#G Ranks - Hello Smoke

[plushyvi]

"i need a doctor!"

game: fallout 4

character: paladin danse, arthur maxson

summary: coming back from a mission hurt, and you are determined to fix them up.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, reader isn't mentioned to be the sole survivor, but can be read as such. injured characters have to reveal some skin (top of uniform taken off)

paladin danse

"proctor ingram, i'd like to speak to the knight that was in charge of overseeing paladin danse's armour before our mission today." you say as you cross arms over your chest. you stood there with an annoyed expression. with danse behind you, standing tall and bulky, it would usually seem like he was protecting you. yet he held this awkward (slightly embarrassed) look on his face.

usually he'd be the one telling off the knight responsible, but you had taken it upon yourself. you looked so upset for him and his wellbeing. danse didn't even think he had to do anything.

proctor ingram took her eyes off of her clipboard, glancing at you from the height of her power armour. she glanced between both you and danse, taking only one look to understand what was going on.

"hello, y/n. what happened? did something go wrong with it?" she inquires.

"it shut down midway through our battle against super mutants, "you explain as you jut a thumb behind you to danse, "i had to call a vertibird for cover so i could rewire everything and get him out of it."

"you're kidding," proctor ingram widens her eyes. she blinks at the two of you. "my god, i apologise, paladin danse. allow me to personally look over your power armour. i'll bring the knight to you, knight-captain y/n."

"thank you. i'll get someone to haul it in from the loading bay," you sigh out. letting her walk away and do what she needed to, you lean against the wall to wait as danse, in his uniform, looks away. "i won't tell them off harshly; i just want to tell them what i fixed and what was wrong."

"i should've done a test run before taking it out for a spin," danse says, rubbing his exposed neck, "i put you in danger."

you stare at him, furrowed brows. scanning him, you could see various cuts and bruises forming around his face and through his uniform. he was in the middle of the battlefield, about to get swarmed. luckily, you had thrown the smoke signal in front of him, covering danse from view. you had to shoot as many bullets as you could in order to hold them back before the vertibird arrived and you could work on getting danse out.

"you were in more danger," you huff out and shake your head, "look at you, danse. after i talk to this knight, i'll help you, okay? you can't patch yourself up like that."

"i... you don't..." he begins, catching your stare, "i'm fine."

you roll your eyes a little at that. danse only frowns, facing the floor. he listens as you (lightly) reprimand the lower ranking knight. he should be the one to do so, but you were so angry on the field that he would feel bad for the knight if they faced both danse and you telling them off.

they were extremely apologetic, telling danse that it was careless of them and they will double check next time. you use your own armour, parked in bay 3, to explain what you had to do to get him out and what you saw was wrong. the knight is grateful you were kind enough to do so.

danse sits in at your desk, facing you as you open the medical supply box attached to your wall.

"you're going to need to take off your shirt," you say, facing away from him, "is that okay?"

"oh, yeah, it's fine." he replies, beginning to pull up his shirt.

you try not to stare at him, despite danse being so nice to look at. he awkwardly laid his shirt on your bed. you take out something to wipe his wounds with. carefully dabbing on some cleansing alcohol, you begin wiping away the dried blood. he winces a little at the stinging, but ultimately settles in. your hand rests on his shoulder as you stand in front of him.

you felt bad; he always relied on his power armour to help him fighting his battles, and in one of the times where it mattered the most, it failed him.

"i'm sorry, danse. i never thought i would ever see your power armour malfunction." you huff, discarding a red tissue into the bin.

"it's fine, y/n," he replies, shaking his head, "you got me out just in time too. i would've been blown up if it weren't for you.”

you were lucky enough to know a good way around power armour. after tinkering with your own for as long as you’ve had it, you were able to undo the latches. you had checked the fusion core too — halfway full.

“yeah, maybe i should ask elder maxson for a raise for saving your ass yet again,” you joke. danse lets out a small chuckle. “how does ‘paladin y/n’ sound to you?”

“sounds fitting, but you wouldn’t be under my guidance anymore,” he claims, watching as you move on to his other arm, “you would have your own team.”

“so much work. i might as well just stay by your side, right?” you say as you glance at danse.

he blinks at your outward flirting before he begins to turn pink. “i, uh, i wouldn’t… oppose to you staying within my team. i am your sponsor, after all.”

“right, my ‘sponsor’,” you chuckle, grabbing another wipe, “just face me, okay?”

he nods, allowing you to clean the cuts on his face. he was not shot, but some scratches were the result of you hastily pulling him out if the armour and it being stuck in an awkward position to get out of. but your tender caressing made him feel so much better.

you were so careful with him. one time, he couldn’t find his helmet, so you gave him yours to use. he complained, saying that you needed one too, but you were only concerned with him.

such a kind soul. it was quite rare in the commonwealth now.

“careful, big guy,” you say. danse begins blinking open his eyes at you. a smile dawns your lips. might fall asleep on my bed. what would maxson think?”

“i’m sorry, i’m… i think i’m tired.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. his hair was tousled about, unable to keep tidy.

you fix a bandage on his nose. he was still so handsome, something you would tell him from time to time. it always managed to fluster the crap out of him too.

“it’s okay, i’m finished now, danse,” you say as you pack away all your supplies. danse thanks you. “will you make it back to your room alright?”

“yes, knight, i will.”

you stare at him as he winces to grab his shirt on your bed. it was obvious that he was lying. he seemed to be in more pain than he let on. you watch as he attempts to put it on, but him stretching his chest out helps you to observe the large bruises on his skin. a sigh leaves your lips.

“it’s okay, paladin. you can rest here for a few hours,” you tell him. you place a hand on his shoulder. “i won’t tell anyone, only if they ask.”

“that would be extremely—”

“i have to attend a briefing anyway, danse,” you say, gently pushing him to lay down on your bed. lucky you were given your own quarters, or else this would be even worse for the superior officer. "you'll be fine. i'll tell maxson you're still fixing yourself up."

he lays back on your bed, pillow beneath his head. his eyes follow yours and see how you smile at him gently. your kindness knows no bounds. and your warmth helps soothe him. danse melts into your bed.

"i... fine, i will stay for a few hours, but that's it," danse meekly replies. you have a winning smile on your face whilst you lean over him. he can feel his face warming up with how you look at him. the pink hue brushes along his cheeks and his ears. "thank you again, y/n."

"atta' boy, danse." you chuckle. your fingers are gently going through his hair as you sit beside him on the bed. he immediately gulps, pressed lips together and unable to take his eyes off of your face. "be good. call me if you need me, you have my radio frequency if you need it."

"will do," he hums as he gently holds your hand in his. his warmth fell into yours invitingly. "don't leave anything out in the debriefing, alright?"

"even the part before we got ambushed where you told me you missed so much on my last mission with captain kells?"

"you may leave that part out, knight."

you let out a short laugh at that as you show him a hearty smile.

"okay, paladin, sir." you hum out sweetly. you lean down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "i will see soon, danse. rest up."

he watches you as you leave him alone in your room and on your comfortable bed. he thinks about you, as he always does, and how you caress his wounds. you were so caring, too kind for this world. and he cherished every moment with you.

his hand rests on his forehead as he sighs. you were so sweet.

arthur maxson

"fuck—"

"shh."

"do not shush me, knight."

"you're being a baby, elder. stop pulling away."

he leans against his desk in his quarters, hands bracing against the steel as you stand in between his legs, holding his chin in your hand. blood dripped down his nose bridge from his recent run in with a mirelurk queen on a recon mission. one of the only times he was off the prydwen, and it resulted in you coming to his rescue after hearing of his absence from the ship.

you were in the middle of another endeavour before danse reached out to you through your radio frequency to inform you that a scribe got word of maxson's situation. he sent you as you were closer and he was on his way.

with no power armour, you managed to save the leader as soon as you can. but maxson was already plenty wrecked by the time you got there. once back on the prydwen, you dragged maxson by the hook of his shirt to his room to get him fixed. the elder muttered out broken orders, telling you to let him go and stop, but he was utterly embarrassed. his soldiers watched as a mere knight quite literally made him follow after.

"this is why you aren't a medic," maxson hisses out at you as he leans away. you deadpan and shake your head as you drop the bloodied tissue into the bin beside you. "i can do this myself, knight. i don’t require your assistance for this."

"you said the exact same thing back in the commonwealth," you huff out at him. the elder was so prideful. he looked away when you stared at him. "i know what i'm doing, maxson, you just need to be a big boy for me. just for a few minutes, okay?"

his ears glow red before he wipes his face. when he drops his hand, you resume your work. maxson's furrowed brows don't drop; he feels vulnerable under your touch with how warm it was. you hold his face again to wipe away the rest of the blood that covered his face. his face is fixed in an angry expression as you tried to clean up his face.

"well you won't need stitches," you explain. you open the medkit next to him and grab some bandages. you unwrap a bandaid to place on his nose bridge. "and you're lucky it isn't broken. give me your hand."

he does so, resting his knuckles in your palm. you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"i cannot believe you tried to use a knife against a mirelurk queen, arthur," you scowl at him. he half-lids his eyes and looks at you. "it's like you wanted me to come and save you."

"despite you saving me, i am still your superior. do not call me 'arthur'." he orders you. he pulls his hand away after you've bandaged it.

you deadpan.

"whatever you say, elder maxson." you say spitefully.

you continue to help him in silence, which makes maxson only more annoyed. you looked like it was now a chore to help him. he could have you do the recon mission that he failed, or literally anything else, but here you were, tending to his wounds.

"speak what's on your mind." he speaks up once noticing your expression.

"i don't have anything to say, sir." you mumble back to him. you moved to the slices on his shoulder.

he was quite confused (and flustered) when you told him to take off his shirt upon entering his room. you had to explain that you needed to see his wounds, which made him rest better.

"it isn't wise to lie to me, knight," he warns you as he tilts his head. you look at him with knitted brows. "just... tell me."

you blink at him before letting out a sigh. you first finish up putting bandages over his cuts and wiping away all the blood that stained his skin.

“you… you don’t know combat like us, maxson,” you exclaim, “and that’s going to get yourself killed. don’t run into missions as trivial as that one. the brotherhood needs you.”

“i can decide for myself, knight,” he responds as you wipe the blood off your hands, “do you forget who gives out orders?”

“you’re always like this,” you scowl. you have your hand on your hip as you glare as him. “elder maxson, with all due respect, i believe that my short time here outweighs your firsthand iq of the commonwealth as of now. i understand that you are finally getting out of there, but what’s the point of getting yourself killed over something so small?”

“that recon mission was not small.” he huffs back.

you stare at him a little before you let out a sigh. you step forward a bit and gently wrap your arms around his waist. he stiffens.

“i don’t wan’t you getting killed out there, arthur,” you say against his nape, “if you’re going on a mission, i want to be informed. i want to come with you.”

he freezes up at your warmth mixing with his and he closes his eyes. a hand rests on your upper back, begging you closer.

“very well then, knight. i will be sure to inform you next time,” maxson says to you with a content smile, “you… must care a lot about me.”

“what a stupid thing to say.” you retort.

he tries not to take it to heart and instead get used to how you tease him. you’ve always been like this, ever since he met you. your character never disappointed him. while you were more casual with him than he’d like you to be around others, he admired you.

“pardon me, i didn’t hear that,” maxson mumbles. he starts pulling away a little to get a look at your face. you’re smiling a little. “care to share with me what is so funny?”

“no, nothing, elder maxson,” you respond to him, “it’s just silly. you’re an elder taking orders from a knight.”

"get out of my room."

"i'm joking, arthur!" you begin to chuckle again. your hands rest on his shoulders to push him back against the desk again. his annoyed face only makes you smile more. "you need to rest now. it's late. you can't be standing there in your office waiting for me to come back every single second."

"i... i do no such thing." he claims.

"mhm," you say with a raised brow. you see his begin to turn pink before you tilt your head. "knight lucia told me that scribes often visit you throughout the day to give you word on my whereabouts."

"i do so for many people," he retorts as he crosses his arms over his chest. he puffs it out, attempting to look tougher. but you don't waver. "i have to keep a close eye on you, especially — you are always running amuck in the commonwealth. it is bad for the brotherhood to have hoodlums doing such things."

"i'm flattered that you hold me above the rest of the knights," you say to him as you place a hand over your chest in mock sincerity. he rolls his eyes at you, but can't stop the slight smile on his face. "i suppose i should make sure i'm on my best behaviour for you, then, sir."

"good," is all he says back to you. he stares at your face and how it falls slightly at his response. it elicits a slightly chuckle from him before he reaches out and holds your hand. "thank you, knight. you did a satisfactory job, considering your lack of proper medical training."

you stand up straight and smile at him softly. you were glad that you were able to get closer to him, despite him pulling away every so often. it seemed now that he was warming up to you.

"you're welcome, arthur," you mumble out quietly. leaning forward, you press a chaste kiss against his scarred cheek. he doesn't pull away this time at your affection. rather, he moves his neck closer to you for a better angle. you hold his other cheek in your other hand, letting your fingers brush against his warm skin. "get some rest, okay? i'll finish off your mission for you."

"alright," maxson says with a nod of his head. you step away from him before you grab your weapons you left on his desk. you pick up your pistol and combat knife to shove it in it's cover. meanwhile, maxson stretches his arms and watches you. "be careful out there, soldier."

"will do, elder maxson." you flash him a sweet smile before heading out of his room. he notices how loudly you exit, as if you wanted everyone to know that you were with the superior officer, in his room, alone.

he wipes his face with a groan. you were such a handful.

[arokel]

hello esteemed arokel it is i, your mysterious and anonymous secret admirer. could you pweaaaaase write canon era chugger? something silly & cute mayhaps pre olympics island vacation era? just some fun chill summer vibes while it's still 30+ degrees outside 🌅 thank youuuu :)

if you really wanted to hide your identity you should've converted the temperature to fahrenheit 😎 but here you go! it is very likely I'll follow this up with something smutty (you'll see why) but for now it is just silly :3

Title: Strawberry Sunscreen Pairing: Chuck Day/Roger Morris, Chuck Day & Roger Morris Rating: G Tags: Ice Cream, Pre-Slash, Fluff, just silly times with the boys Read on ao3

It’s something thrilling to be just a young man for a little while, Roger thinks. Life has been trial after time trial since he joined the UW crew team close to three years ago now, a constant pressure in the back of his mind to be good, be just a little better than he was the day before, and to live a life deserving of the faith that he’ll succeed.

For the most part, he’s done pretty well with that last one. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke, he mostly keeps on top of his coursework, and he only cusses where his coaches can’t hear. Letting loose like this, even for a week, is unfamiliar.

It’s a little easier with Chuck Day at his side - Chuck, who smokes Lucky Strikes and tells off-color jokes in the shell and out of it without a care who he might scandalize. Chuck, who makes Roger want to let his hair down, just a little bit.

So when Bobby suggests a detour to the ice cream stand across the boardwalk at Coney Island, it’s Chuck’s infections enthusiasm for the idea that persuades Roger to abandon his diet plan for just one day and follow.

They must make an odd picture, the two of them towering over the crowds of children and mothers as they cut across the stream of parkgoers towards the stand, Bobby leading them like an eager child himself. Chuck grabs hold of Bobby’s hand so as not to lose sight of him despite Bobby’s protests and, with a crooked grin over his shoulder, grabs Roger’s hand as well.

Roger likes to think he can maintain a tad more dignity in public than Bobby can, so he simply rolls his eyes and lets himself be tugged along. Chuck’s hand in his is nice - it feels illicit in a childish way, like two boys sneaking off to steal sweets from the drug store. Roger would never have done that as a child and he probably wouldn’t do anything like it now, but the idea of pulling harmless mischief with Chuck is an enticing one.

The ice cream feels illicit enough, anyway. It’s criminally sweet and perfectly cold on his tongue after an afternoon among the crowds in the stifling air of an east coast heat wave. Roger wants to savor it, let it melt in his mouth and fill his senses with sugar and the giddy rush of rule-breaking, but it is already beginning to drip down the coe and over his knuckles even as the salesgirl hands it over. Indulgence it is, then.

In the spirit of indulgence he forgoes his handkerchief in favor of licking the stray trails of sugar and cream off his fingers, ignoring Chuck’s raised eyebrow and Bobby’s “there are ladies present, you know.” He almost feels like he can do anything, say anything, like the rules have been suspended for just this one afternoon.

It’s probably the heat.

Bobby wipes his fingers on his own handkerchief with a pious air, though his twitching lips betray him. He turns to Chuck.

“Well? Will you behave like a civilized person or are you joining Roger among the ranks of heathens?”

Chuck considers for a minute, hand held up in front of him to protect his sleeve even as a drip of strawberry-flavored cream makes its way down his thumb towards his wrist. Then, with a movement too quick for Roger to block, he wipes his sticky palm on the side of Roger’s neck.

Roger yelps, both at the sudden cold and at the shock of it overall. “What was that for?”

“I lost my handkerchief,” Chuck says, with an unapologetic grin. “You’re the next best thing.”

Bobby is in fits of laughter, and even Roger can’t be angry. It’s silly, and it’s childish, but right now they’re just a gaggle of boys on an adventure. It’s alright to be silly.

He affects a pout. “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

It’s the heat getting to him, and the sugar, and the mischievous light in Chuck’s eyes as Bobby’s laughter quiets into giggles. Because, as Chuck offers up the suggestion of, “dare you to dip your handkerchief in the water off the pier,” Roger says, “dare you to lick it off me.”

Chuck stares. So does Bobby. Roger’s sunburned cheeks burn hotter. Finally, thankfully, Chuck bursts into guffaws.

“Morris, you scoundrel, you’ve been holding out on us. And here I thought you had the driest wit of any man I’ve ever met. You should have told me you’re a prankster too.”

Roger grins, not a little relieved. There’s such a thing as too uninhibited, he knows. But with Chuck, it always seems worth the risk. “It’s only for today, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Well, you know me. I love a challenge,” Chuck says. There’s not a single hint of inhibition in his sticky-lipped smile. “The day’s young yet.”

Surely Roger can break the rules a little while longer.

[fiifiadinkra]

G Ranks - Hello Smoke (Kweku Smoke Diss)

G Ranks – Hello Smoke (Kweku Smoke Diss)

G Ranks – Hello Smoke (Kweku Smoke Diss)

G Ranks takes it hard on Kweku Smoke here. It’s a Hello Smoke we have for you here and the diss is straight up piercing on point. Download it  here and get the message out of it.

Check Out : Larruso – Killy Killy (Remix) (feat. Stonebwoy x Kwesi Arthur)

G Ranks – Hello Smoke (Kweku Smoke Diss) [Download]

https://ghanandwom.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/G…

[exosmutfactory]

◤Off The Rails◢

You remembered the first time you met, passing his figure that was enveloped in a cloud of smoke; a cancerous stick held between his fingertips. You knew he was trouble, knew the chaos he comes with. Yet every time he had to skip town, you wished… he’d come back for you instead.

Originally posted by tipannies

(This is my favorite gif to date, okay. I’m a hoe for Bambi Baek)

— Pairing: You & Baekhyun

— Genre/AU: smut, angst, fluff & comedy (if ya squint),

— Word Count: 11.7k (yikes!)

— Rating: 18-21+ (M) This sh*t is filthy, I’m not even kidding, don’t @ me (just kidding, please do, I’d love to discuss 😇)

— [ Contains: dom/sub themes, degradation, unprotected sex, public sex, oral / blow job / whatever you’d like to call it, bbh goes deep in that throat ok ]

— Warnings: blood, weapons, violence (mafia!au style), mention of prostitution, and a whole lot of bad luck.

❥ New year, new smut, new me, yo. Hehe, hello! I’m back with another shame(ful)less one-shot. This one will be longer than the rest. I hope you enjoy the ride this Baekhyun emits!

❥ Ps: sorry to all spaghetti lovers out there. Don’t read this while eating or if you’re queasy. It’s not that bad, but it’s mafia au. I’ll just leave it at that :’) 💔

❥ Happy reading, readers and lovelies~ Take a peek over at aff for more goodies 🌹

⏰🚂Off The Rails Tag List:🚂⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love  @insta1010 @bellamendoza @wooya1224 @byuntrash101 @ateliersaab @geniusloey​ @blahblahblah-boo​ @taehcore​ @thegreatandi​ @kimyhappy​ @bigbobohu​ @byunbabybaek​ @byuns-asscheeks​ 

❥ Forgive me for the long plot :’)

You don’t know how you got here. Backed up against the wall of a darkened alleyway, too far away from the main street for anyone to hear you if you screamed.

Well... you actually do, but you wish you didn’t.

“Please...” your voice is a mere whisper against the ambiance of the late December air. “Please just- just one more month and I’ll have everything-”

“You said that last month, girly.” A tall, burly man steps forward from the shadows, the glint of his golden tooth making you shiver, pressing yourself further against the rough brick wall. “And the month before that.” His white, sinister grin is the only clear thing you can see in the dim lighting as his goons close in around you. “Time to,” he punches his fist into his hand, “pay up.”

In that moment, you lose your composure, swearing your late stepfather’s name loud enough for the heavens to hear. How dare that asshole take the easy way out and set you up to be the one to pay off his staggering debt of 3 million dollars? Who is foolish enough to rank up such a high price from gabbling - gabbling?! You’ve been kicked out of your house earlier today and fired from your stable job last week. There’s no way you’ll ever be able to pay it off at this rate, and now you are meeting your fate. All because of a selfish, addict-gabbling prick.

“Mother fucking, boot-licking son of a b-”

Just as the men step in front of you, a loud bang! crackles through the still night.

You freeze, squeezing your eyes shut. You know exactly what that sound was; there’s no mistaking it. The smell of gunpowder and the heavy thud of bodies falling to the ground around you only adds to your building fear. Your breath catches in your throat, something warm and sticky slides down your cheek. Breathe, you have to remind yourself, scraping your nails over the rough wall. You can handle many things, but gore isn’t your strong suit.

“The coast is clear.” A gruff voice pipes up from the entrance of the alleyway, switching off their static radio soon after. Multiple pairs of boots stomp closer to you and you can only flinch at the squish of human remains under their feet. “And then there was one…” A different voice humors.

You stay stock-still, maybe they won’t notice you. You’re wearing all black, how can they possibly see you in the darkness?

Unfortunately, your hiccup gives you away. Three sets of flashlights beam at you from beyond your eyelids. Great. Just great. Luck really isn’t on your side today. You are now faced with two options, either accept your new fate or make a break for it…

When you sense someone reaching for you, you duck your head and bolt.

“Hey!” They yell after you. You don’t even stop for a second, you pretend that the pile of bodies under your feet is merely spilled spaghetti while high-tailing it out of there. Their footsteps thunder after you on the pavement, growing fainter the more you force yourself forward. You can thank your lucky stars for running track in high school and having to avoid rabid canines on the streets of your shabby neighborhood. Everything happens for a reason, and you aren’t one to endlessly question what the universe has in store for you.

You push yourself further, working your legs to the limit for a couple of blocks. After a few twists and turns down alleyways you’ve memorized by heart, you don’t hear their furious strides and demanding voices anymore. Listening carefully to your surroundings, you slow down to a light jog, looking for a place to hide for a while. All you see are barren buildings and a lone road that stretches out for miles. “Shit,” you pant, leaning onto a collapsed building. You slowly make your way down the street, screaming on the inside at your bad luck. Every single place you come across is too dangerous to enter, with various warning signs plastered onto their boarded-up doors.

“For fuck sake.” You tangle your fingers into your hair, too pumped up on adrenaline to care about the burn on your scalp from pulling mercilessly on the tangled locks. Please. I need something. Anything. Just as you’re ready to give up, coming to terms with the fact that you will either die from the cold or the bloodied hands of strangers, you see a faint light up ahead. There… There! Just beyond a fallen wall partially hidden behind an old staircase.

You fly through the small hole in the wall, just big enough for you to fit through, and you manage to go down the steep slope of the crumbled wall without falling on your face. Your surroundings are a blur as you faintly hear a heated conversation between the men from before, coming closer to where you are. You take cover behind the first wide, stone pillar you see, stopping for a moment to catch your breath. God... what the hell was that? What has your life turned into? How could your life go from worrying about paying off student debt to running from loan sharks and other hoodlums?

“What a fucking joke.” You chuckle at your expense, resting your back against the pillar. Thankfully the group of men seems to have moved on, or at least they are not hovering around where you are anymore…

Uh, where are you exactly?

A spark of fear goes down your spine - even more so when you hear an amused chuckle that is definitely not your own.

You spin around on your heel quick enough to give yourself whiplash and raise your fists, bracing yourself for anything. Your eyes widen at your surroundings. All you see is an underground train track that goes on for miles, and a wispy cloud of smoke that is coming from more than just the freezing late night December air.

“If you think you’re being intimidating, sweetheart,” a low, raspy voice echoes across the abandoned concrete walls, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not.”

The smoke clears up for a moment, letting you catch a glimpse of the man and his midnight black hair. His eyebrows are hidden behind the length of his hair, the straight locks long enough to dangle into his droopy brown eyes. You lock eyes with those deep, brooding orbs before smoke obstructs your view of him again. “Your form is off, your shoulders are too stiff.” He lists off in a humorous tone. “You’d break your own hand before you’d break anyone’s nose, sweetheart.”

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, not ready to let your guard down yet.

He seems to be even more amused. “I go by many names,” he shares, the smoke clearing up just enough to show the quirk of his lips as he holds up a cigarette. His all-black outfit of a dark blazer, black tie, matching dress pants, and a white button-down shirt makes him stick out like a sore thumb compared to the stone pillar he’s leaning against. And to your horror, you realize he’s standing inside of the train tracks… you’re standing inside of the train tracks!

“What’s yours?” he inquires while you frantically look around for an exit.

You pause, throwing him an unamused look over your shoulder. “None of your business, creep,” you sneer, having enough of his antics. What reason does he have to hang out on an abandoned railroad anyway? Definitely not something you’re up for waiting around to find out.

He actually laughs. “You’re a feisty one, huh, sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, trying to find a way to climb back out the way you came in.

“You really are a handful, huh.” The raven sighs, lowering his cigarette and stuffing his other hand in his pocket. “I guess that is to be expected.”

“Excuse me?” your voice is higher in pitch as your anxiety reaches uncharted levels. What the fuck is this guy going on about?

“Tsk so ungrateful.” He shakes his head as the smoke clears and you realize that he has a fucking mullet while he snubs the cigarette under his boot.

Before you can reply, he’s tilting his head to the side, long strands of hair following the movement. A wishful-like smile forms on his lips. “Tell me, sweetheart.” His voice carries through the still air. He lifts up his gloved hand to reveal a gold coin. “Heads,” he flips it around, “or tails?”

You narrow your eyes, scrutinizing him for a moment. He does nothing but keep those deep brown eyes focused on you. You shrug after a while. Oh, what the hell. You’re homeless, jobless, and technically still on the run from your stepfather’s debt. You’ll play his little game; it’s not like you have anything else better to do. “Tails,” you decide, crossing your arms and lifting your chin only to freeze. A lone, echoing whistle fills the air of the abandoned railroad - or well, what you thought was abandoned.

The ground starts to shake under your feet, stray pieces of gravel and chunks of concrete jumping up like water bubbling in a pot. You start to make your way over to the man continuing to rest against the pillar without a care in the world, moving faster as the train’s whistle drowns out your voice.

He flicks the coin into the air and nonchalantly turns his head towards the train. The coin plummets to the ground, landing right in the middle of the train track. You watch in horror while he steps out to pick up the coin, briefly struggling to get it in his grip. You scream for him to move, the train close enough to cast his shadow in its light. Its tires screech in protest as if the driver has noticed you standing in the tracks-

You cover your ears and turn away, pressing yourself against the nearest pillar. The volume of the train going past nearly deafens you. Its high speed and aged machinery croaking loudly while the tracks quiver under its weight. You can do nothing but cling onto that cold, stone wall until it leaves just as suddenly as it came.

You wait until you can’t hear the train anymore before stepping back, nearly falling onto the ground in a heap. For a moment, you wonder why the tracks are still trembling until you realize it’s you that is shaking like a leaf, your knees buckling under the weight of your own emotions. Tears brim your eyes, stinging them painfully when you turn around. The wintry cold wind continues to be unmerciful while you look all over the place, trying to spot his head of black hair against your better judgment.

Something shiny on the other side of the railroad catches your eye. You slowly make your way over to it, stumbling along the way. The cold air brushes against the fresh, open wounds on your elbows, the sleeves of your old denim jacket torn in your haste to run for cover. You barely plant down your hands on the ledge in time to catch yourself before you fall, your ankle throbbing painfully under your unsupported weight. Your lips tremble, emotions from the tiring day hitting you all at once when your eyes spot the shiny object again. You reach for it, pulling it closer while roughly rubbing the blur from your eyes. Your eyes widen as the metal rests in the palm of your hand.

His gold coin; the face of a deer on one side and its rear end on the other. That isn’t why fear grips at your heart for the fourth time tonight, however. No.

It’s the fact that the coin had landed on Heads.

“That’ll be $9.65, ma’am.”

“Alright,” you mumble distractedly, dragging your eyes away from the rainy view of the backseat window. You open up your purse, searching and digging around for your wallet. Come on… The last thing you need right now is bad luck.

Earlier this week you had managed to land yourself an apartment and a new job in a local grocery store. It’s a downgrade from the office position you once had, but beggars can’t be choosers. You’re just grateful that someone took you in after weeks spent going door to door with a stack of your resume in hand. You’ve gotten so many paper cuts over the last two weeks alone that you have sworn to get a laptop as soon as you have enough money saved up.

When you do pull out your wallet, it feels lighter than it should be between your fingertips. You flip it open in a hurry, mindful of the driver tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

Right before you stepped into the back of the cab, a group of children had approached you. Anyone from miles away could tell that they didn’t come from a “well-off” home, with their tattered clothes and smudge-covered faces. They pleaded for your help, for a few dollars to buy themselves food to get through the night. You caved in. You couldn’t just walk away after hearing their cries and seeing them clutch their growling stomachs. Their little eyes had lit up when you pulled out your wallet, counting enough notes for each of them to be able to afford their own meal. If only you had paid more attention when all three of them decided to wrap their arms around you in a hug…

“Ah…” you smile nervously, looking up at the irritated driver with a sheepish expression on your face. “I… I seem to have left my wallet at home - can I run and get it?” you propose, noticing the annoyance rise on his aged face.

“No.”

“It’s right around the corner-”

The old man shakes his head, putting the car back into drive. Before you can say a word, he does an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street, tires squealing in protest as you slide onto the sidewalk for a few seconds. He roughly spins the wheel in the opposite direction to get off of the patch of black ice and zooms back down the way you came. Taking shortcuts down roads you’ve never seen before until you reach a bridge that crosses a railroad and the beginning of a highway.

“Get out.”

“I-” you protest, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. What the fuck? I’ve never been on this side of town before! “You-”

He glares at you from the rearview mirror, spitting a mouthful of tobacco into his empty beer can. “Beat it.”

You want to stand your ground, demand that he at least drop you off closer to a populated area, but something in his beady eyes dares you to utter a single word. So you bite your tongue, and climb out of the cab, already shivering from the cold wind. The old man doesn’t even wait for you to step onto the sidewalk before he revs the engine, making another illegal U-turn to speed off back the way he came.

“Asshole!” you scream after him, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. You realize too late that you have forgotten your winter coat in the back of the cab. Now standing at the side of a silent underpass, barely sheltered from the heavy rain, you really are starting to think that the universe has just decided for your luck to run out.

“Fucking dick,” you mutter, eyes stinging from your tears and the cold. Great. Your phone is dead, you’re God knows where, and your fingertips are going numb. What a perfect way to end the week. So much for a new lease on life.

After a while, you start to grow weary of the quiet underpass. No one has driven past you in the last ten minutes, car or train. Did he… drop me off at an abandoned road? You shiver at the thought, and even more so when you remember what happened to you a month ago.

Somehow, between those thirty sleepless nights and bleary mornings, you haven’t forgotten that man you met on those train tracks. Not even for a second. His brown eyes plague your thoughts, his raspy voice takes over your dreams. Sometimes you even swear you see him around town, hanging out in the shadows that reflect his mysterious aura so well-

“Achoo!” your nose and eyes burn as one. “Shit.” You hiss before letting out a sigh. There’s no use standing here like an idiot, you need to find the nearest payphone to use with the coins you keep stashed in your shirt pocket-

Coins.

You instinctively reach down inside of your shirt, flinching at the cold that touches your skin. The familiar piece of metal tucked safely next to your heart calms you down a little. It’s funny how a reminder of such a fear-inducing situation helps you find your peace.

You’ve tried to throw away that damn coin multiple times: on the train tracks, over a bridge, inside a dumpster… But every single time, you curled your fist around it as if it was some sacred trinket of a past lover. An object that you had to keep. For some reason, the thought of tossing it away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t so pretty…

A bone-chilling breeze washes over you, mercilessly freezing your exposed skin. Your teeth chatter; you quickly pull your hand out of your bra. Whatever. You need to get out of here. You can reminisce about your encounter with that infuriating stranger when you’re not becoming an icicle.

Patches of ice cling onto the sidewalk, not making your life any easier. Your choice of wearing converses today has left you in the hands of fate - the fate of slipping and sliding with every other step you take. Inconvenience or not, you’re just glad you still have shoes. Even if you have to hold onto the stone walls for support.  

“Well, well, well,” a voice echoes throughout the underpass.

You lose your footing, nearly falling face-first on the ground if it wasn’t for a nearby trash can. You whip your head around, staring at the person behind you with wide eyes. Your heart stops dead in its tracks. Oh no.

It’s a fucking biker, seated on top of a brand new motorcycle. A brand of the vehicle that you have no idea how to pronounce, but can recognize anywhere thanks to the lousy friends of your stepfather. Have they found you? Are you going to have to face those loan sharks again? You can’t help but tremble while watching the biker take off their helmet as the engine continues to purr. How the hell you didn’t hear it, you have no idea. All you know is that their all-black, leather outfit is hella intimidating...

until you see a mullet.

He slowly raises his head and those familiar, droopy brown eyes greet you from under the veil of heavy rain. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh my god, he’s alive! “Oh…” you mumble dryly, “you’re alive.” 

“That I am.” He raises a brow, a mischievous grin tugging on his lips. “It takes more than that to kill me, sweetheart.”

Yeah… right. You roll your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Business meeting.” He looks you over for a moment. “You?”

“Minding my business,” you lean against the trash can, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible. Just because you are in a dire situation doesn’t mean you’ll let him know about it. 

“‘Minding my business,’ she says,” he humors, raising another brow. “You don’t look too comfortable doing that out here.”

His words remind you of the lack of your coat. You don’t respond to prevent your teeth from chattering and giving yourself away, wrapping your sweater tighter around you.

His eyes narrow, “what are you doing on this side of town, darling?” his words are sugar-sweet, the expression on his face is not.

“Nothing,” you quip.

He pulls something shiny out of his jacket, something much bigger than a coin. “You might want to start talking, sweetheart.” His lips curl up in warning, combat knife in full view.

“I-” you gasp, staring horrified at the red stains clinging to the silver metal. “I got put out, okay?!” you yell, backing away from his murderous glare. “I-I got robbed by a group of fucking kids earlier and my cab put me out…” Just repeating what happened to you less than an hour ago has your eyes filling up with tears all over again. “God...” you hide your face in your hands, “God I’m so stupid.”

“Stupid isn’t the term I’d use,” he murmurs, carrying on despite your cries, “more like gullible.”

You stop at once, peeking at him from between your numb fingers. “Wow,” you sniff, not sure if you’re more upset at him or yourself, “how comforting of you.”

He looks into your eyes for a while. “Get on,” he commands, gesturing towards the back of the motorcycle with his chin.

“And what makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?” you can’t help but scoff, wrapping your arms around yourself. Shivering involuntarily from the drops of rain meeting your skin in the bitter wind.

“You have two options, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice, his tone filled with barely-concealed annoyance. “Either let me take you home or freeze your ass off,” he raises a brow. “Your call.”

You glare at him, warily eyeing his motorcycle. You’d have to cling onto him if you didn’t want to fly off of his bike the moment he drives off, and that’s not something you particularly want to do. But that versus the likelihood of you getting frostbite…

“Take me straight home,” you demand, stepping closer to him, the tips of your hair getting wet from the rain. “I mean it.”

The raven slowly drags his eyes to meet yours, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite identify. He wordlessly lifts up his helmet and places it on your head, surrounding you in the smell of smoke with a hint of vanilla. You bite your lip to refrain yourself from mentioning how bad smoking is; now is not the time for a life lecture. But the way his eyes drop down as if he can see your lips through the helmet’s dark tint and the flickering streetlight overhead has you feeling a lot less cold than you did two minutes ago...

“Come on,” his breath fogs up your view of him, reminding you of the first time you met while he urges you to climb on. You glare at the back of the motorcycle. It’s not just the fact that it’s his bike that has you apprehensive, it's the fact that you have never been anywhere near a motorcycle in your life. Yeah, you’ve seen them around town. Yes, you hear about biker gangs all the time - you just never dared to step foot near one of the vehicles your mother had deemed the most dangerous on the road, let alone climb on the back of one. How the hell do you mount this thing? It’s way too complex for your cold and exhausted brain right now.

After a few failed attempts to climb on - your shoes having no chance of gripping onto its rain-covered surface, the man gives a loud, suffering sigh. He throws his head back, face pinched up in utter annoyance. For once you feel bad about giving him a hard time. You’re at your wits end over here; it’s not like you are doing it on purpose!

His eyes snap open when you slip one more time, and before you can blink, his hands are on your waist, pulling you up onto the seat as if you weigh nothing.

“Hold on tight if you don’t want to fall,” he mutters lowly, ignoring your gasp. He removes his hands as soon as you are settled. You carefully wrap your arms around him, feeling your face heat up from the proximity. Something rough brushes against your chin. You lean back a little, blinking at the letter stitched onto the back of his leather jacket. “B?” you ask, tracing it with your finger.

He tenses up for a moment, seemingly surprised by your question. “Baekhyun,” he clears his throat, gripping onto the handlebars.

“Oh,” you smile, “good. I thought it was for Bernard.”

You feel more than hear the rumble of laughter in his chest when he revs up the engine, speeding away from the underpass.

You haven’t seen Baekhyun since that night. For someone who meets you in the most random of places, he sure isn’t easy to find. Maybe that’s all he is… All he’ll ever be. Someone you meet on late nights in the middle of dangerous situations. Wondering when the hell he showed up and how long before he leaves…

A loud chink brings you back to the present, you quickly catch the spinning gold coin before it can fall to the floor. The familiarity of its weight in your hand confirms the reason for your stray thoughts even further.

You have a confession to make, something long overdue: a fact that you need to accept… 

How you feel about Baekhyun.

You’re not stupid - you’re hella dumb in some parts of life, yes, but you’re not purely idiotic. You know you have the tiniest crush on him, and you know what that means. Your feelings are one-sided, your emotions are a mess. You’re that good girl slash damsel in distress falling for her mysterious, bad boy savior…

How clique, but can you help it, really? When he’s all lean muscle, broad stature, and has brown eyes you want to hide from yet fall into at the same time?

Baekhyun is bad, like the cigarettes he smokes, but you know he’s more than what meets the eye. At first glance, he’s intimidating, daring you to approach him. But if you stick around long enough, you’ll see his softer side. Still rough around the edges, but he isn’t completely heartless. And the final blow, the last straw that has you in this particular predicament…

Being in his presence is more addictive than the nicotine in his favorite brand of cigarettes. 

He’s mysterious, charming despite you rejecting him every time, and downright gorgeous to look at. With his brown eyes, button nose, slightly chapped lips, sharp jawline, and that neck. God, that long, slender neck.

-Everything that I don’t need.

You sigh, leaning your head back against your leather seat. There’s a lot of things that you don’t need, but what you do need is a drink.

With that in mind, you get up to make your way to the bar. You saw it on your way inside of the train, and now you plan to use it. Fully intending to wash away all your stray thoughts of that mullet man while on your way to a pharmacy across town. Not your best idea to go get multi-vitamins - since the store you work at has run out - but anything is better than spending another day daydreaming about dark brown eyes and a man you cannot have...

until you trip in the middle of the aisle.

A walking cane owned by an oblivious elderly lady is the only one to blame for you falling to your demise, but to make matters even worse, the train’s stewardess has returned, with a tray full of drinks. Hot drinks. Delicious coco-filled beverages meant to help passengers shake off the hands of the bitter cold beyond the fogged-up windows.

-Basically, you are fucked.

Your fall seems to happen in slow motion, seconds dragging by as you come face to face with that tray full of glasses heading your way. You close your eyes, bracing for the scorching hot liquid to burn your skin…

-only to be yanked right out of the stewardess’ path.

You gasp, landing onto someone’s lap in a heap. You brace your hands against their chest, snapping your head up, eyes widening at the familiar man in front of you. “B-Baekhyun?!”

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips curling up into a lopsided smile that knocks the wind out of you.

“I…” you don’t know what to say, you can only stare at him, blinking in disbelief. He looks just as good as he did the other day, except this time you can appreciate his leather outfit in proper lighting. The smooth material hangs onto his shoulders for dear life, most likely pushed further down from you abruptly landing on his lap. His white t-shirt is a little wrinkled, with a few rips and tears, as if snagged on the edge of something during a hasty getaway. His leather pants are cool to the touch when your hand lands on his thigh, still struggling to get up from his lap. Why hasn’t that woman moved her cane? Can’t she see that you’re struggling here through those wide-rimmed glasses of hers?!

“What do you say?” Baekhyun perks up after a while, raising a brow.

“Huh?” you blink at him, finally managing to get off of his lap and settle beside him in the seat. Drink be damned, you need to sit down for this.

Baekhyun continues to look at you with those brown eyes, pointedly arching his other brow. Your heart is still in your throat and you’re growing more frustrated by the minute. What the hell is up with him? It’s not like he saved you or some-

Your eyes widen, not even the cold air drafting from the window can cool the warmth growing on your cheeks. “T-thank you,” you cough, looking away from him. His smug ass, you want to wipe that smirk right off his handsome face.

“You kept it,” he mentions out of nowhere, prompting you to look back at him.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at the hint of surprise on his face, “what?”

Baekhyun opens his hand, revealing a coin in his palm - a coin you know all-too-well after these past two months. “Bambi,” he breathes, smiling so softly when he looks back up at you that you have to do a double-take.

“Listen, Baekhyun.” You lean closer to him, keeping your voice low. Something tells you he wouldn’t appreciate it if the whole train knew his name - then again, he could have made it up. But you aren’t up for facing the consequences if it is his name, so you make sure the conversation stays between you and him. “This…” you pause, making hand gestures between you two. “Whatever ‘this’ is,” you look him in the eye. “I’m done with it.”

“What?” he frowns, brows furrowed.

“I’m tired of playing games with you, Baekhyun,” you explain. “You always show up when I need help, flirt with me, and the minute I ask you anything, you’re gone,” you snap your fingers, “like that.”

“Some things are better left unsaid, little fawn,” he utters lowly, irritation swirling in his dark orbs. “Knowing too much can and will get you hurt.”

“I’m a big girl,” you scoff, lips curling up into a mocking smile. “Admit it, you’re scared I’ll find out that you’re all bark and no bite.” You don’t know what possessed you to be so brave, but you regret it the moment you look into Baekhyun’s eyes.

“Oh?” he raises a brow, the hard expression on his face dares you to utter another word. “You’re a big girl, huh?” you can only put your hand on his chest as a feeble attempt to push him away when he leans closer, his minty breath fanning over your face. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he voices lowers to a lifeless monotone that you never wanted to hear from him, “how much money do you think it took to keep those loan sharks from selling your ass out on the streets?”

You gasp, appalled beyond belief, feeling tears sting at your eyes despite your wishes to save face. It all makes sense... the shootout, the chasing, the railroad, the underpass… Baekhyun is everything you thought he’d be, and everything you wish he wasn’t. He’s one of them. The gangs partaking in bloodbaths to claim ownership over your worthless town. And by what happened all those months ago… he’s not just one of them, he’s a ringleader.

“I-I’m done,” your voice wavers. You bow your head, crying or not, you won’t let him see you like this. Not again. Not over something so stupid and so damn obvious you could kick yourself over it. “I’m done, Baekhyun. Thank you for all the help you’ve given me, but I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

“What do you want?” he asks. He asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

You sniff, throwing the last of your dignity out the window when your voice cracks. “I want to be left alone.”

“What if that isn’t what I want?” he tucks a finger under your chin, coaxing you to lift your head and meet his brown eyes that express more than words ever could. “What if I don’t want to leave you alone?”

“Stop playing with me,” you pull away, you can’t even bear to face him now. Or listen to that damn chink of the coin he keeps tossing in his palm.

“One more,” he urges you to look at him again. “Heads, or tails.”

“Baek-”

“If you win,” he talks over you, “I’ll leave you alone. If you lose…” he trails off, looking you dead in the eye, his voice no louder than a whisper, “I won’t.”

“Fuck you,” you sniff, shaking your head, pressing yourself against the cold window. “Your games have been rigged since day one.” You look out as the wintry landscape passes you by, your stomach turning when you notice the frozen lake below the train tracks. “Why do you do this?” you can’t help but ask. “Huh? Why do you do it? What reason do you have for this?”

Baekhyun sighs loudly, closing his eyes and holding his head in his hand. “Because you’re my favorite.”

“What?” you sit up at once. If you were a porcupine, all your needles would have launched into his ass by now. What did he mean by that? Are you some… side piece? His certain flavor of the week? Are you competing with others in some race that you didn’t even know you were in?!

Baekhyun just shakes his head, alarming you when he gets up. “Wait, Baekhyun-” you hurry after him, nearly falling over again in your haste. Last time you checked, the next stop for the train was in less than ten minutes, and something tells you that if you don’t do something now, you’ll never see him again.

He heads over to the bar you wanted to go to earlier, ordering what looks like Bourbon, and you swear you see a golden deer head attached to the center of the glass.

“Baekhyun…” you tug on his sleeve, trying to get his attention while he scrutinizes the drink in his glass. “About what you said, what-”

“That’s a nice coin you got there.” The bartender chimes in, drying a wine glass in his hand, eyeing the gold coin sitting idly on the counter. “Mind if I give it a go?”

“Be my guest,” Baekhyun mutters, rolling the drink in his hand.

“Heads,” the bartender grins, flicking it over, “or tails?”

Baekhyun looks over at you, resting his arm on the counter. “Heads.”

You stare right back at him; you know how this goes. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about flipping a coin, the losing side is always… “Tails.”

The bartender hums, grinning while the coin is in mid-air. He covers it with his hand before you can see, waiting a few moments for effect. When he finally uncovers the coin, your jaw practically drops to the floor:

Tails.

Baekhyun’s nostrils flare and he nods, leaving a tip just as an announcement of the next train stop plays overhead. He gets up and walks to collect his fedora from a coat rack without saying a word.

“Wait-” you look between him and the bartender before taking back the coin, skidding your bar stool loudly across the floor while standing up to follow him. “Baekhyun, wait!” He walks ahead of you with determined strides - determined not to give you the time of day, as he swore he would. You have to double your speed to catch up to him when he turns the corner to exit the train.

“Baek- excuse me,” you bump into various passengers, pushing past them. No one else seems to be in a hurry to step off of the train, and you have a raven head man to find before he disappears on you.

It doesn’t quite hit you until you’ve stepped off the train, how your roles have reversed. For once, you’re not the one being chased. For once, you’re willingly - willingly seeking him out. Chasing after him in your yellow trench coat that is instantly drenched under the merciless rain.

“Baekhyun!” you scream for him in the middle of the icy, deserted streets. You don’t care anymore about what he does, who he is. You just need to find him.

Thunder booms overhead, the world around you brightening up with streaks of lightning scattered across the sky, and for one time - for one last time, you swear his name up to the heavens.

“Good for nothing asshole wearing all black during a mother fucking thunder-”

Someone yanks you into an alleyway, and for once, there isn’t an ounce of fear or uncertainty in your heart.

You lift your head up to look at him as he tucks your wet hair behind your ear, leaning down to capture your blue lips in a chapped kiss that warms you up from the inside out.

Baekhyun has been coming around more often. He still is shit at picking you up from your place, but he walks you home from work - more often than not when you don’t know it's him and you feel watched for the entire journey home. He gets off on keeping you on your toes and you just let him get away with it because it’s him.

Tonight is different, however - hell, you’d even say it's special because tonight, oh tonight, Baekhyun wants to take you out. On a date.

A date on a train you don’t frequently ride, but you won’t question it. You don’t bore him with your daily endeavors and he doesn’t tell you his body count from the previous evening. If this is the only functioning dynamic you will have between you, you’ll take all you can get.

“Baekhyun~”

“You ready?” his voice rings through your phone, tickling your ear in the most pleasant of ways.

“Almost,” you muse, biting back a smile while wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder to slip on your low-platform heels. Rain, sleet, or snow, you’re on a mission tonight, and that mission is… well, you can take a guess. “Are you here?”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, but you hear a knock at your door. You smile, adding final touches to your makeup before hanging up the phone. With your clutch in hand, umbrella hanging from your finger, and a dress way too short for the middle of winter, you are ready to go.

“Coming, coming!” you yell at the impatient knocking at your door. You’re flattered by the enthusiasm, but your neighbor just put her newborn to sleep and you know what glare you’ll receive in the morning for ruining the little sleep she could get. You unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open to reveal a sharply dressed Baekhyun. The way he looks in a suit will never fail to have butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Hi,” you breathe, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Baekhyun chuckles, raising a brow with a smirk. “Hey, baby.”

Baby.

You’re either going to faint or cry, so you choose neither, closing the door behind you to be by his side instead. “Are we going by motorcycle today?” you inquire, a little too late to change anything if you must admit. Maybe you should have put shorts on underneath your dress...

Thankfully, Baekhyun shakes his head. “I rented a car.”

“Rented?” you arch a brow, “you didn’t hotwire some poor soul’s BMW, did you?”

“A Range Rover,” he mumbles.

Your neck cracks when you snap your head around to look at him. “Range Rover?!”

Baekhyun only smiles, encouraging you to link your arm with his.

It doesn’t take long to reach your destination, between the fast car and Baekhyun’s, (illegal,) driving skills, you make it to the train station in record time, and, thankfully, in one piece.

“Whoa…” you blink, peeking from under your umbrella, “is that a steam engine?”

Baekhyun nods, readjusting his fedora before closing the passenger door for you.

“I’ve only seen those from far away…” you continue, staring at the coal-filled train with astonishment. “Why are we riding on it, though? We could have taken another random train.”

Baekhyun merely hums at your endless chatter - helpless on your part. Your skin is buzzing from being near him and you’ve just arrived!

Okay, okay. Less talk, more walk. Be cool-

Anddd you slip on the icy asphalt.

“You know,” Baekhyun murmurs, distracting you from your own embarrassment. “You don’t have to fall to be in my arms, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that infamous smirk. “All you had to do was ask.”

You groan so loud you turn heads while grabbing his hand and power-walking over to the line waiting for the train. God, why does he have to be so infuriating and sexy at the same time? It’s making your head spin.

You move up the line without a hitch, thankful that it doesn’t take too long to get inside of the train once it arrives. The sooner you get out of the chilling rain, the better. You climb on board, being greeted by decorative picture frames and lively chatter within the homey cabin. To your surprise, however, Baekhyun gestures to the stewardess upfront before leading you away from everyone else to a door at the very back.

“Baekhyun..? Is this okay?” you whisper, looking around worriedly. It’s not that you don’t trust him, you just don’t want one of his mischievous schemes getting you kicked out again, or worse.

He stops in a dark corner of a cabin filled with boxes to press you against the wall, pulling you into a kiss that makes you forget everything else entirely. “Do you trust me?” he holds your face in his hands, looking into your eyes. The shadow casting over his face from his fedora adds onto that mysterious flare that riles you up all over again.

You can only nod, gulping a little when he shoots you one of those rare, soft smiles before leading you further into the back of the train. Soon you arrive at another cabin, filled with dining booths and pretty string chandeliers like the one towards the front of the train.

“Whoa…” You look around, in awe of the simple yet beautiful touches of small knick-knacks and antiques around the room.

“What do you think?” you feel Baekhyun behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s so…” you’re at a loss for words; it’s hard to describe how wholesome and warm it makes you feel, “pretty.”

“Mm.” His nose brushes over your neck, making you shiver, “like you.”

You blush all the way up to your ears.

Baekhyun takes a seat, sitting with his back facing the front of the train to your surprise. You’d think they’d teach mafia guys not to sit with their back exposed or something. You move to sit across from him only to feel his hand wrap around your wrist, wordlessly beckoning you with his brown eyes to sit next to him. And who are you to deny?

“This place is really nice,” you run your hands over the tabletop, marveling at how crisp and clean the table mat is, “where did you find it?”

“Asked around,” he shrugs, folding his arms behind his head.

“Oh,” you leave the conversation at that, having been around him long enough to recognize when you’re stepping into uncharted territories. The last thing you want to do is ruin the time you and Baekhyun spend together - especially when it’s your ‘first date.’ You tuck your hands between your thighs, sticking to your side of the booth. Even after three months of meeting him and a few weeks of getting to know him, being in close proximity with Baekhyun hasn’t gotten easier. Blame your bashfulness on the indifferent aura constantly around his broad form.

“Good evening!” someone perks up out of nowhere, making you jump. You turn around, looking wide-eyed at the young man stepping through the door. His name tag on the front of his uniform and the notepad in his hand calms you down a little, but your heart is still in your throat. Geez, you inwardly roll your eyes - at yourself or Baekhyun, no one really knows. Probably both.

Baekhyun shifts next to you and you freeze. Thanks to your panic, your body is completely pressed against his. Well shit... You need to do something - would it be rude if you moved away? The warmth of his body is too much to handle, your face will burst into flames at this rate.

“What can I get you today?” the waiter asks you with big eyes, clicking open his pen. The way he looks at you doesn’t help your situation at all.

Baekhyun turns to you, raising a brow. Something about the way his jaw clenches comes off as a warning to you.

“A-ah!” you smile, hurrying to pick up one of the menus you failed to notice earlier. You scan your eyes over the pages quickly but carefully, mindful of the other two pairs of eyes set on you. Um... can you look away? Staring into the side of your face won’t make you decide faster, in fact, it makes you have to reread the same page again. Do they have nothing else better to do?! 

Finally! you set the menu down, feeling like you’ve struck gold when you find your favorite drink and meal. “I’ll have this with extra fries, please.” Hopefully, the waiter will leave soon, there’s only so much staring you can take before you sweat out your hair. The quicker you order, the faster he’ll leave.

“No problem!” the waiter smiles, not even looking down while scribbling your order onto his notepad. “Anything else?”

“I’ll have what she’s having.” Baekhyun joins in, his voice deeper than usual.

“Y-yes, sir.” You can only imagine the look he’s giving the poor waiter until a cold hand lands on your inner thigh. You gasp, banging your knee on the table.

“Are you okay, Miss?” the waiter focuses on you again, pen not even pressed to his paper.

“I-I’m good!” you reassure, trying to play it off as best you can as if Baekhyun’s wandering hand isn’t sliding up your thigh. “Just slipped,” you lie, shooting him a warning look. He only grins in reply, biting his lip and playing with the edge of your underwear.

“Okay,” the waiter glances down at his notepad and looks back at you with a sheepish expression, “um let me repeat what I have to make sure I got everything right.”

Baekhyun grunts in reply, slowly rubbing your folds through your underwear. 

Mother fucker. You clench your fists, holding onto the bottom of your dress, trying to be discreet while shooing his hand away. You breathe heavily when he presses his palm flat against you, having to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a moan.

The waiter repeats your order, having to fix it three times. Is he just having a bad day or are you having a bad life because you are not keeping it together with Baekhyun’s fingers slipping under the hem of your panties. Your wet core shows no resistance to his slender fingers sliding inside of you. You bite back a gasp, gripping his thigh as he lightly taps your clit. The rumble in his chest makes your cheeks flush; you’re struggling to keep quiet over here and he’s getting off on it.

“Anything else?” the poor waiter asks, oblivious to what’s happening underneath the very booth you’re sitting at.

Baekhyun turns to you then, all nonchalant as if he isn’t knuckle-deep inside your pussy. “Anything else, baby?”

Baby. Yep. You know you’re in deep shit.

“N-” it takes all your willpower not to moan when he crooks up his fingers just right, you don’t even want to imagine the expression that’s on your face right now. “N-no, that will be all.”

Baekhyun flashes another one of those rare little smiles your way while the waiter departs from your secluded cabin, and you can’t help but beam back at him, proud to have evoked such emotion out of him - until your lips tremble, thighs shaking under the work of his merciless fingers. You’re so close you can taste it, or maybe that’s just the tears slipping out the corner of your eyes.

Baekhyun doesn’t stop when your nails dig into his thigh, in fact, he goes even faster, egged on by how hard you’re trying not to make a sound. The slick noises of his digits driving into your weeping cunt are enough to echo around the confined room, pushing you closer to the edge. Just as you’re there, stomach coiled tight, back arched like a broken bedspring, he fucking pulls his fingers out.

You turn to him with tears in your eyes as your high vanishes quicker than an extinguished flame, ready to give him a piece of your mind. The words die on your lips when you notice him holding his dick in his hands, using your slick to tease around his tip.

“What do you say?” his voice comes out husky, scorching in lust while looking at you with his dark brown eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, flushing all over again at the way he looks at you.

Baekhyun smirks devilishly, pausing in stroking his lubricated cock. Then, he spreads his legs, his dress pants straining against his sturdy thighs. “Come show me how thankful you are.”

You don’t know how you do it, but somehow you manage to climb under the booth with the little space you have in between the chair and the table, shuffling closer to Baekhyun’s waiting cock on your aching knees. You’ve only been on the cold, hardwood floor for a few moments and you already know you’ll have matching bruises on your knees for days, but you don’t mind. Not for him.

You pause in the realization that this is the first time you’ve seen his cock, and damn is it pretty. Why does he have to be perfect all over and ruin every other man for you? Who gave him the right? The sting on your scalp brings you back to the task at hand, Baekhyun’s fingers brushing your hair out of the way so he can see when his cock enters your mouth. It hurts like a bitch, and yet… It ignites the fire between your legs all over again. Especially when he moans at the first touch of your tongue swirling around his tip, tightening his grip on your hair. You could get drunk off of his moans - you could get drunk off of him period.

Praises fall from Baekhyun’s lips as you lower your mouth onto his shaft, tears brimming your eyes when he hits the back of your throat. But you push yourself onward; you take a deep breath and relax your jaw to cram the rest of his cock in until his fine hairs tickle your nose.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun groans, jerking his hips, aiding you in fitting that last little bit of his cock down your throat. He holds you there for a while, until you choke, throat constricting around his length.

“Good girl,” he whispers, tracing the bulge in your throat with his fingertips. “Fuck, such a good girl.” He groans. “My perfect little cock slut.”

You preen under his praise, pulling back for a much-needed breath when he releases you. The little moan he lets out when you flick your tongue over his slit just makes you hungry for more - hungry for him; his eyes, moans, cock, and everything that makes him, him. You bob your head faster, lathering the prominent vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. His breathy gasps and low grunts have you in a frenzy. No matter how much your throat burns and eyes well up with tears, you’re on a mission to give him the best suck of his life.

Baekhyun is in heaven by how loud he’s getting, fucking further into your throat. He swears under his breath when you lock eyes with him. “Fucking perfect,” he breathes, swiping under your eye with his thumb.

You moan, noting how his movements falter, hips jerking erratically and cock throbbing on the back of your tongue. The thought of him finishing in your mouth turns you on more than you’d like to admit, and the thought of him shoving it down your throat…

Suddenly, Baekhyun’s grip on your hair turns brutal, bringing tears to your eyes when he yanks your head back. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, another voice fills the empty cabin.

“Here are your drinks!” the waiter walks up to the booth, the tips of his shoe inches away from your hidden form under the table. “Sorry for the wait.”

Feeling brave, you lean forward, lapping at the head of Baekhyun’s cock.

“It’s fine.” He gruffs, tapping his fingers on the table and clearing his throat. You hear his breath hitch when you take him in deep again; his thighs tense up under your wandering hands. Seeing him like this makes you smirk around his dick in your mouth, tracing the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. He’s twitching more and more in your mouth by the minute.

“Your order will be out shortly.”

Before the waiter can take a step back, Baekhyun’s gripping your hair once again, shoving you so far down his cock that your nose touches his pelvis. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out why; the spasms on your tongue are immediate. He fills up your throat with his cum, bringing tears to your eyes from the endless spurts of his release. You try your best to not choke and give yourself away.

“Thank you,” he says softly; the breathy tone of his voice has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, swallowing every last drop he has to offer. You wait until you hear the door close behind the waiter before pulling off of him, gasping for air; you already know your throat is going to be fucked in the morning, and not by his cock.

Baekhyun detangles his fingers from your hair, smoothing it down in a gentle manner that leaves your heart and pussy quivering as one. “Come here.” He grunts, urging you out from under the table.

You crawl out on shaky hands and knees, looking up at him only to gasp, clutching onto his arms when he pulls you off of the floor, “what-”

Baekhyun’s lips crash to yours. “You.” He hisses, gripping your waist and sitting you on top of the table. “You little minx.”

You can’t help but giggle, pointedly licking your lips while he wraps your legs around his waist. His unwavering gaze makes you ache between your legs and goosebumps cover your skin. “What about it?” you murmur, tugging him closer by his tie.

Baekhyun’s eyes are like two deep pools of mahogany wood, swirling with excitement and lust. He presses his index and middle fingers to your lips, eyes blazing in heat when you don’t even hesitate to take them into your mouth. A chuckle falls from his kiss-swollen lips. “Let’s see how fast that pussy can come before the waiter gets back.”

A hint of worry sparks in your chest, making your breath hitch, blinking wide-eyed at him. Are you really about to get dicked down in public? On a train nonetheless? Where any passenger or employee could walk in at any moment? You’re left shocked by how wound up the thought makes you; the possibility of someone finding you spread out for Baekhyun, too blissed out in pleasure to care... You barely held it together with his fingers inside of you earlier, you can only imagine what that cock can really do.

Before you can utter a word, he’s yanking your underwear out of the way, guiding his cock into your weeping core. The stretch of his thick cock has your jaw dropping, hands gripping the edge of the table when he slams inside of you. Baekhyun doesn’t even give you a moment to adjust, he goes straight for fucking your brains out.

It takes all your might to keep quiet. You hold onto the table for dear life, sucking on his fingers to muffle your moans, and Baekhyun isn’t having any of it.

“Let me hear you.” He whispers, spreading his fingers to keep your mouth open. You’re in no position to deny him with the way he’s pounding into your cunt - as if you’d ever want to. Anything he wants, he gets. Baekhyun is taking you to the seventh heaven with every thrust and swirl of his hips, and you have no complaints on how he’ll get you there. 

The squelch of your arousal coating his cock, loud creaks of the table, and his balls slapping against your ass fills the room with the filthy sounds of sex, bringing you to a dangerous peak. Being denied an orgasm earlier has left you way too high strung to fight against the wave about to wash over you. You try not to bite down on his fingers while feeling the pressure build in your stomach.

“You might want to come, sweetheart.” Baekhyun pipes up in a humorous tone, tightening his grip on your hips. “Your loverboy is coming.”

Your eyes snap open, you don’t even remember when you closed them as you frantically look around, craning your neck to see the silhouette of someone approaching the door to your cabin. Shit. Arousal and fear grip your heart all in one. You’re tempted to just tell Baekhyun to stop to save yourself the embarrass-

“Come on,” he whispers, slipping his fingers from your mouth to slide his hand down between your legs. “Don’t be shy.”

You bite on your lip hard enough to bleed while meeting his eyes, clenching around him when he lifts your hips to slam into that spot that has your mouth falling open.

“That’s it.” He grunts, rubbing vigorously on your clit. The little smirk on his face and mischievous glint in his eyes push you further over the edge. “Come for me, slut. Drench this cock for everyone to see.”

You start to say something - to tell him to stop or keep going, you have no idea. All you know is that one minute you’re watching the waiter open the door, and in the next, the train skids to an abrupt halt. Tires squealing in protest while the coil in your stomach unravels faster than Baekhyun flickering open his lighter to ignite a cigarette.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, heightened by Baekhyun continuing with his earth-shattering pace. All you can hear is the ringing in your ears when your thighs slam shut, trembling as you dig your heels into his lower back. He doesn’t stop for a second to let you cool down when you reach the tail-end of your climax.

“What do you say?” he pants, hovering his thumb over your clit. You catch a glimpse of his wet hair sticking to his forehead under the shadow of his fedora while the shrill screams of the other passengers on the train reach your ears.

“T-” you have no idea how he expects you to be able to talk much less think under the works of his unrelenting hips. Just when you think it can’t get even worse, (or better, as you hate to admit,) he’s back to roughly rubbing your clit. “T-Thank you,” you choke out, arching your back. The force of the pressure building in your stomach this time is stronger than the last. It feels so good it almost hurts - especially when he shifts to rest your right leg on his shoulder.

“Tsk coming again?” Baekhyun grins, the wind and rain whipping from the open doorway behind him casting him in a misty glow. “What a greedy whore you are,” he murmurs.

Before you fall over that blissful, yet frightening edge, you start to notice the signs: his sloppy thrusts, tightening grip, and the clench of his jaw.

“J-Just for you,” you pull him closer, purposely clamping your walls down on him, the sway of his hips when he falls out of rhythm egging you on. “Only for you.”

Baekhyun sucks in a breath, holding you down to the table, watching intently as your wet cunt spasms around his cock. “Fuck.” He growls, throwing his head back. You shake under the force of your orgasm, pulling him closer. “Fuck!” with one last, hard thrust, Baekhyun trembles, filling you to the brim with warm spurts of cum. The sensation is enough to make your toes curl, warmth bursting in your chest, the feeling leaving you content. You have little time to enjoy it, however, because the table gives one last, aching croak before falling out from under you.

You scream, gripping onto Baekhyun. His quick hands grab the back of your thighs, tugging you onto his lap when he sits back down with a huff. “Shit...” he chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eye. “Guess this piece of shit is old after all.”

You know you should say something, but your attention is elsewhere. Between watching sweat slide down his chest from his messily unbuttoned shirt and his cock twitching inside of you, you’re more than a little preoccupied at the moment.

Baekhyun sits up after a minute, “let’s get out of here.” He tries to grin, but something is off in his smile while he swivels his head around, hurrying to pull you off of him. You stumble over a little, taking two steps away from the booth before your legs give out. Baekhyun swoops you up into his arms without a word, carrying you bridal style out of the cabin that reeks of sweat and sex. His wide strides make for a very rough ride within his arms. “Baekhyun,” you look up at him, confused at the hint of panic on his face. “What’s wrong-”

He doesn’t even walk back to the main cabin. He turns left and fucking leaps clean off of the train, hitting the ground running. Climbing up the steep hill alongside the railway. You’re even more confused at his hurry. “Baek-”

“Cover your ears.” He demands.

For once, you do what he says without complaint. And your hands do little to drown out the explosion that makes you jump in his arms. Baekhyun keeps running while you peek over his shoulder, staring horrified at the train that has burst into flames.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” he sets you down at a bench a few feet away. “Stay here while I grab my bike.”

“Baek-” you keep glancing back at the fire, watching it envelop the field in flames. “But-”

He crouches down to look you dead in the eye. “Stay. Here.”

You quickly nod, urging him to go on. Now is not the time to argue. You need to get out of here and you need to get out of here now. If only you could fucking walk. You swear you can feel the heat waves coming off the fire.

A loud roar rings out into the empty clearing. You’ve never been more relieved to hear the loud-ass engine of Baekhyun’s motorcycle heading towards you. “Get on!” he yells, holding out his helmet, waiting for you.

Looking back at the fire nearing the bench you’re sitting on, you use every last ounce of strength you have left in your jelly-like legs to climb onto the back of his bike. Baekhyun waits until you strap on the helmet before speeding off, leaving the ablaze train and burning field in the dust.

You cling onto him like a lifeline, hiding in his back to shelter your face from the icy rain. Funny how you just began to appreciate the cold after encountering that inferno. If you had to choose between that and shivering under the rain, you’d gladly tremble like a wet rat.

Baekhyun doesn’t speak for the entire ride, wordlessly navigating down endless alleyways and streets until you start to recognize your surroundings. As shabby as your apartment is, you’re so damn glad to be back home.

Baekhyun pulls up to the curb, slowly climbing the hill your place resides on. You breathe a sigh of relief, hugging him briefly before stepping off of his bike.

“Thank you for tonight,” you scan the street, confused to not find a single soul outside this time of night. You glance back at him, managing a smile, “wanna come up?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Busy,” he insists. Something in the air tells you that there’s more to that simple word.

“Okay,” you chirp, not wanting the night to end. Crazy train explosions and all, you’re not ready to let go of him yet. “When are you free? Tomorrow? Next week?”

Baekhyun turns off the motorcycle, slowly climbing off of it before making his way to you. Every step he takes feels like a goodbye, and you don’t understand why…

“I have to skip town,” he drops, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“W-why..?” you falter.

“They found me,” he shrugs.

“How?”

“How do you think?” he snaps, the flickering street light reflecting the anger in his dark brown eyes.

“I…” Him? Having to leave town? To leave you? You can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

“They found me.” Baekhyun sighs, running his hand through his hair. “They found me and traced it back to you.”

Your heart stops, something tells you that you don’t want to know who they are, or what they’d do if they come for you. After the situation with your stepfather, you are even more wary of being in the Mafia’s eye.

Baekhyun takes a step closer, standing in front of you. “They caught onto me, little fawn.” He cups your cheeks in his hands, “and I can’t bring them to you...” He pauses as if carefully choosing his words. “You deserve better than that.”

“No,” you’re automatically shaking your head, holding his hand to your cheek. “I don’t care.”

“Bambi-”

“I don’t-”

“Well I do!” his thunderous tone is loud in the quiet night. “I do,” he softens, brushing away a tear from your cheek, “and I can’t let you throw your life away for someone like me.”

“Baekhyun,” you can’t - you literally cannot right now. “You can’t do this.”

“I can,” he straightens up, determination in his low voice, “and I will.”

“B-But,” you grab onto his wrist, blabbering and fighting back tears like the coward you are. “C-Can’t I go with you? Can’t you take me-”

“No.”

The finality in those words hurt more than any other heartache you’ve ever felt in your life.

Baekhyun turns to head back to his bike but stops in his tracks, looking back at you. He walks to you again, pulling something out of his pocket. Something shiny that catches your eye...

“Keep this,” he lowers his voice, wanting an audience with you and only you. “Keep this and the memory of me close to your heart.”

You don’t even try muffling your sobs, because he is your heart.

Baekhyun slips the coin into the palm of your hand, and you ball your hand up into a fist, finding comfort in its contours and shapes that you know by heart.

“W-will you come back one day?” you can’t help but ask, your view of his broad back growing blurrier by the second.

Baekhyun looks back at you and he nods, a solemn smile on his handsome face. “One day,” he promises. “Remember me, okay?”

You watch him climb onto his motorcycle, trying to memorize every part of his face, his voice, his presence growing farther and farther away. All you can offer him is a small nod, plastering a shaky smile on your face.

Baekhyun smiles, and for the first time, you see a spark of unmistakable affection in his brown eyes. “I hope the sun doesn’t rise while I keep my eyes closed,” he whispers, yet somehow you hear it; the words caressing your tear-stained cheeks like the cold wind. That’s what he is, after all: your night. Your hero when the rest of the world turned its back on you. The one you could only spend time with during those few hours before the sun rose again.

A smile cracks at your lips and a chuckle escapes you despite the sadness entrapping your heart. “See you, Peter pan.”

Baekhyun tips his fedora, his eyes crinkling when he smiles, and you watch him start his engine, driving back down the road you’ve watched him drive up so many times.

You roll the coin around in your hand, taking deep, shaky breaths. The unfairness of the situation dawns on you in waves.

It’s so unfair - he’s so unfair.

There are over seven billion people on earth, yet you know in your heart that you’ll never meet another him, you wouldn’t dream of meeting another Baekhyun. You can’t forget him, he’s engraved in your heart, tattooed on your mind...

It’s so unfair... because all it takes is another pretty little thing for him to forget you.

“For some reason, the thought of tossing it away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t so pretty…”

-More like:

“For some reason, the thought of tossing him away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if��he wasn’t so pretty…”

Come on, OC, we know you’re whipped for Baekhyun :’)

Hi guys! So that was the long asf Bambi inspired one-shot I’ve been planning since last month. I honestly expected this to come out as 4k at best. I don’t know what the heck happened, but I hope it was a good read? Let me know! My ask box is always open. I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰

By the way… 👀 anyone up for a part 2? My schedule is packed, but damn if I don’t miss Rattlesnake already 🥺

Who’s Rattlesnake you ask? Well well well then, you should check out Mafia!Baekhyun from this universe’s present/future in Need.

-Yes I plan to write a whole mafia fic eventually :'DDD my drafts are screaming at me rn-

Thank you for reading, everyone! I’m running away now to do my walk of detailed plot and smutty shame :’D Stay happy, healthy, and hydrated! (>.<) See you next time!~

[eugenesmorphine]

Hello there! Can I request a Dick Winters imagine where the reader knows Dick likes her *because of the comments* and she likes him back but she is tired of waiting for him to come to her and say he has feeling for her so she decides to make the first move.

Soulmates // Richard Winters Imagine

An: okay! So I am so so sorry I haven't been active. And I feel bad because I never really said anything. But many things have been happening in my life that caused me to lose motivation. But I am back! And I will begin to write all the requests made and work on my Generation Kill fic!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @floydtab @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @punkgeekchic @joesliebgott @adamantiumdragonfly

Words: 1,966

The officers sat within a run down building. Lieutenant L/N sat twiddling her fingers. She was bored. Extremely bored. There was nothing to do. Not even any paperwork! Which the female was willing to do at this moment. Anything would be better than just sitting in a chair for hours waiting for some type of order from the higher ups. 

   Y/N was a young, female Army officer. Full of life and humor. Compared to the other officers, she was like the life of the party. Very similar to George Luz. Though, her humor and liveliness has gotten her into trouble before for different reasons, she never let it affect her. 

  When a familiar officer, and close friend walked in, she smiled. Knowing that she wasn't about to be as bored as she just was. "Speirs!" she shouted as jumped up. A smile on her face as she walked on over. The Captain jumped slightly at the loud calling of his name. Looking over at the smaller female officer that was walking up to him. 

  "What's up, short stack?" he asked. His voice in the usual grumpy yet calming way. Y/N ran a hand over her face and groaned softly.

  "I'm bored. Any orders yet or any words from Winters if we are moving out yet?" she asked desperately.  Ronald just shook her head and walked past her. The two had a sibling kind of bond. Strangely enough. He was nicer to Y/N and watched out for her, knowing how most of the men treated women in general. Though, they stayed professional.

  The female Paratrooper groaned loudly. "I hate just sitting around when there literally is an entire war to fight," she groaned as she sat back down on her small chair. Speirs chuckled softly as she turned to look back at her. Shooting up an eyebrow.

  "Why don't you talk to your future husband about it?" He teased. Y/N's head shot up and her cheeks became dusted with pink. Knowing exactly who he was talking about. Y/N just turned her head away.

  "You know we aren't like that, Speirs," she said softly. Deep down, the female trooper knew how the higher ranked officer felt about her. There was no denying. Though he was known not to have the most out going sense of humor and was very professional most of the time. But, the lasting eye contact during meetings, the subtle flirting whilst the two were alone. And even that one secretive steamy night alone in one of the houses back in England that still made Y/N's face turn red just thinking about. That was a night that would always replay in the back of her mind. Though the two didn't speak to one another often. The tension and internal emotions were just seeping from the two of them. And everyone knew it. Like everyone. Just no one said anything.

   Ronald scoffed slightly. "Why don't you just make the first move. And i don't mean some subtle flirting or whatever that night was back in England a few months ago-" Y/N cut her fellow officer with a punch in the arm. "Well, what I'm trying to say. Is that even though I might seem mean and intimidating, but listen to my words of wisdom. If you don't figure out what you and Dick are, or what you guys are going to ever be before this war is over. And if you two go home your separate ways, you could lose everything and anything. Do you really want to do that to yourself?" he asked. Almost leaving Y/N in a small state of shock.

   His small speech really got her thinking. He was right. She was tired of the no real moves in the making. She couldn't really find an answer to Ronald's question. She just stood there for a moment, averting his gaze because she knew he was right. Ron just patted her shoulder lightly and put his helmet on his head, turning on the heels of his boots and walking out of the building. Leaving Y/N just standing in the room alone, staring down at her boots. Beginning to chew on the inner lining of her bottom lip. Maybe she would finally make the big decision. Or maybe she wasn't. All Y/N knew is that she was going to be thinking a lot the next few hours.

///

  Night had fallen on the makeshift base. Y/N was still sitting outside, staring up at the sky. She would've never thought that a guy like Richard Winters would have her so strung up on even figuring out how to talk to him. 

   Letting out a heavy sigh as she rested her elbows on her knees. Emotions were hard. Whether she was in high school or now in the Army as a Lieutenant. Y/N pushed herself up so she was standing, brushing the little dirt that laid on her off by wiping them on her trousers. She sighed once more as she came to the conclusion of what she wanted to do. Pulling a pack of cigarettes and placing one between her lips and lighting it. Taking a long and hard drag and letting the smoke flow around her lungs before exhaling into the cold air.

  Y/N turned on her heels and began walking to where Richard would be. Her boots softly pounding on the gravel roads as the female made her way to the desolate but slightly bigger building. As the trooper walked, she took in the soothing silence of the night. It was rare. Not even a single mortar round being fired in the distance. It was nice. She took it in while she still could. Who knew was the next time to get even just a few minutes of peace and quiet.

  When the female soldier made it to the front door of the building. She paused for a moment before forcing herself to grab the door's handle and open it, pushing it ope slowly. Trying to not to awaken anyone that was asleep. Closing the door behind her just as cautiously. Turning around to slowly make her way upstairs, walking up to the door that was dimly lit from the light behind it. 

  'Should I be doing this?' Y/N thought to herself as she looked down at her boots for a second. 'Is it going to be worth it?' She sighed as her head got lifted and made her mind up right then and there. Raising her hand to knock on the door. Three knocks. Lowering her hand back down against her side. 

  "State your name and business," a familiar voice came from within. Taking a deep breath before opening her mouth to respond. 

  "Lieutenant L/N. Hear to speak with you, sir," Y/N responded. Beginning to fidget with her fingers and finger nails. The sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps quickly approaching the door. Staring at the wooden door and when it opened, her face was met with her superior officer's chest. Looking up at him and meeting his eyes. Richard had a small smile on his lips and small dusting of red on his cheeks.

  "Hello, Y/N. What brings you to speak to me about?" he asked. Moving out of the way to let the woman into his office. She smiled and gave a small nod to the taller man as she walked in. Trying her best to control her heart as it felt like was going to leap out of her chest at any moment. Walking into the small office that was illuminated by just a small lamp, but it did the job.

  Y/N leaned against the ginger's wooden desk and looked at him. Watching as he shut the door and turned to look at the woman. A small smile still rested on his lips. Y/N didn't know whether to smile or not. She just wanted to get straight to the point.

  "Richard, what are we?" she asked. Catching the superior officer by surprise.  His eyes widening slightly and he puffed out his cheeks. Of course he knew what she was talking about, but he didn't exactly know how to come about it.

  "Wh-what do you mean, Lieutenant?" he asked, his voice now in a slightly higher pitch as he rubbed the back of his neck. The female trooper's back straightened and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

   "Dick, don't play stupid. You are a smart man and we both know that," she huffed. Crossing her arms and looking back down at her boots. Richard decided in his mind that it was probably best to cut the shit and stop acting like a child and the man he is. I mean come on. This man leads men into war each day and is incredibly smart, but can't deal with his emotions when it comes to liking a girl. While thinking, Richard realized that he was quiet for a little too long. 

  "You're just going to pretend that what happened between us, the.. the flirting. The way we look at each other. And that night back in England," Y/N paused for a second, her voice quiet when it came to the last sentence. "You're really going to pretend that it never actually happened?" though her voice might've been quieter than before, the hurt was still clear within the words. Making Dick mentally cringe at how foolish he had been acting. Pressing his lips together he walked up to her. The awkward tension in the air was as thick as dead Kraut's blood. 

  "I'm sorry.." he said. He realized he was wrong. He always had. But he just couldn't help it. In the beginning of all of this with the war, back in Toccoa, sneaking around wasn't all that bad. But progressively, as the war went on. And the more death Dick had seen, the worse it got. The redhead had gotten so caught up in the fact of losing the one he loved most, he stopped paying attention to the fact that she wasn't dead. And was still alive with him. "I was acting like a child.. I-I care about you dearly, Y/N. Though, I was scared if I cared too much and with all this love going on, I would end up getting you killed," Richard finally admitted.  Sighing as he looked anywhere but the woman leaning against his desk.

   Y/N heard the word 'love' in his words and her face softened. Walking up to him and grabbing his face gently. Turning his face to have him look at her fully. A soft smile coming to her lips. "You would never get me killed, and you know that. We have spent too long denying the fact that we are meant for each other," she said softly. "I am willing to risk anything for you, Richard. Even my life," Y/N whispered to him. Causing Winters to smile. All of his past worries slipping away as she smiled up at him. His entire world standing in front of her.

  "Can I tell you something?" Richard asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His right hand going up to cup her cheek. 

   "As long as I can ask something of you, Dick," Y/N responded. Beaming up at him. Her eyes so full of life. Like she was a teenager all over again.  Richard nodded in response of her request.

  "I swear when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life," he whispered. His lips only centimetres from hers. Richard's smile still present. As was Y/N's. Just before pressing her lips against his, her arms draped over her lover's shoulders and whispered:

   "Don't forget the day we met. It changed history at least for me."

  To which Richard merely responded:

"I would never dream of it, Y/N."

[onetwann]

http://onetwann.blogspot.com/2020/06/presenting-summermadness-xi-2020.html

TWANN's SUMMERMADNESS XI (2020) 001/ Jorja Smith - Rose Rouge 002/ Branko - SDDS 003/ IAMNOBODI - Savior 004/ BJ The Chicago Kid - Feel the Vibe (feat. Anderson .Paak) 005/ REMI - For Good (feat. Sampa the Great) 006/ Khruangbin & Leon Bridges - C-Side 007/ Skinshape - Sua Alma (feat. D’Alma) 008/ Juls & Agent Sasco (Assassin) - Slow Down 009/ Burna Boy - Odogwu 010/ Rema - Dumebi 011/ Tres & Busy Twist - Ya Yo 012/ Bella Alubo - Aiya 013/ Tito Puente - Hong Kong Mambo 014/ Rosalia de Souza - Bossa 31 015/ ISoul8 - Speak Your Word (feat. Rasiyah & Osunlade) 016/ LION BABE - Hot in herre 017/ Doja Cat - Say So (Zikomo remix) 018/ Jamie Isaac - Next to Me 019/ Neck - Warm Wind 020/ Silk City - Loud (feat. GoldLink & Desiigner) 021/ Bas - Amnesia (feat. Ari Lennox & Kiddominant) 022/ Hermitude - Onefourthree (feat. Buddy & BJ the Chicago Kid) 023/ KOTA the Friend - Long Beach (feat. Hello O’Shay & Alex Banin) 024/ Tom Misch & Yussef Dayes - Nightrider (feat. Freddie Gibbs) 025/ D Smoke - Top of the Morning 026/ YBN Cordae - RNP (feat. Anderson .Paak) 027/ Sticks - Solo 028/ Akwasi - Het komt Goed (Palm Wine) 029/ Jorja Smith - Be Honest (feat. Burna Boy) 030/ Pato Ranking - Feeling 031/ JD Reid - YE DUB 032/ Subatomic Soundsystem & Screechy Dan - Champion Sound (Roots 7” mix) 033/ Mafia & Fluxy - Tribute to Hugh Mundell 034/ Lila Ike - Sweet Inspiration (DUB) 035/ Chop Daily & Fya Nya -  Pretty Pretty 036/ Koffee - W (feat. Gunna) 037/ Erick Di - Juntos 038/ Rema - Dumebi (VANDALIZED edit) (feat. Jarreau Vandal) 039/ Skip Marley & H.E.R. - Slow Down (P2J remix) 040/ Muse Maya - Carioca 041/ Jesse Baez - Pantera 042/ 53 Thieves - Dreamin’ 043/ FKJ - Risk (feat. Bas) (Galimatias version) 044/ The Last Artful, Dodgr - HOT 045/ ROMderful & Shakka - Run Tings (feat. Dounia) 046/ Emotional Oranges - Westcoast Love 047/ Adina Howard - Freak like Me 048/ Nicole Bus - With You 049/ Black Moon - Buck ‘em Down (Da Beatminerz remix) 050/ Soulchef - Brazilian Summer 051/ A Tribe Called Quest - Keep it Moving 052/ Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth - In the House 053/ The Professionals (OhNo & Madlib) - I jus wanna 054/ Anderson .Paak - Lockdown 055/ Chromeo - ‘Roni got me stressed out 056/ Phony Ppl - Fkn Around (feat. Megan Thee Stallion) 057/ Tim Wes - Face Me 058/ XIX Presents - Freeek (feat. Ro James & Kranium) 059/ Jarreau Vandal - Nothing Nice (feat. Kojey Radical & Gaidaa) (Smooth Operator 3000 mix) 060/ Jarreau Vandal - Ginger Tea 061/ Lady Donli - Good Time (feat. Tems) 062/ Free Nationals - Time (feat. Mac Miller & Kali Uchis) 063/ MXXWLL - Smoke W U (feat. Aloe Blacc) 064/ The Game - Stainless (feat. Anderson .Paak) 065/ 2Chainz - It’s a Vibe (feat. Ty Dolla $ign, Trey Songz & Jhene Aiko) 066/ Ywnlkasnb - Levels (feat. JuTheKing) 067/ RIMON - Got My Back (feat. Denzel Curry) 068/ Full Crate - Getaway (feat. Latanya Alberto & UHMEER) 069/ Ty - Groovement (pt1) 070/ Bakar - Hell N Back 071/ Thundercat - Dragonball Durag 072/ Maxo - Strongside 073/ Jay Electronica - Fruits of the Spirit (feat. Steve Wyreman) 074/ Black Thought - Conception (feat. Reek Ruffin) 075/ CJ Fly - SHOW YOU 076/ Kaytranada - DO IT 077/ Snakehips - Summer Fade (feat. Anna of the North) (Channel Tres mix) 078/ True Vibenation - Tell Me 079/ Juls - Soweto Blues (feat. Busiswa & Jaz Karis) 080/ Niniola - Magun 081/ Shanique Marie - Breezy Day (Flava D mix) 082/ Popcaan - Family (Champion Sound Dub) 083/ Jayda G - Both of Us 084/ Folamour - Ya just need 2 believe in easel 085/ Voilaaa - Women Can Do (feat. Ayuune Sule) 086/ Burna Boy - My Money, My Baby 087/ Tiana Khasi - Whole Lotta Shine 088/ Lord Echo - Just Do You (feat. Mara TK) 089/ Marvin Gaye - Funk Me (The John Morales M+M edit) 090/ BOSCO - Attention 091/ Dornik - Limboland (feat. Phonte) 092/ Tuxedo - Toast 2 Us (feat. Benny Sings) 093/ OXP (Onra & Pomrad) -  Swish (feat. Devin Morrison) 094/ Henning - Tru Funksta (instrumental) 095/ Butcher Brown - Tidal Wave 096/ Soul Supreme - Check the Rhime 097/ Mark de Clive-Lowe  - Mystic Brew 098/ Rosinha de Valenca - Summertime 099/ Elkin & Nelson - Vamonos 100/ The Internet - Penthouse Cloud 

[vetotheloneliness]

Hurried feelings

((disclaimer/note): hi, hello, just before reading, i would like to say that this can definitely be a waste of your time, i have never written before, this story currently doesn’t have a straight line or main goal, culmination, it could be about intimacy, violence, detectives, horror, it could be romantic, maybe comic or pretty much anything else, also, sorry)

chapter 1 ( part l )

"Loneliness, ever wonder how it feels to be lonely?" a deep voice said. "The feeling might as well come in many forms, but do I dare to label it as a feeling then?" the voice continued. "For how long have we been trying to figure out what it is, why it is, where it is?" the voice started getting more violent.

"Why are we alive, and why do w-" the voice abruptly stopped.

It was a dream. Certainly not a good one, but should we even get into it? Judge a person's dream? I can just tell you the person's name so you can move on with at least a little bit of information on your hands. Eh... Should I? Anyways... The person’s name was Adam. Like Adam Sandlern but not Adam Sandlern. Okay, Adam. We got a name, two and a half sentences of the last not normal, for the third week in a row, repeating dream the person just had. What else? He is a male, at least most of you would assume so. Is it the name? The dream? How could you be sure? I mean, honestly, these days... What if Adam identifies himself as a chewed up, digested, eaten by a dog, digested, eaten by a bug, digested piece of a donut? How... About... That? Huh? What y’all got to say now? Anyways, moving on.

- Aaaah, ‘Station Days’. Wonderful show on Betfly, produced by Betfly, funded by Betfly and, you won’t believe it, written by authors that work at Betfly. Betfly is just yet another competitor in the subscription based TV show & movies entertainment site sphere. On the other hand, ‘Station Days’ is just a random show about a nuclear family stuck in a space station, they need to get back to earth, stay alive and g- blah, blah, blah. How is that relevant? Well, it isn’t, but since we’re talking about Adam, might as well talk about this too. So, it is 0.01% more relevant than we would’ve thought? Eh, who cares? Hmm, what else should we t-. 

          ‘’Adam, could you please do the laundry soon?’’ an unknown voice said after a series of knocks on Adam’s door. 

- Excuse, me? While I’m talking? Don’t worry about that, it’s normal, when something in this cheesy ass world happens, I have to narrate it, you’ll get used to it.

     ‘’I’ll do it in a bit!’’ Adam shouted back. He wasn’t a fan of the laundry, matter of fact, he is not excited for it at all, his mom just called while he was trying to help himself in the morning, especially after a long dream filled with nightmares and this loneliness thing again. Who knows what meaning does it have, it’s just a dream, there’s a lot of other, irrelevant things Adam could worry about. He will, most definitely. Actually, he is worrying about something right now, this one, beatiful, charming, clever girl in his class. He doesn’t really talk to her, actually, they’ve never talked. Adam really wanted to surprise her with a bit of a cheesy line, some flowers and candy. Why? Because he thought it might be a good thing to do on Valentine’s Day, he has been looking after her for a while now, secretly and he finally wants to make a move. 

     ‘’FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fu-, fuck. NO!’’ Adam got up from his bed, realizing he got wasted yesterday, ate a lot of chips while he was playing ‘Galactic Tiers 3′ and smoked some weed. Obviously it costed him some bucks, weed ain’t cheap, chips too. The booze was alright though, weekend discounts. ‘’What do I gift her? I’m more poor than an indian with a piece of silver and a train track above his head. Shiit, letter? Hmm, maybe, it’ll work, she appreciates small stuff. Yeaaah, yeah, yeah, yeah, exactly, letter.’’ He exhaled, he was breathing a bit heavy, because he also thought it was already thursday, the day it goes down, Valentine’s Day. 

- Also, because he usually lacks oxygen during the night, I think it was called hypoxygenia, or... Something... Forget it. Also, don’t consider me rude or anything just because I’m telling you all this, he doesn’t know and won’t ever know. ‘’Why?’’ You may ask, well, we are not part of this ‘life’, if you want to call it that. You’re just a random viewer, don’t know why they sent you to watch my work, but it’s fine, I have been feeling kind of chatty recently. Also, you can’t really do much, you view and that’s it. I narrate, show you the wonderful world and the daily life of these top of the food chain, or so they thought, walking on two legs animals. 

By the way, this will be the only time I’m gonna ask you this and it will be the only time you can say something. Sooo... Use it wisely. What’s your name? Like, what do you like to be called? 

‘’(insert name)’’ a shy, squeaky, high pitched voice blurted.

- That’s... PHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA! Is... I- Is that your original on planet voice? HAHAHAHA, I CAAAAAN’T, are you serious? Sorry, it’s just this th- HAHAHAHAHAHA, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m trying to keep my non-existent face straight. Just wait... PHAHAHAHAAAHAHAhaHAAAAAAAAAAA! Okay, stay calm, it’s just, a voice. I’m sorry, (insert name), it’s just me. Truly sorry, I shouldn’t be that r-

‘‘Narrator rank decreased to Platinum ll’‘ a digital voice said. 

- HEY! WHAT T- HOW DARE YOUUUUUUUUUU!!! YOU COME ALL THE WAY FROM A DIFFERENT SIDE OF THE GALAXY, START THE VIEWING AND REPORT ME BECAUSE I JUST LAUGHED AT YOUR SILLY VOICE? 

‘‘Narrator rank decreased to Platinum lll’‘ a digital voice spoke once again. 

WH- FUCK! Okay, listen, I didn’t mean that, your voice is not silly, okay? I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again. Please. Lets be friends. C’mon. It was my mistake. Can we start this all over a bit later? I’ll have to go soon, Adam is about to do laundry and I will need to narrate it. Goodbye, catch up later, (insert name)? Good. See ya!

[jay-christine91]

Afraid

“What are you afraid of?”

McCree remembered the first time he was asked that with a purpose. Standing before the leader of Deadlock, right eye slowly swelling shut. Besides a few bruises and a cut to his abdomen that would definitely scar, McCree had faired well. The five men in a crumpled heap before him had not. Fear? He thrived on it like a junkie because what else was there to lose? His mother was dead. His sister was murdered. His father was no more than a name. At thirteen McCree understood the cruel lesson that life was far from fair. Afraid?

“Ain’t nothing m’really afraid of ‘sides death Boss.”

His new leader smiled, yellow, with one missing tooth. “Good answer.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“If you’re afraid of jail than I have a proposition for you.”

McCree scoffed as he stared at the Blackwatch commander. The man had a scowl that seemed to be permanently etched into his features. Was he afraid of jail? Honestly, no. It beat kicking it around on the dirt floors of run down safe houses. He could surely turn a trick or two, but McCree wasn’t a stranger to unwelcome hands either. You did what you had to in order to survive and Deadlock made it known that you were nothing more than a cog in their plans. Being caught and imprisoned was the risk they all took, so it seemed pretty foolish to fear a inevitable possibility.

“Can’t say the slammer shakes me all that much, but what do ya got in mind there Jefe?”

The commander, Reyes, as McCree heard bellowed more than once in the stern leaders direction, smiled. Right answer again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Are you afraid to lose anyone McCree?”

Genji Shimada asked him this just two months before the Swiss base exploded, taking with it what the cowboy had come to consider family. The cyborg was McCree’s closest friend,even if he wasn’t always the most friendly. Through their time together, Genji had told him about his life before and of what lead to his current state. McCree figured it gave him a lot to be spiteful about. Maybe that’s why the question caught him off guard. McCree was already twenty eight, and although he gained a home fighting between the ranks of Blackwatch and Overwatch alike, he knew loss. His mentor, Ana, went missing in action just a few weeks prior. The safety McCree found in Reyes, had all but faded as he watched the commander slowly cave into a darkness no one could reach. When Genji had explained his reasonings for wanting to leave, the gunslinger couldn’t even bring himself to stop him. How could he? Nothing in this world was permanent.

“Nothing, and no one, is forever G.”

Genji searched his face for a deeper meaning but dropped it. Maybe it wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was the only one McCree had.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Where is he?! What happened?!!” McCree demanded, barging through the med bay doors. Lúcio stood up quickly to try and help keep the gunslinger back, but calm.

“Listen man, Ange has him.” The audio medic said in an effort to soothe the tension but McCree wanted none of it, especially when Genji stood as well, holding a blood soaked ribbon.

“G...what happened?!” McCree asked again, trying to not falter at the sight of the crimson stained item in the cyborgs hands.

When Genji‘s face met his own, the fear was easy to read. Without his usual faceplate, the ninjas emotions stood firmly on display. Granted Jesse always had a way of knowing what his friend felt even behind the mask. It made seeing the raw worry in those eyes even harder to take.

“It was a sniper. Talon converged on us quickly and we thought everyone had been taken care of when we spotted her. S-she struck first before Hanzo could fire his arrow. It hit his chest and...it is uncertain how he will fair.”

McCree’s heart clenched, looking behind the ninja to the surgical doors, a red light glowing above. Fear was an emotion he knew well, no matter how he acted, because losing someone was too common a play in the cowboys life.

A cool hand touched his shoulder and McCree met the eyes of his friend once more. “Do not be afraid. Hanzo is strong.”

“Are you saying that for me or fer you?”

Genji smirked sadly. “Does it matter?”

McCree looked at those doors again, trying to swallow the dryness in his throat. “N-no I s’pose not.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was quiet in the med bay. Three days had passed since Hanzo Shimada’s surgery and life at the base seemed hallow. Angela looked worse for wear when she emerged from the doors after the initial ordeal but the outlook was promising. The bullet had spared the archers heart, and even though it had been touch and go, she expected him to make a full recovery. Everyone felt themselves breathe a collective sigh of relief.

But the days had passed and Hanzo had yet to regain consciousness. McCree knew that it could take time but the waiting ate away at him. The sleep he rarely got, became next to nothing as the hours were waited in silence. The cowboy could only bring himself to leave the medical bay in order to use the bathrooms, or smoke, before he quickly returned to his place beside Hanzo’s bed.

The chime of the clock announced midnight as the McCree sank further into his chair, one hand interlocked with the archers own. Genji had left to try and meditate with Zenyatta, the weight of his brothers recovery bringing back unpleasant memories. The rest of the team had popped in here or there, but the gunslinger knew it was more to check on him and not Hanzo. They kept reassuring him, like a child who needed comfort during a storm and it made McCree twitch.

He knew fear. He understood pain. He accepted loss. But this...

“P-please wake up...please.” McCree whispered, cupping Hanzo’s hand between both of his own. He hadn’t expected to fall for the eldest Shimada,let alone to have those feelings returned, but somehow it had worked out. Their mutual sufferings and misgivings were hurdles often faced but they never left each other angry. Before they knew it, the love between them had grown into something unexpected; a safe place to just be. To just love.

Maybe that was why the tears stung so badly at McCree’s eyes. He was no stranger to any of this but the thought was unbearable.

“I-I ain’t afraid of much. I have lost my family time and time again but Han...” McCree paused, tenderly kissing the archers hand, his eyes roaming to take in his lover before him. Hanzo’s hair was down, fanned out to the one side. The surgery left his chest bandaged, dragons peeking out beneath white cloth. He looked pale and yet still beautiful.

“Baby ya gotta wake up fer me okay? I can’t lose you too. I’ve lost so damn much in my life but God dammit! D-don’t join them...please..”

The tears spilled forth, hitting the sheets with gentle plops as McCree rested his forehead against the clasped hands. McCree remembered the days he feared someone filling the space beside Hanzo who wasn’t him. How wary the gunslinger was of Hanzo’s reaction when admitting his feelings or the first time they made love. No one and nothing was promised, especially in their line of work, but was it wrong to hope? Was it wrong to embrace the best damn thing he’d ever known?

McCree tried to inhale, but startled as he felt a hand slowly ruffle through his hair. His gaze traveled upward to greet Hanzo’s own tired, but kind expression. The hand at McCree’s head traveled to wipe away the fallen tears.

“Hello Jesse...” Hanzo whispered hoarsely. The tears fell even harder as McCree kissed the archers hand again and again, pausing only to press it against his cheek as the sobs slipped past.

“H-Han..dammit...thank God yer awake. I-I was so scared. Don’t do that to me! Don’t leave me...don’t go where I can’t follow...I-I love you...” McCree babbled. Hanzo smirked warmly as his free hand continued to card through the gunslingers hair.

“And I love you, you silly cowboy. I would not leave you so easily.” Hanzo chuckled, leaning just enough to press a chaste kiss against the mans forehead. “Besides, we have many promises to fulfill.”

McCree nodded, leaning in to kiss the archer gently; soft but desperate. As they broke, Hanzo’s hands rested on each side of the gunslingers face, smiling with endearment.

“Do not be afraid Jesse. Our love is surely stronger than any bullet.”

McCree just continued to cry with Hanzo soothing the weeping cowboy between sobs. Eventually he moved over, inviting Jesse to lay beside him, whispering gentle endearments until the tears faded.

And that was where Angela found them in the morning, wrapped up close around each other. A warm smile played on her face as she covered them both with another blanket.

McCree slept, holding fast to what he feared most. Jesse McCree was no stranger to loss. His goodbyes were overused more than he liked and even death became something he welcomed more often than not. But life had given him something. Something that gave him equal happiness and fear.

Life had given him real love and McCree prayed that he would never lose it.

[aardvark-123]

Gensokyo Festival Day 20: Kasen Ibaraki and the Cranky Crustacean Caper

I tried to mimic the mystery-of-the-week formula used in Wild and Horned Hermit for this story. Emphasis on “tried”.

It was a normal day in the beautiful Eastern Wonderland.

"Reimu! Good golly, Reimu, you've gotta see this!" Marisa burst into the Hakurei Shrine, carrying a large reddish-brown crab in a bucket. It had four long, spindly legs, four rather shorter legs and a pair of heavy pincers.

Slumped over her kotatsu like a human doily, Reimu groaned and rubbed her eyes. "Marisa, I'm trying to sleep..."

(Like I said, it was a normal day in the beautiful Eastern Wonderland.)

"Come on, you can sleep later! Just look at this crab!" insisted Marisa, shoving the bucket right in Reimu's face.

Reimu yelped at the sudden close-up of its eyestalks and jagged mandibles. "G-get that away from me!" she screamed, leaping up and clinging to a couple of wooden beams in the ceiling.

Marisa burst out laughing. "Reimu, you've fought the goddess of Hell! Are you seriously afraid of one little crab?!"

"...No. Of course not," said Reimu huffily. "You just surprised me. I have to be ready for action at any moment, so I always react rather intensely to stuff."

"Sure you do," said Marisa, smiling a knowing smile. "Thing is, though, you really need to see this crab from the back."

Marisa turned the bucket around. Reimu's jaw dropped.

"Oh, my gods! It's-! It's-! It's got a face! On its shell!"

A few round lumps on the back of the crab's shell formed a bulbous nose and a stout pair of cheeks. Some thick lines in the carapace formed a curly, grimacing mouth and a furious pair of eyebrows, with a couple of thin, angled whorls standing in for eyes.

"Cool, isn't it?" said Marisa proudly. "I found it curled up inside my fishing boat. It'd nibbled clean through one of the oars!"

"Since when did you have a fishing boat?" said Reimu, completely lost.

Meanwhile, the friendly hermit who definitely wasn't secretly an oni was taking a walk in the Bamboo Forest of the Lost.

"Tra-la-la-la-la-la!" Kasen was singing purely on principle. Komachi would never have bought it as a sincere happy tune, and Kasen wouldn't have blamed her, but she still had to show willing.

"La-la-la! It's a beautiful- oh, forget it." A peaceful walk in the forest was too much fun to ruin by being twee.

Kasen roamed through the cool, quiet maze of bamboo in companionable silence with herself. It really was the perfect day for a walk, and nothing could disturb her in such a maze-like thicket.

"Help! Help! Get it off me!"

Kasen started. A woman was screaming in pain and fear somewhere down the path. "Um, hello? Are you all right?!"

"The crabs are attacking! The crabs are attacking!"

Kasen could only look on in amazement as Mokou came tearing down the shady forest track, pursued by a veritable tide of beige and reddish-brown chitin. A hundred pincers snapped in the air, a thousand legs clicked and clattered on the compacted earth. Mokou's boots and trousers were stained yellowish-blue with the blood of crabs she'd stepped on, and every other bit of her was stained red.

"Good grief..." Kasen took a deep breath. "Dragon Sign: Rage of Skyfire!"

Having just shouted out the name of her attack, Kasen was forced to take another deep breath. After that, however, there was no stopping her. She spat out a blazing-hot ray of concentrated lightning and swept it over the ground in front of the crabs, sending smoke and scorched soil flying into the air. The crustacean army screeched to a halt behind the charred trench.

Safe beside Kasen, Mokou collapsed in a heap on the ground. "Gods, I'm glad you came here... And kind of pissed I didn't think of breathing fire at them, but there we are."

"What in Susano-o's name is going on here, Mokou?! Crabs don't belong in the forest!" cried Kasen.

"I don't know any more than you do. I was just taking a paddle in the stream when a crab decided to pinch my toe. I kicked it into some rapids and moved somewhere else, then a bunch more came swarming out of the woods and tried to nip me to death." Mokou spoke very casually for someone who had just been swarmed by pincer-wielding arthropods. "So I ran for it, and I may have kind of panicked a little..."

"A little. I see." Kasen's face was completely inscrutable. "Why would the crabs want to kill you, though...? It makes sense that they might have wanted to avenge their comrade, but why would she attack you in the first place? Could it be that your feet stank?"

"Yeah, maybe..." Mokou unlaced one of her boots and took a sniff. "Oh, gods! Eeurgh! That's rank!" Eyes watering, she put the boot back on as fast as she could. "Better than before I washed them, though..."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Kasen earnestly. "We need to do something about these crabs, though. I'll go and talk to the shrine maiden-"

"Hey, Kasen! Mokou!"

"Oh, Amaterasu, it's the bossy hermit..."

Marisa and Reimu were strolling along the path, the former holding a wooden bucket and the latter looking as if she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Marisa and Reimu! There's something strange going on with the crabs-" began Kasen.

"Forget that, check out this crab I found in my boat!" Marisa ran over to Kasen and shoved the bucket in her face.

"You... have a boat? Wait, the crab has a face on its shell?!" Kasen shook her head to settle her muddled thoughts. "That's not a good sign. Marisa, where exactly-"

"Oh, my days! Look at all the crabs!" gasped Reimu, noticing the crab legion clamouring in front of them.

"Eh? There's more than one?" Marisa looked up from her bucket. Her jaw dropped. "HOLY SHIT CRABS FOR DAYS WHAT IN THE NAME OF-!"

"Let me see yours," Mokou interrupted. She leaned over the bucket. "Yeah, that's definitely a shell shaped like a- AAARGH!"

With a piercing battle cry, Marisa's captive crab leapt onto Mokou's face and started pinching at everything it could grab hold of. Emboldened, the legion of crabs surged forwards over the rapidly-cooling trench.

Kasen wrenched the crab away from Mokou's face, making her scream in pain as her nose stretched to breaking point. Kasen threw the crab into the midst of its comrades.

"Retreat to my place! The crabs'll never find us there!" ordered Kasen. She leapt into the air and soared away, only looking back when she was almost among the clouds to make sure her friends were following.

"It probably won't surprise you to learn that those were no ordinary crabs."

Kasen, Reimu, Marisa and Mokou had gathered in Kasen's airy living room for tea and fruit salad, with a little debriefing on the side.

"They are known as heikegani," Kasen went on. "The spirits of ancient warriors who perished on the sea, reincarnated as crabs who still carry the fury of their human forebears."

"Oh, you mean the angry faces?" said Marisa.

"Exactly."

Reimu chewed thoughtfully on a slice of pineapple. "I don't understand why they'd have such a grudge against Mokou. She's never exactly positioned herself as an enemy of crabs."

"I am kind of a noblewoman, though," Mokou reminded them. "Maybe the samurai who turned into the heikegani were enemies of the Fujiwara clan..."

"Indeed we are!"

The four heroines gasped dramatically in perfect unison. A tall, heavy-set woman had kicked down the door and was now strolling into the room, decked out in crimson samurai armour and claw-like gauntlets.

"I will never forget the day the Taira clan was humiliated by your sniveling Fujuwara ensemble. Hundreds of us, all dead, and for what?! So you idiots could live to feud and murder another day?!"

"Um, weren't the Minamoto clan your main rivals?" said Mokou.

The heikegani lady's face went red. "Sh-shut up! You don't know a thing about our history!"

"I was there, you idiot. I'm Fujiwara no Mokou, daughter of Fujiwara no Fuhito, and probably the last surviving member of his clan. I know who the Tairas' main rivals were. Are. Whatever."

"Well, you're my rival now, got it?! And that witch, with her mighty battleship! I must have it!" snapped the heikegani. "Prepare to die!"

Kasen sprang up from her chair. Her bandaged arm blazed with pink light as she swung it repeatedly into the heikegani's head.

"Ow! Ow! Stop! Please! I'm sorry!" the heikegani wailed. "Stop hitting me! I thought the spell-card rules were sacred!"

"She's more the fighting game type," said Reimu, taking a casual sip of her tea.

Heikegani are a real species of crab, complete with angry, stylised samurai face designs on their shells. Genuinely. Legend has it that heikegani are the spirits of Taira clan samurai who were defeated at the Battle of Dan-no-ura. In reality, they probably evolved their human-like faces to dissuade people from eating them.

By the way, the crab woman wasn’t talking complete nonsense when she mentioned Marisa’s battleship. There is an actual Japanese warship called "Kirisame". Those North Koreans had better not try anything, ze: http://www.seaforces.org/marint/Japan-Maritime-Self-Defense-Force/Destroyer/Murasame-class_DAT/DD-104-JDS-Kirisame.htm

[fiifiadinkra]

Klu - Over My Dead Body (Official Video)

Klu – Over My Dead Body (Official Video)

Klu – Over My Dead Body (Official Video)

Klu follows up the release of Triple Threat 4 Ep with the second visual release of the three-track production. Over My Dead Body is track 2 off the EP and here we have a video. Directed by Archery Enjoy

Check Out : G Ranks – Hello Smoke (Kweku Smoke Diss)

[thecourtreportersportedjorts]

Top 10 Worst Hit Songs of 2017

In December of each year, Billboard publishes its list of the 100 biggest hit songs of the last 12 months. In response, I take it upon myself to decide which of these songs were the real hits, and which were the biggest misses. As always, I’m starting with the worst. Let’s get started:

10. “Do Re Mi” by Blackbear

If you’ve read my earlier lists, I’ve made it no secret that I’m a big fan of The Weeknd. I’ve been enjoying his relentlessly bleak brand of R&B for years, so I was more than ready to celebrate his ascent on the pop charts with multiple spots on my Best Hit Songs lists in 2015 and 2016. Apart from choosing “Can’t Feel My Face” over Taylor Swift’s incomparable “Style” as my favorite hit song of 2015, I stand by all of it. Unfortunately, any great, successful artist is bound to generate a wave of cut-rate imitators, and thus we now have to deal with blackbear.

When blackbear first appeared on the Billboard Hot 100 last spring, I probably had the same reaction as anyone previously uninitiated: who the hell is this? Prior to this year, the rising R&B singer-songwriter had written and produced for such personality vacuums as G-Eazy and Machine Gun Kelly. He also co-wrote “Boyfriend,” one of Justin Bieber’s biggest and most embarrassing singles to date. If any of that suggests that his breakout single “Do Re Mi” would be a noxious whinge replete with countless fuckboy-isms, you’d only wish it were that good.

Blackbear unfortunately goes the extra mile, topping off his insufferable whining at his “crazy” ex with a failed attempt at wit. “Do, re, mi, fa, so fuckin’ done with you,” the chorus taunts, which becomes awkward when you notice that he’s singing up a minor scale, and the minor solfege progression is do, re, ME, FE, etc. All this is accompanied by a perfunctory Gucci Mane feature and a chord progression that’s eerily similar to The Weeknd’s “Wicked Games,” which is where my issues with the song clicked: when Abel made songs like this, he at least had the good sense not to cast himself in the moral high ground or center his hooks around laughable wordplay. And I thought Bryson Tiller was bad.

9. “Believer” by Imagine Dragons

I’ve been writing these lists for five years now, and while I wouldn’t say that my music taste has changed dramatically since then, it’s certainly expanded enough that I could rewrite my Best Hit Songs lists from 4 or 5 years ago and include songs that weren’t even on my radar before. With that said, doing this for such a long time leads you to wonder if you were ever too quick to heap praise onto something that ultimately didn’t deserve it. And while I wouldn’t say I suddenly dislike any of the songs Imagine Dragons landed on my previous lists, I can no longer call myself a fan when they keep churning out crap like this.

I first mentioned Imagine Dragons in 2012, when I saw them as an innovative new force in rock music, alongside the likes of Gotye and fun. While Gotye still hasn’t followed up his album Making Mirrors, and fun. guitarist Jack Antonoff has made even better music with his Bleachers project, Imagine Dragons doubled down on their stadium-ready sound to diminishing returns. After the sophomore slump Smoke + Mirrors failed to produce major hits, they somehow managed to notch one of their biggest successes yet with “Believer,” a dreary, un-catchy slog of a song.

There are a lot of things that I find deeply annoying about “Believer,” like singer Dan Reynolds audibly straining his vocals on a flat hook, the utterly dour and depressing music backing what should be an uplifting (if not esoteric) set of lyrics, or the “first things first” lyrical structure that gives me Iggy Azalea flashbacks. But my biggest problem with Imagine Dragons in 2017 is that their songs seem entirely calculated to fit into trailers and commercials, and I’ve heard “Believer” in these spaces far more than anything more organic. I don’t believe that rock is inherently more valuable or authentic than pop, rap, etc., but it has no chance of being so if this is the way “rock” is represented in the mainstream.

8. “Tunnel Vision” by Kodak Black

If there is a theme to my lists this year, it’s that content doesn’t exist without context. 2017 has seen countless powerful men rightfully fall from grace as allegations of sexual assault and harassment continue to come out of the woodwork. As somebody who loves to share music, this puts me in an interesting position. Was I right to top my Best Hit Songs of 2014 with “Do What U Want,” Lady Gaga’s infamous collaboration with R. Kelly? Can I, in good conscience, still call Brand New’s Science Fiction one of the best albums on the year? Despite my own investment in this music, I have to second guess whether or not I can actively recommend any of it when such information is readily available. These are tough questions, but at least I don’t have to ask them here since I never liked Kodak Black in the first place.

Horrific legal charges aside, I never understood the appeal of Kodak’s music. Sure, he may choose solid beats once in a while, and he may speak on the gritty realities of the street life, but so many other rappers have done so by using a more intelligible and far less grating voice. So many other rappers have done so without resorting to tired, juvenile punchlines like “That money make me cum, it make me fornicate / I’m the shit, I need some toilet paper.” And so many other rappers at least know that “winning” doesn’t rhyme with “penitentiary.”

Even if you somehow liked this song and wanted badly to separate the art from the artist, you can’t really do that in this case. The edited line “I get any girl I want, any girl I want” originally ended with “I don’t gotta rape,” which is eventually followed by “I need a bitch who gon’ cooperate.” YIKES. The only reason this song is so low on this list is because the beat, provided by the ubiquitous Metro Boomin, deserves so much better. Metro, please stick to working with Future and Migos and stay away from this little shit.

7. “Bad Things” by Machine Gun Kelly feat. Camila Cabello

Overall, I considered 2016 to be a pretty weak year for the pop charts. It’s not that everything was terrible that year, but I remember struggling to put together both of these lists because I was so indifferent to most of the hits. Still, one of the most damning trends to dominate the year was the rise of mediocre white rappers. Both Gnash and Post Malone ranked high on my Worst list, and I probably should have included G-Eazy’s tedious “Me, Myself & I” as a dishonorable mention. This trend hasn’t entirely disappeared, as Malone had a surprisingly successful 2017, but it really should have ended with Machine Gun Kelly.

The first of the many bad things about “Bad Things” is the generous sample of Fastball’s 1999 hit song “Out of My Head.” I already have reservations about songs with such recognizable samples - even in songs like “Anaconda” that I otherwise like - and this is no exception, since the sample doesn’t really add any personality or texture to the song. The chorus just gets witlessly rewritten and clumsily regurgitated by Camila Cabello, who only sounds slightly less like a goat than she did on “Work From Home.” Of course, the song also borrows Fastball’s chord progression, which sounds like ass when paired with this Marshmello-lite production.

Even worse is MGK, who’s trying his damnedest to sound like the personification of white alpha male posturing. The only time his delivery suits the track is when he attempts to add a melody in the pre-chorus, and even then it results in serious tonal whiplash. There’s also a baffling R.E.M. reference in his second verse, as if desecrating one 90’s alternative rock band wasn’t enough. I would call the title of the song truth in advertising, but it’s more of an understatement.

6. “Swang” by Rae Sremmurd

I first discussed Rae Sremmurd in 2015 when “No Type” made the #9 spot on my Worst list. And while I still stand by the song’s inclusion, I don’t have much against these guys. Sure, SremmLife had more misses than hits - including the milk-aged, deeply regrettable “Up Like Trump” - but I can take solace in that they earned their biggest success with “Black Beatles,” their best song. On top of that, collaborations with French Montana and Jhene Aiko could position Swae Lee as a breakout solo star with a charismatic (if amateurish) vocal presence.

It’s for that exact reason why “Swang” is such a failure. Critics have routinely praised the duo for their infectious energy, but for the duration of the song, very little of that energy really translates. The production from P-Nazty trades the thunderous, off-kilter synths that made “Black Beatles” so invigorating for something much more warbly, cheap and lifeless. Swae Lee spends the majority of his time droning on words like Alaska Thunderfuck on quaaludes, and by the time Slim Jxmmi attempts to liven things up, it’s too little too late.

“Swang” isn’t an entirely sleepy affair, however. The track has one truly memorable trick up its sleeve - and that’s when Swae leaps into his falsetto during the hook. And it sounds hideous. It’s not quite as ear-splittingly awful as the drop on “Starving” last year, but it doesn’t even have that song’s sense of momentum. It almost sounds like the shower scene from Psycho, only without any real buildup leading to the aural carnage.

5. “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran

Overplay doesn’t tend to factor into my selections for these lists, a fact which is evident when you see that my Best list for 2015 included songs like “Hello” and “Shut Up and Dance.” This is because I don’t listen to the radio or randomized pop playlists very frequently. I’ll seek out the most popular songs once, and whether or not I keep hearing the song usually depends on how much I like it. That said, sometimes a song becomes inescapable, and the more you hear it, you notice more and more problems with it.

This takes us conveniently to “Shape of You,” Ed Sheeran’s first ever #1 single on the Hot 100. Admittedly, I thought this song was decent at first, and so I’d listen to it once in a while when I needed to scratch the itch. But when I decided I was done with it after a few weeks, I started hearing it pretty much everywhere, and then it clicked: this song is incredibly stupid.

First of all, Ed Sheeran is somewhere among the final few names on my hypothetical list of people I want to hear making songs about sex. “Shape of You” is certainly more competent than I’d imagine a sex song would be coming from Danny DeVito, but it’s also weirdly lacking in personality, which makes sense since he didn’t write this with himself in mind. Like “Cheap Thrills” last year, “Shape of You” was originally intended for Rihanna, who’s probably getting annoyed by all these white songwriters trying to pitch her such watered-down, vaguely Caribbean sounding pop tunes.

Of course, I could just be wishing that the song lacked personality, because Ed can’t resist using his same Sheeranisms that have soiled so many of his stabs at pop. In addition to an out-of-place Van Morrison shoutout (which he couldn’t even confine to one song), the song has a host of clumsy, overwritten lyrics. “Your love was handmade for somebody like me.” “We talk for hours and hours about the sweet and the sour.” That whole chorus. “Shape of You” scans as an OkCupid message from a dude with no social skills. Now imagine getting that same message about 500 more times, and you’ve got one of the most overplayed trainwrecks in recent memory.

4. “Don’t Wanna Know” by Maroon 5 feat. Kendrick Lamar / “Cold” by Maroon 5 feat. Future

For this entry on the list, I’ll be doing something different - I’m giving it to two songs. Sure, this is occasionally done as an excuse to avoid making a concrete decision, but there’s a genuine reason this time. The songs in question are “Don’t Wanna Know” and “Cold,” both by rock band-turned-space-wasters Maroon 5. These two songs are essentially minor variations on each other, and all the more evidence that Adam Levine and his producers band need to go away.

“Don’t Wanna Know” was released late last year, while the charts were still saturated with so much half-assed tropical house. The lyrics feature Levine at his most petulant and unlikeable, harping on an ex so much that the characteristically repetitive chorus just sounds more like a failed defense mechanism. As awful as all this is, it’s nothing compared to the fact that these guys managed to rope in Kendrick Lamar - arguably one of the most important and talented artists of this decade - and make him suck. It’s a brief 8-bar verse, and yet half of the bars feature words rhyming with each other. There’s one thing I do wanna know after hearing this dreck - what Kendrick’s paycheck looked like.

Oh-so-cleverly released on Valentine’s Day this year, “Cold” effectively treads the same water as the other song. It’s more turgid tropical bullshit, only at a slighter quicker tempo. The lyrics are even more bitter, bordering on misogynistic at points. Another A-list rapper features, but this time, it’s Future, and while his verse is pretty average by his own standards, he sounds incredibly uncomfortable over this beat. Nothing about this song disappoints me as much Kendrick’s verse on “Don’t Wanna Know,” but it might be slightly worse by virtue of being more of the same.

Both of these songs were released well before their cluelessly titled album Red Pill Blues was even announced, and they were formally left off the standard track listing. Still, because of their chart success, they were included on the deluxe edition of the album, if only to represent the death of tropical house as a viable trend and an enjoyable sound in pop. And, of course, the death of Maroon 5 as anything resembling an actual band.

3. “JuJu on that Beat (TZ Anthem)” by Zay Hilfigerrr and Zayion McCall

Since Billboard first put a greater emphasis on streaming in their calculations, it’s been interesting to see how songs perform on the charts. As a whole, album tracks chart longer than ever, and the last two years have seen such unexpected chart-toppers like “Panda” and “Bodak Yellow” thanks to the popularity of hip-hop on streaming services. Unfortunately, this also means that songs are also more likely to become genuine hits off of viral novelty than quality. It happened with the execrable “Watch Me” in 2015, and it nearly two years later, it happened with “Juju on That Beat.”

In retrospect, I may have been a little too hard on “Watch Me” when I named it the second worst song of 2015. I mean, we were still in the middle of Meghan Trainor’s window of relevance when it came out, and 2017 has seen rappers draw even more attention to their distinctive ad-libs. “Watch Me,” while still pretty grating, seems quaint and harmless now. The same can’t be said about “Juju on That Beat,” which is just as annoying and insulting to the intelligence as it was a year ago.

Let’s start with “That Beat,” which is lifted wholesale from Crime Mob’s crunk staple “Knuck If You Buck.” Forget what I said about the “Out of My Head” sample in “Bad Things,” this is particularly lazy. While rappers have used pre-existing beats in the past, this is clearly a dance song. Aren’t dance songs were supposed to have a unique musical identity to make up for inconsequential lyrics? The only audible difference is that the beat is transposed to a higher key, which makes sense if it’s meant to suit aspiring one hit wonders Zay Hilfigerrr and Zayion McCall’s more youthful voices.

It’s too bad that their voices still don’t sound remotely good. Hilfigerrr (not that the name matters) is particularly irritating, his out-of-breath yelps cracking like his balls just dropped mid-recording. And while I may have critiqued “Watch Me” for lacking actual rap verses, maybe it was for the better, as the other guy attempts to freestyle, only rhyming the first two of his eight bars and dropping such gems as “if I compared me and you, there wouldn’t be no comparings.” The only good thing about this song is that it’s mercifully short, perhaps the shortest hit song of 2017 that wasn’t by XXXTentacion or Lil Pump. By comparison, “Watch Me” is a masterpiece in minimalism.

2. “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur

I’m pretty sure my decision to name “Treat You Better” the worst song of 2016 might have been strange for some. Sure, I’ve seen the song on several similar lists (including one that has it in the same position), but the general public actually seems to enjoy the song a lot. Maybe that has to do with the fact that the music is so blandly inoffensive that most people wouldn’t bat an eye at the content. But apart from the patronizing lyrics and the laughable singing, that was part of my problem. White-guy-with-acoustic-guitar songs tend to piss me off because they’re churned out by dudes with aspirations to Real Musicianship whose compositional skills are limited, so the lyrics tend to be transparent in their douchebaggery. And while very, very few things are as bad as “Treat You Better,” James Arthur’s “Say You Won’t Let Go” fits this mold to a T.

As with seemingly all music this year, some context is necessary. James Arthur won The X Factor in 2012 (which should tell you everything about this guy’s musical persona) before signing to Simon Cowell’s Syco Records imprint and eventually releasing songs in which he used homophobic and Islamophobic insults and compared himself to a terrorist. He left Syco in 2014, but two years later, he released Back from the Edge, an album whose title practically begs for sympathy for his lack of a filter. “Say You Won’t Let Go” was the immensely successful lead single, which somehow lasted on the Hot 100 for a full year.

Perhaps knowing all this before hearing the song colored my distaste for “Say You Won’t Let Go” from the jump, but I think this song is fucking terrible. Over acoustic strumming and an infinitely recycled chord progression, Arthur recounts when he first met the love of his life, including a deeply unflattering line where she vomits (again with that filter!). The rest of the song delves into the same territory that Ed Sheeran already exhausted with “Thinking Out Loud,” and the whole thing just scans as incredibly disingenuous coming from him. Hell, he even describes the song as “really calculated” in his annotations on Genius.

Truthfully, the content and the context are the least unpleasant things about this song. James Arthur nearly mumbles through the verses before bringing his voice up another octave for the chorus, which sounds like a drunken bro singing “You’re Beautiful” at Karaoke. A lot of people have praised his vocals, but I might just hate them even more than “Swang” because at least Swae Lee sounded like he was enjoying himself. James just sounds ready to throw up, which is probably karma at work after that lyric in the first verse (not to mention pretty much anything this guy has said that put him at the edge in the first place).

Before I unveil my pick for the worst hit song of 2017, here are eight dishonorable mentions:

“Chained to the Rhythm” by Katy Perry feat. Skip Marley: 2017 was not a good year for Katy Perry, whose self-awareness seems to be diminishing with each album cycle. “Chained to the Rhythm” was the ever-so-obviously co-written by Sia lead single, which boasts an extremely out-of-place guest verse from Bob Marley’s grandson and perhaps one of the clumsiest hooks of the entire year.

“Thunder” by Imagine Dragons: At least “Chained to the Rhythm” had an actual hook, not just chipmunked repetitions of a single word. Because it’s an Imagine Dragons song in 2017, it’s also padded out a with a trap beat, more vague nothings in the verses and grossly manipulated vocals in place of any actual instrumental tones.

“Mercy” by Shawn Mendes: It’s nowhere near as condescending and misogynistic as “Treat You Better,” but it’s every bit as whiny and overwrought, even sharing the same warbled vocals incessant drum beat. Really, it’s a damn shame he didn’t actually drown in the music video.

“Drowning” by A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie feat. Kodak Black: Speaking of drowning, isn’t a song with this title and these piano chords supposed to be about something more interesting than bragging about jewelry? Also, an accused rapist shows up to mumble and make awful jokes about farts. Let’s move on.

“Look at Me!” by XXXTentacion: Oh yeah, there was also this guy, who’s been accused of some extremely disturbing stuff (seriously, trigger warning). I can appreciate some more aggression in the beat and even X’s flow, but the distortion makes everything nearly incomprehensible, which is probably alright since the lyrics amount to little more than edgelord crap. Fuck this.

“Down” by Marian Hill: “Down” doesn’t really have any personality to speak of, driven almost entirely by a woman’s breathy voice, which later gets manipulated into a boilerplate trap beat. Seriously, what is it about this kind of pretentious “indie” pop wallpaper that attracts such an audience?

“Issues” by Julia Michaels: I’ve talked a lot of shit about Julia Michaels and her frequent collaborator Justin Tranter in the past, but “Issues” is actually a pretty compelling exploration of mental health and relationships, and Julia is a distinctive vocalist in her own right. Unfortunately, the song does have issues, and one of them is how bad it needs to pick up the goddamn pace.

“All Time Low” by Jon Bellion: Jon Bellion has a lot of potential as a songwriter and producer, but his vocals sound a lot like Adam Young with slightly more testosterone. The lyric about masturbation is questionable too, but I simply can’t hear that chorus without thinking of this video.

And now, for what I consider worst hit song of 2017:

1. “Body Like a Back Road” by Sam Hunt

Choosing between this and “Say You Won’t Let Go” for the bottom slot on my list was admittedly much harder than usual, but the decision ultimately came down to one thing. Sure, James Arthur’s song disgusts me on a very primal level, to a point where I can’t really listen to the chorus without wincing. But would the song really bother me that much if Arthur weren’t a total dick with a horrific voice? Probably not. Thus, I had to choose a song that was so unequivocally bad that literally nobody could make it work. I had to choose a song in which the awfulness was spelled out right in the title: “Body Like a Back Road.”

Before we open the can of worms that is this song, one thing needs to be addressed. Yes, this is a bro-country song. In 2017. I could maybe see the appeal if this were released in 2014, which was not only the saturation point for this embarrassing subgenre, but also for the DJ Mustard production style that this song clearly takes its influence from. But in 2017, country music has thankfully been working back towards a more organic sound, and DJ Mustard has been replaced by guys like Metro Boomin and Mike Will Made It as hip-hop’s guiding hand. From the word “go,” this song is dated and lame.

Of course, lame is a huge understatement for the lyrical content. You can infer a lot of things from the title alone, and it’s even worse than you might expect. Sam Hunt seems to dedicate this song to his fiancee, which is perhaps one of the most misconceived gifts imaginable. For fuck’s sake, Sam, you’re a country singer. It’s par the course that you’ve been on a back road before, you should know damn well that this comparison is insulting. As if that weren’t bad enough, he attempts to elaborate, waxing unpoetic about her “curves” (a word he draws out in a particularly grating manner) and how the two of them “go way back like Cadillac seats.” While the imagery is more consistent than Train’s abominable “Drive By,” it’s just as gross.

But really, the most egregious crime “Body Like a Back Road” commits is just flat-out sounding like ass. Hip-hop and country don’t exactly have a lot of aesthetic common ground to begin with, so when the rap producer this guy attempts to emulate is DJ Mustard, the whole track ends up sounding as cheap and awkward as his early abortions like “Rack City.” There’s also the weirdly lightweight live drums, not to mention whatever the hell is playing that melody in the intro and bridge. The whole song is so out of touch with the times that I’m convinced it wasn’t just a Montevallo demo. Sadly, it seems the bro-country trend never really went away, and maybe it still has legs to stand on (legs that, at some point, it’ll probably try to compare to the confederate flag or something). But last year proved that mainstream country can be so much better than this, so let’s just hope that this subgenre finally dies for real this time.

Thanks for reading my list, I should be uploading the Best Hit Songs of 2017 later this week!

[themagnusbane]

1,5,8,10 💕

Fghjghjghjghjg. I can’t believe I totally missed you sending me this my love. Thank you!!!!

Okay, so top 5 female:

1. Protagonists (I’m taking protagonists to refer to both leading ladies and or one of the major characters in a fictional work okay?): Christina Yang (always be my number one. Is there anyway I can sell Christina Yang? She’s brilliant. She’s beautiful. She’s loyal. She’s driven. She’s fierce. She’s strong. She is so many of the things I dream of being and is yet a character that I will always hold close to my heart because goddamn it, Christina Yang is one hell of a kind); Celie from the Color Purple (largely uneducated, abused, neglected. If there was anyone who shouldn’t rise from the ashes, it should be Celie. But she was raw, and honest and kind and boy when she came into her own, when the women around her finally helped her realize her worth, Celie was unstoppable); Cookie Lyons (Sassy, strong, bold, fine af!, queen of us all. Loyal to a ‘T’, the ultimate ‘G’. If only we were all deserving of having Cookie on our side. Seriously though, Lucious didn’t and never did deserve our queen. And ain’t that the truth); Cleo from Set it off (God I still remembering bawling like a baby at that final scene of hers, surrounded by cops, smoking her last smoke, fighting tears cuz she knows she’s about to die, only for her to step out all guns blazing. Sure her story ended in a tragedy but damn Cleo is bae. Cleo is always bae); and finally the only white woman on this list, Beatrice “Black Mamba” Kiddo, aka the bride (did y’all really think I still wouldn’t have kill bill on here? I told ya. That movie’s the shit for me. I can’t go on about kiddo because come on, what is there not to love. But an iconic scene for me? Having she gutted that fucking ass rapist, her lying in that seat, commanding her body to “wiggle your big toe”. One word. EPIC”.

5. Queens/Empresses/Royalty: Storm Ororo Monroe (she’s a mutant. She’s a goddess. She’s royalty. The three trifecta that means Storm will always rank first in my heart. Always); Shuri (not only does she have the brains of a brilliant scientist, she is strong, a fighter, and eventually earns the right to not only be the Black Panther but to also rule Wakanda in her own right. An icon. A queen. awe-inspiring); Scheherazade (find you a woman who is smart, beautiful, an absolute bookworm and an engaging conversationalist. What can I say, the first time I read the abridged version of one thousand and one nights I fell in love with the Queen who loved to read stories, told them with such gusto and worked the circumstances so her love for stories saved her life, brought her love, and made her a queen);  Regina Mills (Of course Regina has to be on this list. Never have I see such power, such terrifying rage that is eventually softened by a love for a little boy she takes as her own son. An antagonist that softened but still managed to hold onto my heart. Regina’s everythin); finally, and as much as it pains me to admit this: Cersei Lannister (devious, ruthless, smart, loyal to those she chooses to be loyal to. A woman we all love to hate, and one who takes her destiny in her own hands, makes her enemies pay in blood and fire and who is currently queen of the seven kingdoms and the one who sits on the iron throne. Quite an accomplishment Cersei. Quite an accomplishment).

8. That I'd want to go on an adventure with: Lune Lovegood (what can I say? I want me an adventure with a girl who sees magic behind the mundane, who exists on a plane separate from everyone else and whose heart is so good and pure it takes my breathe away); Mary Poppins (What can I say? I’m still the little girl who believes in magic and wants a nanny with a carpet bag that can take in the entire world, who gives me sugar with my medicine, who flies with an umbrella and who can take me to worlds unknown, starting with trips into paintings I so totally want to see); Princess Leia (I want to travel the galaxies, I want to bring light to the universe. I also want to hang out with Leia, marvel at her grace and wit, duck behind her when the stormtroopers show up and run like hell should we ever accidentally bump into Jabba the hut. Yuck!); Letty Ortiz (if anything because going on a road trip with Letty in the driver’s seat means me screaming my lungs out and praying to gods I haven’t even said a passing hello to for the grace to make it back home in one piece. Hehehehehe); Yalena "Dutch" Yardeen from Killjoys (bounty hunter in space. That’s all I’m going to say. BOUNTY HUNTY IN FUCKING SPACE. Does it get any more epic than that? Does it?! Does it?!!!!!)

10. That I'd want to kiss (damnnnnn. I love this question. Hehehehehe): Top of my list, Christina Yang (I already said it. She’s my fucking heart on television okay? Honestly if anyone didn’t expect her to be the first name, I’m over here looking at you like the fuck did you expect?); Nova Bordelon (Oh Nova, my goddess, what I would give for a chance to kiss you, to worship at your stunning feet, share a joint with you. Honestly if you live on this earth and have no interest in kissing Rutina Wesley, just know I’m over here side-eying the shit out of you); Rosa Diaz (even if it gets me a punch in the face, it would have been worth it. Fuck Rosa is so hotttttt. Damnnnnnnnn); Calliope Torress (my bisexual goddess with a perchance for dancing in her underwear. Fuck Callie’s so perfect. Every inch of her, moulded into perfection. I can’t... I want... Damn....), Sophia Burset (find me a woman alive who hasn’t spent the time thirsting over Sophia and I will show you a woman who’s in denial because damn Sophia can get it. She can get it so fucking hard. Fuck!) 

[lovemesomesurveys]

5,000 question survey series--part thirty-six

3401. How well can you read between the lines when others are talking? I don’t know. I feel like I’m pretty good at reading people and picking up on what they’re saying.

3402. Would you ever speak in front of your peers about peace and social injustice? I don’t want to speak in front of people about anything.

3403. Where does peace begin? With yourself.

3404. Does Aamerica practice the ideals it preaches? Like any of us, we don’t always practice what we preach. We have our issues as a country for sure.

If yes when and where?

If not, why not?

3405. In conversations do you assume that you know what will be said? It doesn’t usually go how I think it might.

If yes, isn't this a form of closing yourself off to new ideas? Like it said, it doesn’t usually go how I think it will. I don’t like follow or a script or anything. Conversations veer off in all kinds of directions.

3406. In what ways are you closed minded? I think I’m generally pretty open minded about a lot of things.

3407. do you prefer beans or rice? Beans and Mexican rice are good.

3408. who's a better tv dad?--dr. huxtable (bill cosby) or danny tanner? Bill Cosby is disgusting.

3409. detroit or new york? New York.

3410. What's your favourite Star Wars movie? All of ‘em.

3411. What's your favourite Star Trek movie? I don’t like Star Trek.

3412. How about Batman? Batman v Superman and the Justice League movies.

Indiana Jones? I’ve never watched them.

Lord of the rings? I never could get into those.

harry potter? Prisoner of Azkaban.

star wars? You asked this already.

3413. If you could ask one question and one question only to the following people, what would that question be:

Saddam Hussain?

George W Bush?

John Lennon?

an alien?

God?

Someone you knew who has died?

Steven Speilberg?

JD Salinger?

3414. Have you seen AI (artificial intelligence)? No.

If yes, what were the beings at the end of the movie?

Do you see this as a possible future for humanity?

What'd you think in general?

3415. If a-l-k-a-s-e-l-t-z-e-r spells 'relief' how do you spell:

love? G-O-D.

happiness? D-O-G-S.

evil? S-A-T-A-N.

sexyness? A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R   S-K-A-R-S-G-A-R-D

yummy? C-O-F-F-E-E

3416. Have you ever been to a Braodway show? Yes.

What one? Phantom of the Opera.

3417. Nighttime shows or matines (sp?)? Whichever.

3418. How are your family get-togethers, loud and rambunctios or quiet and formal? Maybe a bit loud, but not too wild. We have a good time.

3419. Would you be able to survive shippwrecked alone on a desert island? No.

3420. Speaking of islands, does Gilligan EVER get off his? Does he? I don’t know how it ends.

3421. What movie has the BEST soundtrack? There’s a few.

3422. Do you ever go into chat rooms? No, not since like the early 2000s.

If yes, what ones? I went into kid and teen chats.

3423. Is english your first language? Yes.

If not...How you say hello in your language:

another word in your language + english translation:

boob in your language:

3424. Make up a religion (make it up): No.

what would it believe:

3425. Create your own country-

Name of country: Sleepyland.

Ethnic background: It would be a diverse country.

Language (make it up): Zees. lol you know, like Zzz.

Other details:

3426. How would you celebrate these holidays?

Dogs in Politics day: Promote adopt not shop and banning puppy mills.

Magic circles day: Be bald and free day: National mole day: Skin cancer awareness and encouraging people to check for any suspicious moles.

Syliva plath day: Read her poetry.

Increase your psychic powers day: I don’t believe in psychics.

Waiting for the barbarians day:

Air day:

3427. -Why do you think Steve got kicked off Blue's Clues: He didn’t get kicked off, he left because he had cancer.

3428. Hooked on heroin or hooked on phonics? Uh, phonics.

3429. -Have you ever taken an insanity quiz and said, "Hay, thats a good idea!" No.

3430. - Have you ever covered yourself in blood and layed down on the side of the road to make it look like you were in an accident? Um, no.

You don't know what you're missing. Wtf.

3431. Can you flare your nostrils? Sure.

3432. -do you want to swim in a vast lake of gatorade? or, any other beverage for that matter? No thanks.

3433. -have you ever sneezed at the same time everyday, consecutively, for over 3 months? No, omg. That would be awful.

3434. -how did the first person discover that pigs feet would be so good that we call them a delicacy? I don’t know.

3435. -why did the first person to ever eat pigs feet eat them? You’d have to go back in time and ask them.

3436. -do you like the idea of 'like father, like son'? Sure? Unless the father is horrible or something.

3437. Put the following musical acts in order from best to worst by numbering them..(1 for best, 2 for 2nd best, etc... 20 for worst).

Avril:

Ashanti:

Joan Jett:

David Bowie:

the Bee Gees:

The Doors:

Tool:

DMX:

Iggy Pop:

Creed:

Weezer:

Ministry:

Thursday:

Kittie:

Adam Ant:

Rancid:

the Clash:

Led Zeppelin:

Moby:

Tom Waites:

3438. Would you rather be an evil dictator or a sitcom family member? What in the world kind of comparison is this? I would be a sitcom family member.

3439. What is the wave of the future? What.

3440. What's your favorite old movie (before 1990)? Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

3441. When someone tells you that their signifigant other lives REally Far Away..do you ever suspect that they are single and making someone up? Lol not usually, but it would depend on the person.

3442. Alaska or Hawaaii? Oooh. I’d love to visit both.

3443. Why did Kentucky Fried Chicken change their name to KFC? Convenience?

3444. What is there no place to hide from? Your mind.

3445. Which makes you happier, giving presents or getting them? I love giving presents.

3446. What can you never have just one of? Cup of coffee.

3447. What comes to mind when you think of Hulk Hogan? Wrestling.

3448. What would you be the patron saint of? I’m not a saint.

3449. Do you still look at the world with wonder like you did when you were a kid? No. Kids are so curious and easily excitable about everything. I admire that.

3450. For 5 seconds clear your mind. Good. Now write the first thing that you can think of!: Sleep. ha.

3451. When was the last time you ate too much? I don’t know. I used to be such a foodie, but over these past 3 years my issue has become not eating enough.

3452. Describe the sexiest person you can imagine: Alexander Skarsgard. Google him.

3453. What have you seen that's...bizzare? I’ve said that about things, but I can’t think of an example right now.

3454. Are there any stores or brands or products that yoou boycott? Yeah.

3455. Do you want things to REALLY get out of control? No thank you.

3456. Are you too tense? I am.

3457. Where would you be without love and bubblegum? Uhh.

3458. Why aren't comic books popular anymore? For some people it is.

3459. Think of one friend (who?): My dog.

When is the last time you saw each other? Like 30 minutes ago.

Do they smoke? No.

Do they believe in God? Dogs don’t have that kind of awareness.

When you first saw this friend what was your impression? Omg she was so small and cute, but she was really shy and nervous poor thing. When we asked the worker at the shelter if we could pet her, she like slowly crawled out. She wouldn’t stand up and at first we thought she couldn’t. Even for treats she’d just stretch her body to reach them, but wouldn’t get up. You’d never know that now because she’s very goofy, hyper, and playful and goes wild for treats. She takes her Princess name very seriously, too. She can be so demanding when she wants to go on a walk or wants a treat.

Their age? 2.

The top five things you think they think about? Treats. Toys. Playing. Sleep. The boy dogs next door. ha.

3460. Do you say what you mean? I tend to hold back a lot.

Do you mean what you say? Not always. I downplay things a lot, too.

3461. Could you eat meat if you had to hunt it yourself? Eeeek I really don’t think I could. Unless perhaps I was in a situation where I had to and survival instincts kicked in.

3462. Order from greatest to least importance: spirituality, creativity, intellect, great body, open-mindedness, magicalness, great dancer, interesting dresser, wit and cleverness, niceness, stability

3463. Complete the sentence.

When a problem comes along You must: Whip it.

3464. Pick the two most important attributes for food-- fast, cheap, tastey, healthy Tasty and healthy. Though let’s be real for me it’s fast and tasty.

3465. What do you think is the best metaphor for romantic relationships? (e.g. a car wreck, a cruise): I don’t know.

3466. Kittens or no kittens, that is the question. They are quite adorable.

3467. Is gaining 15 lbs in a night possible? That would be very concerning and should definitely be checked out.

3468. Do you get emotional watching movies? Rarely. And if I do, I’ll feel sad and maybe tear up a bit, but I’m not a crier during movies. That’s very rare.

3469. What amkes you feel nostalgic? A lot of things.

3470. Do you feel like you've been misplaced? No.

3471. Have you ever fought someone, just for fun? No. I don’t fight people at all. That’s concerning if you go around fighting people because you find it fun.

3472. What gives you an adrenaline rush? I haven’t felt that in a long time.

3473. What would you do if you loved someone more than anything else, and you could never have them? I know how it feels to be in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same and, well, it sucks to say the least.

3474. Rank these events in order of best/most exciting to boring:

drinking and dancing to your favorite music at a club:

taking a walk in the woods and a bath in a stream:

having great sex:

winning the lottery (one mil):

getting followed home by a stray animal:

meeting someone interesting to talk to:

seeing your favorite band in concert:

seeeing aa broadway show:

halloween:

3475. Can you keep a secret? Yes.

3476. Where is the tenderness? I don’t know, but I like that song.

3477. What's one song you REALLY like from the:

30's?

40's?

50's?

60's?

70's?

80's?

90's?

00's?

3478. Would you rather have a video phone, an electric scooter, or a digital camera? Well, all cell phones now take videos and pictures so I could say video phone and it would cover the digital camera, too.

3479. If a ban on all violent video games was put into effect, would you be outraged by this decision? No.

3480. In your opinion, is violence in society inescapable? Yes.

Why or why not?

3481. Have you ever mimicked a violent “action” from a video game you’ve played towards another person, whether it was to harm or just for play? Nah.

3482. Do you believe the violent content in video games influences aggressive and/or violent behavior in younger children? It can for some people.

3483. What makes life a bitter sweet symphony? “It’s a bittersweet symphony, this life.”

3484. Name four things that aare AWESOME:

3485. What's the most creative/funny answer you can come up with for this question: What are you doing? I got nothin’. I’m literally just doing this and snacking on cheesy tots from Burger King.

3486. Can you imagine this world going on without you? It would get along just fine.

3487. Are you the only person who really exists? No...

3488. Is everyone else a figment of your imagination? No.

3489. Or are YOU a figment of my imagination? Blah.

3490. Can you prove you exist? Hi, here I am.

How?

3491. What do you HAve to get off your chest? Nothing.

3492. If you cheated on someone would you confess to them? I believe I would.

3493. Is it true that at least 5 people in this world love you so much they would die for you? Maybe 3.

Who? My mom, dad, and my younger brother.

3494. Are you in therapy? No, but I definitely should be.

3495. Do you go shopping on black friday? Online.

3496. What is the bane of your existance? fjlksfkdsfls

3497. Better movie: Weird Science or Caddy Shack? Neither one interests me.

3498. Who's the big winner?

3499. What are the 3 funniest:

music videos?

Movies?

songs?

3500. Guess what? Chicken butt.

[torontohypnotherapist]

SEPTEMBER 28 — GEORGE GURDJIEFF QUOTES

HE NOT PEACOCK OR CROW, BUT TURKEY

Another time, at the same cafe at Fontainebleau, the Henri Deux, he [Gurdjieff] was talking with Hartmann, Stjoernval, and Salzmann in Russian, while Orage and I conversed in English. Then he began to speak to Orage about turkeys, and looking at me, said with a smile, ‘He not peacock or crow, but turkey.’ Seeing that I did not understand, he nodded to Orage, who said, ‘The characteristic of a turkey is that it is always puffing itself up, showing off", not only to others, but even to itself when it is alone.’

I must have had an expression of dejection on my face, for Hartmann said, ‘I should tell you that although Mr Gurdjieff" says many things about turkeys he is very fond of the bird.’ Only very much later did I have a realization of this characteristic in myself, and become able to observe it impartially and even with amusement. And surveying my life I saw how, even as a small boy, this turkeyness had constantly manifested itself, trying to appear to myself and others to be ‘someone’, and not a mere nonentity. Now I was able to face the turkey, and it ceased to gobble.

~ CS Nott “The Teachings of Gurdjieff - A Pupil's Journey” ...

THE GOLDEN MIDDLE WAY BETWEEN ABSTINENCE AND EXCESS

There was a finale to this cigarette denial which I shall skip chronology to record here, since it indicates, I think, not only one of the ways of Gurdjieff’s teaching but its remorseless drive toward a Next Step. I had crawled through a year of abstinence, and had become quite thin-skinned as that year progressed. Things seemed to get through to me faster as if I actually had shed some of those metaphorical crocodile skins with which the master had endowed me. Occasionally, when he greeted me — "Well, Krokodeel ... and how are the skins today?” — I demonstrated my suffering with a pantomimed shivering act that evoked his Olympian laughter — a reward, incidentally, which compounded the value of losing one’s skins in his Work. At the end of that year I told him I believed I had conquered that slavery [which he sometimes called Man’s "dogs”] and could now go on indefinitely. He nodded: "Yes, for you, this makes a source for force.” He looked quite benevolent as he studied me; then he added in a casual voice: "But at the same time, any man can not smoke. You do not wish to do what any man can do?”

"Oh no, Mr. Gurdjieff.”

"Smoke then . . .” He offered me one of his Russian cigarettes. The first puff made my head swim. Through the smoke Gurdjieff’s face was a mask of cunning. I knew exactly what he had done as the dizziness subsided and pleasure expanded. He had attached me again to my dog, to be now its master, not its slave. He had set my feet on the harder path, the golden middle way between abstinence and excess. (Total abstaining was much too easy.)

~ Kathryn Hulme “Undiscovered Country” ...

PERSONALITY AND ESSENCE

London, Wednesday15 March 1922

Personality depends upon environment and varies with it. Can be changed by hypnotism and by conscious effort. Essence is temperament, rapacity and faculties. Mind can observe only the interplay of personality. Anger may be due to essence or personality. Essential feelings remain, cannot be changed, Hypnotism in Europe refers only to personality. We are always under hypnotic influence, “conscious” hypnotism is quicker. Our centers hypnotize each other. Personality not ours, not born with it, acquired. Essence is all we are born with. Personalty is what we acquire in life. Change in personality very easy, in essence perhaps impossible. Unconscious change in personality is temporary, conscious change permanent. He must classify personality and essence in self. Personally cannot control essence. Interplay of personality and essence chemical. Personalities love each other, essences of same hate each other. Essence’s quarrel and personalities forgive. Our so-called will is from personality, essence has no will, just desires. Parts of essence and personality in different parts of brain. Essence has no critical mind, is trustful, apprehensive. Cannot influence essence by logical argument or convince it. But personality can be easily influenced. Mind knows but essence timid. Mind knows ought to love all but essence cannot. Essence grows till about five, may grow older. Cannot tell how essence can he changed, until we know “language” and have more knowledge. By self-observation we’ll know what to change and individual program can only be arranged for people in Institute after long study by others and self.”

~ "Gurdjieff's Early Talks 1914-1931" ...

YOU MUST FIRST PREPARE YOURSELF TO SEE REALITY

SC: I am very often wrong in my judgment of others. This causes me a lot of trouble. To certain people I attribute qualities they don’t have. As for those who actually have these qualities, I realize it only later when I know them better. I don’t know how to detect hypocrisy and I’m always faced with a fait accompli. I would like to have a measure to judge people and to recognize who can be useful to me and who can’t.

Gurdjieff: You cannot. You must first prepare yourself to see reality. In the meantime, play a role outwardly. Inwardly, recognize your nothingness. You know nothing. If you are accustomed to doing things in a certain way, keep on doing them. Say hello as you usually do - but at the same time work to get your feet on the ground. Establish a solid base through the work we’re doing here, and then you will know how to see people as they are. Now, everyone is like you: nothing, zero. Whether he is a worker or a cabinet minister, he is merde - shit - like you.

Try not to be a nullity. Work for a day, a month, or perhaps a year - you will no longer be a nullity. Do things exactly the way you always do them. But you must play a role - without really participating, without identifying inwardly. Remember what you really are. Work, work, and keep on working, to transform this nullity into something real.

Upbringing - education - creates a mask. When you see people, you believe in this mask. After a while the mask falls and you see they are the same merde as you. Every person you see shows only their mask. If you look longer, with impartiality and attention, you will see that they can t always keep their mask on; there comes a time when the merde shows through. It is the same merde as in you. He is nothing, just as you are nothing, whether he is a general, a cabinet minister, or a millionaire. This is the hand that life has dealt him. His grandfather was this, his father was that, and he reaps the benefits. But he is no more than a nullity.

Only he is not a nullity who has seen and understood his nothingness and works on himself to change it. This is another quality of shit - ‘with roses’. It is shit, but it no longer has the same smell. Work. Give all of yourself to it, and know that all those who do not work are nullities like you. You are nothing, but he too is nothing. He’s a general ... he’s a colonel. These are outer things; they have no value.

In life everything is accidental: job, rank, all one’s obligations - whether one is a mayor or a policeman. It is life that creates these things. What is inside has nothing to do with that. Outer things do not change inner things. Only conscious work can change the inside: conscious labour and intentional suffering.

~ “G. I. GURDJIEFF — Paris Meetings 1943”

[quartings-main-blog]

SP Part 3

The guards are running to the are where Ciela placed the mine, when the lights come back on, and the guards are once again disoriented, shielding their eyes from the sudden light, and giving Ciela the chance to escape. On top of that, the mine then begins BEEPING and flashing right next to the guards, and releases all the energy it had previously absorbed in a powerful electrical explosion, incapacitating the guards, and destroying the wall and floor nearby. As Ciela turns a corner, she runs into more armed guards headed in her direction. CIELA: (CONT’D) Oh, come on! GUARD #2: -There she is! GUARD #3: Ma'am! Lower your weapon immediately, andCIELA: Whatever ya say, Jeeves! Ciela points her rifle downwards and fires, with the fiery explosion knocking back the guards and creating a hole in the floor, which Ciela jumps through to get away. INT. FORTRESS CORRIDOR-DAY Seconds before the previous confrontation, we see two of the guards originally guarding Pyoma's room, walking through the corridor, one supporting the other injured guard. GUARD #4: So, what's your favourite kind of cheese?- At this moment, the explosion blows up the ceiling above them, knocking out those guards, and Ciela jumps through the hole, running through another corridor. As she runs, Ciela hears Ventor's voice faintly come through her pocket radio amidst a lot of static. She takes it out of her pocket and talks to Ventor. VENTOR: Ciela? Hello? How much longer are you going to take? (MORE) 22. VENTOR: (CONT’D) I thought you said you memorized the directions Sleet gave you! CIELA: Well, sorry Vents, but it's hard to get my bearings in this friggen' labyrinth when everyone in it won't stop shooting at me! EXT.SKYLARK-DAY Ventor, currently piloting the Skylark, is attempting to fly away from the gunfire of the guards, and the Arbei sky-ships, which look like golden gondolas with wings, jet engines, and front-mounted guns, chasing and shooting at him in the air. In his attempts to do this and simultaneously stay close to Ciela and communicate with her via radio, Ventor is flying the Skylark in circles around the fortress, dodging the gunfire as he does so. VENTOR: Well, you'd better hurry, Ciela! I can't keep leading these guys around for much longer! As the sky-ships chasing Ventor get closer, more of the shots they fire actually land hits on the Skylark, punching large holes in it hull. INT.FRONT OF PYOMA'S ROOM-DAY Ciela stands in front of Pyoma's room, amidst two knockedout guards, and the rubble from the reinforced metal door that Ciela has blown a smoldering hole through with her rifle. CIELA: Don't worry, Vents. I'm here. CONTINUOUS-INT.PYOMA'S ROOM-DAY Ciela walks into Pyoma's room, failing to notice that behind her, standing on a table, is Pyoma, holding a blanket. CIELA: (CONT’D) Hmm, I don't see any girl. MaybePyoma jumps onto Ciela with the blanket, using it to cover Ciela and hold her down. 23. INT.SKYLARK-DAY Ventor hears Ciela being cut off mid-sentence, and a worried expression begins to grow on his face. VENTOR: Ciela? What was that? Ciela?! INT. PYOMA'S ROOM-DAY Pyoma struggles to hold down Ciela beneath her blanket. PYOMA: Who are you? What are you doing here!? Ciela only lets out MUFFLED SOUNDS through the blanket. PYOMA: (CONT’D) Oh. Right. The blanket. Pyoma's brief pause allows Ciela to push her off the blanket and escape. CIELA: You are gonna really regret doin' that, missy! You're comin' outside with me, like it or not! PYOMA: Out? You mean... outside? Are you taking me there? CIELA: Yeah? What's it to ya? Ciela is initially confused by the girl's response, but shrugs it off soon after. CIELA: (CONT’D) Ehh, sure, whatever. C'mon. Ciela then picks Pyoma up and carries her over her shoulder. PYOMA: -Whoa! INT. FORTRESS CORRIDOR-DAY Mona rushes through the corridors of the fortress, weapon in hand and when she first sees the destroyed doorway of Pyoma's room, she grows very worried and angry. 24. When Mona enters Pyoma's room, she finds Ciela holding Pyomaover her shoulder with one arm, and her Epheme rifle in her other arm. Mona takes aim at Ciela with her gun. MONA: Put Miss Pyoma down right now! Ciela attempts to shoot Mona, and when she pulls the trigger on her rifle, a bright green flash of light emerges form the barrel, causing Mona to flinch and shield her eyes. However, instead of firing an explosion, Ciela's rifle instead lets out a disappointing fizzle of smoke, and the green lights on it dim significantly. MONA: (CONT’D) What's the matter, sandscum? Out of juice? In response, Ciela drops her rifle, then grabs Pyoma with both hands and throws her at Mona as a weapon. When Mona is about to get back up, Ciela takes her rifle and strikes Mona on the head with it, knocking her out. Ciela picks up Pyoma and her radio off the floor. VENTOR: (Through the radio.) I don't think me or the ship can hold out for much longer! Ciela? CIELA: Don't worry. I got the girl. Go on ahead, I'll catch up with you soon! EXT.SKYLARK-DAY Ventor is flying the Skylark upwards high above the fortress in an attempt to lose the sky-ships chasing after him. VENTOR: That is, if I even can go on ahead! A shot fired from one of the sky-ships punches a large hole in the side of the Skylark, slightly damaging the internal engine of the airship. VENTOR: (CONT’D) Oh gosh, that's really not good! 25. EXT. PYOMA'S FORTRESS-DAY Ciela, still carrying Pyoma, exits the fortress through its main doors and runs towards the small plane from earlier. The guards still left standing start shooting at Ciela, but are stopped by Symos. SYMOS: Stop! Do not risk shooting Miss Pyoma! As such, Ciela gets her and Pyoma into the small plane, and rockets away from the fortress towards the Skylark ahead, which is also flying away from the fortress. CIELA: (Laughs) Man, that was fun! I outta use kids for shields more often! Whaddya think, missy? Pyoma can only stammer from a mix of panic and excitement. CIELA: (CONT’D) Yeah! Not so sweet when you can't talk now, is it? PYOMA: I-I apologise, it's just that... Pyoma looks around, happily taking in all the sights an sounds of her first experience. PYOMA: (CONT’D) I've never really seen...all of this before in my life...in person at least. CIELA: (muttering to herself) Man, I really hope Vents is doin' alright-erm!-Don't tell him I said that, got it? Pyoma lets out a confused noise. CIELA: (CONT’D) Oh. Sorry, I'll explain. VentsVentor is my mechanic and co-pilot, and he's also- 26. As Ciela gets closer to the badly damaged Skylark, flying unsteadily in her small, hummingbird-like plane, she notices the many scorched holes punched in the side of her airship. CIELA: (CONT’D) -SO DEAD WHEN I GET BACK!! INT.SKYLARK DOCKING AREA-DAY Ciela flies her small hummingbird-like plane into the docking area of the Skylark. Grabbing Pyoma and carrying her off the ship, Ciela walks up a flight of stairs to the main deck of the ship, GRUMBLING ANGRILY to herself all the way INT.SKYLARK-DAY Ventor is piloting the Skylark when he hears Ciela enter the deck of the ship. He gets up and walks over to greet her. VENTOR: Ciela! Man, I am so glad you're safeCiela angrily tosses Pyoma onto Ventor, knocking him down. CIELA: Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm gonna take us to Dockville to have Spanner fix this old girl up, since I know all of this mess is beyond what you can fix. Ciela gets into the Skylark's pilot seat, and redirects the ship VENTOR: Hey, I-! CIELA: Also, could you take the girl, erm- "Pyoma", was it? Eh, I don't care, I'm leaving all the babysitting stuff to you. Yeah. So go and give the girl some food or water, or whatever you do to make kids not die. PYOMA: Hello! You're Mister Ventor aren't you? You seem much more well, (MORE) 27. PYOMA: (CONT’D) (whispers) stable than... Ciela? Did I get that correct? VENTOR: (Laughs. To Ciela:) I like her already. (To Pyoma) Would you be okay if I went down to the ship's hold to get you some water and sandwiches? Pyoma gives a confused look in response. PYOMA: That would be...pleasant, I assume. But...wow... Pyoma gets up and begins walking around the ship, soon breaking into a run as she excitedly explores her surroundings making all sorts of NOISES. However, Ciela quickly becomes irritated at this. CIELA: Ah, shaddup! We got a long flight ahead of us and if you don't pipe down right now, I'm shuttin you up myself! VENTOR: Ciela don't worry, I'll handle this! (To Pyoma) C'mon, let's move along. Ventor then guides Pyoma to another section of the ship, so as to not disturb Ciela. EXT. PYOMA'S FORTRESS-NIGHT Pyoma's fortress now stands in the sands filled with massive holes, on fire in several places. Several Arbei guards, large bits of rubble, and broken weapons and sky-ships strewn around the sands nearby. Symos climbs out from behind one of the crashed sky-ships, coughing, his armor scorched and dented. He looks around to see the blazing ruins of the fortress, an expression of horror on his face. Mona runs out of the fortress, worried, and helps Symos onto his feet. 28. SYMOS: Thank you. My goodness, did you see where they flew off toMona slaps Symos across his face. MONA: Where's Miss Pyoma?! How could you let them get away? SYMOS: Do you think I wouldn't do all I could to keep her safe? Of courseMONA: All you could wasn't good enough, then! Do you not remember?! It is our duty to put our lives on the line to protect Miss Pyoma. and if you cared even the slightest bit about her safety, you'd go above and beyond that just to seeJust then, Mona and Symos receive an alert from their COMMANDER via the radios on their belts. COMMANDER Attention all officers of the Arbei Kingdom! We in the citadel have received word that base 71-G has been compromised. Any and all Rank 71-H soldiers on duty are required to focus all their efforts into attempting to reacquire Lady Pyoma immediately and bring her to the citadel. MONA: Well. Looks like those bounty hunters flew off to the northwest. If we want to catch up with them, we'll need to leave immediately. Mona looks around and notices that Symos is nowhere to be seen. She gets upset initially, until Symos shows up riding one of the fortress' large riding animals, with his weapons and bags of supplies ready. 29. SYMOS: You said we should put more effort into keeping Miss Pyoma safe, did you not? Well then! Let us begin our pursuit. MONA: ...Good work. Mona climbs on the animal, and the two are about to speed off along the sands in chase, until a large Arbei airship flies overhead of them, and descends. Several more ARBEI SOLDIERS exit the aircraft, and begin helping up the injured soldiers and collecting any damaged valuables. Leading them is Mona and Symos's commander, GENERAL KESTER(40s-50s), a tall, muscular, imposing man with greying hair, as he surveys the area with a stern look on his face. KESTER You two! Soldiers! Status report. SYMOS: General Kester, sir! The base was attacked by bounty hunters. At least two of them. They captured miss Pyoma and flew off in that direction. MONA: One of them was flying a large Zeppelin-airship hybrid, and we couldn't see who they were. The other one was a young woman in a blue vest, with black hair, a missing tooth, and the strong stench of fermented cactus juice on herKESTER -Enough! You two, come with me. I refuse to let any of you cause any further complications. We're going to contain the subject before any more damage is done. Mona and Symos follow Kester onto his ship, as it takes off and flies off in the same direction the Skylark was headed. 30. EXT. REDSTAR'S SHIP-DAY In a tropical-looking region next to an island floats a large red-and-gold war zeppelin. On it are many Arbei Kingdom soldiers fighting against skyrates, the ones who own this zeppelin. Initially, the guards fend off the skyrates , until SKYRATE CAPTAIN REDSTAR, a tall, strong, man in his forties with a scraggly orange beard, blind in one eye, wearing a flowing dark red coat calmly ambles out of his cabin towards the fight. As he walks towards the guards, two soldiers charge Redstar, but Redstar quickly grabs his sword, made from a sharp angular piece of twisted metal, and uses it to perform a swift maneuver to knock the rifle out of one of the soldier's hands, then stabs him. Redstar then uses his other hand to unholster his flintlock, a red-and-gold gun with two small, sharp blades protruding from the edge of its barrel, and uses it to stab the second soldier right in their chest, and immediately fires the flintlock right after, killing the guard. REDSTAR Do I have to do everything myself? Redstar then quickly shoots and kills one of the skyrates who has just barely won against one of the soldiers. REDSTAR (CONT’D) Next time, finish 'em off faster. The RADIO ALERT sent out by the Arbei Commander from the previous scene plays from a radio attached to the belt of one of the dead Arbei soldiers. Redstar hears this, and picks up the radio, listening to the report with intrigue. REDSTAR (CONT’D) Hmm...Looks like someone actually managed to crack open that Arbei fort. And now whoever did that's got something REALLY valuable just ripe for the taking! SKYRATE #3: But Sir? Do you even know who did it?

[just-a-re-blog]

Save Me

Hello, everyone! So for those of you who are following on @seokjinaf’s recommendation, you all know me as Admin H. Ironically after celebrating my one year anniversary of being a co-admin, it appears that I am now surrendering my title and starting a new blogging adventure of my own! I’ve stopped loafing on Admin G’s virtual couch, packed up my things, moved out, and found myself a new address I can call home to work out of! (But nobody worry--Admin G and I parted mutually on the very best of terms (We are still super close homies.).) So now begins my journey anew.

I am so grateful you all are interested in joining me.

~HMR

They called Kim Seokjin the overseer, the one who watched, the one who advised. Never did they call him the one who interfered. He did as he was told by The Threads themselves, simultaneously their slave and their manipulator, but never their master.

Today, Seokjin wandered the glass palace with bare feet caught somewhere between gliding and stepping across the transparent floors. He watched the wispy forms of all the released souls frolic through the shimmering gardens. He watched the way they took the shapes of every life they had ever lived and watched the way they sometimes took the shape of nothing at all.

In a recess of his mind, Seokjin envied them.

He wanted to be free.

He could almost remember a haze of a time when one of the souls had been recognizable to him, distinguishable among the other halos of smoke. Occasionally, centuries ago, he would blink as one of them passed and picture a girl—long legs and short torso, billowing sundress and bare feet. For a moment she would feel real enough to be a memory, but in the next instant, she was an illusion of a mirage. A hallucination.

He couldn’t remember why the form had ever stood out to him. Was she a mother, a sister, a friend, or a lover? The answer had long left the fragments of consciousness that Seokjin had managed to retain.

Slowly, he wound his way back to The Room. The whispers of his Loom became audible when he was steps from the door. The white strings lay stationary, yet he could sense the ways they vibrated and hummed with the living energy of all Those Below. The Threads called to him, and he had no choice but to heed their summons, as much as he would have liked to turn his back on The Tapestry.

He weaved in the restless peace of the silence, his world of white and glass closing in on him in a way it hadn’t when he had first arrived to replace one of The Elders. Seokjin knew the time was approaching for another young recruit to take a seat beside him to orchestrate the lives of all Those Below, but he didn’t know how the replacement process worked. He knew the candidate needed to be well-balanced—well-versed in life, loss, and everything in between. But choosing a soul to endure the relentless monotony of an afterlife as a Fate seemed more like a punishment than a promotion.

He shoved the thought from his mind and refocused on the task at hand. Some days it was easy for Seokjin to forget that every twist of a Thread changed life as The Humans knew it. If he thought about it too long, he was overwhelmed by the responsibility; a mess of string laid before him, lives hanging balanced in total chaos, and only he and his coworkers knew where each one went. When Taehyung would restock the machine with the ivory twine of newly created souls, products of love, and sometimes hate, Seokjin was required to snip each one to its appropriate length. Some were long enough to last for decades, and others never stretched far enough to actually be strung between The Loom’s mechanisms. On days like today, days when Seokjin couldn’t forget as much as he wanted to, the whole job was a burden.

Seokjin’s morose musings were interrupted by the chirp of Taehyung’s voice.

“Jin! The Tapestry is looking quite lovely today.”

Seokjin laughed wearily. “Taehyung, my friend, I do believe you say that every day.” Taehyung swung his silver pail, and it glinted harmoniously alongside Jin’s silver scissors as it caught the light The Room emitted.

“Well, it looks lovely every day you work on it,” he teased.

Seokjin smiled at the being before him. Taehyung and Jungkook had been the first of The Elders that he had managed to befriend, although he enjoyed Elder Hoseok and Elder Jimin’s company, too. Seokjin was almost certain that at the age of Taehyung and Jungkook’s deaths they had been younger than he—not that he truly remembered his own age anymore—but they had worked alongside The Fates, supplying The Threads and sorting released souls eons before Seokjin had even been conceived on the mortal plane.

“Taehyung…” Jin started quietly. “It’s nearly time for one of The Elders to pass on, isn’t it?”

Taehyung nodded, setting his bucket down. “Yes, the time is about right.” He grinned. “Are you ready to pick the next to join you among The Fates?”

Jin was taken aback. “You don’t mean I get to pick?”

“Of course you do! The outgoing regime doesn’t pick their own replacements. The youngest always gets to choose who joins their ranks. It allows the structure of The Fates to evolve with the times instead of being remade age after age in the same image with different names.”

Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand the weight of the decision that suddenly rested on his shoulders. Taehyung clapped him on the back. “You mean you really didn’t know, my friend?” Jin shook his head. “Well! You’re in for an experience to say the least, dear Seokjin.” Taehyung stretched his arms above his head. “I’d best be on my way. There’s other errands to run, other souls to greet and deliver. Jungkook is undoubtedly wondering where I am.” He winked. Seokjin wanted to beg him to stay, wanted more answers from the only person who seemed willing to tell him what he was about to undertake, but he knew Those Below needed Taehyung to continue with his duties. “I’ll see you later, Jin.”

Jin waved as Taehyung hoisted his pail and turned on his heel to deliver The Threads to Elder Hoseok’s Loom. He had always assumed he had never met the soul that picked him to become a Fate. But according to this new system, Elder Jimin had picked Elder Hoseok, and Elder Hoseok had picked Seokjin. He felt a sick anticipation settle in his stomach. He turned back to his own Loom and snipped for another short eternity. Generations passed for Those Below, but Jin had spent only a moment lost in his work. An Elder whose birth name had long since been forgotten by those who surrounded him halted Seokjin’s work laying a hand on his shoulder. Jin immediately bowed his head.

“Elder.”

The old man smiled kindly, and Jin briefly wondered why the Elder had chosen to reside in this realm in such a form. “Seokjin, I’ve come to talk to you about a very important matter concerning my tenure among you Fates.”

“Yes, sir.” He laid his scissors down beside his Loom and followed the Elder into the courtyard. The two took long strides down the eggshell walkways.

“Seokjin, my time as one of you has nearly concluded. I am to pass on to my final reward within the next few generations.” The dread boiled up in Jin’s throat, and he couldn’t quite figure out why he suddenly felt like a scrawny tree, limbs rooted to the spot. Each step forward seemed to take far more energy than he possessed, a deficit of confidence building inside him only to be replaced by a surplus of anxiety.

“The next few generations? Elder, why so soon?” he managed to choke out.

“That’s simply the nature of my path.” They stopped walking. The Elder examined the rich, rough bark of a branch that spiraled just beyond the snow colored trail. Seokjin vaguely remembered that there used to be more trees, ones that blossomed pink and green buds at will, ones that the souls would dart through as they shifted between the forms they most enjoyed. But that had been ages ago. He didn’t know why those trees had vanished since. It seemed there were a lot of things Seokjin didn’t know.

“How will we find someone to take your empty place, Elder?”

The Elder turned from the branch, smiling again with white teeth peeking between weathered lips. “You will make the choice, Seokjin. You know The Threads grant you the power to watch the lives of Those Below.” Jin nodded. “Use it. Watch the souls living their final incarnations and select one that you feel has lived lifetimes of every variety—lives filled only with pain, lives that were pure bliss, lives that were loveless, lives filled with the purest of earthly loves that could ever exist. For you, there will only be one. The choice will be clear in only your eyes.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Choosing my successor is something only you can do, Seokjin. Every Fate has a different vision of what the next regime will look like. Every Fate is destined to choose someone different.” Seokjin was taken aback—how could The Fates be destined to do anything? Didn’t they themselves pull the strings? “It will be an enlightening experience for you, I’m sure, Jin. As soon as the soul is picked, I will pass on.” The Elder laid a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder. “I see the fear in your eyes, Seokjin.” The Elder’s voice dropped to a whisper and there was a strange, youthful fire in his prismatic irises. “Don’t let it win.” He winked and nodded at Jin, dismissing him.

As Jin walked back to his Loom, his head spun with the idea of Destiny. If he was still slated for a chosen path…how much of his life—how much of the lives of Those Below—did he really even control?

Seokjin skimmed his fingers along the white Threads, shying away from the visions that passed before his eyes—a raven-haired woman laughing in a grocery store, a bald man in a gray sweatshirt jogging through rain-misted streets, a brunette boy playfully kicking at a laughing child beside him—

He paused, hand lingering on one bleached string. He watched the two kids stage a rambunctious fight on the playground, fists swinging and jovial screams echoing through the air. They chased each other across the blacktop’s tar, and Seokjin felt something in him stir. He plucked the Thread briefly and watched the vision shimmer and shift into a picture of the two boys as teenagers. One still had a round face that made him look far too young for his age, but the other was aging nicely, black bowl cut hanging in his eyes. Seokjin peered carefully at the black-haired boy.

He knew his name: Kim Namjoon. Jin felt the storm of emotions that rumbled in the boy’s soul. Seokjin knew them all by heart: happiness, sorrow, lust, jealousy, peace, rage, love. And evidently, Namjoon had come to know them all by heart as well.

He’s the one, Jin understood instantly. A part of him marveled how quick and painless the process had been, and the weight of his anxiety uncurled itself from his shoulders. He shed it like a second skin, like the Human form he had long since abandoned. But all too quickly, the manifestation of his terror swallowed him whole again as he watched the boy age into a young man and his capacity to love deepened. The soul had never known a true love like the one before him. It would have been fitting and a perfect ending for two souls in their last incarnation, had it not been for Jin’s duty.

Seokjin now understood the blow he would be dealing by choosing to follow Destiny’s path.

Namjoon would be taken in as a Fate, and his memories would fade. His ability to look back on the lives he led would be erased slowly, the way the tide ebbed onto salt-washed sands to scrub away the letters carved by lovers’ toes. His soulmate, released to roam her reward of the afterlife, would become just another passing spirit, unrecognizable to Namjoon. Namjoon would never be the wiser. He would barely comprehend what he was missing.

But Seokjin would know. He would see the question in Namjoon’s eyes every time the nagging sensation of longing tickled the younger’s mind. And he would hold the answer somewhere behind layers of dammed explanations of Destiny and necessity. And he would hold that guilt in the palms of his hands.

He rubbed his arms nervously, unsure of whether or not he could bear the knowledge.

Is Fate itself worth the cost?

Seokjin closed his eyes, fingers still on Namjoon’s Thread when the vertigo hit him. He was suspended in a weightless limbo, unable to pinpoint exactly where his body was, unable to feel all the pieces of himself. Fear kept his eyelids squeezed together and flipped his coherent thoughts into an abyss of confusion. He briefly wondered if he had failed, if he was being punished for his indecision.

The static motion disappeared in a single instant, but the tendrils of panic curled around Seokjin’s awareness faded much more slowly, like a curtain of fog gently rolling in retreat along the verdant peaks of forested hills.

Namjoon seemed to be an arms-length away when Seokjin opened his eyes, but he was still separated by something like water that blurred the edges of everything in his vision. He turned where he stood, looking up. His heart dropped as he saw his Loom an infinity away. He spun back to face Namjoon, still confused, but with a strange yearning conviction in his chest.

He pushed his hand against the shimmering barrier, and his fingers broke through with surprising ease. The light of his Loom started to fade above him as he pressed the rest of his body forward.

And then he was tumbling, smacking his left cheek onto something hot and incredibly hard.

“Whoa, man, you okay?” a deep voice asked in front of him.

Seokjin blinked slowly and lifted his head, eyes squinted against the sun as he took in Kim Namjoon’s outstretched hand. The boy he had grown up with appeared beside him.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Nam. Just tripped while he was out for a jog,” Min Yoongi reasoned.

Namjoon waved him off and grabbed Seokjin’s hand, pulling him to his feet on the suburban sidewalk. “You looked like you hit your head kind of hard. Do you feel alright?”

Seokjin looked around with wide eyes, trying to comprehend the sudden rush of stimuli bombarding his every sense. He could feel the heat of the sun again. He could smell the freshness of the outdoor air again. But most importantly, he could really see again. He could see cerulean, lilac, dandelion and umber. Gone was his prison of glass and white. The world—he himself—was vibrant again.

His focus shifted back to Namjoon as excitement burned electric streaks through his newly living veins and branded a radiant white smile to his face.

“I feel great.”

Days cultivating friendships with Namjoon and Yoongi snowballed into nights of reckless parties, hours of conversations with Namjoon’s girlfriend, and weeks of obnoxiously loud laughter. He couldn’t get drunk, and he perceived everything differently as an already departed spirit, but nonetheless, Seokjin lost track of his purpose, The Loom and The Threads seeming like distant memories of dreams.

“Hey, Jin,” Yoongi yelled, jogging towards Seokjin that last day months after his new life had begun. The day was technicolor, but there was a foreboding darkness gathering in a cloudy haze in Jin’s eyes. “Want to go run down to the river? Yina wants to go skinny dipping tonight.” Yoongi waggled his eyebrows and elbowed Jin’s ribs.

Jin chuckled. “Remind me why you want to swim naked with your best friend and his girlfriend? You know they’re going to end up having loud sex on the bank.”

Yoongi’s voice dropped as he smiled deviously. “Because you never know when Yina’s going to be down for an extra participant.”

Seokjin scoffed. “Yeah, okay. You’re going to be in a threesome in front of Ahyin? She’s going, too, right?”

“Would I go if she wasn’t?”

“I don’t know how you got so lucky and snagged that girl, Yoongi.”

Yoongi genuinely smiled. “I don’t know either. Anyway, are you coming or not?”

Seokjin shrugged and grinned. “I could use a swim. But I don’t want to run.” He felt oddly exhausted, like he had sprinted a marathon and never taken the time to recover. “Can we drive instead?

“You got it, boss man.” Yoongi slapped Jin’s chest playfully and turned on his heel.

The ominous suspicion that settled like lead in the back of Seokjin’s mind came to fruition a few progressions of the hour hand later as the car ambled through buzzing streets against the blood orange sunset.

They didn’t even see it happen, his mortal friends. They didn’t see the way the metal coating on the side of Namjoon’s beater crumpled more easily than paper as it met the grill of the completely inflexible semi. They didn’t see the way the fractured glass pattered against their skin like deadly rain leaving bloody wounds in its wake. They didn’t see the way Yoongi’s body bent and broke when the door beside him deformed or the way Yina’s head bounced repeatedly against the window when the car tumbled.

But Seokjin saw it all.

He screamed when the car finally rocked to a stop, resting wheels-up in the median, wrapped ironically around a yield sign. He scrambled to unbuckle his seatbelt and slammed onto the car’s ceiling. But he felt no pain. No blood flowed from where the shards scratched over his flesh. Instead, he felt like a mirage, sense of touch, sense of reality fading as though he was a hologram.

Still, he crawled to Yoongi’s limp form, positioning himself carefully under the boy and releasing him from his restraints. Yoongi fell awkwardly into his arms, unmoving and unresponsive to the searing pain that should have radiated from his gaping cuts and mangled limbs. Seokjin put two shaky fingers to the sticky skin of Yoongi’s neck, praying he would be able to sense some trace of life moving through him. But he felt nothing. Jin slammed his palm to Yoongi’s chest in panic, searching for the warmth of the Human soul that only he would be able to feel. But he felt nothing. Yoongi’s spirit had already departed.

Seokjin choked on the cry that scraped at his throat, tears he didn’t know he could produce splashing onto Yoongi’s pale face as he slowly rocked the deceased boy in his arms. Confusion overwhelmed him as his time as a Fate rushed back to smother his memories of the last few months; Yoongi’s Thread wasn’t this short. He was supposed to live to 83. How could he be gone so soon?

He looked through the dented window frame, no longer filled with glass, and wondered why no one on the outside was reacting. He wondered why no concerned voices were asking if they were okay, why no desperate hands were trying to pull them from the wreckage. But the world around them seemed frozen, cars in the exact same spots they had been when the semi rammed into the car.

Is the sky always this light?

A strangled cough interrupted his disoriented grief.

Yina.

Seokjin laid Yoongi down and made his way to the front of the car, untangling Yina from seatbelt straps and the airbag. She groaned weakly when he touched her, when he closed his fingers around her wrist. Her thready pulse betrayed just how barely she clung to life. His hand rested carefully over her heart, her ribs worse for the wear from the airbag’s impact. The warmth of her soul was faint, but Seokjin rejoiced that it was there at all.

Momentarily satisfied by the relief that Yina was still alive, Seokjin turned to Namjoon and found his friend fighting to keep his eyes open as he dangled from his upside-down seat. The airbag hadn’t gone off on the driver’s side, and Jin couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse. He eased Namjoon’s body into his arms, and his fingertips searched for a pulse.

Has Namjoon always been this white?

“Namjoon, come on. Stay with me,” he begged as the younger’s eyes started to slip shut. Namjoon struggled to keep his gaze fixed on Seokjin’s face. He opened his mouth, lips trying to form silent words and hands reaching for Jin’s arms as his chest heaved noiselessly. Namjoon’s fingers gripped the fabric of Seokjin’s shirt with surprising strength.

“J-Jin,” he gasped. “Y-Y-You…have to…s-save…save her.”

“I’m going to do what I can,” Seokjin assured him. “Save your strength.”

“Jin,” Namjoon said again with determination. “You…h-have…to s—” He inhaled sharply, the muscles in his neck straining as his heartbeat slowed drastically.

“Namjoon!” His hold on Jin faltered, hands sliding down Jin’s arms.

The skin around Namjoon’s eyes was a blue-violet as he labored to suck in oxygen, but his eyes themselves were calm with resolve as they met Seokjin’s.

“S-Save her.”

And then the expression was falling from Namjoon’s face, irises boring blankly into Jin’s for a split second as his heart stuttered. His head lolled. The warmth curled in Namjoon’s chest vanished. And Seokjin screamed again.

“I don’t understand!” he sobbed. “It was supposed to be him! He was supposed to live!”

The last of the color drained from Seokjin’s vision and suddenly he was standing behind that shimmering curtain again, barricaded from reaching the Human world. Taehyung stood in front of him.

“Taehyung!” Seokjin cried. “Taehyung, something’s wrong. These people—” He pointed to his friends. “—they’re not supposed to die yet. Their Threads were cut short—”

“I know,” Taehyung said softly.

“Why is it happening?” he asked with desperation. The pity in Taehyung’s eyes gave him his answer. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

“Fault is a strong word, my friend. I prefer ‘reason.’” Taehyung put his hand on Seokjin’s shoulder. “It’s because you are still connected to your Loom, Seokjin. Still connected to the Threads. They never left you.” Seokjin looked down and was horrified to see the pulsating strings hanging from his flesh, running underneath his skin like veins containing life-blood that could only sustain others. “The longer you remained here Below, the more the Threads became entangled. The Fates needed to make some adjustments—restringing, replacing, snipping. These three were in too deep to be salvaged. The knot tying them to you was just too tight.”

Seokjin fell to his knees with his head in his hands, weeping quietly.

“I didn’t mean to!” he cried. “I just…I just wanted to be sure I could live with forcing Namjoon to be a Fate. And I didn’t even mean to come here. It was an accident! But then I got caught up, and I didn’t want to go back, and I—”

Taehyung crouched in front of the broken boy. “Seokjin, you don’t have explain yourself to anyone. No one here is blaming you for anything.”

“But I killed them!” His voice shook as he spoke. “I left The Threads behind, and this disaster, this guilt…it’s my punishment to bear.”

“Dear friend, I do wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. There is a way to reverse the damage.”

Seokjin looked up with his eyebrows furrowed. “What? That doesn’t make any sense. Their souls departed. Jungkook has probably already marked them on his Register.”

Taehyung shook his head with a small smile. “Seokjin, did you know you have the power to mend severed Threads?” Taehyung chuckled lightly at the confused expression on the young Fate’s face. “It’s a safeguard for just this kind of accidental trimming. Even tapped into Destiny itself, Fates still make mistakes. After all, at some point, all of us were only Human.” Taehyung grinned and winked.

Seokjin sat up, rubbing his face. “Tell me how. I’ll do anything. Just let me save my friends.”

Taehyung bit his lip hesitantly. “You know you would have sacrifice the life you’re building here and return to your Loom?”

Seokjin nodded without a second thought. “I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Taehyung said, taking Seokjin’s hand.

Jin blinked and they were back among The Looms, The Tapestry appearing a ragged mess of poorly crossed strings. Taehyung talked Seokjin through the restoration process, and Jin worked fervently to mend his friend’s lives. One by one, they were revived—Yoongi’s ruptured spinal cord sparking with life-giving signals again, Yina’s heart revving back to life moments before the end of her final breath, Namjoon coughing up spurts of dark blood until his airway was clear.

He watched as Namjoon and Yina reached out bruised and battered hands towards each other and overlaid their fingers.

“I knew—” Namjoon panted. “—the heavens would save you.”

The bystanders jolted back into real-time, finally taking notice of the mutilated vehicle and swarming with cell phones and attempts to help.

Seokjin withered, collapsing to his hands and knees in overwhelming gratitude. Taehyung put his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Well done, Seokjin. Well done.”

The generations passed in an instant for Seokjin. He watched souls grow from infants to old age, and he loved every second of it.

The older Fates retired, but no one ever seemed to take their places anymore. Even Taehyung and Jungkook were eventually released to their final rewards. But Seokjin never felt lonely.

The Looms merged into one, and Seokjin’s fingers alone knew how to fly across it. The Tapestry changed, too, every piece more interconnected, every Thread taking on a new color until The Tapestry was a rainbow of falling rain, drifting flower petals and every language the world spoke. It breathed with the lives of all Those Below. It breathed with the lives of The Humans. And it breathed with the reawakened Humanity within Seokjin himself.

Seokjin’s world was no longer made of pure white and glass. No, now Seokjin lived in breathtaking technicolor.

The day did come, eons down the road, when a young soul not so different from himself arrived to relieve Jin of his duties. And on the day when Seokjin found himself released to his final reward, he felt a vibrant anticipation dye his spirit.

They were waiting for him with open arms and bright smiles that day, those ones he most wanted to see. Declarations of love and gratitude hung in the space between their bodies. After all, they had all been each other’s salvation.

Jimin, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook. Yoongi, Ahyin, Yina.

Namjoon.

Jeehyun.

He reached out to touch Jeehyun’s face, memories of a billowing ivory sundress enveloping her long sun-kissed legs, hugging her short torso, and accenting the tan of her bare feet washing over him like a baptism.

“Hello again, Seokjin,” she whispered in that warm golden voice he knew so well.

“Hello, my beautiful Jeehyun,” he whispered back, taking her into his arms far too many centuries later.

She slipped her mocha-hued hand into his, smiling gleefully as they all turned to face the forested emerald courtyard. Seokjin plucked a blush pink blossom from an ornately twisted sand-colored branch and smelled it before placing it in his soulmate’s mahogany locks.

Seokjin pulled her tightly against himself. “Aren’t the trees gorgeous this time of year?”