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gladiatorcunt · 8 months ago

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- # 🍁 THE NEMEAN LION !!

feels so ugly when i’m honest

cw: afab reader, ambiguous era, dubcon coded, insp. by this ask, patrick and reader have noncon somno fantasies about the other (so rlly it’s more cnc), patrick is gross and mean, situationship/roommate!patrick, unprotected p in v sex & relying on the pull out method, weed mention and wine mention, art guest star appearance (patrick mentions him), oral (afab reader receiving), hints of: foot fetish, dacryphilia, cnc in general, plus sized!reader, mythological themes, 3k words of me losing my marbles, one use of daddy, we don’t gotta be in love you knowweeeeee i don’t gotta be the oneeee you knowweeeeeeeeew

You’re making him crazy, Patrick knows it. He shouldn’t spend his mornings humping his pillows that you hold in your lap during movie nights. He definitely shouldn’t be stealing your panties and strangling his cock with the lacey fabric that’s going to end up smelling so foul from how much he’ll use the same pair over and over. He thinks he can catch your scent on his clothes when you’ve never actually been close enough to leave a reminder of you behind. Sometimes Patrick gets so frustrated with continuing at this same snail’s pace that he wishes he could just grab your face and smush it into his musky crotch. He’d let you go if you were about to pass out, maybe. You can’t get shit twisted if you’re unconscious.

He’s telling you another one of his stories, hoping to see a twinge of… something swirling in your irises. You just hum too much and squirm a bit, ever the overactive listener. Patrick would cut off his balls if it meant that he could hear anything resembling a moan from you, not just little signs that you’re listening and not speaking. The transformer movie’s reached a point where you don’t really have to pay attention, so you cutely shuffle your mess of blankets around on the couch so you can give Patrick your undivided attention. He’s had to start keeping space in his closet for the large throw blankets you bring along even though you refuse to let him turn the fan off.

“Yeah, I was with Art actually. We ate each other out back in the day, y’know, to see what it was like. He sat on my face and fuckin’ almost broke my neck, his thighs were gripping me so tight.” He coyly tilts his head to the side, pretending to be shy about the whole thing.

He narrows his eyes and analyzes your reaction. You dart your gaze around the room for a split second, struggling to tamper down the blossoming warmth in your stomach and the insecurity that comes with never being able to catch up with Patrick. You’ve confessed to it a couple times, usually after a couple of bottles of whatever cheap alchohol he’s got on hand. His nails shred into his palms with the effort it takes not to give you something to talk about, even if you think they’re only dreams.

“When was the first time someone ate you out? I can’t be the only one shoving my foot in my mouth here.”

God, what he’d give to have your feet in his mouth, and vice versa.

You play with the fluffy black blanket in your lap, making eye contact with one of the cartoon nutcrackers on it and not Patrick as you answer his question. “Oh… I’ve actually never been eaten out, maybe that’s why no one’s made me cum.”

It’s a like his world has been hit by an unexpected asteroid and blown to smithereens, bits of membrane and curdled dna scattered across the milky way. The gross-ness imbued in his bone marrow leaks out into vaccum of space as he processes this truly fucking suprising piece of information. Never in his life has Patrick been told something that just can’t be true, not when there are still good things in the world. Not when that helpful little tidbit will split him open and take over his every waking and sleeping thought.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What the hell do you mean no one’s ever eaten your pussy?”

“I, I don’t know. The people I've been with have just never gone out of their way to do it and I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

His heart’s breaking in half and you clearly have no idea. Patrick scrambles to sit up and grabs your hands to stop them from fiddling with the blanket anymore. There are a thousand things he wants and needs and just has to say but all he can do in the present moment is keep shaking his head and crowding you against the right arm of his tattered gray couch.

“Then they’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe you don’t know what it feels like to have a tongue up your cunt.” He states, a firm declaration that has you throwing out a hand on his bicep to ground yourself.

Patrick looks crazed above you, dark hair impossibly soft and pupils steadily expanding outward. You slide your hand up his arm (trying to ignore the muscle there, what it’d be like when they flex as he picks you up by your ass) to place it on his firm chest. You open your mouth, trying to cobble together any kind of response you can think of but your mind is blank. Patrick seizes the opportunity and smahes his mouth against yours, when the clashing of your lips is over there’s more blood than spit. He flicks his tongue out to catch the little drops of blood dripping from your lips, moaning after he swallows each one.

You’re catching your breath, “You… you can’t… just do that.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I did. I can hear you through the walls at night you know? Rubbing your pussy on one of my pillows that you think I don't know you stole, crying for me.”

Damn, that’s what you get for making risky decisions while you’re ovulating. You knew you washed it and should’ve snuck in while he was out to throw it on his plaid comforter and act like it never happened. The longer you kept it stuffed between your plush thighs, smothering it in the natural scent of your pussy, the more your shyness grew. It was easier to spend your nights like that then explore the possibility of doing something else with your time, but now you’re just wishing that you hopped on Patrick’s stupidly huge dick while he was passed out and snoring and called it a day.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? You can have it back.” You say and keep the grumpiness out of your tone, having to come to terms with hoarding nothing that smells like him anymore.

“Just shut up and be happy, be good for me.” He punctuates it with a mean squeeze to your face, slowly sliding his hand down to hang around your throat and falling to his knees in front of the couch.

Maybe it’s the cheap white wine, maybe it’s the subpar edible you had earlier, but you throw caution to the wind and sink your fingers into Patrick’s hair. Your breath happily flies out of your lungs when he pushes your knees apart, coaxing your white lace panties off with his teeth. The bright lights from the TV cast a glow around him, and you hate how pretty he looks. Like if Hercules was a modern porn star, muscles rippling and eyes spearing through you as he catapults you to the stars.

The roughness of his fingers feels heavenly as he smooths them down your inner thighs, “Nice and fat pussy, dripping all over the place. Saying hi, right? It’d be rude of me to not say anything back.”

So he does, spitting right on your clit and spreading it all over your pussy. Patrick shuffles closer and takes several big lungfuls, humping the air with every whiff of your artificial body wash combined with your much more attractive musk. He opens his mouth wide and latches onto your soaking folds, flattening his tongue and licking broad stripes up your cunt. He laps up your juices sloppily, almost wagging his tongue wildly in an effort to suck up whatever he can.

There’s a coil forming in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every swipe of Patrick’s wet tongue. Your face flames in embarrassment once again, you don’t really know if you look bad from his point of view but you can’t stop yourself from throwing your head back against the couch and scrunching your face up. He gives your asshole an open mouthed kiss, half to tease you even further and half because he just couldn’t resist. It was glistening and winking at him and everything.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s so- how are you so good at this?” You mewl, raking through his hair thoroughly like you’re searching for something you lost.

Patrick’s ego grows in size and he smiles as he moves to your clit, hollowing his cheeks and suckling rapidly. He buries his face in your pussy and drinks you down in several gulps, picking up speed when you resign yourself to telltale moans about much you need to cum. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit and slows down right when you’re apart to fall over the edge. He actually chuckles into your mound and winks when you glare at him. He cuts off whatever bratty retort you armed yourself with by going back to nearly inhaling your clit without warning.

“Ungh- I really-really fucking hate you, but don’t you dare stop, I’ll kill you.”

Each suck sends pulses shooting up your core, and that scary coil in the depth of your guts tightens blissfully. You squirm, the very definition of a hot mess as you grind against his face. The friction was never enough but you keep corralling his nose into your pubic hair, fruitlessly rutting your hips with no end goal other than the urge to hump whatever’s available. You panic for a second that you’ll suffocate him or he’ll be grossed out by you not shaving, but you shouldn’t underestimate him. If anything, Patrick groans at the heady smell. Getting it straight from the source and fucking the air during his suckling.

His eyes never stray from you. Your agonized face straight out of a renaissance painting, too strung out and burning with pleasure to resemble anything normal. Your thick thighs, jiggling with every move you make, you can’t seem to decide between humping his mouth like a bitch in heat or trying to squeeze his head like a watermelon. Your sounds, wails and cries and moans and whines, he’ll have to record you next time, play it anytime and anywhere in case you misunderstand what this is. The first documentation of how much cum and fluid you can paint him in, whatever color or thickness you’ve got for him. He’ll wring it all out of you eventually, film a home movie series to chronicle every squirting session and the like.

Gun to his head, you taste like those old fashioned butterscotch hard candies. Decadent and sweet, if he could he’d sink his teeth into the slippery supple flesh and pull and rip.

After several rounds of cruel edging, your brain whites out so hard, you can almost form the blurry shapes in your peripheral vision into a red spiked tail and horned wings. Patrick’s ruining you entirely, you know that now, and the movie’s already over but you don’t spare the scrawling credits more than a weary glance. Your soul is probably cartoonishly swimming through the putrid air towards your body, but your sweaty body is shaking too much to receive it. There’s a ringing in your ears as you blink yourself into awareness, Patrick unbuckles his jeans and a blunt pressure stretches your hole out.

“Sorry, ‘m out of condoms, I’ll pull out, baby.” He huffs out, praying to whatever’s listening that he doesn’t just start pummeling your shit.

You feel your stomach bunching up before you see Patrick’s dick disappearing into you. The feeling of being split open on something so thick has you reeling, no one else you’ve been with has left you spiraling quite like this. In a room full of dicks you’d be able to spot his, you’d just have to find the one that has the back of your throat tingling and going dry just from a sniff and a look. You’d cry if he pulled out now, it’s already too late for you. This is such a stupid decision, sloppy rough sex with your roomate-turned-situationship on his worn out couch that’s older than the both of you combined.

It’s one hell of a story, and maybe some moments in life should be allowed to boil down to that. The hand loosely wrapped around your throat tightens its hold, you welcome the thumb pushing into your mouth without prompting. The depravity of it all makes you feel owned, has you seriously considering living your life as some guy’s exclusive pet whore. The ‘squelch’s and the ‘schlick’s that come with his savage thrusts and milk white strings connecting the base of his cock to your puffy pussy.

Every breath you think you’re going to be able to take, he steals from you and mocks your whimpery “unh-unh-unh~”’s in his raspy mid-fuck voice.

“This is the only dick you’ll be hanging off of from now on, got it? Can’t let some lousy jackass try to sew his balls to this pussy when it’s not even gonna cream around him.” You say yes to that hissed demand, yes of course, Daddy.

Patrick plunges his cock to the hilt into your cunt in one sharp stroke, gasping and gripping your hip to distract himself from the way your walls are clenching around his length. Every part of you is greedy apparently, you’re perfect for each other then. The position he has you in is so filthy, he’s standing and hosting your legs up over his shoulders, folding you in half on the couch. His dirty levi’s pool around his feet and the sound of his belt hitting the floor inspires awful thoughts in you. Your sweat mixes together and trickles down your legs, sticking to his leg hair.

You can have it soft once he’s gotten this demon off his back and out of his system, you can ride him while you’re cozied up in bed, lazily rolling your hips until you get tired a couple minutes later and clinging to the caresses on your love handles. Patrick has to destroy something before he can even stand to think about putting it back together, your insides and you yourself are no exception. Your walls feel like the finest quality silk around his throbbing cock, leaking inside of you as he clutches onto your ankles. The TV’s automatically shut off by now, and the lack of background noise enhances his animalistic grunts and deep moans.

“Gonna fuck your tits next time, fuck-what the fuck-you’re too damn tight, massage them for you after, rub your cunt raw-“

Patrick fucks like he’s staking claim on a spoil of war, you’re learning, as if the pale ferryman’s hot on his heels and this sliver of time is the only sacred thing he’ll ever get in his wretched mortal life. All his, gone limp between bloody jaws and killing hands. He snarls in your face as he pounds your pussy, angling his hips to stab deeper in you than should be medically possible. You don’t when you start tearing up, but Patrick does nothing to wipe away your tears, not even lick them up. He just fucks you to the point where you’re crying, shutting his eyes as he throws his head back so you can’t see that he’s crying too. The both of you borrow from different sources of emotion.

“You sounded so scared when you were cumming, made my balls twitch, was cute.” Patrick tells you in between messy kisses, more focused on almost eating your face than properly locking lips with you.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he abruptly yanks himself out of you and lavishes your belly in ropes after ropes of cum. You’d reach down to dip a finger in and taste it, but you’re too annoyed at the thought that he’s depriving you of an orgasm again. You haven’t even decided whether you’re going to pout or flatbout get up and leave when Patrick’s sliding home once more. You give him a punched out gasp, sort of pained and kind of relieved, in response. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them together like it’s burning the flesh on his cock to plunge back into your searing pussy. Actively breaking and remaking you. Both of your muscles tense up as the wave threatens to crash over you.

“You can cry some more, if you want, I'd like that a lot. Beg me to save you from what I’m doing to you, to this tight pussy.”

Happy or sad, doesn’t matter. He knows you like it when he keeps you from fighting back, you suit being manhandled and made to take dick better than anyone else he’s slummed it with.

He hunches his back forward to kiss you again, and you claw red stripes down it as your tongue maps out every inch of his mouth. He pulls back and you spend several seconds like that sharing breath. You don’t realize what you’re saying out loud, things like ‘Holy shit you’re so fucking big-so good-it’s so fucking good’ and ‘Feels better than i thought it would, how is that even possible?’ It’s like your own little sex obsessed podcast, centering every episode around how situationship dick is on another level and will irrevocably destroy you. Patrick chuckles, he can’t wait to hold every treasured compliment from you over your head. You could say you’re done with whatever this is when he leaves the toilet seat up again but he’ll never forget you howling for him and his cock to never leave you.

Patrick will swing himself over the net into overstimulation before the next time your pussy’s clamping down on his thick cock and spasming, but he’ll be damned if you’re not gonna end up passed out and drooling while the sun rises. You can spend future movie nights cockwarming him, if you can stand to endure the sickeningly perfect stretch without being allowed to get your cunt beat. You’re mewling when you froth the base of his dick again, your walls pulse around him like you’re a cat laving up your favorite cream. Tonight’s not the night where you’ll be getting it straight from the source, maybe when you’re willing to take certain risks. His smiles are the most genuine when you drag out your whine to follow the speed in which he pulls out to paint your body. Tangy ribbons hanging over your love handles and dripping down to your ass cheeks.

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socialjusticeinamerica · 1 month ago

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I go to concerts and events all the time and women use the men’s room no problem when their tiny restrooms overflow. The only time I ever noticed anyone complain was when a drunk women stumbled into a men’s room after a concert in Las Vegas. The men’s room was full of redneck assholes with southern accents, cowboy hats and boots. They immediately surrounded her and began harassing her with vile comments and graphic descriptions of how they were going to gang rape her. Security had to intervene to save her from those MAGA assholes. So much much for those country boys being good Christians. In New England nobody blinks an eye when women use the men’s room and if anyone started saying shit like that to woman they would have gotten the shit kicked out of their redneck asses.

Years ago history books would talk about regional peculiarities like Yankee Ingenuity and Southern Hospitality. I have spent a fair amount of time in the south, I have friends and family there, and in better times even owned property there. Let me tell you that Southern Hospitality is a myth. Unless you’re in a big city or a theme park or some other big tourist attraction, and you don’t have a southern drawl you’re going to be treated like Bin Laden showing up at Ground Zero. The rich modern day Confederates are the most elitist and bigoted people alive. The poor are some of the meanest, rudest, angriest, most hostile, and least Christian people you could ever meet.

Now that’s a blanket statement and obviously everyone doesn’t fit into that stereotype. There are plenty of normal people but very few of them will ever speak up for fear of the way they will be treated. This has been going on since the early days of the Industrial Revolution in the late 1700’s. It isn’t something that can be blamed on The Southern Strategy, Nixon, Reagan, Fox News, the Tea Party, or the MAGA movement.

The North industrialized and modernized everything including banking, transportation, industry, and food crop agriculture. The rich southern Planter Class, the Aristocracy, relied on King Cotton, tobacco, and slavery. None of which was profitable or sustainable. The Planter Aristocracy soon became deeply indebted to northern banks and were at risk of losing their land, property livelihoods, and social standing. When the North and West started pressuring the South to end slavery and pay their bills the Southern

Planter elite decided to secede from the Union of States. They thought it was win-win, they could keep their slaves, escape their debt, and simply trade their cash crops with Europe. Well the Europeans switched to Egypt, India, and the Caribbean for their cotton and to a lesser extent tobacco. Only a handful of wealthy elites in each states could afford slaves in any quantity beyond one. The hillbilly rednecks were propagandized into believing they were defending their way of life and states rights against Northern (and western) Aggression. The west was populated by immigrant farmers who couldn’t afford slaves and came from countries where slavery was banned, never existed, and was condemned by European religious groups.

Long story short the United States, aka the Union or the North, had the food crops, the population, the transportation, the industry, the schools, the banks/money, and virtually every other advantage. The Confederacy was built on lies and propaganda spread by the upper class. They had nothing but bitterness and resent at the North and West that they still have to this day. Treating women and marginalized people with disrespect is ingrained into their DNA and so tightly wound into their societal fabric it may never come out. Even their LGBT community is racist AF. Now their were good people in the South, called Unionists, who didn’t agree with slavery, secession, or the Planter Aristocracy and many of them moved North and some even joined the US Army to fight against the Confederacy. Ironically some of them remained in the Army softer the Civil War ended and took part in the “Indian” Wars, after which they returned to the South as military heroes with their disloyalty to the Confederacy forgiven.

A scorpion can not change its nature. And people who have been propagandized since the 1700’s by the wealthy elite can’t be expected to change their “traditions” overnight. Thanks to Republican oligarchs a disproportionate percentage of Southerners and rural people blame modern Democrats, who are now mainly in the Northeast and the West Coast as they were during the Civil War, for all their problems.

They’ll never understand that the modern Republicans and oligarchs are holding them hostage and denying them jobs, education, unions, prosperity, and healthcare. They have been conditioned to for two centuries to blame outsiders for their problems while supporting their oligarch oppressors. Denigrating women, people of color, and marginalized groups is a sadly a rite of passage for the majority in the Old Confederacy. They’re like the people of Eastern Europe who have been holding grudges for so long they don’t even remember why they they are collectively doing it. They need to be deprogrammed from that Confederate mindset first and then deprogrammed from the Republican/MAGA mindset but that’s not likely to happen anytime soon if at all. We’d have to win back the White House, the Congress, the SCOTUS, and the state legislatures first. Then we’d have to utterly smash the Republican Party and ban the oligarchs and their dark money from politics. Following that Herculean talk we’d have to invest heavily in public education across the South and rural West and return it to modern standards from the plundered mess the oligarchs and their privatized schools have created.

A second civil war may be looming and they are propping for it. Invariably they will lose for the same reasons they did the first time but it will be far more costly and have lingering effects that may never be reconciled. It won’t be a regional war like the first time but rather a bloody mess like the war in Northern Ireland with terror bombings and revenge killings. No single community will be safe. Sometimes I think we’d be better off letting Texas and Florida secede and take Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana with them. The remainder of the MAGAts would flock there and shoot themselves into third world status. The rest of the US would keep the military, the nukes, planes, ships, tanks, and all Federal property. There are blue areas in the sunbelt but as a whole I can’t see those states being reformed. Texas is a cancer since it’s been under Republican rule and Florida is pathetically imitating them. The in between states, with the exception of some blue cities are virtually third world states and as backwards as can be.

I mean no offense to the good people of the red states. My issue is with the Republican misrule over those areas and the backwards brainwashing they have subjected their citizens to. I feel deeply for the Democrats and other decent people there. But history has taught us time and again that unless a majority of the people want change it is impossible to force democracy on them. The Republican oligarchs have spent billions of dollars since the 1960’s to reshape this country and to maintain that Confederate mindset in the South. That’s not something that can be undone by electing a Democratic president and a handful of charismatic congressmen and women.

#Republican restroom bans #republican assholes #maga morons #republican oligarchs #republican propaganda #Confederate mindset #deprogramming #maga cult #oligarch fascist nation builders #corporate greed #republican party #republican hypocrisy #crooked donald

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natsuki-bakery · 8 months ago

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⁎˚ ఎ Little! William Birkin ໒ ˚⁎

Well hiya! Can I please request headcanons for a little! William Birkin? I feel like I'm the only one who headcanons him as an age regressor

•Even as a little, William is incredibly curious about the world around him. He loves conducting "experiments" with everyday items, often resulting in messy but adorable outcomes

•William has a favorite plushie that he clings to for comfort. It's a small, well-worn teddy bear named "Mr. Fluffles." He takes it everywhere and can't sleep without it

•He likes to dress up in a mini lab coat and pretend he's conducting important research. It's a way for him to emulate his older self and feel important !

•Building blocks and chemistry sets designed for children are his favorite toys. He can spend hours building elaborate structures or mixing "potions" in his little lab

•His favorite snacks include gummy worms (which he calls "specimens"), apple slices, and cheese sticks. He likes to line up his snacks and pretend he's categorizing them for an experiment

•Before napping, he insists on being read a story. His favorites are science-themed children's books or tales of adventure and discovery

•In addition to his plushie, he has a small blanket with a DNA helix pattern that he finds comforting. He likes to wrap himself in it during quiet time

•Bedtime involves a specific routine : After a bath, he needs his favorite pajamas, a story, and a cuddle with Mr. Fluffles. Nightlights are essential, especially ones that project stars on the ceiling, as they make him feel like he's exploring space even while he sleeps

•The local science museum is his absolute favorite place to visit. He loves exploring the exhibits and asking endless questions about how things work

•He enjoys listening to soothing classical music or ambient sounds of nature while playing or resting. It helps calm his often overactive mind

•He looks up to his caregivers with immense admiration, often mimicking their actions and seeking their approval. They play a crucial role in guiding his scientific curiosity and ensuring he balances play with rest

•He enjoys drawing and making crafts, often creating detailed diagrams of imaginary creatures or inventions.

•He loves watching educational shows and cartoons about science and space. His favorites include "Magic School Bus," "Sid the Science Kid," and any animated movies about adventure and discovery!

•Birkin is very careful about safety, often mimicking the precautions he’s seen in real labs. He insists on wearing "safety goggles" (plastic toy ones) and "gloves" (his mittens) while playing with his chemistry set

•He has a small tablet or learning device with educational games. He enjoys games that involve puzzles, matching, and basic coding

DNI: basic criteria, DSMP, vivziepop/h4zbin h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl, nsfw/k!nk, anti-agere, anti Christians blogs

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gracegrove · 1 year ago

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Elf au Harringrove (mostly Billy tho)

Where the plot is mostly the same as Elf except,

Billy grows up in the North Pole not believing that he's a cotton-headed-ninny-muggins but rather an exceptionally genetically gifted elf who is by far taller than all the other elves. He excels at winter sports and is a menace at ice hockey and polar bear polo. He is not talented with toy making but why would someone such as himself want to waste time on Litebrites and Mr. Potato Heads? No, Billy wanted more than an elf's life. He is often in trouble for racing the reindeer, swapping spit (and other things) with other elves, and passing out in the stables hiccuping with an empty bottle of maple bourbon from Santa's personal stores.

One day while sobering up in a pile of hay, Billy overhears the stable elves complain that Billy's behavior is human and no elf would act this way. Why did they ever take in a human? Billy then has an identity crisis.

Billy finds out from his adopted elf parent, that as an infant he was in a car accident in which his mother was driving. She died in the crash and Billy was taken to an orphanage. No one at the time came to claim him. Billy's name was known because he was found with a blanket that had his name embroidered on it. However, Santa knows who Billy's father is.

Santa tells Billy that his father is Neil Hargrove, a New York City police sergeant with a wife and daughter who live in Queens. Santa says that Neil is a good man who has been on his Nice List since 1973. Billy cannot believe it.

Blaming Neil for abandoning his mother to die and not claiming him at the orphanage, Billy sets out for New York City with the goal of putting Neil Hargrove back on the Naughty List.

Billy puts his plan in motion by going to Neil's precinct on his first day in NYC (still dressed as an elf) and introduces himself to Neil with the most vulgar Christmasgram complete with ass shaking. Neil arrests Billy and has his lieutenant, Hopper run fingerprints and DNA on this guy because he's gotta have priors for prostitution or distribution or something. No way that kid was telling the truth, even if he somehow knew his late girlfriend's name. The DNA comes back a familial match. Father and son.

What is he going to do? Hopper suggests taking Billy home and Billy musters his most innocent smile in agreement. As Billy worms his way into Neil's life he learns that his parents had a fight the night his mother died and that Neil and his new wife fight sometimes too. This fuels Billy's mission, as he decides to tail Neil during his day to catch Neil messing up.

After meeting Steve and growing closer with Neil's daughter, Maxine, Billy begins to realize that his efforts to put Neil on the Naughty List aren't worth it. He will never forget what happened to his mother and how it affected his life, but seeking out revenge will not fulfill him. Billy realizes that Neil does not need any help getting back in the Naughty List and that he should put his efforts into protecting the new relationships that he has found.

Elf au extras

The pennies from heaven montage but Billy style:

Billy sneaks into a peep show, kicks his feet up, and enjoys himself with a Christmas themed striptease. “Santa was sooooo elfing wrong… this is better (than peeking at presents early)”.

Goes into the WORLD'S BEST CUP OF COFFEE cafe to try it. He silently takes a sip. Says with a straight face, “This is gumdroppings.” [Insert elf equivalent of cussword to mean shit] Then he walks out of the cafe without paying.

A teenager on the street offers Billy a CD copy of their ‘demo’. Billy takes it because it looks like a shiny Christmas bauble, but doesn't pay for it.

Billy gets asked by a family from Des Moines if they can get their picture taken with him. He says no but gives in when their little girl starts crying.

Billy acts like he's cool but goes round and round in the carousel door until he can't walk straight and falls back out onto the sidewalk.

Billy farehops the subway.

Billy has done at least five different things without paying that the cops are now chasing him like a cartoon character and the only way he loses them is by blending in with the Christmas decor at the department store…. Where he meets Steve.

#'bye billy hope you find yer dad 🐳'#billy #harringrove #elf au #harringrove au

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northernember · 2 years ago

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red queen taking place after the 6th mass extinction event has me so unhinged and feral like,,,

its about the underlying theme of being undone down to your base essentials and than remade entire by circumstances out of your control. its about stumbling out the other end, having miraculously survived the horrors done to you but being unable to recognize the person looking back.

its about how humanities hubris will always guide us down the same paths and corridors. how our base components and nature will always ripple across time even as the knowledge of those that came before us is lost.

and what of the great blood divide? how many times were those that bridged the gap unraveled and sewn back together by the massive amounts of radiation they were subjected to until they emerged with silver blood and abilities? How many succumbed to radiation sickness? How long did it take?

How long did humanity claw themselves across the ground of their forefathers failings before they learned how to walk again and how long until they repeat it?

i need to know of the calamities, i need to know what domino fell first. what happened afterwards, How the blood divide happened. Was the Silver’s creation violent and cruel? to mirror the natural, 1500 year evolution of the New bloods? were they made from those in poverty left to die to the radiation, to circumstances they had no control over but managed to somehow survive in spite of it? to mirror the Silvers treatment of Reds now?

was Cal’s arc the radiation? was it the explosion that shattered the windows and cracked the pavement? was it about the unmaking of everything youve ever known to pave a path for it to be remade for those who come after? was it feeling yourself come undone, feeling your dna unraveled, your cells torn apart and Surviving but seeing someone else staring back at you in the mirror? that the blood and ash is still on your hands but the person who stares back is not who you were before. he is scarred and scared but Better, kinder with gentle hands that will hold the world aloft, to help pave a way for those who can fix it, To fix it because he has Learned where his ideals and duty would have lead through his own unmaking.

was Maven’s arc the ruined cities? a place once full of joy and sorrow, of music fluttering through the windows, the smell of paint that clings to some people, the gentle noise of people typing as they write novels and essays and chat with their friends, of people walking and talking, of everything humanity was and now it is nothing more than a hollow city full of the echo of ghosts. A place left to decay and crumble beneath the tragedy brought by those that promised to protect it. A place that is seen as unsalvageable but only needs time to heal. Plants and vines climb up through the cracks, leaving a promise and echo that it Can heal. That it could have healed.

and was Mare’s arc the aftermath? was it the stubbornness and determination to stand on to shaky legs, to look out upon a world ripped apart and left in ruin and choosing to fix it, for yourself and for all those who will come after you? was it about pulling together a community left to die, to rebuild all that was lost, to heal the world and yourselves with gentle seeking hands and promising to do better? you came out bearing scars and cracks, searing memories of the terrible things done to you and choosing to take a trembling step forward even as the earths crust shakes beneath your will. You have had terrible things done to you time and time again but still you loved and still you chose to stand up on your own or reach for outstretched hands. You are scarred and you see yourself as unfixable but your community and family do not and they will give you the things you need and the time to patch yourself up until your tremors stop and your waters settle, until the sun is blanketed by your ozone and made gentle and kind again, until your raging storms become kind bouts of rain. They will wait for you to be okay again, and they know you will never be the same and they will love you through everything. They will stand with and beside you until the end of time. are you the aftermath of humanity or are you the earth’s embodiment?

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #red queen series #mare barrow #cal calore #tiberias vii calore #maven calore #im feeling so so insane about this actually #completely consumed by the brainrot #the moment i heard about the calamities during my first read it was Over #this post is completely incoherent and nonsensical but by god #i have so many thoughts about the underlying theme of the calamities and the parallels they have to the current themes happening in rq #biting and clinging to whatever in hell went down 1500 years ago in the rq universe

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ask-serendipity-sky · 1 year ago

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Serendipity, pt.2: music video

First song of the album Love Yourself: Her

The lyrics to Serendipity were brought to life by Jimin's voice and performance.

Serendipity was an introduction to the album and set the theme for the subsequent songs.

The theme of the album is falling in love and the feelings that come from falling in love.

youtube

My interpretation of the music video:

To start, there is a sound that makes it seem like you are being sucked into the world and the first thing that is focused is Jimin's eye. The focus into an eye is also seen in DNA. Focusing and entering Jimin's eye makes us, the viewer, be Her. We are watching Jimin as he sings to us about falling in love.

The prevalent colors are different shades of yellow and blue, white, and black. Yellow is a color that means comfort and safety. The other colors are used as contrast.

Jimin first pricks his finger on a cactus that has been grafted with a yellow flower. This indicates that while the cactus can be hurtful, Jimin takes a chance and allows himself to follow and trust the yellow flower.

"We bloom until we ache."

The drop of blood signifies love and/or intimacy and it takes Jimin to a different dimension or state of being.

"You’re me, I’m you."

The eclipse that is shown indicates the movement of the universe thar occurs in order for Jimin and Her to be together.

"The universe has moved for us."

In various scenes, Jimin is alone in white rooms with nothing but yellow objects. Everytime Jimin covers himself with the yellow blanket, he is taken elsewhere and experiences things that are extraordinary.

In this scene, Her is the moon. And by falling off the diving board, Jimin is allowing himself to fall in love with Her.

"My angel, my world."

We are able to see the calico cat once more which according to the lyrics, is the way Jimin sees himself or the way that Her has nicknamed Jimin because of his uniqueness and rarity.

"I'm your calico cat, here to see you."

"Just let me love you."

Once Jimin falls in love, there is a change in the peacefulness. Benign chaos begins. Things start changing, objects shake and move, the yellow balloon floats away but Jimin remains calm. It is a type of calm that comes from being in love with Her, while things around are changing.

"Just let me love you."

In the end of the video, the eclipse passes and the sun is able to shine again. Jimin is seen sitting in a white room and is no longer clutching to the the yellow blanket for safety. At this point, Jimin no longer needs it.

He seems to be in this dream like state. In love.

"Let me love. Let me love you."

Things to note:

The comparisons between Jimin and The Little Prince:

Comparison between Jimin and calico cat:

Serendipity, pt. 3: performances up next.

#jimin #bts #serendipity #Spotify

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wontonsoupho · 2 years ago

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THEN GOD

MADE THEM BLUE

PILOT | WHEN THE LEVEES BREAK

THERE’S DEATH on THE BRIDGE of MACABRE

WORD COUNT : 1 , 777 words

TRAUMA WARNING : This episode includes the following triggers; death , mild gore , heavy profanity , suicidal attempt/ideation & PTSD. With FULL DISCLOSURE , PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION AND RISK.

EPISODE THEMES : Life & Death

WE NEVER TRULY SEE IT COMING , yet it sings our names so profoundly as the bells ring their piercingly dreadful sound that echos amongst the tunnels of our hearing—Death. Much like the flowers at the peak of a wintertime filled with an ambiance of pure rigidity , swathed in an atmosphere so thick and coarse the oxygen feels like poisonous needles forcing themselves within the confines of your realm of respiration. It can also be resemblant to the quietus ivory specs of sorrow that blanket the face of the earth and kills her ever so softly with their freezing embrace , we too shall pass on and wither away in open air. In life , it is ultimately every beating heart's destiny to die. Being that as it may , when alas that moment arises from the ashes bathing in the essence of the phoenix it tastes as bitter as the element of a nasty surprise. Gently placed , when the Angel of Death himself Mr. Grim Reaper appears before us at the hour of our rapture , we in fact are unable to bear witness to his presence. We are however capable of partaking in learning what it truly means ceasing to exist in the physicality of it all. Shackled in trauma on a stormy October night , two unfortunate souls fell under this curse of carnal demise — and only God alone owned the anecdote to save this tandem's lives.

The sole commodity tangible to his murky oceans of vision with cavernous skies had been total and utter darkness. A cold , wet , and lingering tenebrosity that shared flavors with the iron profusely decorating his buccal cavity — tart and royally uncomfortable. Gripping the steering wheel with one blood gushing hand , the other shakily unlocked his cellular getting a slew of the crimson DNA all over its screen and by miracle or maybe even muscle memory dialed a very important phone number. Aside from the minimal luminescence provided by the headlights of his customized obsidian Lamborghini Aventador , the heavy downpour and winds produced a beatdown only a world champion could give further aided in the reason for his panic whilst his heavy foot applied pressure to the gas pedal that resided above the nearly flooded backroad.

He'd been scared shitless , even with veins bursting full of adrenaline he could still feel the stronghold of absolute fear's crippling touch. That , and an entire planet of detrimental cogitations crashed into the interstice of his most sacred cerebration whilst each painstaking moment set adrift a new memory everlasting — there lied no time to contemplate anything. His actual life and vitality depended on this feat. With the amount of chasmic wounds his ethereally created anatomy had been littered in , it was an utter phenomenon how he even managed to escape altogether analogously in one piece let alone drive.

“Hello?”A woman's raspy tone called out quite groggily from being awoken into the surround sound of the butterfly doored sports vehicle he possessed. “Nova it is three in the morning , shouldn't you be-”

“No time to explain Chitty listen to me , I'm losing a lot of blood! Please. Could you go by Mama So's 'n make sure Nani is safe and sound at her grandma's for me? Matter fact just go get her , I don't wanna chance it. Yamileth went ballistic on me and I need to be assured she doesn't try to harm another soul tonight. I dead can't believe this shit-”

“Wait , wait , wait , WHAT?! Why are you blee-how did this-none of this shit is adding up Nova , what the fuck are you talking about?! What do you mean Yami went loca , and what does my niece have to do with it-what about the storm-”

“Leoni! I might fuckin' die tonight , please! I know Yamileth is your sister. Right now the only thing that is important is Yaniis , so I'm gonna need you to pull your shit together and go get my fucking daughter like yesterday!”

“Nova. You’re not-”

“GO!”

“But-”

The annoying loud triplet chirp of Nova's phone dying cut Leoni off short in her stride , she who just so happened to be the sister of his daughter's mother in which he'd been making great efforts to save whilst medias res his own rescue mission.

“FUCK!”

That was the only cogitation singing like a blackbird during its fecund season off the chambers of his comprehension. Because what a fucking tragedy to become of it at the end of the song. Even for the other deplorable anima who's existence figure eighted on the skinniest layers of ice that very moment , tortuously unaware when and if she'd awake to lay sight upon another sun. As she too partook in a hot pursuit of her divinely favored place in this world that dreadful night , her cerebrum was plagued with a stampede of overwhelming rumination and her feet bled gravel mixed with fine shards of glass. Naming her weak would be a sadly mistaken understatement , she'd grown far into the thick of enervation with promises of a complete burn out. Every minuscule iota she blinked in hopes that the all consuming black onyx surrounding her wouldn't crystallize and swallow her whole , every mere second the rain dove from the heavens to kiss the physiognomy of her mother earth giving life to the grounds we tread upon , the not so lucky damsel of the night ran as far as her legs would stretch out and carry her.

As the high speed winds picked up their haste , her developed yet petite frame shifted slightly on the concrete asphalt underneath her bare feet. She wanted to look behind her , in fact she yearned for it but knew that in the end it was most prudent to keep focus ahead the best that she could to have a better chance of survival. Everything felt as if a blur and it grew difficult to properly navigate to her destination at her own volition , her limbs appeared to be on autopilot as they sprinted towards a place unknown to her psyche. Fight or flight instinct fading slowly from each of the exhausted membranes of her encephalon , the strong sprint she began with was starting to ware off — as well for her grip on sanity and reality. She'd been running for so long that she lost track of her place within space and time. Running for her life , this particular familiar face is a far fetch from the imagination of her departure within her mind.

With the storm surging like an overloaded electrical system it was a mystery how she'd reached it but there she was , just a few feet shy from The Bridge of Macabre. By then , the waters that swayed under the spine of the overpass sloshed and smacked the viaduct head on , and slowly the woman's soaked anatomy found itself standing at the edge teetering between land and water. There were only two options she had presented to her — kill or be killed or otherwise risk an existence of forever looking over her shoulder just to prolong the inevitable. Four years junior her fourth decade under the sun , how much longer could she keep this up before she got sloppy from weariness or tired from having to live such a risky lifestyle? It all seemed very clear to her what course of action to take , and as the waves crashed up and downstream Macabre River only one thought sailed her Seas of Cogitation.

Death will always come before dishonor.

Blinding headlights inched in from her peripheral eventually stinging her retinas full on , proving it difficult for her to decipher whether they were real or not due to her growing further and further into delirium. On approach , the very familiar foreign coupe rolled its passenger five percent tinted window down where a face just the same came into view. Gaging the stick shift into park , the driver of the car began to speak up to her.

“Xolani , what are you doin' out hea' it's a storm!”

Looking up to the sky , Xolani felt the heavy precipitation and zephyr sweep over her , a sudden calm chilling every pore until she broke out in goosebumps. Pivoting at one eighty , she glared at he who'd spoken to her with hazy vision not really knowing exactly what to say. Because , what was there to say? The trauma between these two ran deeper than bleeding ink traveling throughout threads of cotton fabric.

“Why do you care Xodus? You never cared-”

“I always fuckin' cared fuck you talkin' 'bout?”

“No you didn't! You drove me away and then they took me , only God can save me now.”

“What's that's supposed to mean Goapel-the fuck you got goin' on right now?” Xodus questioned whilst coughing up blood. “Fuck-”

“Elijah-”

“C'mon Lani , get in. I'm on the way to the hospital 'n as you can see we don't have time to spare.”

She hadn't noticed it then but , Xodus had been painted with deep stab wounds , and profusely leaking his life essence all over his fresh white tee and gray sweatpants. That was just the reassurance she needed to know this experience was actually happening and was not just some influenced hallucination from the high of her brush with death. Swiftly as remotely possible , Goapele joined Xodus in his Lamborghini Aventador slamming the butterfly door shut. She took a few moments to examine the situation and come to an understanding on the condition he was in.

“Xodus Elijah , what have you gotten yourself into now boy? We need to switch seats , you're losing entirely too much blood.” Xolani chastised him before deciding to help. She did her best to pull his near three hundred pound stature from driver to passenger , but he'd been of no assistance as his breathing began to mirror the tempo of the percussionist beating his heart. “How did you get yourself into this predicament?”

That was the last question Xolani ever got to ask in her life. A second later , the levees holding the overflow of Macabre River — which allotted for a third of the city's land — broke just east up the bank. A tsunami like mass flood hit the streams and surrounding lands sinking them under. One moment both souls were in route to salvation upon Death's Bridge , the next the two were swallowed by the currents of the rapture. Their lungs filled with the very resource needed to sustain their lives , and true euphoria was bestowed upon all six of their senses engulfing them in utopia. Below the waves of Macabre Bridge sank the bodies of Goapele Scott and Xodus Casanova , then God made them BLUE.

•

Hello my favorite little heauxs , I hope you’re all well today! I wrote this episode a month or so ago and released it on Wattpad on 02/01/2023 , so I’m premiering it here on the fifteenth and I want keep a similar odd week pattern in mind for the schedule. I know there isn’t much intel and it may be a bit vague and or cryptic but trust me when I say that every event will fold together like an envelope as my baby girl develops. Feel free to comment your thoughts , concerns , and opinions below , and remember that if you like her to repost her cause she’s a bad bitch 😉. P. S. IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST CLICK THE HYPERLINK ABOVE HERE. Thank you so much for joining me and my friends in the Artiverse , we hope to see you again.

… DID YOU HEAR WHAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK ON THEN GOD MADE THEM BLUE ?

EPISODE 1 | SEEING GHOSTS (PREMIERE — 04/21/2023)

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dreams-of-valeria · 2 years ago

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EPILOGUE

Who even invented EDM?

I don’t like to be dramatic but it was literally the bane of my existence. That, and Carla’s borderline gaslighting to drive her home after she got shitfaced at some dudebro’s graduation party she didn’t even know. Suffering this sur teenage wasteland was more appealing to me than hanging up Carla’s missing posters. I reconsidered that several times. One more week and I was quitting as her roommate and moving back to the dorm.

Chopin in my ears vehemently fought against the muffled beats I was drowned in, even seated outside on the lawn couch (you understand the dudebro now). Yoko Ogawa was spitting facts in a cleverly wrapped blanket of magic realism, if the blanket was made of human tears, and I was destined to soak it all in. At Least, that’s what my mind told me.

Mercifully, the sexual shenanigans were limited to inside the threshold, although I cannot say I’ve been exempted from them before. Why did people do things they thought they should be doing?

From the corner of my eye, I saw movement, and a figure took a seat on the ottoman across from me. It leaned forward in speech, and I was forced to take out my earphone. At first glance, he didn’t seem like a two earphone removal worthy person. They mostly never are.

“I said, there’s a party going on inside,” he grinned, dimples dented and brown curls falling across his forehead.

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” I said flatly and returned to my book, keeping the other earphone out. The faster he could hit on me, the faster I could turn him down and the faster I could finish these last 20 pages.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I raised my book up and let him read my shirt. He scoffed.

Cue one drink won’t hurt, I’ll drive you home, subtext: with promises of mind blowing sex but in reality will essentially be three pathetic minutes of animalistic humping where at the end I ask you if you came because I don’t know the fucking difference either way.

“She lose her leg yet?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer, and I had to look up at him for that. His features were pensive, and just a tiny bit smug. Okay, so he knew he had my attention.

“You’ve read this?”

“Years ago, when it was first published. What do you think about it so far?”

I swallowed. That wasn’t a question I received often, and certainly not from someone like him. I noticed only then that he wasn’t unattractive, now that the other, cultured foot had dropped. We only see what we want to see.

“I think it’s about loss and the fear of it,” I leaned forward. He reciprocated.

“The author meant it to be an allegory of an autocratic government,” he stated, eyebrows knitted together.

“Yeah, but I’m free to interpret it the way I want to, unlike the people on the island.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Go on.”

I leaned forward and yanked the other earphone out. “Sure, it’s dystopian totalitarianism, but I think the general theme of such a specific form of oppression revolves around the fear of loss. Think about it, why do we fear authority? It’s the fear of loss of control and freedom in your own lives. 1984, Fahrenheit 451, all the bullshit young adult dystopian novels these days, they have a common theme. In this book, loss of memory is rendered as loss of objects but none of that would have meaning unless you are afraid to lose said object.”

“Sounds like you’re suggesting materialism.”

“Everyone is materialistic. It’s embedded in our DNA to want and need and crave things.”

“Surely not all people?”

“Most people. Let’s say at a supermarket, which shelves in a row do you think sell out quicker than the others?”

“The middle ones?” He looked confused, but intrigued.

“Exactly. Ease of access, standard, you see other people reaching for fucking . . . Brawny paper towels and see an almost empty shelf, you think hey, I probably need paper towels too, better get them before it’s all gone! Sandra from around the block certainly seems to use hers to wipe her five kids’ asses all the time and god forbid Sandra knows I’m using a non-name brand product and yaps to the entire neighbourhood. And bound by this fear of standing out, you don’t wanna tippy toe or squat to get to the other shelves so you tell yourself this is good enough and convenient so what the heck?”

“Okay?”

“That holds true with Maslow’s pyramid of needs, my friend. It is a fire sale and the middle shelf of love and belonging is the first to go.”

He chewed on that for a minute, a smile always staying on his lips. He then got to his feet and sat at the hand rest at the other end of the couch.

“So you’re arguing that love is not everything?”

“I’m saying that people are entrenched to believe that it’s everything, be it of other people or things, and very few know better.”

“Like you?” He was just teasing now.

“I’m getting there. What about you?”

He took a deep breath. “Do not now strive to uncover answers: they cannot be given because you have not been able to live them. Live the questions for now.”

I think I stopped breathing. “Perhaps then you will gradually, without noticing it, live your way into the answers, one distant day in the future.”

“I knew I liked you,” he grinned and took another sip.

“I don’t think I’ve met anyone not from English Lit who read Rilke.”

“How do you know I’m not minoring in it?”

“Are you?”

“Nope.”

We laughed.

He sighed and stood to his feet, stepping closer to me. “I know this will sound like I’m inviting you up to my room for sex, but I really want to show you something.”

“You make it sound like the two are mutually exclusive.”

“They don’t have to be if you don’t want them to be.”

I scanned his face. Who was I kidding? The minute he spewed Rilke, I wanted him inside me.

“I’m gonna go check on my friend and meet you out in 5?”

“I’ll be here,” he grinned again , making him look so much younger than he was. He had to be a senior. After a lot of difficulty, I managed to track Carla down at beer pong and assigned responsibility to a girl who lived in our building. She’d be fine. It would only be for a couple of hours. After telling her to keep her phone on for the fifth time, I nearly sprinted to the front door. My breaths were unsteady. Oh boy. Pull it together.

“My lady,” he smirked and offered his hand, and I took it without complaint after gathering my things.

He lived in a dorm and not a frat house, and I was somehow grateful for that. As was I for how it wasn’t overly messy like they often are, only a few things out of place and smelled really pleasant. His roommate was out. How convenient.

After some shuffling through his bookshelf–which was alarmingly impressive judging by the number of classic novels on it, mostly Russian–he showed me a yellow paged tattered copy of The Memory Police.

“Sorry about how it looks. Katrina,” he explained and flipped to the last few pages kept for making notes, and there it was, his analysis of it being mostly about the fear of loss.

“No way,” I said incredulously, reading the words that I may have paraphrased not 20 minutes ago.

“I know. That’s why I had to show you right away, you know? I mean what are the od–”

“Do you have rubbers? Sorry, you were saying something?”

“Uh, no. And yeah, I do have them,” he said, reaching into his drawer in a hurry.

“You’re prepared, I see.”

“They’ve been sitting in there for 3 years.”

“You’re kidding. You haven’t fucked anyone in 3 years of college?”

“Not in the traditional sense, no.” That smirk again. I couldn’t tell if he was joking. “In your words, there’s not a lot of pyramidion dwellers and that’s how far my line of sight stretches.”

“You do know these are probably expired?”

“Oh,” he looked behind me at the door. “I think someone down the hall–”

“I think we can make do,” I said and kissed him before he could react.

***

“I’ve always thought of sex as a chore,” I said, rolling the tassel of his hoodie between my fingers. He was cold and I was happy to snuggle. “The favourite pastime of friends who no longer wanted to be exclusively friends, or strangers who no longer wanted to be strangers. In the traditional sense, at least. IT’s always disappointed me somehow.”

“Doesn’t live up to your expectations?”

“Not exactly. I often wonder, is this really it? Is sex really the most fun we can have with our bodies? It all just feels like a let down, you know? It’s way too overhyped for a few minutes of feel good meat slapping. Don’t get me wrong, it feels incredible and . . . you were incredible but I feel like there’s more stuff we can do with our bodies that we haven’t figured out yet. I mean think about it, we have so many neurons and body parts and enzymes that we don’t even know what they fully do. So how can we just accept that this is it? What if there’s more? How do we know that this is it?”

“Is this your way of asking me to fuck you in the arse? Because I’d be happy to,” Ace offered graciously.

“No, but you see what I mean right? I often feel like I’m missing out on something.”

“Maybe it’s pain,” he suggested.

“Pain?”

“We have more pain receptors than pleasure. Maybe the BDSM folks have it all figured out.

I simpered and looked at him, the underside of his stubbled chin. A sweet, familiar scent emanated from the crook of his neck and I nestled into it. “It’s funny you mention that because it reminds me of something I wrote a long time ago.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t freak out, but when I was a teen and knew how sex worked, I used to think of the vagina as an unhealed wound, never closing for fear of repeated trauma and penetration.”

“That sounds non-consensual.”

“Wrote a paper on it for the Feminist Newsletter.”

“Oh, I don’t read that anymore since they started publishing articles dissing intersectional feminism–but do go on.”

“I wrote about how all the other holes in our bodies have some sort of covering or border. We’re born with them open and they’re meant to be open. But the vagina has to be torn open, and it remains torn through repeated sex and childbirth. Think about it, the mouth isn’t harmed by food we eat everyday. Shit doesn’t harm us as it passes out. So why just this one gash? It’s like for women, pleasure can only be sought through a gateway of pain first and only the pain is mandatory. Guaranteed.”

“You’re focussing solely on the physicality of it.”

“As opposed to?”

He shrugged. “Love.”

“Boo hoo,” I teased, lifting my head up to look at him. He was grinning.

“I’m serious. I think there’s more love involved than we recognise.”

“Oh really?” I scoffed, sitting up on my elbow. “What about one night stands? Where��s the love in that?”

“The thrill of novelty. Expectations. Exploration. Common ground. All different kinds of love, my pet.”

I rolled my eyes. “So love is the driving force? Haven’t you ever heard of good old physical attraction?”

“Just a means to an end.”

“But what end?”

He took a deep breath, and his fingers twitched around my waist.

“A feeling of love and belonging is sex’s greatest motivation. If sex were purely borne of love, it would be sacred. You know when Achilles died, he wanted his ashes mixed with Patroclus’. He loved him so much he believed they would be reunited in death if the remains of their mortality were mixed, so they could travel the underworld together. Now I can’t say for sure the underworld exists, but I think for now, this is what we have. Sex is the most colloquially accepted expression of physical attraction, but not it’s only driving force..”

“And what of women, Aristotle?”

He chuckled .”I can’t speak for women.”

“Surely, you must have given it some thought,” I goaded.

“Okay then, I think women do it to escape a boring party with a mate of her choice.”

I laughed, and rested my head on his abdomen. It moved everytime he breathed, and I soon found the movement comforting.

“Means to an end, then? You’re saying it’s convenience?”

“Not convenience, no. I think it’s intrigue.”

“You think I'm intrigued by you?” Why did I sound offended?

“Aren't you? I certainly am, by you. I have this feeling of gazing . . . not quite in a mirror, but through a pond of rattled water,” Ace rested his folded arm under his head to look down at me.

“Why rattled?” I asked.

“I've known you barely an hour, cherie. Intimately yes, but that's very little time. Barely a blip on the cosmic scales.”

“Hm,” I mused, playing with my own hair. “That comparison makes me feel small all the time too.”

“Right? How dare we demand things knowing how insignificant our lives mean in the universe. That’s why I'm going to space. I need a cold hard reminder of my place. I need to be humbled.”

“How?” I chuckled.

“I don't know yet, but I will. I have all the tools to map out a vague plan. All I need is time.”

“Good luck with that, time is a bitch,” I breathed.

“Isn't it?”

“Everyday, it makes me mad that we can't control it.”

“It’s grueling stuff. Some days I pretend not to be aware, and I pretend to be stupid and content with worldly treasures like the others. Some days, it's just easier to pretend like tits are the greatest joy to mankind, you know?“

“Wow. Who knew I carried such wealth on my chest.”

Kit snaked his hand up my tee and clutched at one of his wealth. “My wealth.”

“For all your talk of humility, you can be possessive.”

“You have no idea. We’re granted minor joys as it is, why can’t I claim ownership of the ones I like most?”

“Am I a part of this analogy?” I turned to my side, and my ears filled with the sounds from his bowels.

“You’re whatever you decide to be, cherie.”

“What if I said I didn't like you?”

He laughed. Uproariously. “I’d call you a terrible liar. Like it or not, we’re both on either sides of the pond.”

“Maybe we are. But it’s exhausting sometimes.”

“More so for people like us.”

“Do you feel burdened too?” I asked him.

“Yep.”

“Do you sometimes wish you were like the others?”

“Brain dead? No, thank you. I’ll take the searing pain of knowledge over the cold embrace of comfort anyday. And so would you.”

“Careful now, Ace. You’re almost coming full circle.”

“How so?”

“Common ground. What next? You gonna propose marriage?”

He scoffed. “There’s no greater scam than marriage.”

“Hey, it’s the only union we’re familiar with. People find comfort in familiarity. At least some of us do.”

Kit tilted his head and gazed at me. It was the first time his tone had raised. “You find settling into a heteronormative and monogamous contract comforting? Fucking one person for the rest of your life?”

“You don’t agree with monogamy?”

“I don’t agree with the implication of it in marriage. Think about it, you have to find someone, buy a house, buy a car, mix your genes together, raise kids who would only do it all over again? It sounds like bullshit propaganda to me. Like it’s the best way to control us. Give us just enough freedom to choose someone and then fall into a cookie cutter world that’s been predestined and pre-designed since ages. It’s been romanticized so much that it’s the first thing anyone thinks of as soon as they’re out of college. We’ve been conditioned to think so. Like they’re afraid of what we’d do if we didn’t have a system in place. A distraction in place.”

“A distraction from what?”

“Who knows?” he sighed. “People haven’t broken norms enough. Everyone wants to fucking settle. And even if they want to break it, they’re gaslit and shamed for it, and they’re forced to settle. Some days I wanna scream at weddings. I wanna ask people what the hell they’re doing instead of doing literally anything else.”

“Have you been called vain for it?”

He chuckled. “Oh, Several times. But that’s how it seems to them, you know? To them I’m questioning the normal because I’m a loser who can’t find a girl for myself. It’s sad.”

“So far we have: all sex is love but not all love is sex, boobs good, marriage bad . . . Do you ever wanna have kids?” I asked.

“Fuck no. Huge responsibility. You murder someone and you get 15 to life. Good behavior shaves off half the time. But a kid? That’s permanent. You’re stuck with them forever. Sure you can ditch them but the guilt will stay with you. It’s not like a subscription you can cancel.”

It made me giggle.

“What about you?” He asked.

“I think I wanted to at one point, but I think I’d just screw up. Too much generational trauma. Besides, I think I’m too selfish to have kids. I can’t dedicate that much time raising another human you know? I mean to be fully responsible for someone’s life, safety, education, manners, that’s too much. I don’t know why people do it. Whatever happened to the whole let a village raise a child. It’s unfair to dump it on two people.”

He hummed. “Now you see it. The entire family structure we’ve adapted is wrong.”

“Too bad we can’t change it unless we fundamentally change people.”

“Oh, do I have plans for that . . .”

I snaked my way up his chest to look at him up close. “What plans?”

“I plan to correct flaws.”

“You’re seeking perfection? Why?”

“Inefficiency, that’s why. Everything wrong with society is due to the weakness of humankind. War, death, conquest, disease . . . they’re just weaknesses.”

“But weakness is what makes us human. You’re arguing that we be built the same as rule-following robots unable to practice free will. That reality is far more bleak than the one we live in.”

“I prefer bleak over weakness anyday,” he breathed.

“Why?”

“Have you ever tried to k*ll yourself”

“No,” I chuckled.

“I did. And that’s why.”

I sat up and gazed down at him. I expected tears, but there were none. Then I expected laughter, but there was none. Ace looked solemn as he told me how he tried to do it, but never explained why. I remember holding him as he slept that night, and didn’t understand why until 8 years later.

I slipped into a deep yet troubled sleep that night, awash in the light of a kindled soul, one I thought I would keep forever.

I woke up the next morning, alone.

fin.

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from-dre · 5 months ago

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Many Million Dreams Ago • Ch. 9 of 10

I thought of all I’d lost in the last ten years. The girlfriends—, in all of their shades—, were gone. Now the drinks kept me company. And the bottle makes three, I thought to myself. It was all I had left to remind me of a time gone by. I grabbed the glass neck and lifted the bottom upwards—, downing all the drops, drowning all the dreams, escaping once more into a permanent nightfall. Deep down into the things that I’d missed out on I went; weddings, birthdays, events that’d never come around again. I could’ve gone with the women I’d loved before and sat by any one of their sides, making whoever she’d be proud of me and maintaining the relationship at a healthy level, instead of having it dip well-beneath decent standards. I closed my eyes and dreamt of their lips again. How I’d give anything to press mine up against them just one more time. I’m so sorry, I thought to myself and no one else. I regretted all the moments that’d passed by which I’d made a mess of. I wished I had another chance at them once more—, to make it right, to make it meaningful, and to make them all so much more beautiful than the first time around. Remorseful me.

I began walking the streets of downtown alone. I needed to be around people but I knew that nobody could understand exactly what I was going through either. So I just blended in with the crowd. I made my way back down towards Michigan Avenue and recalled all the times I’d walked it before with others by my side. I saw visions of myself looking through the various display windows again. I saw visions of myself getting down on one knee again. I saw all of these things and couldn’t help but feel a slight sting in my side from all my former faults. All the while, I was living in my dream city and still, I felt a hollowness from deep within—, an unexplainable emotion to anyone else around me. I again, heard myself musing aloud;

“We should move here one day.” Like the blanket of time folded and wrapped around itself, bringing my past up to my present and permanently fusing the two together. Now that I was finally here, I didn’t know how to take hold of it all and enjoy it to its fullest extent. What’s the point of living in such a wonderful place if there’s nobody to share its scenes and sights with? I had it. At one point in time—, I had it all. Now; nothing but the commotion of the city outside my studio window. I got the world but lost the girl—, either with the Dark Eyes, the Epic Tattoos, or the Gorgeous Smile. What an appropriate ending to another one of my life’s chapters. It seemed like the overall theme was getting stuck on repeat. The reader didn’t even need to finish the phrase—, it was already spelled out from the beginning. I needed to change books or at the very least—, change genres mid-adventure. What was there to do but keep writing out my story? Onward I went—, with a blank piece of paper and pen at the ready.

The weather outside was quickly turning into a dreary grey—, scattered thunderstorms would soon be on the way. I decided to run to the corner store one last time for more fuel to add to the ever-growing fire inside my stomach. I stepped out into the calm before the storm—, a very familiar feeling took over me as I noticed how silent everything was. Nothing moved, all was quiet and still. I began walking down towards the main boulevard in my neighborhood. Then—, the tiniest drop. And another. And another. I kept moving right along. Suddenly; a torrent erupted from the sky and down came a cascade of water. I stood in place for a few minutes—, letting it all sink in; the break-ups, the disappointments, all of the regrets piled up into a single mountain of mayhem and I let myself soak within it in the process. Ex-girlfriends’ DNA was in the rain and I let it cover me from head to toe. They dripped down from my brow onto the edges of my dry lips and fell off my chin below. Where are you now?, I asked any one of them through my thoughts. They were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. They were in my past as a memory, in my present as a figment of my imagination, and in my future as someone I’d forever remember. Eventually, the rain washed away all of yesterday’s mistakes and I began feeling brand new for the first time in a very long while. I knew I had to leave my shell of self-pity and get back out in the real world if I was ever going to finally get over my old life.

The days went along as scheduled. Seasons changed, jobs changed, and different friends came in and out of my life. I started taking my own advice as I’d gotten to know someone new recently and we’d decided to meet on our own for the first time halfway in-between our two places. I walked through the streets and avenues and wondered where this would all lead. Not just this spur-of-the-moment meeting but all of these chance encounters I’d been having with random people. I thought that maybe I was just trying to replace previous loves with new and exciting circumstances but I couldn’t be sure. I knew for a fact that I didn’t want to fall into anything deeper than a simple, surface-level love affair that would ultimately go nowhere. Who was I to dictate my future though? Those types of things always happen when someone least expects it —, something deeper. I was never actively looking for a perfect match—, I’d just found her; sitting beside me in class, working beside me at a job, and living nearby in the same building as me. To think I’d actually find another half again wasn’t just unlikely, it took a huge imagination as well. I redirected my attention to the present moment as I saw my new friend walking towards me from across the street. She was wearing a black and white- striped dress and sporting a cute ponytail.

“Hey!,” I said, trying to seem more excited than I truly was. There were streaks throughout her hair and I couldn’t help but notice how pretty they made her look. “Nice highlights.”

“Thanks!,” she replied, slightly surprised that I’d even seen them. We walked the short distance to my apartment while discussing the usual small-talk two people on a first outing alone usually dive into. It didn’t take long to get into the plans for the rest of the evening.

Getting home, she stepped inside the small studio and immediately got comfortable—, pulling up my blue butterfly chair I’d always give to guests as I sat at the desk. I knew where this night was headed—, we both did. Still, I didn’t want to rush anything and cheapen the entire affair with pre-conceived notions that she’d just want to jump into bed as quickly as I did—, so we spoke for some time.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?,” I politely asked while preparing a couple of drinks.

“I’m actually going to my first dance class tomorrow,” she said. “It’s always been something I’ve wanted to try out.”

“That’s really cool,” I replied, appreciating the fact that she was more fearless than her looks led on. Time passed by as it always does in these types of situations—, each second being one step closer to what both people are ultimately looking forward to. Finally, she let herself get as comfortable as possible. She got up and laid sideways on my bed, propping herself up with one arm. Her dress slid down her shoulder, nearly coming off completely. The moment had arrived. I slowly leaned in for a kiss and brought my hand up to her cheek, gently palming it and bringing her closer to me. We twisted and turned—, all the while removing every article of clothing we had on our bodies. Piece by piece—, we became more and more in tune with each other.

Again, time passed by as it always does in these types of situations. I lit two cigarettes and handed one to her after we’d finished. Laying on our backs, we blew smoke out towards the ceiling and stared up with wide- eyes, wondering if and when we’d see each other again.

“I’m invited to a swingers party next week —, do you wanna be my date?,” she asked with slight innocence.

“Sure—,” I answered back. Why not?, I thought. I’d never attended something like that before and figured now would be as good a time as any to try and see what it was all about. My only concern was that she wanted to be something more than just a temporary fling. I wasn’t ready for anything serious. I’d lost too much and now had very little left of me to give.

The next morning rolled around as I was still reeling from the experience of the night before. I’d thought about how mismatched my feelings on the whole thing were. One half of me felt relieved that I could still have fun with another person while the other parts felt slightly devalued. I’d never been that cut out for one-night stands but I figured everyone goes through a phase.

My date got up and got dressed—, kissing me goodbye before leaving through the front door. Not a handful of hours passed by when I suddenly saw her name flashing across my cellphone as it started to ring.

“Hello?,” I answered.

“Hey—,” she said, “I’m just getting out of my class and was wondering if you had anything to smoke.”

“Yeah, I have a little something. I can meet you outside your place in about thirty minutes.” With that, we hung up our phones and off I was on my way to see her for a second day in a row.

Approaching her house, I could see her already sitting outside on the front steps. She jumped up and came towards me, giving me a big hug.

“So—,” I said, “how was dance class?” We chatted about this and that and though I didn’t have much time to spend, I sat with her on the steps as long as I could. She finally asked if I wanted to get high with her but I shook my head. “I’m sorry—, I have to go,” I regretfully said. Though she called me a week afterwards for the party, I was out of state for an impromptu trip and so, we quickly lost touch. That’s how things seemed to go in a big city—, people came and went at random, in and out of each other’s lives. I wondered if I’d ever make such a tight connection with someone as I had earlier in my life. The thought however, quietly slipped away, as all I needed at that moment was just good company for a night or two—, not another toxic-twin or a self- reflection of any kind. I’d be content with someone whose name I could remember and that was about it.

Back in Chicago, the people began wearing thicker winter coats once more as the leaves began falling off the trees. It was another autumn night when I found myself walking the streets alone. I’d passed by a local pub plenty of times before on my way to the L-train station, but this time was different. People were piled out into the street and the atmosphere inside was loud, crowded, and festive. There was a group of six or so strangers to my right who were huddled up smoking cigarettes by the alleyway when I noticed a sultry look coming from the center of everyone else. She stood out from the other girls around and her voice was as lulling as the rain that began trickling down our faces.

“Hey,” I said from outside the semi-circle of friends. She was already looking at me before I spoke. “Do you guys know where I could get some—,” I brought my fingers up to my mouth, making a smoking motion.

“Yeah,” she calmly said. “Right here.” She pulled out a joint and asked if I wanted to light up with her and her friends. A short while later we went inside the pub and enjoyed ourselves for a couple of hours more.

“So do you live pretty close by?,” she asked me out of nowhere. It was a ten minute walk to my place, so off we went, both eyeing each other the entire trek there. I knew she’d be fun, she knew the same about me. We seemed to click. The only problem with having her over my studio so late at night was that I had already promised a previous friend that he could crash there as well a few days earlier. We didn’t have much time to wrap ourselves around one another so as soon as the door shut behind us, we were in each other’s arms. As soon as the lights turned off, we were in bed. And as soon as we were starting to enjoy ourselves, my friend unlocked the door and walked right in.

“I’m so sorry—,” he said, quickly realizing what was happening. “I’m just going to use the bathroom for a minute and then leave.” We all blushed for a few seconds but didn’t think too much of it—, there was still plenty of time left ahead for us to take advantage of. Suddenly—, an idea.

“Would you be cool with—,” I didn’t have to finish my thought. She knew what I’d meant and slowly nodded. She was both excited and a bit nervous, but I could tell she’d done this type of thing before. Perfect, I thought. My friend exited the bathroom, immediately read the situation, and with that, we began a night’s worth of fun and fantasy-filled revelry.

I couldn’t help but think of past Lovers—, how they themselves would’ve moved and maneuvered through the multitasking of pleasing two different partners at once. The thought made me smile as my friend and I made sure our mutual date enjoyed being the center of attention. After swapping, I situated myself at her frontside and laid down on my back, blowing smoke into the air. She too, like ex-girlfriends, was busying herself with me when I bent up and slowly lifted her chin with my fingers.

“Open,” I gently suggested. She parted her lips as I brought mine right up to them and pushed out the thick fumes from my mouth into hers. She took a nice, deep breath. It was everything I wanted it to be—, and more. The music played on as we too, played on—, well into the night and until early the next morning. My friend got up to leave shortly after everyone was too tired to move anymore.

“We should do this again sometime,” he said and with that, it was just her and I for the rest of the day. We laughed, spoke briefly about our backgrounds, and what our future dream jobs would be. Puff after puff, time rolled by and in a few hours, she too left through my front door with an experience both of us were glad we’d made.

Around the same time, I began talking to a woman who was almost twenty years older than me in her late-forties and found myself over her house one fateful night. We sat on her living-room couch and spoke about topical things until the moment came to finally go into the bedroom. I saw her letting down her hair and thanked The Universe. She saw my scars but graciously said nothing. We each saw what we wanted to see in the other and that was enough for us. After laying on the bed, she slid her hands down her chest, stomach, and toward her jeans. She slowly began making herself comfortable. I nestled my lips near her neck and softly bit her earlobe between whispers of what we should do. Finally, she let out a long exhale as she continued to lay next to me, running her fingers through my hair, staring at me.

“Don’t give up on yourself,” she unexpectedly said. “You’re different.” The words stuck themselves right onto the center of my heart as her sentiment burrowed itself inward.

I thought about all of the different experiences I was having and how I was really just chasing old ones with new partners. I’d been finding lovers but no Lover. No match, no other. I didn’t know where she could be—, in another part of the city, another part of the country, or another part of the world altogether? I thought about the two hundred-plus nations and none of them truly stood out as being separate from the rest. They were all on an equal level, brimming with possibilities and women of all kinds. So many locales with millions of different blonde, brunette, black-haired, blue-eyed, brown-eyed beauties. How could I ever limit myself to one in-particular person with thoughts of complete permanence? Maybe that was just the storybook ending to a fairytale we’re all told growing up. That out of the billions of souls on this planet, not only does our other half exist in the first place, but is in-fact living within our own timeframe, on our own continent, and has all of the qualities we actively seek for in a soulmate. It seemed—, improbable. But then again, so did a lot of other things I’d been through in my life, so I held out some type of hope that one day I’d get to meet her and see her for who she truly is; my reflection, unchanged, untainted, forever the same.

#nonfiction #memoir #love #romance #relationships

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southernvangard · 9 months ago

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Episode 400 - Southern Vangard Radio

BANG! @southernvangard radio Ep400! What more can we say? It’s a celebration! 400 mix shows (not to mention 275 interviews). All exclusives. Custom action figures. Plaques. Shot glasses. YOU WAAAAALCOME!!!!! #SmithsonianGrade #WeAreTheGard // southernvangard.com // @southernvangard on all platforms #hiphop #undergroundhiphop #boombap

Recorded live May 5, 2024 @ Dirty Blanket Studios, Marietta, GA

southernvangard.com

@southernvangard on all platforms

#SmithsonianGrade #WeAreTheGard

twitter/IG: @southernvangard @jondoeatl @cappuccinomeeks

Pre-Game Beats - Observe ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Southern Vangard Theme" - Southern Vangard All-Stars ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

Talk Break Inst. - "Pressure" - Rhettmatic ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Raw Boom Bap" - Senor Kaos, A.O.S. & 4-IZE (prod by MUDNOC) ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Without Love" - Eddie Meeks & DJ Pocket ft. Clayway & Supastition ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Life" - BambuDeAsiatic ft. Dynas ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Wave Gods Return" - DT / CorduroyBilly (WaveGods) ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Old East Way" - Flux ft. H2O ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Cannonball" - Dillon & Batsauce ft. Grand Puba ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

Talk Break Inst. - "Midnight Madness" - Rhettmatic ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"2 Step 2 The Bank" - Napoleon Da Legend & Rhettmatic ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Yes or No" - J Scienide ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"She Major" - Eddie Meeks & DJ Pocket ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Cold Crush" - BambuDeAsiatic ft. Yamin Semali ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"DNA" - Jamil Honesty X Giallo Point ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Two Kids" - maticulous ft. Elzhi (cuts DJ Jon Doe) ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

Talk Break Inst. - "Bolo vs Bruce" - Chong Wizard ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Cash" - Trap Jefe ft. Ricky Hyde, E Murda & Chase Fetti (prod. godBLESSbeatz) ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Mulsanne" - Josiah The Gift ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Free Gluten" - Eff Yoo (prod. Goldenchild" ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Slim Calling Cino" - Eddie Meeks & DJ Pocket ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"I'm A Man" - Eddie Meeks & DJ Pocket ft. Blu & Wise Intelligent ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"Pho No Bich" - Eddie Meeks & DJ Pocket ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

Talk Break Inst. - "Priest's Rolls" - Chong Wizard ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

"A Word From D-Styles" - Napoleon Da Legend & Rhettmatic ft. D-Styles ** WORLD EXCLUSIVE **

SOUNDCLOUD

https://on.soundcloud.com/t6qZj4C47kbv3QyE8 (SHORT LINK)

APPLE PODCASTS

SPOTIFY PODCASTS

YOUTUBE

youtube

GOOGLE PODCASTS

http://bit.ly/svrgooglepodcasts

TWITCH

twitch_live

MIXCLOUD

#Youtube

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sraddhasen12 · 2 years ago

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Inspire your painting with IPL team colors

The colour decisions of IPL teams are eye-catching. Every single one has its own special option. Who would have hoped that this could also spark ideas for house decoration? There are some exciting and imaginative methods you can choose if you would like to arrive colorful IPL colours around your home.

1. Kolkata Team

Adding Kolkata teams dark purple to an accent wall and topping with gold paint along with gold furniture pieces could easily bring depth and elegance to your home. As well, choosing lighter shades of purple with small parts of gold accents may be preferred in some rooms; the Kolkata’s teams themes style is especially suitable for a bedroom environment.

2. Mumbai Team

Mumbai Teams elevated a royal vibe by bestowing us the corresponding hues of gold and blue. Vary this combination with the use of white to furnish an approach harkening back to that of ancient Greece within any area in your dwelling – a great decoration for both bedrooms and family room deco ideas, through items such as mats and blankets. This makes for warm comfortable layer inside it, achieving heavenly solace in.

3. Gujarat Teams

This IPL squad has far and away the most regal look of all their colleagues. The color palette they use consists of regal shades of blue, white, and gold which would easily work in bedrooms; however due to its uncommon and modern vibes it could also help to liven up the style of a living room or balcony.

4. Chennai Teams

If you’re wanting a vivacious decor for a kid’s room, think Chennai teams. Their yellow hue makes for a great accent piece in the bedroom of an individual and adds pop to it. The intense ray of these colours will undeniably animate any room.

5. Bangalore Team

Some may question the suitability of Team Bangalore’s red, gold, and black color scheme for home residences, however if done correctly these vivid hues can give one’s dwelling an edge in terms of originality. Factoring all three, the result can be a uniformly intense room – but rather than blanket it, strategic application on select walls will sort desired effect. The intersection of such combinations additionally makes them ideal for bar areas within residential dwellings.

6. Delhi Team

Bangalore team, Delhi and Punjab teams colour schemes proudly make a statement and are not meant to be subtle–the navy blue and red offer a dramatic contrast. You could employ it by making use of incorporate this topography into accent walls or furniture in your home. Consider having red curtains frame a navy blue wall, for example: such pairing would surely turn heads.

7. Punjab Teams

The Punjab Teams have a striking red-and-white colour combination, which would be ideal for decorating children’s bedrooms or feature walls. To bring out this palette, you could draw narrow stripes or painted designs in the two hues contrastingly. To obtain a more subtle effect, just increase the presence of white and reduce that of red. A mural pattern minimalistic in scope on a white wall still conveys this organization’s design DNA effectively.

8. Hyderabad Team

Team Hyderabad is vivid and bold with its orange, red and white colour combination. Trying this combination on your walls can make your house shine.

9. Rajasthan Team

If you want to give any room in the house a soothing and enjoyable ambiance, Rajasthan team is a great option for those interested in claiming an uncomplicated but elegant décor. If, instead, you’re eager to venture out and explore various looks, this might just serve as an interesting inspiration perfect for the bathroom’s design.

10. Lucknow Team

Lucknow team is by far the most colourful of teams in this IPL. The logo uses red, orange, yellow, white, green, dark green, and blue. For home decoration, you have a lot of alternatives to consider. You can decorate your entire residence with the LSG colour palette. The white and blue hues make it easy to create an enjoyable yet straightforward colour combination. IPL teams employ some remarkable and distinctive colour combinations that could be a great source of ideas for your following home painting project. Moreover, there is something for everyone – plain, luxurious or vivid. The IPL colour scheme has something for everyone! Please let us know what colours you are deciding on for your rooms!

combinations that could be a great source of ideas for your following home painting project. Moreover, there is something for everyone – plain, luxurious or vivid. The IPL colour scheme has something for everyone! Please let us know what colours you are deciding on for your rooms!

Paint Sutra - Wall Painting House PaintingWe provide best Wall Painting Services for your sweet home. We do Wall Painting at a reasonable cost. Get free quotation and get in touch on 9700 22 6666.https://paintsutra.com/paint-try-outsPaint Sutra - Wall Painting House PaintingWe provide best Wall Painting Services for your sweet home. We do Wall Painting at a reasonable cost. Get free quotation and get in touch on 9700 22 6666.https://paintsutra.com/paint-try-outs

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sproutfits · 3 years ago

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hello!!! can i please get an angelcore themed outfit with sensory toys, if possible? thank u!!

Hello!! I hope you like this!!

You got 2 different angel pacis, (because i use them mostly as stim toys anyway lol), bubbles for visual stim, a "biblically accurate angel" 3D printed gyrings (by joemag3D on etsy, idk what else is in their shop so be careful), an angel worry stone, cloud sensory blanket and soft thick blanket (i love sherpa), a dna ball, a dimpl, a bike chain fidget, and a unique puzzle ring i found!! Also some assorted baby toys and a face mask bc having cool mask on my face feels nice i think. The actual outfit is loose and soft, with a set of plush angel wings.

#age regression #agere #age regressor #agereg #agere outfits #sfw agere #sfw regression #age dreaming #agedre #angelkin #angelcore

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jikookiekosmos · 4 years ago

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Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

#bts #bts smut #bangtaninn #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung scenarios #detective!au

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