#I hope I can finish this for CBD

[thesymphonytrue]

Seven-sh Sentence Sunday (er Monday)

Thank you for the tag, @penna-nomen !!

okay so this is a fic idea that's random and out there...but it features old (and I mean like age 70+ old) Peter and Neal, at the end of their long full lives together as best buddies. I'm planning for it to be quirky and funny but also thinking about it makes me cry SOOO, here's a snippet from the first scene: (lol hint hint I was inspired by my recent obsession with The Notebook musical, hence the elderly Peter and Neal 😂)

~~~~~~

Neal smoothed his hair as he shut his car door. His dark swoops had long gone gray and little crinkly lines now decorated his still-stunningly blue eyes. At seventy years old, Neal Caffrey was dapper as ever, sporting his famous fedora that made even the young nurses swoon and blush. 

The leaves crunched beneath his feet as he strode the long walkway up to what looked like an old house on a hill. Deciduous trees surrounded the large, colonial style home, their leaves on fire with reds, golds, and browns. An autumn breeze kissed his now sagging cheeks, making him feel forty years younger, filling his heart with a youthful glow. 

Today is a good day. He thought, determined. 

On his shoulder was a leather briefcase appearing to hold documents or books, but it held neither of those things. 

A twinkle sparked in Neal’s eyes.

 One final con.

~~~~~~

[pansy-placebo]

Had a very big day today! I woke up very late, started the laundry and I was juuust finishing breakfast my boyfriend bursts in and announces he's going to the beach. Right now. So I had to rush to get ready to join him since I also wanted to go to the beach.

Turns out he was meeting with more people than I initially thought so after the hassle of meeting up (involved a little walking), we spent like an hour on the beach. It was gorgeously sunny and as warm as it really gets around here, so my boyfriend and others went to swim, paddle or board in the seawater water. I just read a book and enjoyed the sunshine. I was definitely the gothest man on the beach that day lol, decked head to foot in black and grey, neck laden with necklaces. It felt good to look nice in public, and the black kept me from needing my jacket for most of it.

I lost a lot of spoons just walking two and from places, like from the car to the beach to find people and back to grab my stuff. I could see the spoons falling out of me and clattering on the ground where I walked, leaving a stream of precious invisible cutlery.

I was already very low on energy but we had a performance to watch, we booked the tickets ages ago and my friend was performing. It was a pole dancing/ aerial hoop show by a local group.

It was a great time!! Lots of cool performances, skilled dancers/athletes, great music and really well-done lighting. For one of the songs, the lights pulsed to the music which was really cool and added a lot of drama. There were also a few team performances of two people on the same hoop/pole, synched acts, etc and they were phenomenal. The acrobatics there were really impressive and the costumes were 😘👌 It overall involved a lot of clapping and hooting on my part so I lost the last of my energy doing that lol.

They held a raffle. My friend who performed and I were both vying for a knitted bolero thingy, and they actually won it! Drat. I wanted it. Still, I won 2 prizes! A painting of daffodils and some interesting acrylic earrings.

After the performance, I was lagging very far behind my bf and a friend while going to the car. I'm pretty much completely drained, my legs are sore, this is the most walking I've done in a while, probably the most so far this year. I wish I had a pedometer because I'd like to know what my current limits are and build on them.

Anyway, it was a fun day I thought it worth writing down. :3

I've taken some painkillers and some CBD gummies, finished some food I left earlier as a before-bed snack, and am currently working up the energy to go brush my teeth.

Tomorrow, my boyfriend, his boyfriend and some friends are going on a big day out that I already figured I wouldn't be able to attend, but now that I've had such a big day I know for sure I'll be absolutely wiped out.

Here's hoping the pain won't be so bad tomorrow, and that I can at least muster up the energy to go sit in the sunshine outside. I could probably put a blanket/towel down outside on a green patch near the house and chill there, if weather allows. 🤞

[hyperbolicgrinch]

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? 

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Im sorry there's so many. I'm just a simp for my author wifey, and you can ask me anything forever 💖

ASKS FROM BANG?!! I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD

Don't apologise, I adore you for it. Thank you, 🥜, for taking the time to send me anything. ☺️

(huhuhuhu permission granted, let's go 👁️👄👁️💖)

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

Hmm. If it's like punctuation (and grammar too, I guess), I'd say it's like 4 (1 being the best thing ever sgsggdj) cause 85% of the time I know exactly what to to with that and love fixing little low stake slip-ups that have laid out rules I can follow and don't really need to overthink about.

Editing, like going through and punching everything up a notch or cleaning up flow is hmm, still pretty high. Like a 5. Cause even though it can be daunting and painstaking, I love that I actually have words on a page to play around with. I think it let's the ideas and scenes reach a closer version to the ones I had in my head. It's a lot of work and can drive one crazy but getting things to sing or spark is so satisfying ngl. 😌

Editing when you have to overhaul and rewrite large parts and fix one big problem but maybe make ten more is a quick and easy way to go insane but I still think it's not that bad. Like a 6 or 7. Cause, once again, I've already got words to fuck around and find out with and I'd take that over a blank page any day.

Proof reading editing can be really fun because spotting inconsistencies and lining them all up so they match makes brain go brrrrr so like a 5 or 6. Especially because at that point I know I'm so close to the finish line and the pay off is right there if I just get my shit together. 😂

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

fuck it, more than 5 be upon ye: 🥣🚩🫀🧵🧲😤💋🦋🏴‍☠️

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?

Fatigue. 😅 Depression. 😅 Imposter syndrome. 😅 The stars not feeling like they've aligned correctly. 😮‍💨 The pressure to write a scene how it is in my head. 😩 The "what's the point?" poison to my whimsy and motivation. 🙄 The amount of time that's passed since I started writing the thing. 😭 The constant desire for instant gratification. 😐 The everyday horrors. 😵‍💫 My pedantic ass. 😮‍💨 Me forever renting real estate in the procrastination CBD. 🙄 I love to shoot myself in foot and just stare at a wall thinking about writing but not doing it. So just about everything under the sun, really. 🤪

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I don't know if this is what the question meant sfsghfhjjj but arghh I want a modern au that's so specific and catered to my exact tastes and based on the rambles my sister and I have had hsjjajjsk but there's also like this canon divergent ??? fix it??? au??? manifesting?? idea I have been thinking about non-stop since it got inside my brain but that I'm worried to to do in case it gets my hopes up for canon but basically I want two characters (and their crews) (but also these other two random characters that are not related to the first idea or each other bwhhah but I have thoughts for too and need them to come back exactly how I am envisioning because it would honestly be the Best Thing to Happen Since Sliced Bread ppfft hshajjajahsh) to somehow find each other again and team back up and take no shit to get revenge and then maybe kiss a little bit in front of the 1️⃣☮️ or something agshshsjaka after a dramatic entrance and while they hold some huge threat off so Luffy can get the ultimate boss fight done hdhsjskjshdj (Oda I'm so fr like if you need a rest or wanna hand their arc off so you can focus on bigger things, I'm right here cracking my metaphorical knuckles, I'll do it for you so fast, I have Ideas, put me in coach you won't regret ittt🙂👉👈) but it would be like so much work to make a plot that even made sense for it because I would have to do so much reaching and hand waving unless I got real serious about it and even then I would have to make so much up because there is no word of Goda or known timeline yet or events to use for its structure. 😅😂

But just anyone. Anyone that isn't me should write it (like Oda if you've got a moment...I mean, you've already done most of it,, might as well keep going, man) 😂 Maybe they even have... I haven't had a chance to look. 😅

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Any and all comments spark joy and make me hehehehe and teeheeteehee and kick my feet and then I put them in my "reasons to keep writing" folder so I can go back and look at them when I'm feeling like a fraud or giving up on the thing. I wish I could be more specific but I really do cherish when people take the time to just leave anything. If they say what they liked or quote something they loved, that's even better, but merely a kind-hearted bonus. ☺️

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Hhrrmmm. If the vibe check just ain't passing for whatever reason or the tone and character is off to an unforgivable degree. 😌 Maybe it's in character for them and the version of that character they have in their heads, but if it ain't clicking for me, it ain't clicking, and I can't push through it. 😩 I think this is a very common one but yeah, character makes or breaks a fic. Cause it's the whole point, at the end of the day, ya know? 😅

[glittergutts]

I love the days I get to talk to Chris while he's at work. That 10 minutes has been the highlight of my day. I'm really looking forward to his long weekend and taking a little day trip. I think after the soak were going to check out a little local museum that looks pretty cool online. It's free too and there's a library attached to it.

I just got home with groceries and put them away now I've got to prep some stuff for our picnic tomorrow and drink some more coffee so I can finish doing my chores and get started on my relaxing weekend. I fucking deserve a break too, I've earned it.

After I vacuum, mop, and clean the bathroom, I'm going to have spa night with a face mask and fancy cbd bubble bath. I want to feel good and look good tomorrow because I'm essentially having a day long date with Chris and I still try to look good for him because I enjoy the girly things in life like, a lot.

I had a nice long nap earlier so I feel pretty energetic right now, I just hope I can channel that into doing something good.

Back when I worked, went to college, and was pregnant with Lola I would clean my house every Friday and it stayed nice and clean. Now with 2 kids I feel like I need to clean the whole house twice a week. But it was a good thing I had going for me and I'm going to try to make it happen today because Hobbits have to start somewhere.

I think I'm going to try to get some exercise today on my elliptical. I don't always feel good enough to push my body to do anything and I'm having a low pain day thankfully so I'm going to take advantage of that.

I don't know how many of my ambitions I can accomplish but I have a lot of goals today.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Some folks have been questioning whether or not i'm epileptic, or if my seizures are as severe as I say they are. Here's a video of me participating in a seizure study. This is what happens when I miss a single dose of my medication and sleep deprived. For this study, I went over 24 hours without sleep.

My seizure threshold is extremely low, meaning it takes very little to trigger a seizure. We learned why so many medications have failed me. We learned why meds will never completely control my seizures. We learned that my seizures begin deep in my brain and spread to both frontal lobes, which disqualifies me from every known brain implant available for seizure control.

Before commenting here or asking questions, read the comments and my replies in the link. I will direct you to the comments if it's something I've answered already.

In my most recent EEG, back in I think...2017? During the strobe light test, the EEG was showing massive seizure activity. There were no outward signs though, which had the doctor confused and concerned, so he talked to me. That's when he discovered something disturbing. How? I was conversational. No confusion, very chatty, and when the strobes stopped, the seizure activity diminished. I finished the test with a headache and exhausted. Some apple juice and a protein bar fixed the worst of it. That's when we learned I'm likely having several seizures a day, and may be why I'm hypoglycemic. Seizures burn through glucose, and my blood sugar tanks after I have seizures. It doesn't help that I have ADHD and forget to eat, which then lowers my blood sugar and outs me at risk for more seizures.

Yeah, epilepsy is complicated. It's also terminal if left untreated or poorly controlled. I'm high risk for SUDEP, but the risk is lower if my stress and anxiety are lower. It's one of the reasons I use edibles. The combination of THC and CBD have successfully helped me get more control over my seizures.

I hope this provides you with some information and gives you a better understanding of what it is I live with. The video is a tonic-clonic seizure, which is in the gran mal family. These occur twice a month for me, when my period begins and ends. I have a variety of other less violet seizures everyday.

Low blood sugar, too much stimulation (namely noise, and i'm autistic), stress, anxiety, lack of sleep, consuming gluten (I have celiac disease), illness, fever, being too hot (i have poor heat tolerance), these are just a few things that can and will trigger seizures.

I don't know how to drive, and have no desire to learn, seeing as I must go a year seizure-free. That will never happen. I cannot work because if the many things on the list that can and will trigger seizures.

Again, read the comments and replies. You'll find the answers to your questions there. I will direct you to read these before I answer any questions regarding my seizures.

[taxiluzern24ch]

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[ardn716maihoa]

Experimental test kitchen / Previsualization

In-class reflection

What is the idea? - Capture the authentic moment people at night like homeless and nightlife. The project will explore the vibrant and dynamic atmosphere of nightlife scenes, highlighting the juxtaposition between different aspects of urban life.

What is the objective? - The project aims to shed light on the lives of individuals experiencing homelessness, showing another side of the city and their experiences.

What is the approach? - I will show my respect and approach them politely, strike up a conversation and ask permission before taking their photo. Respect their privacy and personal space.

Summarize your group feedback? What did you peers suggest? - Look for moments that highlight the resilience, strength, and humanity of your subjects. I need to capture moments of joy and hope amidst adversity.

Action plan: Your next 3 steps in order and dates - I signed up to borrow the camera and can pick it up next monday and then I can find someone who will let me take their picture, the location I want to shoot will be in K road or CBD

Career destination

5 years - Professional with my career

2 years - Moreeeee

1 year - More experience.

End of this course - Have the dream job.

This week - Finish PITCh

[returntosaturn271995]

Tuesday, October 24th: The Crying Game

I truly am Pavolv's dumbest dog.

Within five minutes of sitting down to therapy, I start crying like the walls are emitting pepper spray. It's both a relief and embarrassing as I slowly collect tissues from my therapist into an ever-growing ball of Kleenex and mucus.

I hope there's never a murder in that building because, after a year and a half, it's basically coated in my DNA.

"Issues" covered:

The insane guilt I feel about "wasting" years of my 20s feeling depressed

Worries that my productivity is only temporary, and I truly am just human garbage

That I'm only as good as my last accomplishment

That I only have so long to fix my personality

The fact that I see my personality as something to be "fixed"

The fact that I still think I'm kind of right ^

Is it so wrong to want to love myself but also try to make myself more lovable at the same time? (Like I'm doing it for myself...so that one day someone can actually love me. I'm doing these things to feel more confident...because confidence is attractive.)

Thinking 28 means I've "run out of time"

Worrying is a form of avoidance

Learning to see who I am outside of what I've done that day, that month, that year

Remembering I still have made a fuck ton of progress

It's okay to notice depressive thoughts. That's not a slide.

Remembering there are aspects of my life that are successful

One of them being my job and waking up at 6 am for it

Another having good relationships with friends and family (no major interpersonal drama)

Massive fear of failure

Continuing to cut back on alcohol, (I retain my right to CBD, this is still California).

Issues not covered:

My low-key non-belief in romantic love

The not-unrelated recent emergence of my biological clock

How I dress better on the days I see her to look like I have my shit more together. Would a depressed person wear $150 wide-leg trousers from Aritzia? (ignore small iced coffee stain).

How just today I downloaded an app called "WaterLlama" for $9 because I can't be trusted with my own hydration or apparently my own money. (I am now peeing what feels like constantly).

How because her practice is in a normal office building, I regularly traipse by people after all the tearing up has given me "ham-sandwich-face". I then feel the urge to explain to them that actually I just paid to cry in therapy for $160 which is healthy. I'm not just some emotionally unstable girl who hates her job in this building. (Well, not this building anyway. And not at this job currently).

My on-going battle with Etsy's customer service department to escape fraudulent charges that were made yesterday.

I'm supposed to focus less on my daily goals being a metric of my self-worth...

But whatever I still did good things:

Cardio: Shin splint is back because I ran on it too soon, I hit my fitness goal by walking 4 miles to the beach. Great walk, beautiful view, 10/10 dog watching.

Work: Up at 6 am, powered through like a champ, and did 2 things I've been putting off which I consider high performance.

Cooking: Ate apples and overnight oats I made Saturday night, baked a chicken pot pie from Trader Joes.

Reading: I finished "Really, Good, Actually" and will be collecting its quotes to share here when I feel like it. Very quotable book.

Meditation: How what we love is what we dedicate our time to. I clearly like to meditate, read, cook, and cry in front of trained professionals. Oh and spending time with friends making fun of reality TV.

Yoga: I may not have it in me today for yoga. But I will attempt a relaxation one and tell myself I'm happy with any length of time.

Organization: The pile of shoes in my closet will be my master no longer. But again...going to let myself eat first.

Today's fragrance: Ameline by Phlur.

Current mood: Drained (but in a therapeutic way).

Now I'm going to fuck off, smoke a little weed, and enjoy some carbs.

That's how you win the crying game.

[evebjournal]

Oct 9th, 23 - 1:04am

Got a lot done today, or so I think. Got up at 10am, which is an improvement because I've been sleeping in till noon. That was only because I was sick with a nasty viral sinus infection but I have since recovered.

Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians! Eat some yummy turkey, gravy and tatoes for me. Maybe thanksgiving will be better next year. I hope one day I can cook thanksgiving for my family. I'm sure a lot of people are skipping thanksgiving this year. Nobody can afford a turkey, let alone $100 for one. Inflation is insane.

Looking forward to the spooky season. Found some cool skull jars and cups at the dollar store since I can't afford much else ���� Dollar stores got some awesome stuff sometines.

Made cookies, made half oatmeal chocolate chip and just regular chocolate chip. They turned out pretty well.

Writing has been going well. Working on new werewolf romance novelette. Just finished writing chapter six.

Did adulting duties such as making myself roasted smashed potatoes for dinner and some leftover for tomorrow. 😋 Was also pretty good cleaning up after baking cookies. Kitchens a bit messy but I'll fix that up later.

Goodnight spoonies, hopefully I don't wake up with a cluster migraine like I did yesterday morning. (Rebound headaches from tylenol sucks!). May my CBD help me sleep well.

Sweet dreams 💜😴

[thelittlemarketbunch]

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[compo67]

only a young man can harness it

i put on the untamed tonight and it was the best decision.

writing these things is so cathartic. it's comforting to see things in a list.

and there's no plot, no body language, no flow to think about. no words i have to pop into the thesaurus.

i was with the gals friday, saturday, sunday, and today. i saw them off before they went to work. G didn't want to go and i didn't want her to either. but she did, because duty called.

i rattled around their home. i took up space. i talked to myself. i sang. i danced in the living room for a minute. i ate cold pizza and finished the coffee G made me. then i worked on edits.

i read poetry by a cis dude and hated it. i still want to shake him and yell, "this is NOT how you love/respect WOMEN."

i love buying poetry books. they're usually slimmer than prose and therefore, more fit on my bookshelf. not that i really have a bookshelf. but i suppose two cubes counts.

i feel confident in calling that 'poetry' awful. i have a degree in this shit. i read it often, seek it out, and will always, always turn up for poetry by queer folks, women, poc, and disabled folks.

ugh. it'll take a while to just... shake off this awful feeling of "bro, you have ISSUES."

my sister picked me up and she was in a terrible mood. i guess i was, too. i didn't want to leave the gals or their home. there, i'm able to laugh when i want to and cry when i need to. i'm loved, safe, taken care of, and warm.

but. i did miss my bed. i missed the dogs and henry. i missed my snacks and CBD soap. so, i left. i folded all the blankets on the couch.

i hid from the real world today. i didn't call anywhere, didn't do anything but write, edit, or read fic. too bad, so sad, real world.

the only regret i do have, though, is i forgot to stop by CVS and pick up my anti-depressant. tonight is night 2 without it and i really hope i don't get brain zaps.

my sister made dinner. it was... maybe not her greatest work. the tomato sauce was oddly sweet. i washed the dishes.

my mom and i watched more Blown Away. god, i really don't like Deborah.

our doggo, emma, turned 14 last week. tonight, i noticed she's having some issues moving her back legs. when she tried to get up, she yelped. i insisted that my mom give her a pain med. my mom is always reluctant. it just... reminds me of hospice. and i hate it. i hate the idea of anyone i love suffering from pain.

i'm super anxious about what will happen with emma. i hope she's only having a flare up. i just don't want to lose more than i've already lost in this past year.

i watched a little bit of the pens game tonight. mostly just to have something to listen to/avoid silence. then i put on the untamed and all my feels about WWX and NH etc. calmed me down.

there's something about mandarin that just brings me to a better place. i'm glad i went with TU instead of WoH.

speaking of C-dramas, the gals and i started the sleuth of the ming dynasty and i am HERE FOR IT

hopefully, we get to watch more of it later this week. i need to give myself some time apart from them so i don't spiral and i'm sure they'd like some time together. maybe by friday.

heyyyyy a-yao.

i'm noodling a TCV chapter. or more like, i have a chapter, but it needs reworking. some folks have submitted prompts and things they'd like to see. i think i can fit these into what i've got.

tomorrow, my goal is MPM.

i think the stars play the canadiens tomorrow. after the panthers game (OH GOD) and the lightning (less OH GOD, but still)--we really need a win.

i did put away all my laundry, though. that feels good.

so tomorrow: CVS first thing.

i am still trying to decide if there's anything i want to do with lobster fic. i don't think a sequel is necessary, but i really love that version of jared. i just... don't really know what to do with jensen? and i feel like my time is better spent on MPM.

it's just weird. letting go of something that isn't entirely yours in the first place. something you looked forward to once, and now it's like--i don't really want to work on this.

my headcanon with NH and NM is that NM protects NH from a lot of things, accepts him for wanting to paint and make fans, etc.

anyway.

i am readjusting. hoping that things work out for the best. trying to be patient with myself and others. trying to find ways to take care of my mental health that aren't at the expense of my physical health. tomorrow is ozempic day. thursday is orencia day.

okay. get thee to a nunnery, cal. time to wind down.

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “Friday Lunch”

A/N: I’m sorry I posted this a week late but I had work to do over the weekend and couldn’t squeeze it in. But alas, here I am at 2:00AM posting this as inspiration struck and I wanted to share this new chapter with you all even with pending work waiting tomorrow morning. :) Thank you for reading and all your lovely comments on this little fic. <3 Again, this fic is me trying to get back into writing so some things might be off. I also noticed that I didn’t really set a particular location for this fic so I invented most of the areas where this is set but in essence, think of it in major CBD areas. I hope this update brings a little joy to you as we continue to stay home in this pandemic. As always, your comments and suggestions are always welcome. Lots of love, M.

AO3  / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again 

XXXX

Jamie scheduled to arrive 15 minutes early for their meeting to make sure that they were able to get a seat before the lunch rush. Nothing extraordinary was happening on this particular Friday with only some paperwork and quick calls taking his time so there was no rush to get back to the office. 

Just as he left his building, he spotted Claire at the crossing heading to the plaza. 

“Claire! Wait up!” Jamie called out as he tried to catch her but to his surprise, Claire ignored him and crossed the street nonetheless. Confused at first, Jamie let it go and went with the next group of people. 

When he arrived at the restaurant, Claire acknowledged him with a cheerful greeting. “Hi! I just arrived, thought I’d come a little early to save us a seat.” 

“I know.” Jamie replied casually but Claire’s questioned look prompted him to follow through quickly. “I saw you earlier just before you crossed the street. I called your name but maybe you didn’t hear me”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I probably didn’t. I usually have my headphones on when walking and completely unaware of anything except well...walking.”

“No worries. It’s all good.” Jamie replied, thankful for the explanation but it was no big deal really because what’s more important to him was that she was there. “Did you order yet?” 

“No, not yet, was waiting for you. I’d probably get the soy chicken chops today. How about you? What are you ordering? How was your chicken yesterday?” 

“It was really good and tasty! Now, I know why you come here weekly.” he stood, ready to get in line. “I’ll probably have what you’ll be getting. Any drink preference?” 

“Maybe a large red iced tea” Claire said, taking out her wallet to get some cash.

“No need.” Jamie halted Claire as humbly as he could hoping that she saw the genuineness of his lunch offer. “It’s my treat today for introducing me to this meal.” 

Claire mused initially but accepted his kind gesture. “Thank you.” 

Jamie came back with their food and added french fries for a side dish. “This is for sharing, feel free to get some” He said, serving their food and giving the tray back to the counter. 

If Jamie thought there would be an awkwardness to their sudden acquaintanceship, he thought wrong. There was something about Claire that just puts him at ease. 

“You know, come to think of it, I should be treating you for sharing your umbrella the other day.” Claire said, beginning to eat and Jamie following suit. 

“Well, I’m currently and probably addicted to this chicken now so, call it even.” 

“Haha, sure.” 

“So, what are you specializing in?” Jamie asked, continuing the conversation. 

“I’m a pediatric neonatal surgeon at North Hope General Hospital. I’m finishing, or hoping to finish, my residency in a year. How about you?” 

“I’m an associate lawyer with Fraser Clan Law.” 

“Oh, that’s why your name was familiar. Your family’s company has been here in the city forever, almost like an institution!”

“Yeah, been here for around 50 years. My grandfather started it and now my father is heading it and I joined a few years back after I finished law school.” 

“Is it something you’d always planned? Joining the family business?”

“Kind off, yes. I have been going to the office since I was young so I grew up in that place. But I learned to love the profession as well, seeing my family do it, defending and fighting for justice… gives me a thrill.” 

“I can relate to that somehow. Whenever I’m in the O.R., saving a life, especially babies, seeing the look on the parents face when they see and hold their child for the first time. Nothing makes me happier than keeping families together, it’s just the best” 

The rest of the hour flew by fast as they exchanged interesting work stories. Thankfully, Claire wasn’t bored with the cases and Jamie wasn’t squirmish with blood. However, by the time they we’re opening a new topic, they had to get back to work. 

“Mind if I walk you back to the hospital?” Jamie asked as they exited the restaurant. 

“I wouldn’t mind. But, I’m actually heading to the same building you dropped me off last week.” Claire said as they made her way. 

It was a shorter walk then, Jamie thought, but glad she agreed. “Lead the way.” He pointed across the street. “Do you have a clinic there?” 

“Somewhat?” Claire began to answer as they crossed the street. “I help run a free extra-curriculars school for kids from nearby orphanages and shelters. We have art classes, dance classes, theater, books, etc. Whatever interest kids have, we might have it. Also from time to time, I do check-up the kids if they’re healthy too”

With Jamie’s silence, Claire looked to him and found him smiling. “What?” 

“I never would’ve guessed that was what you’re doing here.” He answered, Claire shyly shrugged. “What prompted this venture?”  

Before she was able to answer, a man called out to Claire ahead of her building. 

“Claire, are you heading up?” a slender man in a three-piece brown suit approached them, holding a cup of coffee on his right hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No problem and yes, I am heading up. Would not want to miss the puppet show.” she replied. “Oh, Jamie Fraser, this is Frank Randall. Frank Randall, Jamie Fraser. Frank volunteers here as a history teacher to the kids.” 

“Fraser? Like the law family Frasers?” Frank asked, extending a hand.

“Erm, yes. Hi, I’m Jamie.” Jamie replied, taking the handshake. 

“Frank, nice to meet you.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to be late for the puppet show so, I’ll let you be on your way.” Jamie gestured to Claire. “Thank you for lunch.” 

“No, thank you for lunch and the walk here.” Claire turned to Jamie in response. She could see there was something on his mind but the presence of Frank was holding him back and if her instincts were right, they were thinking of the same thing. 

“Well, I’ll get going. It was nice meeting you, Frank.” 

“Wait!” Claire called as Jamie turned to leave. “Same time next week?” she asked hoping it was obvious enough between them despite the short time they’ve known each other.

“I’ll be there.” Jamie smiled and nodded then turned to leave. 

Thankfully, Frank didn’t ask anymore questions about Jamie as they rode the elevator but a pang of regret hit her on their cut moment. There was more, she felt it but it never materialized with the interruption. She feared that the moment lost might turn to a chance gone before anything even happened.

Her mind was tossed until the kids dragged her from the elevator to watch the show with them. On that moment, Claire focused on the present and let everything about next week go until it was there. 

[tittty-bitty]

Toshi glances at the door of his apartment as it opens at 1:45 am. He was actually contimpating calling Shota a few minutes ago to check in on where he was at. But from on the look of his face you could clearly tell it was an especially rough night. The crime rate spike after his retirement hasn’t gone down all these months later and it hasn’t been easy on Shota. Dark circles a little more prominent then usual, stiff posture as he walks in and a actual frown on his face vs his usual blank expression.

“Do you want me to run a bath? Food? Anything?”

When they started dating Yagi would make dinner for him when he got home and Shota tried to eat it for the first few weeks until yagi caught him throwing it up an hour later as his stomach was still recovering after being kicked especially hard. Now they have an agreement no food unless Shota texts him ahead of time.

Shota responded to the question with a grunt that sounded like a no. Yagi knew it wasnt ment to be rude but rather he hardly can stand let alone talk. Shota wobbles to the bedroom and flops into bed with a groan. Yagi gets up, grabs some items from the bathroom and follows the walking corpse to the bed.

“I understand your tired but I really rather not have the sheets smell like sweat and blood.”

He starts with the capture weapon, carefully unwrapping it from Aizawas neck and tossing it to the side. The jump suit is a little bit of trouble with Shoutas reluctance but he knew it had to be done. Now with the first task of stripping his exsaughsted boyfriend bare he rips open the new package of deoterant wipes. Getting his armpits, chest and neck then skimming over the rest. With the “cleaning” done he gets the lotion out. A nice lavender scent advertised for relaxation, and something that will help with the drying properties of the wipes. With a pat at Aizawas thigh he signals him to flip over, which is a slow process. With that Yagi straddles Shota and starts the process again on his back and thighs. Making sure to add pressure with the lotion step and knows he’s doing a good job with Shotas groan of relief. With a cheeky light pat on Shotas ass, Yagi gets up and heads to the living room again.

Eventually Yagi comes back with a weighted blanket and a candy worm, suprised Aizawa found the energy to turn to his side. Yagi lays the weighted blanket on Shota and holds a CBD gummy against his lip.

“Come on, it will help you stay asleep.”

Shota reluctantly eats it and chews slow while Toshi puts the items back in the bathroom, his gaze following Yagi as he prattles around the room. When he finds his work is done, he leans over and kisses Shotas scalp goodnight and turns to leave but is stopped by a light grasp on his fingers.

“No. Stay.”

Toshi rolls his eyes with love and the firm command as he goes to turn off the lights in the apartment. He comes back to find an impatient glare peeking out from under the blanket. He slips under the covers to spoon Shota when he is lightly and lazily forced into the position of the “little” spoon. Aizawa coiling his arms around Toshis middle, carful of the scar, face smooshed into his hair as his legs wrap around his waist in a death grip. Toshi chuckles at the possessive hold, feeling like a glorified body pillow. They sit in silence for a few seconds when Toshi goes to check his twitter one last time before the silence is broken.

“Why do you do so much for me? It was just a longer shift.”

Toshis thumbs pause in the middle of a retweet of a meme from one of his fan pages. Trying to figure out how to respond.

“Well, part of it is knowing my retirement is what is making the crime rate go up so much. So it’s kind of reassuring knowing that I can take care of someone that is trying to solve the problems that I can’t fix anymore.”

Shota responds with a annoyed grunt. Toshi rolls his eyes with a smirk and craned his neck to try to look at Shotas face.

“And shockingly, I care for you very deeply sweet heart. And I want you to know that your cared for with a welcoming safe home.” Finishing with a kiss to his bicep.

It might be the lighting, but Shotas eyes look very glossy in the lights the blinds fail to shield away. Very odd as his eyes are usually extremely dry at the end of a shift.

Toshi turns back around with a smirk. “Also I didn’t want to sleep next to a man that smells like a highschool track team.”

“Wow, the symbol of peace is a romantic and a jackass. Alert the press.

“Wait till they hear about his octopus of a boyfriend.”

Yagi chuckles as Aizawa tugs on one of Yagis bangs in retaliation.

———

Shota waits as the CBD starts to kick in. You would think that chasing after villains with agility quirks would put him to sleep but his insomnia says otherwise. He hoping that and holding Yagi in his arms would relax him enough. Not only is he the worlds longest body pillow, but just touching him makes him on another level of comfortable that he didn’t think was possible.

He’s about to start dozing off when he feels a dip in the bed behind his neck. Mochi mews as she bops Shotas head in affection, and curls against his neck with a soft purr. All while Yagi chuckles at probably one of the weird memes his fans tag him in. Shota is to exhausted to do anything more then to let a few tears roll down his face as his heart soars with a realization for happiness. 4 years ago he never thought he would be this content, let alone surrounded by anything like a family.

He leans a little farther into Yagis hair and takes a deep breath through his nose.

“You need to switch back to the citrus conditioner. Just because your an old man doesn’t mean you need to smell like one too.”

“Who knew that a man that doesn’t shower until his scalp can grease a frying pan could be so hypocritical.”

Yagi yelps as Aizawa bites his sholder.

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E91 (Jan. 21, 2020)

Good evening, everyone! Sorry about missing last week; @eponymous-rose​ was out of town and I had some other commitments. Regardless, here we are! Brian is looking handsome and cold, as are Sam & Travis on the couch. Everyone is wearing coats. Is the heat broken?

That said, tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham & Sam Riegel.

Brian starts us off asking Sam if he’s remaking the Wire in Beverly Hills. Sam basically embodies that hello fellow kids meme tonight in a hand-knitted beanie from his wife, a bomber jacket, a yellow tee, and skinny jeans. They quickly photoshop in smoke trailing out of his mouth. We’re just a few minutes in and this is off the rails already.

Announcements: The next issue (#5) of Vox Machina comics comes out Wednesday, Feb. 19! It’s also available online at Dark Horse Digital and Comixology. And that’s it! Huh.

Episode 91: Stone to Clay

Brian tells us this is the first time ever to have Sam & Travis alone on Talks. I’m stunned and so are they. Sam says, “between me, Brian, Dani, and Travis right now, there’s four tens on this show right now.”

We’re already into questions less than ten minutes into the show. Truly this is a remarkable night.

63 in game days and 21 episodes passed between Caduceus’s first mention of Stone (episode 71) and Fjord connecting the dots. Travis blames the internet connection and his really bad ADHD night, as that was the night he and Laura remoted in from the hotel.

Brian tells us that when Ashley used to skype in, she could only see Matt & couldn’t see or really hear anyone else.

Travis says there was a huge delay for him between mouths moving and the audio coming through, and then that audio was pretty distorted. Laura could handle it okay, but Travis just heard a jumble and couldn’t parse it.

Sam took a CBD bath the other day and found it exactly as relaxing as a normal bath. Sam & Travis commiserate about taking baths only to have their knees pop out of the water. Tall people problems smh

Caleb & Nott completed the spell in less than a week, including dealing with the Angel of Irons & brokering peace treaties. Travis though the laughter was going to be Helas.

Travis says he definitely didn’t hear the name the first time (he remembered dust but not stone from the lava pits). “Look! Yes! No, I was not listening before! Thursday nights are my times to enjoy my friends and food! Marisha is an amazing note-taker; why would I ever take my own? This is how I got through college!”

Sam says he keeps a mission checklist in his head and has for ages. He has a page in his notebook labeled “To Do” that includes things like visiting Kiri or Shakaste, in case they have downtime and need ideas.

Travis asks if he continues writing in his (apparently) very small handwriting, and Sam says he has to leave room for Laura to draw all her dicks. They all marvel that she is actually a very good artist.

Travis honestly still thinks the Stone name is a huge coincidence, especially since Taliesin didn’t have access to Fjord’s last name when he created Caduceus’s last name and backstory. Sam challenges Travis that even if that were true, doesn’t he think Matt will find a way to tie it together?

Travis says Fjord doesn’t want anything to do with the last name and it’s not even his real name. He’s not convinced this isn’t a coincidence.

Travis did a lot of research into orphanage naming conventions when coming up with Stone. He does have a backstory as to how the orphanage manager picked Stone as his name.

Travis thinks Matt would have emphasized the Stone name more sooner if it had been a true connection and not coincidence.

Brian: “He does like to take credit for coincidences, doesn’t he?”

Nott didn’t think there was a catch in the ritual; Sam was more surprised they were allowed to achieve the milestone at all. He was shocked it happened so soon in the story and that the spell is relatively easy to cast.

He didn’t know it would fail, but there was a moment when he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with it. Travis agrees everyone was shocked when it didn’t work.

Fjord’s current stance on faith and destiny hasn’t changed since the last time he discussed it. Faith is a slow thing for Fjord and he really does think the name is a coincidence.

Sam as a player is excited to see what comes next for Nott; “if she had been transformed into Veth at that moment, I would have been excited to see what comes next. The fact that it’s still Nott makes me excited too. I’m excited to see more of Nott since she’s the best character in the M9.” He also confesses he was a bit relieved, in part because it’s delayed the inevitable. At some point she must decide if she is going to stay or go with the M9.

Cosplay of the Week: @kajicosplays​ on instagram of a lovely lady Percy. Brian: “Isn’t it fun when Taliesin’s characters live?”

Deep down, Nott knows she will do the transformation at some point, but at that last moment where she had to make a decision she had to check in with herself to make sure she was ready. Sam Riegel as a D&D player also knows that you have to trust your DM and make choices.

Brian misreads the word “ribbing.” Sam teaches Travis what rimming is. We all learn a lot about each other.

Sam thinks Fjord can realize when the time comes to set jokes aside. He thinks Fjord was very respectful. Travis has honestly forgotten that the conversation took place.

Travis has Dani answer from Fjord’s perspective. It’s actually pretty insightful, talking about how Fjord recognized someone hesitant to give up these newfound powers that have become intrinsically tied to self-worth.

Fjord has always been loyal, and Travis sees his protectiveness of the M9 as a logical extension of this.

Right now, he has found some agency & self-direction and is hopeful to share that sense with everyone else (he especially mentions Yasha).

Sam & Travis start quoting from Half-Baked. This is chaos.

Nott does want to stay with the M9, but she also wants to go home for sure, both of those things. The kiss with Caleb wasn’t necessarily a goodbye; it felt like the closing of a chapter. It felt like something to mark the end of the experience.

Now they’re quoting Beverly Hills Cop. Oh, boy.

“You look like you wrote Pitch Perfect.” When did this turn into a roast?

Fjord has no memories earlier than the orphanage (The Driftwood Asylum). There were a couple dozen kids there aside from him; Travis thinks some of them might have been named Stone. It also operated as a small child-labor workshop for carpentry & woodshop stuff. “It was a terrible place all around.” He has no images of parents or being dropped off.

Sam thought the Nott transformation would be more endgame, though he feels it makes sense that it’s not. “While Nott transforming into Veth was my original goal, what’s great about these long games is that your goals can change two or three times before the end. Now I can explore all these other things: does she want to go back and be a housewife? How does she rectify her obligations to her husband and child to the life that she’s made with the M9? It’s so exciting and interesting.”

Brian asks a hypothetical: if she could transform back but lose all Nott’s memories, would she do it? Sam: “Oh, that’s tough. I don’t know.”

Fanart of the Week: a lovely piece by @pen_draws with everyone in the hot tub.

Travis is very trepidatious about returning to the open ocean after rejecting Uk’otoa. He wants to make sure the third temple is sealed. It feels like it would be too easy for someone not to come and try to collect the job he left half-finished. He also wants to go back to Darktow.

Sam doesn’t know if Nott is still in love with Yeza, although she definitely still loves him. He’s playing with the idea of a high school sweetheart being exposed to the world and then going back home. But Yeza’s amazing, a great guy, perfect. “I guess we’ll find out when/if she turns back into Veth.” Sam feels guilty talking about him. “He’s a fictional character and I feel guilty that he might be watching the show.”

Neither Nott nor Fjord trust Essek. Travis: “He just went from being cold and aloof to being really warm. I know there’s been time and he’s lived an isolated life, but...time will show if he’s being genuine. All of our haunches were up. All of us were on level five alert.” He’s being so helpful that Travis doesn’t trust Mercer with him.

Fjord never ever considered becoming a paladin of the Traveler. “No. Fuck no!” The Wildmother reached out and directly intervened to save him. Travis gets super creepy bad vibes from the Traveler’s relationship with Jester (Sam agrees).

Nott feels more pressure when her own problems become the focus. It’s hard for her to open up and talk about her feelings. She’d rather pick up on other people’s problems. Sam also acknowledges it’s more pressure on him (and anyone) as a player when the whole table is looking at you.

And that’s that! Is it Thursday yet?

[karajaynetoday]

everybody's got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming | part one

Photo credit: Jess Gleeson 

Hello friends! Hope you’re having a lovely day wherever you are in the world. Thank you to everyone who voted in my little Google form thing on what they’d like to see me write next. Here’s Part One of my 5SOS x music journalist story. It’s a little angsty, and as the first chapter this is a lot of introduction to the OC and her story, but I hope you like it! It’s the first time I’ve written an OC into a fic, so I’d love to know your thoughts and if you’re interested in reading more about Lizzie and her adventures interviewing 5SOS.

Shout outs to @wheniminouterspace and @calumrose​ for helping me sense-check this concept, and @spicycal for giving me feedback on it in its draft stages. You’re all gems! 

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Fem!OC, minor swearing

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Lizzie Lawson was having a bit of a day. Her train had been late, she dropped her coffee moments after receiving it from the cute barista downstairs (and broke her favourite keep cup in the process), and her work computer had decided to run updates the moment she sat down at her desk. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed this morning.

Her colleagues were tapping away at their keyboards, answering phone calls, and discussing upcoming story ideas with each other - the usual tasks, especially for a Monday morning. Lizzie, computerless and caffeine deprived, had to settle for a cup of instant coffee from the kitchenette, and had taken to tidying up her desk while her computer was restarting over and over again but still somehow not ready for use. She was on the floor, sorting through the snacks in her bottom desk drawer (crackers that were two months’ past their expiry date, some gummy worms, and what seemed like hundreds of cans of tuna) when James, the music editor, stuck his head out of his office and called for her.

“Lawson! Where are you?” James sounded confused. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Lizzie at her desk moments ago, and then suddenly she popped her head up like a meerkat.

“Jimbo! Here. What’s crack-a-lackin?” Lizzie responded, standing up and brushing herself off as she headed towards where James was standing in his office doorway.

“Got a pitch for ya. Step into my office, if you’re finished with your spring clean.” James chuckled as he stepped back inside and sat down on the couch opposite his desk. 

A number of journalism awards were displayed on the shelf above the couch, and the floor to ceiling window overlooked Sydney’s CBD and its tall, grey buildings, with a glimpse of the harbour ocean in the distance. Lizzie had to admit she’d imagined herself in James’ desk chair more than a few times; the music editor of one of Australia’s leading youth and pop culture publishing companies, regularly travelling the world to interview award-winning artists, and assigning and guiding well-crafted investigative pieces on the entertainment industry and those within in. 

But, in reality, Lizzie had only recently worked her way up to being in the music department, after a couple of years on the news desk and a series of casual internships at different publications around the place. But music journalism, and the passion she had for live performances and watching artists grow and develop their sounds and aesthetics over their careers, was where Lizzie had always wanted her career to go. She was grateful to James for having her on the team, but she also knew that he didn’t recruit just anyone - so her writing must’ve been strong enough to get her here. James was a good boss, salt of the earth, always had his team’s back, but he was also a little mysterious, and this morning’s meeting was one of those where his face was giving absolutely nothing away as Lizzie joined him on the couch in the office. 

“So, what’s up?” Lizzie said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, Lawson. You’ve only been on deck for a few months, but turns out my gut instinct about you has paid off. That profile you did on the 1975 last month has gotten some good feedback and traction out and about.” James spoke in a measured tone, pulling his laptop off the coffee table and opening it.

“Oh! Well, that’s… good, right?” Lizzie still couldn’t figure out exactly why she was in James’ office. Or why she was so nervous. 

“Correct, it is good. It’s been great to see you come into your own a little bit, and develop your interview style. I also really appreciated you stepping in to cover the Matt Corby interview for Hannah the other day, when she had that stomach bug.” James continued, seemingly searching for an email or something on his laptop as he spoke. 

“No worries! Hannah’s notes were really thorough, plus I definitely had a Matt Corby phase when he was on Australian Idol back in 2006! Oof, that fringe, you know?” Lizzie cringed internally when she heard herself starting to babble. 

James snorted, before clearing his throat. “I’m sure Matt was glad the 2006 hairstyle didn’t take up too many words in the final profile piece. He was pretty happy with it though, and his management were too, according to the label. So happy, in fact, that they’re requested you to profile another one of their artists.”

James had Lizzie’s full attention now, and she still couldn’t read his expression. “Really? Me? Who’s the artist?” She asked, trying not to get too excited too soon.

“Yes, indeed, you. 5 Seconds of Summer, or 5SOS. They’ve got a new album due out in a month or so, and their publicist is keen to fly you out to LA for a few weeks to follow them around while they wrap things up in the studio, and do a profile piece on their journey to date. Are you familiar with their stuff? They’re offering us an exclusive, something about the album being linked to their homeland or something, so they wanted to go with an Australian media outlet first.” James set his laptop back down on the coffee table and angled it so Lizzie could see an email on the screen that had a few lines of text and a photo of a band onstage.

5SOS. Was Lizzie familiar? Oh yes, she was familiar. Lizzie Lawson hailed from the western suburbs, and 5SOS was the area’s biggest success story. Aussie boys made good, with millions of albums sold, billions of song streams, thousands of concerts played all around the world, that was their career to date. But for Lizzie, 5SOS were always a bit closer to home. She’d attended the same high school as three of the band members, and Michael Clifford was someone she called her best friend, once upon a time. Ashton had also befriended Lizzie’s older brother Lachlan when they’d worked together at KFC. That was years ago now, and they’d all fallen out of touch, because sometimes that’s just the way the universe works. You grow up and you move on and you don’t keep the same friends, because sometimes they move to the other side of the world and get super famous as successful musicians. Or something like that. Even if they know your deepest secrets, or biggest fears, or hopes and dreams, or you trust them more than anything, sometimes they still leave you. 

Lizzie’s previous state of intrigue quickly became panic, because what if she wasn’t actually being chosen based on the merit of her work? What if the 5SOS team knew about her connection to the band, and were going to use it to manipulate her writing in some way? What if it was all a ploy to get her and Michael in the same room so he could finally call her out on what had gone down between them all those years ago? What if - 

“Lawson! You on planet earth still, or wait?” James snapped his fingers in front of Lizzie’s face to get her attention. She shook her head to clear it, and wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Yep, I’m familiar with their work. A little fuzzy on the most recent work, but I have a bit of knowledge on a lot of their early stuff. And Youngblood, of course. Everyone knows Youngblood. ARIA song of the year, a billion streams, etc etc.” Lizzie spoke, meeting James’ gaze as he cocked his head at her curiously. He knew Lizzie had a tendency to get a little nervous when she was put on the spot, but there was something about her right now that was a little more unsettled than usual that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Good. Well, if you’re down, the label will cover three weeks accommodation in Los Angeles. Labels don’t usually do that kind of thing, but their manager is super keen for you to get enough quality time with the band to build up a solid profile piece. We’ll cover your daily expenses, I’ll send you instructions for the claiming app, and then we just need your passport to get the flights booked. Sound okay?” 

“Y-yep. Yes. Okay. Right. When would I be leaving?” Lizzie pinched her thigh through her jeans to double check that she wasn’t dreaming, and that yes, this was actually happening. 

“Friday midday. We’ll put some feelers out in LA, and see if there’s any other interviews you can do while you’re there, but your focus will be on 5SOS because they’re picking up the bill for your stay. But that being said, don’t let that sway what you write. They’ve requested you because they like your deep, detailed, open style of profiling, so don’t be afraid to ask some curly questions to get the answers that will craft the right piece, you know?” James spoke firmly, looking pointedly at Lizzie who quickly nodded in response.

“Right, well, I’ll cc you into this email chain with their publicist and manager, and we’ll go from there. You can hand over your other pieces to Hannah, you’ll need to spend the next few days prepping for LA and doing whatever research you need to feel ready. You’ve got this, Lizzie. I know you can do a great job.” James was trying to be encouraging, as he stood up and opened the door to his office, but Lizzie’s heart was pounding with nerves and she barely hear his words. 

She walked back to her desk in a daze, and Hannah had to literally poke Lizzie in her side to get her attention and ask what James had said in the meeting. A few excited squeals and a bear hug later, Hannah was off and running talking about lists of things Lizzie needed to organise before her international adventure was due to begin in a few days’ time. Lizzie, on the other hand, still couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was happening?

--

The next few days flew by in a haze of emails, life admin, last minute shopping trips and a lot of deep breathing on Lizzie’s part, and before she knew it, she was wrangling her suitcase out of an Uber and into the international terminal at Sydney Airport. Lizzie, as a generally anxious person, had arrived the full three hours early for her flight, but her parents had treated her to a flight lounge guest pass (because they wanted her to know they were proud), so she was able to deal with her nerves by eating far too many complimentary croissants and hash browns. 

Soon enough, the time to board the plane arrived, and Lizzie was grateful that she ended up in an empty row of seats, by some miracle. Praise be to the airline gods, or whichever higher power had decided she’d be able to at least try and get some sleep in the next fourteen hours. She’d set her phone and watch forward to Los Angeles time, so she could try and adjust her body clock accordingly, which meant that she’d have to stay up for a few hours at least.

Lizzie tried to be productive, and tapped away at her research notes on her laptop for a little while, before she found herself opening up the band’s instagram page in her browser. The four men staring back at Lizzie through the screen seemed a million miles away from the gangly, excitable teenagers she’d known all those years ago. There was an interesting intensity about them in the photograph, steely gazes and defined bodies under carefully selected clothing, but there was also a peacefulness in their poses beside one another. Like being together, in this moment captured minutes before heading onstage, was the most natural thing in the world. Lizzie found her eyes drawn towards Michael; his dirty blonde hair swept across his forehead (not dissimilar to the style he’d had in their high school days, to be honest), and it was accompanied by some scruffy facial hair and a dangly cross earring in one ear. His grey-green eyes seemed to peer right into her soul, and Lizzie involuntarily shivered at the thought of seeing him again in person in a day or so. 

She was still anxious about whether or not this entire thing was a scam, but nonetheless, she was going to try her darndest to be a consummate professional, and write the best profile story of her life. In her research, Lizzie had reviewed some previous 5SOS interviews, and she’d cringed her way through their Rolling Stone interview from many years prior. She remembered reading it at the time it was published, unable to believe some of the words attributed to the boys she’d once called her friends, and the intense aftermath that followed. Understandably, they’d avoided in-depth profile interviews since, so Lizzie was incredibly curious as to why they’d changed their mind. Why now? Why her? She closed her laptop and drifted into sleep, curled up across three airplane seats and tucked under a thin blanket. 

Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were stiff when she awoke, an hour or so before her flight was due to land. She used the in-flight wifi to check her emails quickly, and noted a new one from 5SOS’s publicist Danielle, which welcomed Lizzie to Los Angeles and explained that she should catch a taxi to her accommodation at the address listed, and that she should give her a call once she was checked in. Right. That seemed straight forward enough.

LAX customs were intimidating as ever (god, Lizzie was so nervous), but Lizzie made it through without incident and was able to quickly make her way into a cab with a driver who seemed familiar with her accommodation address. They drove her to a boutique-looking hotel, and when Lizzie checked in and made her way up to her room, she was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. A queen-sized bed, a good desk for working at, a nice view from her balcony of the Hollywood Hills, a small kitchenette with a fridge and microwave, and a glorious bathroom that had a very enticing bath tub in it (Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were already thankful for the idea of being able to soak in some nice hot water for a while). 

After checking the room for serial killers (better to be safe than sorry, right?) Lizzie had a quick shower and changed out of her travel trackies and oversized hoodie into a pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a blazer, before opening up her phone and scrolling down to Danielle’s contact. A few deep breaths were required before Lizzie built up the courage to press “call”.

“This is Danielle!” A cheery American accent answered on the other end of the line.

“H-hi Danielle, this is Lizzie, from Junkee Australia. You said in my email I should give you a call once I was all checked in, and I am, so…” Lizzie found herself giggling nervously and facepalmed.

“Lizzie, of course! How was your flight? Long and boring?”

“Yep, that about sums it up!” Danielle’s enthusiasm made Lizzie feel like she had to perk herself up a bit in conversation.

“Well, I’m sure you’re gagging for a nap, but we’ve got to get you adjusted to the timezone so we can make the most of your time here. I’m just finishing up something in the office, but I can swing by your hotel in about 45 minutes, and we can go over your story pitch and the band schedule for the next few weeks, and figure out your interview time slots and other things you can go along to observe, if that works for you?” Lizzie could hear Danielle’s keyboard clacking as she spoke.

“Sure, well, you have my number now, so just text me when you get here. I’ll try my best not to nap in the meantime.” Lizzie’s somewhat dry response got a laugh out of Danielle, who agreed and bid her farewell, ending the call.

Placing her phone down on the bedside table, Lizzie looked around the hotel room that was set to be her home away from home for the better part of the next month, and spotted a coffee machine on top of the mini fridge. If she was really going to keep her no-nap promise, caffeine was definitely in order. 

True to her word, Danielle arrived at the hotel within the hour, and soon Lizzie found herself sat beside Danielle on a fancy couch tucked in a corner of the hotel lobby. Danielle had opened up her laptop, and also pulled a plastic folder of documents out of her tote bag.

“Okay, so… I’m sure you’ve done your own research, but here’s a few hard copies of the band bio, album press release, and a few other tidbits from the label, along with a hard copy of the band schedule. It’s all confidential and coded, the electronic version I’ve emailed you will have the proper locations for everything, but I thought a print out might be handy anyway. The boys are recording some stuff at the studio Calum has at his house tomorrow, so I figured we could introduce you there and then after that figure out what else you’d like to get done. There’s an industry showcase for some of the new songs at the end of the week, and then they’re doing various promo and album prep things, finalising mixes, photoshoots, etc, so there’s a bit of variety for you. Any initial thoughts on how you want to do the interviews for your profile?” Danielle rattled off, gazing at Lizzie expectantly when she finished speaking.

Lizzie blinked at her a few times before collecting herself. “In my research, I found it really interesting to hear the band and some of the fans talking about how 5SOS has evolved into the collective effort of four individual artists, not just the band as one artistic music entity, so I was hoping, if possible, to interview them individually, as well as observing them as a group. Would.. Would that be okay, do you think?” 

Danielle pursed her lips, before breaking out into a smile. 

“I think that sounds exactly like something the band would be willing to do. Damn, Matt Emsell was right - you do know your stuff.” She chuckled, handing the folder of documents over to Lizzie and pulling out the schedule that was on top.

“So studio at Calum’s tomorrow from 10am, I’ll swing by and collect you so we can do introductions, I’ll stick around for a bit just to make sure you’re all good but otherwise I’m just going to let you do your thing. The band have been doing this for long enough now, they don’t need their publicist hovering.”

The curiosity was killing Lizzie. She couldn’t not ask. 

“Danielle, I’ve got to ask this, sorry. Do the band… know me? Know that I’m the one coming to interview them?” Lizzie managed to get out, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean?” Danielle cocked her head to one side, clearly confused at the question. “I sent them the Matt Corby piece you did, and they liked that, so that was one of the reasons we asked you out here. So they’re familiar with your work, if that’s what you’re asking?”

“No, um… oh god, I’ve made this super awkward now.” Lizzie laughed dryly, wringing her hands together. “I mean, I know them. Personally. Or at least I used to. I’m from Sydney, and I went to school with Luke, and Calum, and… Michael. So I was just wondering,  um, if they realised that it was me and that was part of why I was asked to come to LA for this…Not really sure why that would make them choose me, but I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before tomorrow.” Lizzie finally dared to look up at Danielle, whose expression was unreadable.

“Hmm, well, that is interesting. As far as I know, that wasn’t a factor at all. We all genuinely liked your writing style, so whether or not the boys made the connection, I have no idea. They’re not super keen on any irrelevant personal life stuff making it into this piece though, so if this is going to be a problem for you, we should deal with it now.” Her tone was slightly less warm than before, and Lizzie could sense the protective publicist side of Danielle kicking in.

“Definitely not a problem. I entirely intend to be fully professional, and like you said, my writing will speak for itself. Just wanted to put it all out there. Not a problem for me.” Lizzie spoke up, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt.

“Good. We have no problems here then. I’ve got to run, but text me with any questions, otherwise I’ll see you at 9.30am tomorrow for the drive to Calum’s!” Danielle’s tone was nice and bright again, as she shut her laptop and gathered her belongings, patting Lizzie’s shoulder in what she assumed was some sort of attempt at calming her nerves.

It didn’t work though. Not a problem for Lizzie? Bullshit. Not a problem for 5SOS, and Michael in particular? Seemed unlikely. 

--

Lizzie was worried she’d have a restless night’s sleep because of her overwhelming anxiety about the next day’s reunion, but the exhaustion from her travelling overtook her and she almost slept through her alarm. A quick shower and a shot of espresso later and Lizzie was downstairs waiting for Danielle to pick her up to head over to meet the band.

“Morning! How’d you sleep?” Danielle chirped as she rolled into the car park, her car window down. 

“Very deeply, thank you! The room is really comfortable. Thanks again for organising.” Lizzie mentally urged herself to keep up the small talk as a way of hiding her nerves.

The car ride over was mostly quiet, but when they pulled up outside of what Lizzie assumed was Calum’s house, she definitely felt like she was about to vomit.

“Just so you know, I flagged our conversation last night with the band. About your pitch around the individual interviews, and also about your little… connection to them. Ashton didn’t seem to think it was a problem, so it should all be fine.” Danielle mused, as she opened her car door and hopped out. All Lizzie could do was nod, because her throat was dry and she was starting to panic. She blindly followed Danielle through the front gate and around the side of the house to a building in the backyard, Lizzie strained to hear what sounded like raised, male voices floating towards them as they approached. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t entirely sound positive.

Danielle knocked loudly on the door and shot Lizzie a reassuring smile, before the shouting subsided and it swung open. Calum Hood stood in the doorway, and Lizzie sucked in a breath. It’d been eight years, maybe more since she’d last seen Calum, and even then, had they spoken? She couldn’t remember. 

Calum smiled at Danielle, and then his eyes flickered over to Lizzie, not quite carrying the same happiness, but not entirely losing it either.

“Morning, ladies. Welcome to casa di Calum, come on in.” He spoke with that scratchy, deep voice of his that Lizzie had reacquainted herself with when watching hours of interviews during her research. 

Danielle stepped passed Calum into the room, and she indicated for Lizzie to follow, which she did. Lizzie could feel Calum’s gaze on her as she brushed past him, but the minute she stepped inside, any sense of warmth or welcome she’d felt before vanished. 

Luke and Ashton were standing over by the sound recording panel, turning to look at Lizzie and Danielle as they entered. Lizzie thought she saw a hint of a smile on Luke’s face (they had survived Year 8 Maths together, after all… that had to count for something, right?), but Ashton was unreadable.

Entirely obvious, though, was the look of bitter disdain on Michael Clifford’s face when Lizzie finally spotted him hunched over on the couch along the wall. Those grey-green eyes were staring her down with a harsh glare. It had familiarity about it, Lizzie realised, but not in a good way. 

Danielle cleared her throat in the silence, and turned to Lizzie.

“Well, I believe introductions might not be required, but in the interest of professionalism and courtesy - “ Lizzie didn’t miss Danielle’s pointed glance towards Michael, who was still scowling silently towards everyone - “Lizzie Lawson from Junkee, I would like you to meet Calum Hood, Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford, also collectively known as 5 Seconds of Summer or 5SOS.” 

Lizzie waved, and then immediately cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward.  She received a nod of recognition from Ashton, and small smiles from Luke and Calum. From Michael, more scowling. This was going to be a long three weeks. 

“So, Lizzie, why don’t you go through the pitch for the profile that we discussed yesterday? The boys already have a bit of an idea, but I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you.” Danielle was being overly encouraging, but it worked, and Lizzie took a deep breath before speaking.

“Thanks, Danielle. And thank you to you guys, honestly. I know this is a little strange for all of us -”

“Fucking oath it is.” Lizzie heard Michael mutter under his breath, but she continued, undeterred. 

“But, I’m really excited to have the opportunity to interview you and pull together this story. Especially on behalf of the Australian music media. I know they haven’t always given you the recognition you deserve, but I think this piece is a chance to overcome that. Anyway, the specific pitch I’d love to go with is reflective of you as individual artists, as well as the collective band group. If it’s suitable, it’d be great to have the chance to speak to each of you one-on-one as well as a group, to give a holistic view of your journeys as people and as musicians and what you’re trying to achieve with this album. So… yeah…” Lizzie trailed off nervously, clenching her hands at her sides.

“I love it. We’re happy you’re here, Lizzie. I really loved the Matt Corby piece Danielle sent us, and like you said, it was really important for us to have the perspective of an Australian journalist for this story and where we’re at right now.” Ashton’s calm voice broke the silence, as he nodded at Lizzie in agreeance. Luke and Calum nodded too, and Lizzie tried not to look towards Michael because no doubt he was still glaring at her.

“Great! Everyone’s on the same page. I have to dash off to a meeting, but Lizzie has my number if she needs it, otherwise all of you please behave and don’t scare her off, nor say anything that means I’ll have to destroy her tape recorder. Sound good? Good!” Danielle rattled off quickly, moving out the door and shutting it behind her. 

The tension in the air was thick, and it was all seething from Michael’s direction towards Lizzie. She closed her eyes for a moment, before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone, notebook and pen. She spotted a chair behind her, and turned back towards Luke and Ashton.

“Well, where do you want to start? A group sit down, some general thoughts on the journey so far and what the album experience has been like?” Lizzie offered, trying to make herself sound enthusiastic, but also in control and like she knew what she was doing.

Luke, Calum and Ashton all murmured in agreeance, and moved themselves over to sit by Michael on the couch, while Lizzie dragged the chair she’d spotted over to sit facing them.

“Right. All good if I audio record this?” She asked, hitting record on her voicenotes app after three heads nodded at her.

“So, the album. Where did it begin? Did anyone or anything influence or kick off the sonic direction or the start of the exploratory process?”

The conversation was flowing quite well, Lizzie though. Ashton dominated most of the responses to her questions, but Luke and Calum chipped in their perspectives throughout. Michael didn’t say a word, even when Calum poked him in the side, and instead of glaring at Lizzie he was now staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. An improvement, sort of, but still not ideal from a journalist and interviewee perspective, let alone when the interviewee was someone who used to be Lizzie’s best friend. 

Before she knew it, an hour had past, and Ashton stood, remembering a meeting they had scheduled with the label and their management team, and bringing the interview to a close. 

As Lizzie was packing up her equipment, she cautiously brought up the topic of the one on one interviews. 

“So, does anyone in particular have free time in the next few days, so I can start on the individual profiling part of the story?” Lizzie asked, her tone hopeful.

Michael’s response was to push straight past her and walk out of the studio, muttering to himself and slamming the door as he went. The loud noise made Lizzie flinch, and she realised her heart was racing and her hands were a little shaky. 

“I’ve got time, LL Cool J. I’ll meet you at Joan’s on Third for lunch, say 1pm?”  Lizzie smiled at the pld nickname Calum slipped into his quiet response to her question. 

“Works for me, C Dizzle Swizzle. Thanks again for your time today, I really appreciate it. Not to sound like a broken record, but I’m really excited for this piece and the chance to tell your story.” Lizzie found herself grinning like an idiot as she met Calum’s warm gaze, and noted that Ashton and Luke were also smiling at her.

“We’re excited too, Lizzie. Even if… some of us might not quite be as enthusiastic as they should be. But, don’t worry. He’ll come round.” It was Luke that spoke this time, his striking blue eyes somehow staring straight into Lizzie’s soul as he looked at her. 

“Here’s hoping.” Lizzie tried not to sound too dull in her response, but it was a challenge. 

Because honestly, how the fuck was she going to do a profile on all four members of 5 Seconds of Summer, if one of them could barely stand being in the same room as her?

Time will tell, Lizzie thought to herself as she walked out of the door to Calum’s studio and into the warm California sunlight. Time will tell. 

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[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 9

Previous: Another Shot at Love Pt. 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X OFC

Genre: Fluff, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of Consensual Sex, 

Summary: The P.I.(Y/N) wakes up in the arms of the man from the bar, Jungkook, and goes on another quest to find the first man who broke Lee Euna’s heart. 

Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2 

Present Day 

          I awoke the following day to untangle myself from Jungkook, whose arms and legs ensnared my own. His warmth radiated through me, lingering as I step out of bed, my bed, and am grateful to be fully clothed. Somewhere between making out and drinking a gallon of water, we had found ourselves snuggled under my duvet, and sometime after midnight, nearing 2AM, we had fallen asleep. If I wasn’t careful, this was going to turn into a whole sleeping together twice and having sex once or whatever nonsense Cameron Diaz spewed in The Holiday.

         It’s not often that I sleep through the night or sleep well. It’s rare that I find the silence of my apartment comforting in the slightest, which is evident by the industrial locks on my door and windows, coupled with the registered gun in my nightstand – never loaded – or the countless surveillance measures I’ve put in place to guarantee my safety. The countless hours I’ve accumulated listening to meditation, ASMR videos, are all signs that my line of work brings little to no peace of mind.

         I will never admit to sleeping well in a man’s arms, but damnit if I didn’t sleep like I’d rubbed CBD oil all over my body and cocooned myself in Egyptian cotton. Jungkook’s arms are nothing like anything I’ve experienced before. They’re strong, assuming, muscular yet lean. His right, decorated in a tight sleeve of tattoos, expressing the deepest parts of his life, flexes lightly, holding me to him. I could spend days, weeks, months, tracing the lines on his skin, asking him questions, wondering aloud the meaning behind the ink. Jungkook’s body is strong, impenetrable, washboard abs that I could easily wash my dirtiest of laundry on, but it’s his eyes and smile that give him away. He’s soft, he’s cozy, he’s inviting and he’s respectful and sexy and mysterious and all-consuming at the same time. He’s all I want to think about, and I know he’s all that’s going to be occupying my mind until I see him again.

         I turn the coffee maker on and open the fridge to see what I can scrounge up for breakfast. Miraculously, the hangover is non-existent, most likely because I drank so much water before falling asleep, in an attempt to stare into his eyes, like a galaxy, ever expanding as they pulled me in.

         “Morning beautiful,” Jungkook says, a tattooed hand running through his raven hair. His bare chest confronts me, the wide expanse I had spent the better part of 8 hours pressed upon, staring unapologetically.

         “Hi,” My voice is a soft whisper. “You sleep okay?”

         “Mm, best night sleep I’ve had in a while. Your mattress is insanely comfortable,” His smile is light, bright and glowing.

         “Oh, so it wasn’t snuggling with me?” I question.

         He tilts his head, unsure, “Snuggling?”

         “Yes?” My confidence is wavering.

         “Cuddling,” He says.

         “Snuggling,” I reply.

         “Cuddling,” Jungkook’s smile grows.

         “They’re the same thing,” I inform him.

         “Are they? Snuggling sounds like, like leaning,” He takes a step towards me. I’m very aware that I remain pantless.

         “Oh god, how many times have you seen While You Were Sleeping?” I allow him to cage me in against the fridge, his forearm resting against the cool stainless steel.

         “Enough to know that leaning is a sign of mutual want, it’s about desire, craving, needing,” He recites.

         “Leaning,” I whisper, my breath a ghost across his lips.

         “Wanting,” He closes the space between us, his gentle and velvet lips press delicately against mine, the dull roar of heat building as he slips has hand up my thigh to rest on my hip, under my shirt. He licks my bottom lip gingerly before parting them and welcoming my tongue into his mouth. The pressure of my tongue on his releases a low moan as my hands rest on his pecks. I am fully aware that I could do this forever.

         Jungkook pulls away first, slowly disentangling his lips from mine.

         “Are you saying you want me?” I ask, eyes still closed.

         “Do you want me?” He retorts.

         “I asked you first,” I tease.

         “Can I take you to breakfast?” His eyes are unwavering as they stare into mine, the authenticity and kindness washes over me, a blush coating my cheeks.

         “Like a first date?” My teeth pull the inside of my lip into their grasp. I haven’t gone on a first date in a while, let alone with a man like Jungkook.

         “I’d like to think last night was our first date,” He says, hands still on my hip, thumb drawing circles on my skin. The sensation is calming, a trance coming over me as my body responds gently to his.

         “I’m cool with that,” I say. “Do you want to shower or anything before we go? I know I don’t have anything for you to borrow…”

         “A shower would be great,” Jungkook nods.

         “Without me,” I clarify.

         “Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow, a trait I’m already starting to find sensual.

         I smile, “But maybe after you buy me breakfast, we’ll see.”

         “Maybe after I buy you breakfast, I can take you on a traditional date, dinner and a movie? Earn my keep?” He counters, leaning in again to press an adoring kiss on my lips.

         “You don’t have to earn anything,” I say.

         “That’s good to know,” He responds. I can tell in his eyes that he’s had to pay a price before, someone down the line made his love a commodity, not something worth freely giving or receiving, but earning. He was worth something, and its sinister ramifications still remained in the darkness of his irises.

         “I’m not a prude, I just, your eyes,” I clarify.

         He opens his eyes wider, “My eyes?”

         “Yeah, I want to know what I’m going to be drowning in before I take the dive,” I tell him. My hands, still on his forearms, move up and down gently, an offer of comfort in this moment of vulnerability.

         “You’re so poetic,” He earnestly responds.

         “I minored in English,” I tell him.

         “Mm, what do you think about dinner?” Jungkook asks again.

         “How do you know you won’t be sick of me?” The question, flying out of my lips before I can stop it, insecurity flinches across my face.

         Jungkook, though, laughs, his nose scrunching softly. “How about Monday, you free Monday say 6:30?”

         “I can do Monday at 6:30,” I tell him, “You’ll pick me up?”

         “Absolutely,” He nods.

         Inhaling, I ask again, “You won’t be sick of me?”

         “I’m not sure I’m ever going to be sick of you, but ask me again in a few months,” Raven eyes, wide like saucers, sincerity abounding, bring calm to my intense, laser focused, unwaveringly anxious orbs.

         “You’re really sexy,” Deflecting, I speak again. Anything would be better than a conversation about my vulnerabilities. “I’m not so sure we’re going to make it to break-

         His lips are on mine before I finish the sentence. His hands, once drawing tantalizing shapes on my skin, have now pulled me to him, his hips grinding into mine. His gorgeous digits sprawl against my ass, anything to get me closer to him. I in turn have wrapped my arms around his neck, hands entangling in his locks. I can’t stop the moans that escape my lips as he grinds into me again.

         “We’re never going to make it to breakfast,” My voice comes out between a moan and a breathy whisper, Jungkook’s lips leaving wet open-mouthed kisses down my neck, teeth nipping my collarbone. “J-Jungkook,”

         “Y/N,” He responds, eyes tracing my clothed figure before meeting mine.

         “I’m starving,” I whine, a smile cracking through my lust.

         Jungkook laughs, doubles over laughing hysterically. “I’m sorry, yes, I’ll shower quick, yeah? Ten minutes? Do you know where you want to go?”

         “Yeah, I know a place,” I tell him. “Let me brush my teeth and get you what you need to shower.”

         “Perfect,” He’s still recovering, the dulcet ring of his laugh hitting me straight in the heart.

         “On a constructive note?” I stop at the door to my bedroom, pausing.

         “Hmm?”

         “I slept really well too, and that’s not normal… But I’m not sure, in this moment, if normal is ever anything I have ever wanted?” I tilt my head to the side, feeling my pulse quicken.

         “It’s overrated,” He nods, his voice mimicking mine, cautiously fielding the hidden meaning in my words.

         “Yeah, totally,” I nod.

         I am positive I have said too much, what guy wants to hear their supposed one-night stand say that they slept better with the other person there? We didn’t even have sex! He’s going to think I’m clingy, oh god, that’s the worst. He’s going to think I’m clingy and then when he discovers that I am actually a relationship-phobic asshole, who can barely hang onto the relationships with her blood relatives, not to mention the fraying connections between friends, a romantic relationship is impossible.

         But what if he’s different? Oh, hope, you fickle bitch. What if he’s considerate and thoughtful and listens when I rant and is okay that I own a gun? What if he likes the way I cling to him in my sleep, or how I brush my teeth a minimum of 2.5 minutes, often 3, morning and night, and never skip flossing? Will he like my cooking? Or how I sing to every single song that plays through my speakers, and listen to the same ones over and over until they’ve become a part of my psyche?

         You cannot tell me Taylor Swift didn’t write Out of the Woods about me.

         Maybe he’ll be all of these things… or none of them… maybe this isn’t the start of something new, as Zac Efron would say, but just… a moment?  

~~~~~

         That evening, after Jungkook has left, I venture to my favorite grocery store. Not only do I not have anything for breakfast, but there is nothing to make any semblance of a meal, let alone alcohol to wash it down with. I don’t hate cooking. But I hate cooking, in the way that most millennials do. The prep, the planning, the shopping, the chopping, then the actual cooking and cleaning? Why is it so difficult? Why so many steps? Why does it matter if I use oil or butter in the bottom of a pan? How come my banana bread turns out soggy in the middle if I use a square pan instead of a rectangle? Why is it a science?

         I digress. The point is, I’m going to the store. AirPod in one ear, podcast playing at a low roar, list in my phone, I grab a mini cart and head straight for produce. Why I go to produce first when I always bruise what I put in first, I do not know. Some deep masochistic tendencies within me. Nevertheless, I walk towards the oranges, trying not to laugh uproariously at the joke being told and grab a bag of Cuties. Gathering a variety of items that will soon be left to rot in my fridge, I stop dead in my tracks. Standing in front of me, a sight I have been searching for, well, my search has truly just begun, but still, in his full glory, reaching for Braeburn apples, a bold and incorrect choice, he stands.  

         “Kim Seokjin,” I whisper, eyes narrowing on him. He’s unbelievably handsome, pouty lips, dark eyes and a baseball cap protecting his face from the harsh lights of the grocery store. A cream t-shirt covered by a black bomber jacket with a wide collar, he’s a sight to behold. I don’t know what to do. I have none of my PI tools, but then again, I have a cell phone. I quickly switch to camera and try to covertly take a few photos of him before he’s turning around and walking away from me. Tossing a few items into my cart, I follow, but he’s gone. Not in the chips aisle or frozen section, nowhere to be found in the bakery, in the millisecond it took me to blink, he’s disappeared.

         Making my way out to my car, I find a note sitting on my seat. Freezing, I inspect my surroundings. No shattered glass, no misplaced seats, no smudges or fingerprints on the door handle. I feel the taste of bile in the back of my throat before I realize the sensation overcoming me, and as if in slow motion, I turn my head and vomit. Fear does crazy things to you, and it’s been a while since I’ve been this scared. Trembling hands and shaky breath, I reach for the handle to the backseat, locked. I check the driver’s door, a cold sweat soaking through my sweatshirt, locked.

         Who the fuck broke into my car and locked it on the way out?

         I quickly place the groceries in the backseat and grabbing a pair of gloves from the extra box I keep, daintily pick up the envelope. Opening it, a single piece of paper is folded in thirds.

         “Stop looking, Y/N,” I read. I read it again, turning it over and over.

         Stop looking? Looking for who? For what? I’m always fucking looking, don’t tell me to stop and not be specific about it. Tilting the paper, catching the evening light, I see a watermark, two trapezoids meeting at their shortest, parallel side before branching out. Who is classy enough to stalk me, leave a note in my car, and have a watermark on what feels like silk cardstock? This is not normal, not even for the highest-level criminal.

         My phone rings, and the jolt of fear cascades through me again.

         “Hello?”

         “Hey – I found that guy you’re looking for,” C says.

         “I thought you said you weren’t looking,”

         “I wasn’t, at work,” The condescension is clear in her tone.

         Exhaling, I ask, “What did you find?”

         “He’s in the area, he dated some heiress to a huge conglomerate, but other than that, he’s pretty low key. Works a day job in an office doing accounting,”

         “Who was the heiress?”

         “It doesn’t say, literally anywhere, whoever it was scrubbed the web clean of it,” C takes a sip of what I’m guessing is Merlot.

         “Is there anything unusual about his profile?” I question.

         “No, he pays his taxes, never had a ticket, lives a pretty average life,”

         “Okay, okay, can you send me the –

         “You know the deal,” C reminds me. Ah yes, the “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but no paper copies or digital trail” deal, an unspoken agreement.

         “Fine. Tell me this, what’s the mile radius of where he lives?”

         “I’m surprised you haven’t run into him before. He seems to operate around where you live,” C tells me. “Look, I gotta go, that was my one good deed for the year. Don’t call me, I’ll call you,”

         “Sure, love you,” I say.

         “Love you more,” She responds before hanging up.

         If he frequents the mile around my apartment, that greatly increases the likelihood of me running into him again. Realizing I haven’t put the cart back, I exit my car, careful not to step in the pool of vomit, and start to wheel the cart to its resting place.

         I, very kindly, push it through another cart and as I turn to leave, find myself nose-to-chest with a baseball cap wearing, broad shouldered, pouty lipped stunner.

         “Sorry,” He says, eyeing me. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

         “I’m sorry, I truly wasn’t paying attention either,” I tell him, shaking my head in faux embarrassment.

         “Are you okay? You look a little, sick,” Seokjin worries.

         “Oh yeah, totally, just a little … evening sickness,” I lie.

         “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of that,” He smiles politely.

         “Yeah, sometimes I just you know, get sick,” I say, trying to buy time. This is easily the worst conversation I’ve ever had, and I once asked an A-Lister if he could take a photo of me and his wife… at an award show, where he was nominated.

         “Hmm,” He nods, “Well, have a good night.” Seokjin turns and walks back to his car. Hastily moving into mine, I wait with bated breath for him to pull out before I start to follow him, sugar free tropical popsicles be damned.

Next: Tailing Taehyung