. ‘I thought you’d jump at the chance, Christina. You’re always saying how bored you are where you are now.’

‘Do you think I’d be any happier being even more firmly under the Prince’s thumb?’ She got to her feet and went back to the bar for more whiskey. ‘They gave me this job so they could keep an eye on me, Michael. I hardly have any freedom as it is.’ She paused, her pride bristling. ‘Besides, if the Prince wants to offer me a new position, they have my number. I’m not interested in competing with a bunch of arse-licking sycophants in some stupid game to win their approval.’

Michael stared at her, bewildered. ‘I really don’t understand you,’ he said.

Christina snorted. ‘That much is evident.’

He got to his feet. ‘I’ve offended you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention.’

‘I know.’ Christina waved his apology away. ‘But all the same, I don’t much feel like having company any more.’

Michael’s face fell, and for a moment Christina almost relented and asked him to stay. He looked so crestfallen, she felt like she’d kicked a puppy. But she didn’t. He nodded and straightened his jacket. ‘Of course. I’ll see myself out.’ He turned to go, then hesitated. ‘I’ll be at the meeting,’ he said. ‘Shall I keep you updated?’

Christina shrugged. ‘Sure. You have my number.’

‘Alright. Goodnight, Christina. It was lovely to see you again.’

She watched him leave, then dropped onto the sofa with a groan of frustration. She knew the sort of mind games the Prince liked to play, and she did not want to open herself up to that. But the truth was, she was interested in being Seneschal. She’d been thinking about how she wanted more power that very night! But was this the way she wanted to do it? Being the Seneschal? It would put her closer to the Prince and make her the natural successor, should anything happen. But if she thought her freedoms were restricted now….

Yes, but … Seneschal of London, Chris!

She sighed and sipped at her whiskey. She was going to need to think about this.

[silverefflux]

Sweaters

Chapter x + 0.5 of my König x Fem!OC fic, Rush

Fuckin chapter name. It's good as a standalone at this point LMAO

See Chapter List

Photo from Freepik

Summary: König takes a look at Kate’s closet.

C/W: MAJOR ANGST. MAJOR PLOTLINE SKIP. Established relationship, grieving, mentions of possible death, implications of violence, one pinch of racism

A/N: Chapter works fine alone, but is wayyy beyond the current position in the plotline. Sorry about the algebraic chapter number. While I still want my story in chronological order, I am mainly writing this for my enjoyment, and my mind is incapable of forcing itself to write in order right now.

As with my prior attempts to make multi-chapters in other fandoms, I can map out the whole plot almost instantly, but the writing itself of each chapter is so difficult. Enjoy (?) this sharp, angsty left turn though.

. . .

Possibility // Lykke Li

Dominik awoke lying face up, his limbs carelessly limp on their mess of a bed. It was the same position he fell asleep in. Like a corpse—hollow, lifeless—of which was the closest thing he felt like at the moment. The first thing that flooded his consciousness was a seeping ache on one side of his head. His eyelids reluctantly fluttered half-open. A boundless blur of white manifested itself into their bedroom ceiling; the same thing he last saw before his body surrendered to slumber.

Two painfully slow days have passed. Two days of tossing and turning in an untimed cycle of crying, then not crying. Not that he had a sense of time. Or a sense of being. His stomach grumbled as hunger crawled up to his throat, but no amount of food or water could answer for his soul craving his wife’s presence. No warm shower could replicate the feeling of her skin on his.

By now, the passengers’ and crew’s loved ones would have been storming Harrier Air’s headquarters for answers. He wished he had the strength to join them. He grew sick of watching the news too—it was all that everyone could talk about. There was no further lead anyway as to the plane’s whereabouts except the video that the hijacker sent to provoke the public.

“Captain down, First Officer down…”

If the shows weren't broadcasting replays of the same information, they were spewing senseless theories and tirades directed at anyone and anything. One of them pointed at Kate being “fairly new and foreign” as a possible fault. At that point, there was nothing more that Dominik wanted to do than to fling the remote control through the screen and into the commentator’s face, but instead he chose to simply turn the TV off.

He turned his head to the side and caught sight of her closet.

Her clothes are still in there. At some point I have to clean it—

Nein. Not unless they bring her body home.

A part of him wanted to believe that she was still alive. That maybe the terrorists were just exaggerating to add to their scare tactic. Or that, by some miracle, she was able to hold out for her life until rescue reached the plane. That is, if there still was a plane. Regardless, she was gone and no one knows where, and he wasn’t shying away from the possibility—the likeliness—that she wasn’t coming home and all he had left of her was her possessions.

With a grumble, he sat up and stared at the closet, then groggily paced towards it, mentally preparing himself to look at what’s inside. His fingers shakily gripped at the door handles, and the doors of the cabinet opened with a soft creak.

Her clothes were neatly kept in rows of hangers and columns of folded fabric. He ran his hands through the row of memories.

She wore this dress on our anniversary.

These were her favorite trousers to wear in-flight.

She would wear this coat over literally anything.

His hand stopped over the sleeve of a silken blouse hung in front of him. He closed his eyes as he brought the sleeve close to his face. Faint hints of Kate’s scent and her perfume immediately crept its way into him as the fabric softly rested on his cheek and nose.

For the first time in two days, he smiled.

But it was a bitter smile as a lump grew in his throat, a mere attempt to console himself over this meager replacement for human contact. When he opened his eyes, they were watering and his heart was racing, another wave of sorrow making its way. He leafed through the clothes lined up in hangers once more, this time with urgency, then slid them aside to reveal the rest of her clothes below. At the left corner, a stack of sweaters were safely folded away.

On top of the pile was her favorite—a knitted one that they bought together in Nuremberg during the holidays, already slightly worn out from being used and washed so often. If wearing it outside was deemed embarrassing, she would proudly wear it inside the house as a substitute for a t-shirt or a pajama top.

“It’s not just a Christmas sweater!” she would insist with her classic cackling laughter.

“It has Christmas tree designs, Katie. You don’t have to wear that all the time,” he would jokingly argue back.

He took the sweater out. Then the hoodie under it. Then the next one. Bunching them up together, he clutched them close to his chest and relished the small amount of comfort he found in Kate’s scent again. The wool from her favorite sweater brushed lightly at his lips as he held the clothes near, reminding him of what it was like to embrace her.

When was the last time we hugged?

After sorrow came a wave of guilt, and the joyless expression returned on his face.

I wish I gave a more proper goodbye.

I wish I had kissed her more before I left.

I wish I knew how much our fights didn’t matter.

I wish I was a better husband.

He wanted to cry, but his tears were close to running out that all he had left were the ones clinging around his lashes. That and the silent, crushing pain that felt like his demons pressing their muddy boots onto his heart and shattering it into a million pieces.

He crashed onto the pillows again, knees weakened by the agony. He rolled over to his shoulder, still desperately holding the sweaters close. If there was something Kate helped him do, it was hacking away at the walls that he put up so there was nothing but honest emotion expressed within the walls of their home. But honesty meant vulnerability, and with her gone, he was defenseless to his own grief.

Please come home.

If you really are dead, at least haunt me right now.

No tighter embrace was enough as he squeezed the sweaters even closer towards him. His head bowed into the fabrics as he winced, pleading with his own body to cry the pain out, but no tears were coming out. But there were none left. One would know they’re in a whole other level of misery when they’re begging themselves to cry for relief. All he had to grasp onto was to imagine what she would be doing if she was with him at the moment.

She would’ve snaked an arm around him and pulled herself into a cuddle, murmuring soft words of encouragement to comfort him. Her gentle hand would trace its way up his back and rest at the back of his neck, her thumb moving back and forth behind his ear.

He placed his hand where hers would’ve been.

When he opened his eyes, her face would be inches away, looking back at him. Smiling softly, wordlessly telling him things will be better, and that it’s okay for him to be this way around her.

“Damn it, Schatzi…” she would say in a long whine, “If you’re crying, I’m crying too.”

Then, still teary-eyed, they would giggle at them being absolute softies for each other behind closed doors. He would close his eyes and pull her close too, and slowly, things would become okay again.

Where are you, Kate?

Oh, how he missed those deep brown eyes of hers. He could fall into the pools of her irises, sinking into the depths of her being until the last sliver of light bid goodbye, but he wouldn’t think he was drowning. Rather, he would happily explore the mysterious abyss of her soul in that darkness.

It’s been around three months and two days since he last saw those eyes face-to-face. If only he was granted another chance to look at them again.

It’s been two days since the hijacking. There was still no sign of the plane. Its fuel could only last for so long. There were only two possibilities: that it landed somewhere undetected by radar and its navigational equipment tampered, or that it fell before it made its way to land. Dominik was afraid he knew which was more plausible.

If the plane crashed, I hope that she was unconscious or dead as it happened.

The thought of her suffering the way she did delivered the final blow to his chest as tears finally poured out again in sobs.

She didn’t have to suffer.

He knew that between the both of them, he was the one built to withstand that kind of torture. Not her. She didn’t deserve any of it. His hands clutched even more tightly at the sweaters as he cried out in torment, his mind calling out for her despite those around him convinced that she was gone, and his imagination convincing him that she was right next to him on the bed.

Es tut mir so Leid.

And the cycle starts again. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, tormenting himself to exhaustion until he fell back asleep.

. . .

Translation:

Es tut mir so Leid - I'm so sorry

For the algebra chapter number, the timeline skip, the spoiler, the PAIN, I am once again willing to receive a "SILVER WHAT THE FUCK" in the comments HAHAHAHAHHA love u all

[burlveneer-music]

Borja Flames - Nuevo Medievo

He has three brains, a thousand lives, past or parallel, and his name is Borja Flames. Spanish, Parisian, Burgundian, cosmonaut, we don’t know anymore. His head is that of a pope, a king, a lion, a faun or a melancholic centaur. He is well dressed, with pot holes and beard : Merovingian. We knew him in June and Jim of which he was the southern face (the northern hemisphere being Marion Cousin), a duo recently transfigured under the name of Catalina Matorral, real electronic pastoral. We saw him reshuffle his cards for the first time in 2016 with Nacer Blanco, the first album under his name, whose tipsy clocks, totems like the Tower of Pisa and bony madrigals evoked Moondog, Robert Wyatt and the Postman Cheval, one inside the other, helter-skelter. After which Rojo Vivo (2018) a blend of pale house and tenebrous preachings made us fear and pleasure and dance. Nuevo Medievo which appears today (Les disques du Festival Permanent / Murailles Music) is even more beautiful, more striking. From the very beginning, sung on tiptoe, the silvery voice with robotic effects on a synthetic bedside rug spiked with cymbals makes us feel bareheaded in a vast cabinet of stars, we are captivated. There are laser beams, oracle lyrics with vocoder. Paul Loiseau, the Morse drummer, makes the kitchen set sound like an orchestra of stoned calculators, then Borja Flames accelerates the record’s pulse with the diction of a fed-up TV news anchor before a jungle background until Marion Cousin and Rachel Langlais make everything capsize, she of saturnian vocalization, she of a strangely regulated synth. Then on, the hits fall here, there, everywhere, real ones, a shower of asteroids. Negro Negro is suave, mysterious, moving, as surprising as a kiss we no longer expect. We would gladly listen to her only but then comes Magnetismo making us giddy with joy. Then Marioneta, dry and airy as a Sign O’The Times period Prince, which one could dance to endlessly, even alone, head tucked under arm. Nuevo Medievo moves this way throughout, stiff and groovy, cerebral but exploding with dreamy tumors. Powerfully entertaining, filled with odd rhythms, computer choirs, keyboards that slide and are slippery. Nuevo Medievo is a bit reminiscent of the synth-wave scene and 80s Iberian post-punk. It also evokes lo-fi versions of Franco Battiato‘s panoramic SF hits from the album No Time No Space (far away worlds, sound research, fat refrains), Arthur Russel disco, or even Porque te vas, yes yes, Sade, Motown B-sides played at the IRCAM one evening of blunt slackness, Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrel in a full-on slow dance under the anachronistic neon lights of a chicha bar or Blade Runner rushes with the Miami Vice original soundtrack. If Nuevo Medievo, like all of music loving cannibal Borja Flames’ records, summons a certain number of other artists, it does so to organize unexpected meetings between them, and to dissect each one in a scientific, erotic, amorous and gastronomic impulse before freeing himself from them and drawing in all the diagonals of authentically unheard features. Throw him a party. Txt : Sing Sing Translation : Cathérine Hershey Music & Lyrics by Borja Flames. Produced and arranged by Borja Flames with the collaboration of Marion Cousin, Paul Loiseau and Rachel Langlais. Recorded in Lucy-sur-Cure, Cinq-Mars La Pile and Saint-Aubin du Cormier. Mix by Manuel Duval at Grange Cavale. Mastering by Harris Newman at Grey Market. Personnel : Rachel Langlais (synths, vocals), Marion Cousin (synths, vocals, percussions), Paul Loiseau (percussions, vocals, synths), Borja Flames (vocals, guitar, synths, percussions, programming, samples).

[remembertheplunge]

I'm just not ready for prime time

1/28/2010. 8:16pm Thursday

Jim’s obituary notice ran for the last time today, as the full moon flowed on high.

Well, I watched Keith Oberman and Rachell Meadow on MSMBC, but I like the SCI Fi station on with volume turned off while listening to KXPR classical. (When Jim died, the TV died. I haven’t had TV in the house since about 2016).

I’m just not ready for prime time.

I just can’t believe that Jim is gone. Can you? Where is he?

The post death calls have died down to almost silent.

Thank God.

E. nough. Already!

One week ago, Zoe was here which was good for her and for me.

That party left me in a lonely zone. A void.

1:22am. 1/29/2010. Friday

Wow. Just awoke from a wonderful deep sleep.

And, put the ice “bucket” back in the fridge. First cleaning post Jim. He always did that , of course. The fridge and the freezer were his “file cabinets.”

Man, I was wacked tween 3 and 4pm tween pills and noon wine!

But , I made it through.

_____________________________--

End of this part of entries

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Anaideia (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Ana by her parents, family, & the others

The Detention Queen by Aggie

Dee by her close friends

Sparky by her boyfriend

Age- 13 (immortal)

Location- Hearthwood neighborhood, New Olympus

Personality- She's a young girl with too much anger trapped inside her small frame. She's antisocial towards most strangers, disrespectful towards figures of authority, an unmoving grudge holder, & unapologetically blunt- always telling it how it should be. Very few people have met the scared vulnerable sensitive little girl hiding behind the rage. She's currently dating.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of ruthlessness, shamelessness, & unforgiveness her other powers/abilities include limited pyrokinesis, limited odikinesis, arguement inducement, & being able to temporarily make a person have no compassion or pity.

Anaideia would say that her and her family (her parents Homadus & Proioxis and little brother Olethrus) are "wandering nomads that are broke AF." She doesn't know the full story, but she knows enough to say that her father was acting like a dumbass with money which led to their eviction out of their large apartment in the Little Sparta neighborhood, with both her parents' accounts being nearly wiped out.

Several months of hopping from shitty motel to shitty motel, her & her family's current address is the Havencrest RV/Motorhome Park on the outskirts of the Hearthwood neighborhood in New Olympus with the Prytaneia Interstate just two miles away. Anaideia's dad Homadus (god of the battle-din) used up whatever savings was left over to buy a used RV from the Mercury car dealership. Her and her mom Proioxis (goddess of attack, onrush, & battlefield pursuit) cleaned it up and put on fresh coats of paint. When it was all said and done, for a brief moment, she thought that things might be ok- not better, but ok.

In the RV there's a stove, a sink, three overhead cabinets, a little refrigerator, a bathroom with a shower in it, a booth dinette that converts to an extra sleeping space (where her parents sleep), & a bunkhouse (where Anaideia and her little brother sleeps). They drove all throughout the city (a few states too) before finding a semi permanent space at Havencrest. It's definitely one of the nicer motorhome parks they've been to. It's over a few hundred acres where there's a giant wooden carved statue of a chaste tree (one symbol of the hearth goddess) at the entrance. Other amenities & luxuries there include free Wi-Fi, a coin operated bathhouse, a swimming pool, a library, a playground for the children, laundry facilities, and ice cream & potluck socials.

When there's school, she'll rush in showering at her own RV for five minutes (to preserve the hot water). On the weekends, she'll enjoy the shower at the bathhouse. One obol is for five minutes, so Anaideia will put in 6, to enjoy a full hot relaxing thirty minute shower!

Anaideia is more or less fine with this motorhome park. Sure, most of the people there are annoyingly nice and friendly- always wanting to say hi, but it's manageable, even if the biweekly rent & maintenance fees are a little pricy or the unspoken heirarchy that exists within the park. Situated towards the front are the more "high class" and luxury RV campers, including the most extravagant one she's ever seen! Anaideia remembered calling it "the mansion on wheels." Sneaking a glimpse inside whene other neighbors were greeting the owners, her ichor was boiling in her veins! The mansion on wheels had two walk-in closets, natural stone heated flooring, a washer & dryer, a king sized bed, a large kitchen with a dishwasher, leather sofas, three flat screen TV sets, two motorized dining tables, a residential-sized fridge, and a freaking fireplace! Later on she looked up the RV model on her phone & found out that it cost 3 million drachmas! It was no surprise to Anaideia when she found out that the owners were an uppity mountainous satyr couple who wanted to "rough it out on the land for a few months." A few nights later, she stole a few propane and gas tanks from their collection.

She knows the menus of all the fast food restaurants in the city by heart.

Anaideia once slashed the tires on her literature teacher's car after he refused to give her an extension on finishing an essay assignment.

Her favorite go-to drink are the root beer floats from The Frozen Spoon, having been a recent convert after her current boyfriend convinced her to try it out during one of their dates. Even though she's not legally allowed to drink alcohol, she also likes beer, tequila, spiked lemonade, watermelon vodka jello shots, New Olympus Iced Teas, & frozen strawberry margaritas. Other go-to drinks include black cherry cola and large iced dark chocolate mochas from The Roasted Bean.

Anaideia's been recently diagnosed with anxiety, after passing out from a panic attack during a test at school. She usually feels anxiety creeping in when she sees & hears her parents arguing, dealing with her baby brother's temper tantrums, or experiencing feelings of inadequacy with her boyfriend & close friends. She started to go to therapy seeing Pathos (god of emotion), but stopped.

One of her beloved possessions is her smartphone. It's an older model from iCHOR Tech, the screen cracked one too many times. Through every tumble, fall, & intentional throw, it stood strong. When she saves up enough money, she wants to upgrade to the latest model.

She wants to one day tame & bond with a wild dragon!

Anaideia dislikes the heirarchy within the pantheon, feeling as though certain minor deities (namely her parents & aunts) haven't been given their respect and dues! She, however, is skeptical about how successful the MGM movement will be in actuality.

She hopes to be mentored by Eris herself when the time comes!

Her permanent record is quite the sight! From petty theft, truancy (has skipped school many times), and the most current charge of assault. Anaideia's most recent charge came about after she got into a fight with another student from school, a nephelai (cloud nymph) that insulted one of her good friends that was a lampade (Underworld nymph). The fight ended with Anaideia givng the girl two black eyes, a broken nose, a busted bloody lip, two knocked out front teeth, and a concussion so bad that an ambulance was called for her to go to the hospital.

Later that day, she wasn't surprised when two officers from the NOPD (New Olympus Police Department) were standing in front of her family's RV. Anaideia was swiftly arrested and learned that the girl's parents were pressing assault charges against her. Her aunt Palioxis (goddess of backrush & retreat) posted her bail & the family is now awaiting the upcoming court date to await her punishment- time at a juvenile detention center, a suspended sentence, or community service.

Sometimes Anaideia wishes that she was the perfect daughter for her parents- sweet, nice, & uncomplicated. Her dad's been a bit cold towards her since the arrest, so she's been relying on her mom more and more. Anaideia keeps a few copies of fitness magazines that her mom used to model for. Bonding time is them walking to the Fit 2 Be A God gym in downtown New Olympus for a workout. Afterwards they'll stop at a Bread Box for some BLT sandwiches (with sriracha mayo instead of regular mayo) before taking the public bus back home. Even though she didn't like it, Anaideia respected her mother's reaction towards the assault charge- yelling & screaming at her on the brink of tears before she whispered "I'm sorry" to her mom.

She loves her baby brother Olethrus (god of havoc) that everyone calls Olly for short. Anaideia knows just how to calm him down after he has a temper tantrum (the most recent one being when he accidentally disintegrated his favorite stuffed chimera). She'll often be the one to look after him afterschool while her parents are at work. Olly's a huge fan of her stovetop grilled cheese sandwiches & crock pot moussaka mac n' cheese!

Anaideia's currently on break from school (the fight happening a few days before the end of the current school year). At school, she's more there for socializing than being an actual scholar. Her favorite class is gym (was totally into the dodgeball game they did) & she tolerates math. Her math teacher, a Centaur named Mr. Galanis (Anaideia calls him G plus) said that she's filled with untapped potential. She's often sent to detention during lunch for backtalking to one of the teachers or cutting class. Anaideia respects the person overseeing the detention, a female Harpy school security guard named Ms. Hatzidakis- with them often swapping sandwiches.

She doesn't really socialize with the other godly kids in her school like Achelois (goddess of the moon & comfort), Philia (goddess of friendship), E.B, Krysothemis (Kristy), and Pandia (goddess of the full moon).

Anaideia thinks that Thespios (god of acting) is a little too full of himself and the "Drool Crew"- Pompe (goddess of rites), Epidotes (god of purity), and Telete (goddess of prayers) are less exciting than watching paint dry.

Anaideia will sometimes talk to Dysis (goddess of the sunset), Thrasos (god of boldness, insolence, recklessness, & courage) and Deucalion.

The student she dislikes the most is Calocagathia (Aggie) (goddess of nobility & goodness). She hates the jeweled headbands Aggie wears over her long dark blonde hair, she hates her sweet smile, hates how all the tachers adore her, hates how prim & proper she is, and hates how even she was able to bond with a wild dragon, procuring it as a pet!

Anaideia's friend group at school includes Jett (a lampade), a Harpy named Anemone, mortal girls named Giota, Deianira, & Elodie, and a female cyclops named Bellatrix (called Trixie for short; they're also co-workers at Olympic Chef).

Any time Anaideia complains out loud about her living & financial situations, Jett is the first to remind her that things could be a lot worse. She's living in a two bedroom apartment in the Shadowstone neighborhood with eight relatives!

Her all time favorite frozen treat is chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream!

One time she & Anemone shot at stymphalian birds with BB's.

Not by choice, things have been distant with Anaideia and her other family members like her other aunt Ioke (goddess of pursuit, tumult, & battle rout), her cousin Alala (goddess of the war cry) and her maternal grandmother Hysminai (goddess of fighting & combat). She has been seeing them a lot more often now.

Her father refuses to "neuter himself" by asking for loans/handouts. When they first lost the apartment, the family was originally gonna move into Ioke's cabin house for a while before Homadus changed his mind at the last minute- instead renting a motel room in full for a week. Secretly Anaideia's been grateful for her cousin's help. A lot of the clothes she has are Alala's hand-me-downs and she'll sometimes get treated with a shopping trip at the mall when Alala comes to visit. They sometimes keep in touch through texting & for Christmas last year, Anaideia got a gorgeous onyx hair comb pin covered in rubies as a gift from her aunt Ioke. In the end, her dad made her sell the comb on oBay, which sold for 3,000 drachmas. There's another gift that Anaideia's dad doesn't know about-a ruby ring with a simple woven gold band with diamonds that she sometimes wears on her pointer finger. It was another gift from Alala.

For dinners, her & her family resort to ordering in. Anaideia sometimes brings food from work like the 10 drachma family value meal- two olympian sized fries, two olympian sized drinks, and a box of 20 chicken nuggets. They'll also order a large sicilian pizza topped with black olives, spinach, roasted red peppers, & feta cheese, pork gyros, and lemon rice. Anaideia looks forward to when her mom cooks her specialties- scallion pancakes & honey walnut shrimp.

Once at an Olmorfia store with Trixie, Anaideia shoplifted a parfum- that was released by one of her favorite deities Eris (goddess of strife & discord) named Dichónoia. The gold apple shaped bottle was too much to resist!

Her favorite dessert is the s'mores pie from Hollyhock's Bakery. The pie itself is too pricey, so she'll settle for a slice for six drachmas.

Anaideia also likes her nana's best friend Amphillogia (goddess of arguments, disputes, & altercations).

Her favorite musical artists to listen to is Discordic Harmony, Blood in the Water, & The Acid Annies! She also doesn't mind a few songs from 24K Static known as Chrysos (god of gold & riches). An instant favorite has been the punk rock band Dissonance Machine- the lead singer being Koros (god of surfeit & disdain). Anaideia would really like to see them perform at their upcoming concert at Bolt Stadium in a few months! She's also been getting into the music of her maternal aunt's band!

Anaideia's currently dating a mortal guy named Stelios. He's two years older than her- at 15 and is currently a high school student at Athenium Academy. He's on his school's football (soccer) team & is even in talks to possibly getting an athletic scholarship to Athenium University. They first met at a party Anemone was throwing at her house while her parents were away. They exchanged numbers and he invited her & a few of her friends to hang out with him & his friends at a bowling alley a week later. Their first kiss was a date at the cinema a few days later and it wasn't long before Stelios invited her over to his house to meet his parents for dinner. Anaideia liked how his house felt like a home. Things became too much when Stelios' parents started asking her questions about her parents, what they presided over, & what they did for work. She made an excuse to use the bathroom then snuck out the window, with Stelios noticing.

A few days afterschool, he confronted her about it with Anaideia saying that he meant nothing to her. Stelios didn't believe her & after some coaxing, she broke down and told him everything, even walking him to the motorhome park. "Even for a goddess, I'm no good," she whispered as tears continued to fall down her face. "To me you're just Ana and that's okay," Stelios whispered back as they kissed. A few weeks later while at his house playing video games, they ended up having sex for the first time. A couple of days after the fight, Stelios gifted Anaideia a promise locket necklace, which she now always wears. He hasn't met her family yet.

In her free time she enjoys taking martial arts lessons (Perses gives her a special discount since he's friends with her father), listening to music, basketball, playing video games, spending time with her boyfriend, & hanging out with her friends.

Her favorite meal is the 10 piece inferno wings with olympian sized cajun fries from Olympic Chef.

"This is a ruthless world and one must be ruthless to cope with it."

[ovenproofowl]

What movies/shows would you recommend for someone trying to get into horror? Or some classics you think every horror fan should see?

Oh boy, I think recommendations fully depend on the sort of horror you're into. Personally, I love a good slasher or anything with a supernatural/sci-fi element, but I grew up watching every horror flick I could get my hands on sooooo....

I love a horror franchise, so movie series like Child's Play, Scream, Final Destination, Paranormal Activity, Underworld, The Conjuring Universe, The Omen, Evil Dead, REC, The Lost Boys (yes, there's 3 movies!), Alien and Predator are all a great way to really sink your teeth into the horror genre.

Fear Street is a three part horror movie series currently on Netflix which I would highly recommend.

For classic horror, I'd suggest Poltergeist, The Exorcist, Day of the Triffids, The Ring, The Grudge & The Thing

For body horror, David Cronenburg has you covered. Classics like The Fly and Scanners are a good start. His more recent work like Crimes of the Future is also a hell of a watch.

We joke about M. Night Shyamalan but The Sixth Sense is a brilliant movie in my books that I think everyone should watch. I'd also recommend The Visit.

Anything by Guillermo del Toro, my personal favourites are The Orphanage, The Devil's Backbone and Pan's Labyrinth.

Jordan Peele's horror movies are all excellent (also definitely check out the new Twilight Zone). My personal favourite of his is Nope. Insanely cool visuals and a hell of a message.

I'm not a big zombie flick person but Train to Busan is a highlight. If you're into zombies, it's definitely worth a watch.

Fright Night and Nightmare on Elm Street are both great classic horror movies that have more modern remakes. I'm mentioning this because I think the remakes for both these movies were actually genuine improvements on the originals. (Although this is my personal opinion only).

For horror TV, Mike Flanagan has created a series of horror shows on Netflix that are all very good. (Fall of the House of Usher is my favourite.)

Chucky and Scream both have TV show spin-offs, however I'd say Chucky is a better watch than Scream. Del Torro also brought out a horror anthology called Cabinet of Curiosities which I'd highly recommend for bite-size horror tales. In the same vein, Black Mirror is a good shout and for more classic horror tales, there's nowhere better than the original Twilight Zone or Tales from the Crypt.

Most recently, the horror movies I've seen are:

Late Night with The Devil, Skinamarink, Longlegs, Abigail & I Saw the TV Glow.

All of the above I would recommend, however Skinamarink is an experimental horror and so may not keep every viewer's attention.

This is a bit of a mess of a list, but I hope it helps, haha!

[atplblog]

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[tallulahneale]

Title: Who really lives their dream?

Summary: Vince as a pharma tech, alternate reality!

A/n: This is a fluffy wuffy story. A lot more Creole in this chapter, translation at the end.

Part Five 1/2

3 weeks since Vince was sent away and Lula misses him; work wasn’t as lively anymore, she had to pick up her own coffee and she’s eating sandwiches again. She was tired of the questions and stares when she brought her homemade meals. P-P was doing amazingly of course, she was surprised that Vince only made as much as he did over the 2 months. Not that it was a competition, but she made double his figure in 2 weeks. She took note of the payments and always kept his share intact. Lula couldn’t believe how much she was saving and the projected profit for the next 11 months. She refocuses on work and the chatty coworkers who thinks he can replace Vince. As if! You didn’t even get the coffee right she mutters, nodding and smiling passively at the stout man.

On her way home, she gets a text from someone called Anita. Then a call comes in.

“Hello?”

“Hey babygirl, it’s Anita. Are you still at the pharmacy?”

“Nah, I just left. Sorry but I don’t recognise your voice.”

“Se matant ou.”

“Matant mwen? Oh! Aunty! I’m sorry.” Realising that she is speaking with Vince’s mom.

“It’s fine pitit fi, just wanted to pick up some vitamins at the pharmacy.”

“I can drive to CVS, it’s on my way home.”

“That’ll be perfect, I’ll send you my address. Just push the gate and let yourself in.”

“Ok matant, see you soon.”

—

Lula stop at cvs to pick up a bunch of multivitamins, groceries and a bottle of red wine for Anita. “Can’t go to a Haitian house empty handed, mama raised me better than that” she nods, happy with the selection of things.

She inputs the address and heads to Anita’s house. She rings to let Anita know that she’s at the gate.

“I told you to push the gate, it’s open” Anita says hanging up. Definitely a Haitian mom, Lula giggles and heads into the house with the groceries. She meets Anita for the first time and is stunned.

“You’re so young and beautiful” Lula blurts out, excited to meet Vince’s mom. Anita laughs “I should be saying that to you, come give me a hug”, Lula drops the grocery bags in the kitchen and embraces Anita.

“Kijan ou ye?” she asks Lula, with a deep smile.

“Mwen byen. Just tired and bored at work”

“Leave your things in the kitchen, ou konnen yo pral koute” Lula nods leaving her purse on the counter, following Anita to the living room.

“Have a seat baby.”

“Thank you.”

“So how’s the business coming along?” Anita asks “You look like a smart lady, I’m sure it’s going smoothly.”

“Wi,wi” Lula laughs, “it’s been busy but manageable. I’m glad to be part of it. We are helping a lot of people.”

“I’m glad” Anita nods, “I have to ask… Are you and Vince dating?” Lula cackles loudly, before covering her mouth.

“No no no, definitely not matant.”

“Why not?”

“Huh?” Lula looks at Anita blankly.

“You heard me. He has feelings for you.” She spills, “Vince doesn’t trust anyone, especially not with his money.”

“I was surprised when he asked me to manage everything in his absence, but I guess it’s a Haitian thing.”

“Oh yes, he mentioned that you’ve been encouraging him to explore his heritage. Mèsi.”

“I’m glad that he is learning, most people his age would not bother.” Lula says proudly.

“And this is why I ask if y’all are dating. He talks about you constantly!”

Lula smiles at her. “I guess I’m just a breath of fresh air from his usual routine.”

“Maybe. But a mother knows Lula, a mother knows” Anita says patting Lula softly on the shoulder.

Anita goes to a cabinets beside the tv, “Family photos?” Lula asks excitedly.

“Yes, but don’t tell Vince you saw these!”

They laugh together and reminisce on past times. Lula looks out the window, the sun has gone down. Anita senses her need to leave.

“Thank you so much for coming dear. You’re welcome whenever.” Anita says, walking Lula to her car.

“Thank you for inviting me, I really needed this” she smiles. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Lula gets in her car, waving as she drives away. “Today was a good day” she beams.

Part Six link

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Translations: (n/b not fluent in Creole)

It’s your auntie = Se matant ou

My auntie = Matant mwen

Daughter = Pitit fi

How are you? =  Kijan ou ye?

I’m good = Mwen byen.

You know they will listen = ou konnen yo pral koute.

~~