#It's SO HEAVY. And so beautiful I need this to be a centerpiece everywhere I live forever.

[heuffopla]

Small flex from me I'm sorry- I WON A GIVEAWAY FROM THE MOOMIN'S INSTAGRAM PAGE!!!!!! I GOT THIS WONDERFUL CREATION AAAAAAH!!!!!!!

[taeescript]

II. Script of the Angel

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 6.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) scenes are graphic. this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned.

𝔞/𝔫 >> i’m so glad to see people enjoyed the last part! this part is a little shorter but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. will likely be making a masterlist post for this soon as i’m having too much fun writing this and it’s getting long. feedback and comments always appreciated. as always, enjoy! (: 

previous part || masterlist || next part

Muscles and bones. The primary architecture of the human body. It allows us to stand and walk; sit and run; jump and spin. But what really keeps us alive? Blood. It carries the nutrients our body needs. It carries the defenders our body requires. So integral to our survival, blood can tell a story of its own. Looking at the direction of travel along with the width and length of the spatter, a single droplet is its own author, spinning a tale of its origin and its birth. A good spatter gives us more information than just a large overlapping pool. “Come again?” Jimin says in disbelief. Taehyung shrugs. He is the unit’s spatter analyst. In one latex covered hand, he holds a cotton swab and the other is pinching his nose. “There are traces of blood everywhere,” he repeats. “Yet I don’t see a single stain of red anywhere,” Jimin rubs his temples, “Are you telling me that the killer had enough time to wipe the whole room clean?” “I’m only telling you what science has told me,” Taehyung says. He carefully dances around another coworker to reach his open kit. It shuts with a loud snap and the younger turns back to look at his commanding officer. “Can I please get back to the lab? This smell is killing me.” Jimin can only wave half-heartedly at him before turning his attention to the scene in front of him. It is eight in the morning. They had received an anonymous call about fifteen minutes ago describing a horrific murder. The station had forwarded the call to him and after hearing the detailed account, he left the station with his team. “Fuck me. What in the world happened here?” a new voice enters the scene. It is too much even for him to handle this early in the morning. Jimin utters a “you tell me”, then excuses himself from the room. He pushes past the crowding officers and curious residents until he reaches the front of the hotel. There, his stomach dislodges everything it can. Even as he wipes his mouth, the black spots do not cease dancing in front of his eyes. Deeper in his vision, the picture is all too clear. She hangs from the ceiling with her arms stretched wide. Her feet are wrapped together in rope and her body is naked. Attached behind are two massive wings. The feathers have been stitched carefully together to create an impressive wingspan and if they were not speared into her back, Jimin may have thought they were beautiful. Yet there they were, dug into her shoulder blades, ripping into her muscle and tissue. That was not the centerpiece of it all. Missing from the body were all its abdominal organs. They had been ripped out, cut out… forensics would tell him how they were taken out, but they were gone. Replaced inside her was a large bouquet of red roses. They glistened in the sunlight and when the team had arrived, there were still dew drops on its velvety petals. The grotesque memory causes his body to expel its contents again. “Boss,” the voice from before returns, “You alright?” Jimin turns to face his partner. Namjoon stands in front of him, a worried expression which contorts his face. Namjoon is one of his only friends at the work force, being the only one similar in age. The other agents were all much older than him so with common interests, the two were naturally drawn to each other. Jimin liked Namjoon well enough. He was smart and quick on his feet. More than once, Jimin had reached out to Namjoon for advice, whether it be for work or personal life. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I wasn’t prepared to see that this early in the morning,” Jimin says. Namjoon nodded. He too has dark circles under his eyes and his lips were hardened into a thin, straight line. “Makes you imagine what a sick motherfucker could create this,” he comments. They stand in silence for a quick second until Namjoon speaks again, “What do you think we should do?” Jimin resumes his commanding role. “Take down the body. Have somebody sweep it thoroughly. Send a couple of the lab geeks in to scan the room. I want everything put into evidence, even if it’s a speck of dust. Everybody leaves something behind, and we will find it.” “What about the civilians? We’ve got a growing, curious crowd spreading like cancer.” “You’re Lieutenant. Do something about it,” Jimin light-heartedly teases Namjoon in his new role. Namjoon slightly flinches at the address. Although Namjoon had been promoted to a position higher than Jimin’s, Namjoon only ever treated him in the way they had always been working together: as partners. “Fuck me,” Namjoon curses with his favourite two words. Jimin grins. “Maybe later. I’ve got a shit ton of paperwork to get started back at the station. I’ll see you,” he pats his distracted friend’s shoulder. Taking a last scan of the building, Jimin strides towards his parked car. He is ready to hunt down the person who dared mess around in his town.

...

Jungkook watches the scene before him with mild interest. His ears pick up the voice of an officer that is instructing the crowd that everything is under control; to return to what they are doing without a worry. “What’s going on?” the housewife asks beside him. She is still in you pajamas and had seemed to wander out due to the hubbub. He smiles at her. “Murder.” She regards him with wide eyes. Her feet stumble backwards and she scurries away. The officer had finished his speech and the crowd was now dissipating. Jungkook took it as his cue to exit as well. As he walks out of the hotel, he feels vaguely irritated. At the end, his script is not perfectly carried out. He had needed to modify it slightly although the end result is what he had planned it to be. Even the timing of the police’s arrival after his call had been as he predicted. The world was too easy for him to guess. Now, it is time to return to Krystal. Even without using his vast knowledge of facial cues and body expressions, he knows exactly how she would react. Nostrils dilated, lower lid tensed, brows lowered and lower jaw jutting out. He reads her like a book and its title screamed “anger”. “Where were you all last night?” she questions, hands placed on her hips. He sighs while placing his jacket on the hanger at the entranceway. His feet ache as they pad across the tiles towards the bedroom. “I was out doing research. I told you yesterday,” he says. She bites her lip. When he walked past her, she could smell a faint hint of perfume mixed with a lemony clean scent like soap. Her jaws clench tighter. “Yes. But you had said you would be out late. You never said you’d be gone the entire night!” she follows him closely behind. He does not turn or wait for her. Once inside the bedroom, he throws off his shirt and pants, trudging to the showers. “Don’t you think you could have given me a call at least?” she asks. His figure is a faint silhouette through the shower curtain. She can see him scrubbing his face. She waits for him until the water is shut down and he steps out of the box. Water drips from his hair and his skin is still a flush pink from the heat. The room fills with steam and he brushes past her on the way out. Still, she relentlessly follows him. “Jeon Jungkook!” she calls out, “Say something!” He pulls out a new pair of boxers from the drawer and put them on. Once they snap against his waist, he turns to finally look at her. “I’m tired, and you’re annoying me. We’ll talk when I wake up,” he says. Tears sting her eyes but she cannot allow him to see any type of weakness. She whirls around on her heels and stalk out of the room, leaving him to himself. The door slams shut loudly behind her and makes his ears slightly ring. The sheets are cold and inviting on his body. The wrap around him like a silky cocoon and his eyes are heavy the instance he hits the pillow. There is only one last thing to do before he can allow his body to rest. With delicate fingers, he pries off the paper-thin gloves from his hands. They slide off smoothly and if there was an onlooker in the room at that moment, they would have been reminded of a snake that was shedding its skin. These are special gloves just for his hobbies. They disguise his hands so that they are void of fingertips. They are so lightweight he cannot feel them at all. They blend in with his body so perfectly, only the keenest of eyes would be able to notice the thin line above his wrist where the material ends. They are perfect for him and allow him to do what he does without a worry. He leaves the material out on the top of the drawer. He knows that Krystal would not be back in the room for a while so it is safe sitting there. They are like contact lenses, shriveling and drying up due to the exposure to air. In about fifteen minutes time, they would look like shrunken autumn leaves and be the size of a walnut. The room-keeper would find them if he had still not thrown them out, and discard them thinking they were candy wrappers. He lets his body drift into nothingness, content with the day’s work.

...

Besides having a good eye for detail, a coroner should be able to work under extremely stressful conditions. They could be asked to visit crime scenes, identify human remains or supervise the transportation of corpses. Working often behind the scenes, a coroner is an integral part to this unit. It is sad to say that we are low in numbers and are extremely interested in people joining our team! If you have taken subjects like biology, chemistry and forensics, in addition to law and humanities, we encourage you to apply to our graduate program! We would love to see you working beside us! Jimin’s eyes scan the announcement that has been placed on the door of the coroner’s office. He is scheduled for a meeting with the elder man on what may have been found and as a man of time, he is early for it. “Park! You’re here,” the coroner steps out of his office. He has patches of grey hair and a scruff of facial hair that he now scratches with his fingers. Dressed in his usual white lab coat, his black shoes peek out from beneath his pants and they lead the way towards the morgue. “How’s it going, Fernando?” Jimin greets back, “I see your wife has been feeding you well.” He eyes a popped button on the stomach of his coworker. Fernando laughs. It is loud and bounces off the white walls of the building. It is a laugh that is jolly and hearty; a strange sound to hear in the location they currently are. “Maria always has a full meal whenever I return home. I swear, she’s trying to fatten me up like the witch from Hansel and Gretel,” he chuckles. He and Maria, a linguistic analyst also working in the police force, had been married for years. They had invited nearly the whole station to their wedding and wanted to celebrate for another week before a case had dragged everyone back to work. The two turn a corner and the black door of the morgue greets their face. Fernando hands Jimin a pair of gloves and a mask before they enter the room. The body has already been laid on the table and labelled after Fernando’s inspection. “I’ve already submitted the full report. You’ll find it on your desk by tomorrow morning,” Fernando speaks with a muffled voice due to the mask. The material itches Jimin’s nose and he wrinkles it. His fingers carefully pick up the sheet that covers the body and he scans the female underneath. “You know I like to see the victims personally for each case. Do you mind giving me an overview?” he asks. The other man shrugs. This is not the first case he’s worked with Jimin. While he was not a hard man to work with, he was extremely meticulous – borderline obsessive – in details to the point that it was tiring and burdensome. “No signs of struggles. She evidently took care of her body and skin; probably went to the gym in the times between work. Besides the large opening on her abdomen, the rest of her is intact.” “What is missing from her?” “Mainly her digestive system and portions of her excretory system. Everything within her ribcage has been preserved and unmoved.” “So nothing out of the ordinary then.” “Aside from the gaping hole? No. My best guess is that she knew her attacker. Or if she didn’t, then she at least didn’t sense any danger from him.” “What makes you say that?” “I found seminal fluid in her body.” This new information made Jimin turn his attention away from the body and back to Fernando. He had finished circling the table while mentally confirming everything Fernando had been saying. “You’re suggesting our killer may have had intercourse with our victim then?” “Jane Doe, technically,” Fernando inserted, “We haven’t made an ID on her quite yet.” Jimin waved the comment away. “Maybe,” Fernando recognized Jimin’s piercing look, “I sent a sample of it to the lab geeks. It could be from the killer or it might be from when she last had sex.” Jimin knew how long these types of analyses could take. He didn’t want to wait several weeks for results so he told Fernando to put a rush on it. Fernando stood wordlessly and watched Jimin as he continued to encircle the body. Every so often, his fingers would reach out and lightly tap a part of the body. With each tick the clock on the wall made, it seemed to drive its sound into Fernando’s skull. When he could not take the silence any longer, he let out a cough. At the sound, Jimin remembers that he is not alone in the room. It happened every time he got absorbed in a case. He would become trapped in his own world and forget everything that was around him. “Sorry, Fernando. I’m going to be here a little longer. You’re free to leave. I’ll read the report tomorrow morning and if I have any more questions, I’ll find you again,” he dismisses him. Fernando bows politely and exits the room. High cheekbones, full lips and a perky nose. She was attractive enough to gain a few extra glances when she had walked down the street. Was that how she got the attention of the killer? That would make sense to why he maintained her facial features and took out her organs. Perhaps it was an interpretation of keeping her beautiful exterior shell. It could also explain why a bouquet of flowers was put inside her. Jimin shook his head. He was thinking too much. Who knew what went on in the mind of a killer? Well, besides the killer themselves. He observes her face a while longer and notices that it is not as perfectly symmetrical as he had initially thought. In fact, her right cheek bulged out in a way similar to after a person had their wisdom teeth pulled out. Bringing the overhanging light towards the mouth of the girl, he shines the light inside. There were a couple of metal tools that were placed on a tray nearby and Jimin used this to pry inside her mouth. He pushes aside the meat of her cheeks and peers at the gums. There was nothing unusual there. Something continues to urge him to look further so he turns his head slightly and checks the inner cheek. Deep at the bottom of the valley where muscle meets gums, he notices markings that stand out from the normal. He is unable to make out what they are and so he pushes away the bright light. Opting for a smaller flashlight, he drops the piercing ray of light to where he had been looking before. Four squiggles. 2-0-something-1. Or was that an I? He rotates his head further. The originally illegible third Jimin becomes an A, and the two looks more like an S at this angle. If these were letters, then the second Jimin could potentially be an “O”. The last symbol was still inconclusive as it could be either a one or “I”. Consumed with his new finding, Jimin nearly forgets to record the new information. It is not until a few seconds later that he then whips out his cellular phone and snaps a picture of it. He cannot decipher whether the symbols could be anything more than letters and numbers so he peels off his mask and throws it with the gloves into the trash bin. As he walks out of the coroner’s building and back to the main station, a feeling continues to burn in his gut. His intuition is telling him that there is something oddly familiar with what he had just saw. It wasn’t the girl or the markings themselves, but rather the position he had found them in. He felt like he had seen something like this before. He scratches his head the entire way back until he sits at his desk. That is when he remembers.

...

The light takes him by surprise from the slight crack of his curtains. Warmth from the afternoon sun hits him directly at the eyes and its rays creates a band that gives him the illusion akin to Cyclops from X-Men. He stretches and feels his muscles straining from last night’s activities. With a roll of his neck, he bounces off the bed and throws his legs onto the floor. The cold from being out of his blankets send a shiver down his spine that makes him curl his toes. Everything is strangely quiet around him. He does not hear the clatter of plates nor the running of water. There are no soft paddings from footsteps. The world is silent. He grabs a shirt from his suitcase and throws it over his head, bringing a small bit of warmth to his body. With each step around their hotel room he sees nothing. Her clothing is gone as with it her toothbrush and shoes. In fact, her entire suitcase has disappeared. With miniscule curiosity he returns back to the bedroom and unplugs his charging phone. There is one unread message and he opens it. “I know you’re tired but I don’t think that’s an excuse for your outburst this morning. Regardless, I will respect your need for personal space. I’m flying back to LA. I’ll see you when you return. – Krystal” Her words are curt and straight-forward. He reads her frustration between the words but doesn’t carry it with him. He knows she is waiting for an apology but he is too engrossed with his newfound freedom. He had not planned for the research on this trip to be completed with such speed and so his return train ride was not scheduled until the day after tomorrow. She will have to wait. He had a whole city to walk and sights to see. She will be waiting regardless. Ever so slightly he forms a smile with his lips. He walks over to the curtains and throws them open, allowing all the sunlight to enter his room. It bounces off the white sheets and covers the rug. Dust particles float around after being stirred from their slumber. With a hand pressed against the window, Jungkook peers down from the height of the hotel. He watches the automobiles that zoom beneath his gaze and traces the pathway of each person that passes by. It is a good day.

...

Fingertips graze her lips with a type of tenderness that sends small vibrations through her entire body. He holds her gaze and she peers shyly into his half-moon eyes. A smile dances on his face while she caresses his face with tremoring hands. He grabs them and holds it in his own. “You’re shaking,” he says with a light teasing tone. She wants to pull away but he holds them only stronger. He traces the lines on her palms to soothe her, but it only makes her shake all the more. “Is this real?” the question brushes your mouth much like the autumn wind rustling through leaves. It falls from your lips and floats gently to reach his ears. “Do you want this be real?” he asks you. His eyes never leave you, starting from the top of you forehead to trace to the tip of your nose and finally landing on your cherry stained lips. You faintly hear the sound of laughter in the background and the pattering of feet running but you are only consumed by the man who sits in front of you. Your nod is but a slight shift of your head. He smiles at you and cups your face in the warmth of his hands. Pressing his lips affectionately on yours, you inhale and take in everything from him. “I love you, Y/N” he confesses with all of his heart. You can feel your heart tugging towards him as he stands and offers a hand. You take it and he lightly pulls you to his feet. A rush overcomes you and suddenly, he seems taller than you remember. You look down and sees him standing a few centimeters off the ground. Your brows furrow and you peer up at him again. He has turned and is now starting to run forward. “C’mon, let’s go!” he calls back towards you. You try to move your feet but they only propel you forward while he runs upward into the vast blue sky. “Hyun!” you cry, reaching out to him. He doesn’t seem to hear you but you see laughter bursting forth from his mouth. “You’ll have to run faster or you won’t catch up!” Pressing your feet firmly on the ground, you push off but gravity brings you back down. “Hyun, I can’t! I can’t get into the sky like you!” He has now risen further than ever, growing smaller in your vision. “C’mon, Y/N! Come fast, before you can’t catch up!” his voice is faint but you hear him calling to you. You run forward faster than ever but you are never able to leave the ground. Tears spill from the corner of your eyes in frustration at the fact that you are behind him. “Hyun, don’t leave me!” you scream between your sobbing, “Baekhyun!” Your dream is shattered at the sound of metal clattering to the floor. You are jolted awake and your heart bolts at the sudden sound. The metal can which held your wet paintbrushes were now spread across the floor after falling from the table. Your friend stands at the door with an embarrassed look on her face. “Sorry,” she says, bringing a finger from her forehead towards you in apology. You feel the rise in your heart rate. You conceal it by slowly getting up out of you seat and rolling you head to get rid of the kink. Together, both you and Min clean up the mess off the floor from where she had knocked over the art supplies. “Are you okay?” Min asks softly, not quite meeting your eyes as the two of you straighten out the other half completed canvases which balance precariously on the table. You blink in confusion, causing a tear to roll down your cheek. You reach up and brush it with your fingers. They return wet and tinged with green. You let out a small laugh. “I slept on paint again, didn’t I?” you muse. You and Min are standing at the art studio where you had spent all last night in. Your completed painting stands at the corner and Min walks over to it. Min tries to read what you are thinking, but the other has her head turned away. “You stayed here all night to complete this?” Min inspects the painting closer. It depicts a girl standing shyly in front of a boy against a background of red, pink and purple. The boy had his back towards the observer and he stood with his hands behind him holding a bouquet of flowers. The painting showed an innocent love between the two but when Min squinted her eyes, you noticed two circles that were put on the back of the coat the boy was wearing. Min raises an eyebrow and points it out to you. “Are those bullet holes?” You in the meantime had stood hypnotized in front of the painting. A strange feeling is stirring in your heart as you look at what you had painted. It brought forth the memory of Baekhyun standing in front of you with flowers after their first date. It led to the memory of your first shy kiss after. It made you remember the pain you felt from your dream. Another tear perches at the corner of your eye and you turn to brush it angrily away. Min is still standing in front of you, now watching you with concern. She could guess why you are crying and trying so hard to mask it. You had only ever shed tears for one person and this painting brought back the reminder that this person was no longer around you. “I’m not sure what that is,” you laughs nervously, “It was quite late last night. My mind does weird things when I am sleep deprived.” Without further explanation, you grab your bag and head out before any other memory can shake you. “I’m going home to shower,” you say without looking back, “Sorry about the mess of the studio. I’ll be back later to clean it.” Your last words choke and you escape before Min can see the tears that fall consciously down your cheeks this time.

...

3. 2. 1. Boom. Making the entrance of the century, the three horses gallop into the square where the three beings are strapped on. White. The stallion neighs and throws his head back, unsure of where to go next. But a loud snap makes it head to the right and it brings its hooves down on the ground. Its rider’s body has been punctured with holes and the smell that emits from it is horrendous. For the first horsemen is called Pestilence. Red. Its mane has been dipped in the blood of its enemy. It limps as the giant beast follows in step behind the stallion, a battle scar from its recent fight. His rider flails at a sharp right turn, causing the spear attached at the arm to clash with the helmet. For the second horsemen is called War. Black. The man is but naked, showing his skin pulled taut over the ribcage and bones. He carries the pair of scales with his stomach plastered on one end and the other tipped with bread. For the third horsemen is Famine, but this man can no longer fill his hunger seated upon the black horse. There is a final horseman. The fourth’s name is Death. But why does it need to exist, when it is so very much alive in the other three? Excerpt: Written - Three Horsemen Everything from his desk was moved into the presentation room that allowed him more space to work. Papers of the current case overlap with the papers from the older file. They are grouped in a way only the creator can understand and it is Jimin who stands before it. Picking at his lips with a hand, his foot taps rhythmically on the floor as he continues to scan what he has laid out in front of him. He knew something had been bothering him since he returned from the morgue. Now it was clear. He had remembered a case he had taken part of when he had been temporarily stationed in Los Angelos. The case had remained unsolved but the victim was similar to his Jane Doe. In that case, the man had TH3C scratched into the inner part of his cheek. Matching the picture he had taken earlier to the picture in the old file, they were even scratched in the same place. After digging around a little more, he found two other cases that were similar. It could be coincidence but if they were all related, this was not a simple kill any longer. They had a serial killer in their hands. However there is trouble with the cases. Besides the one he is holding, the other three are from Los Angeles. He technically no longer had any jurisdiction over them. Jimin was contemplating on calling up his colleague when his own phone interrupts his thought process. He answers the phone promptly. “Hello?” “Jimin?” your timid voice reaches his ears. His name uttered from you relaxes his tense shoulders. “Hey. What’s up?” He can hear shuffling from your side as you think about what to say. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay. You didn’t return home last night.” “I went home for a bit but was called out pretty early for a case this morning. Wait, how did you know I didn’t go home?” “Ah… Well, I’m standing in front of your place right now.” “Why are you doing that?” He can basically hear your body language through the phone. You are gnawing on the inside of you cheek and probably tugging at your shirt, a habit you had when you were nervous. “I forgot my keys again. I thought that you might be home and I could use your shower.” Laughing at how sheepish your voice is, he says to you, “That tells me you slept over at the studio again. And very likely have paint on your face.” “Hey!” you huff, “I don’t wake up with paint on my face every single time!” “But you did this time, didn’t you?” he continues teasing you. You mutter something unintelligible, causing him to laugh at you again. “Unfortunately, I can’t step out of the office but if you don’t mind stopping over, I’ll hand you my keys.” You agree to his proposal and tell him that you’ll be there in twenty. Once their call ends, he chuckles silently to himself. You never seemed to change. When he and Baekhyun were roommates, there were multiple times he’d return home and find you standing outside their flat. You would tell him the same story of how you forgot your keys and of whether you could wash up at their place. And each and every time you would have a blotch of paint on you face where you had fallen asleep at the studio. He had teasingly got you face wash in a paint bottle for your birthday a long time ago as a joke. The last time he went over to your place, he had seen it standing in your room. His mind continues to wander to memories of his college days with Baekhyun and you until he is interrupted by Namjoon. “Whoah. What do you have going on here?” he asks, stepping towards the multitude of papers. Jimin takes this break to grab himself a new cup of coffee as the one sitting to the side had long since turned cold. “I was at the morgue earlier and discovered something strange. It reminded me of an old case,” he told Namjoon. Namjoon flipped through a couple of the pages but he was not as patient as Jimin to read through all the details. He scrunched up his nose and breezed past Jimin again. “I wanted to tell you we have a name for our Jane Doe,” Namjoon said, leaning against the doorframe. He is actually quite impressed at what Jimin has discovered in the span of the short time since they discovered the body this morning. Generally, he was impressed with how fast the department had gathered information. Perhaps as this was their biggest case in a while, the team as a whole was interested in solving it as soon as they can. “Sara Michel,” Namjoon continues on, “Female. 25. From Los Angeles. She’s a fine arts curator. She was in town for a meeting with the local museum about transferring a couple of new sculptures over. It’s been confirmed that the room we found her in this morning is the room her company booked for her while she was town.” “Los Angeles,” Jimin repeats. His eyes dart to the papers. Again, their neighbouring city is mentioned. “Yeah. What of it?” Namjoon picks up on Jimin’s sudden interest. He watches as the other walks over to the piles of paper and brings up a folder. “The old case I was talking about,” Jimin says, “It was from when I worked in LA last summer. A bit unusual that Ms. Michel is from there, don’t you think?” Namjoon scratches his chin. “Well, LA is a big city. And we’re only a train ride away….” Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t like it. Something weird is going on here.” Somebody outside the room yells out for Namjoon. He groans and Jimin throws him a sympathetic look. Jimin never told Namjoon, but before Namjoon was offered the promotion as lieutenant, Jimin had been approached by the captain. He had declined the position as he knew all the responsibilities that came with the new role. Besides, he enjoyed working as a detective; it allowed him hands-on access to all cases. “I’ll keep you updated on anything else I find,” Namjoon says as he turns to leave. Jimin replies, “Same here.” “Alright, well see you around. If I don’t get lost amongst all the conferences I have to start pulling…” his voice trails off as he exits with a dejected curve of his back.

...

“Hi,” your voice interrupts his nap. After Namjoon had left, Jimin had sat down at the desk fully planning to do some more research. However, his fatigue got the better of him and he ended up dozing off. He rubs his eyes sleepily and rises to greet you. You urge him to sit back down. You may have spent the night at the studio, but you looked more put together than he was. Dressed in the first pair of jeans he could find and an old tshirt, he was in a contrast to your outfit. You wore a pair of black and white polka-dotted overall shorts that you paired with a slim fit quarter sleeved shirt inside. A necklace hung around your neck, and you had thrown your hair into a messy bun. Tendrils of hair had fallen out, but it framed your face giving you an overall effortless but fresh look. Walking up to him, you sit gently at the edge of the table while he remains seated to your side. He gently reaches up and smudges the shadow of green paint on your face. “What a way to greet me,” you pout. He smiles at you, then yawns and stretches. Remembering why you had arrived, he rummages through his pocket and retrieves the key to his apartment for you. You thanked him for it and then rotate in your spot to take in the entire room. You were similar in this way, where the two of you had an eye for minute details. It intrigues you to see the pictures that had been laid out. It is true that they are morbid but being around Jimin all these years had made you accustomed to seeing images of a crime scene. “Are you going to be coming home tonight?” you ask him. Your back is still turned towards him as you walk up and study a picture up close. He walks up to you and stands behind. You were looking at the picture of the markings on one of the victims. “TH3C,” you whisper. “No,” his voice rumbles from behind you, “This case is pretty big. I’ll most likely be spending the night here.” You spin in your spot to face him again and your noses nearly touch. He stumbles and takes a step back at the close proximity. A frown starts to crease your forehead and you nervously chews on your fingernail. “What is it?” he sighs. It takes him a moment to gather himself while the scent of you lingers around him. “I feel bad that I’m barging into your place again,” you mumble, “What if I bring you dinner tonight?” “There’s no need. I’ll order take out from nearby. Besides, you’re always welcome at my place. It’s not a bother.” “Jimin…” He sighs, defeated. “Sure. I’ll wait for your meal.” You delightedly clap your hands together. “Perfect! I’ll make your favourite dish tonight! How does carbonara sound?” Nodding he feels the usual smile that appears around you on his face. It was strange. Before you came, he had nearly fainted with tiredness but now that you were here, it was like you had transferred you energy to him. ��I’ll see you again tonight, then!” you quip animatedly. Taking his keys off the desk and into your pocket, you makes your way towards the door before stopping again. “TH,” you begin, “It makes me think of Three Horsemen.” “What’s that?” he asks you, distracted by the thought of delicious homemade food. “Three Horsemen. Remember the novel I was reading? It was just a random thought. And then maybe the number three for the third one? I don’t know what “C” would mean though. Perhaps it’s the horsemen from set C,” you continue to ramble on. You notice that Jimin is now staring at you with an intense gaze. You wave your hand in front of you, as if the simple action would cause you thoughts to magically disappear as well. “Forget what I said. I’m an artist,” you laugh nervously, “Besides if it was a set C, there would be a set B and A. And that would make… nine total kills. My mind is just overactive with the books I’m reading.” Jimin laughs nervously along with you. But inside, he mentally makes a note to investigate the possibility of what you have said, however miniscule that may be. You thank him once again for his hospitality and wave him good bye. When he is left alone again, he sinks back into his seat. It makes his bottom ache as he had been seated for a while, so he paces the room. Three Horsemen – Third Horsemen – Set C. TH3C. It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion to draw. It was scary to imagine though. Eight other victims that were not found. His thoughts are interrupted once again when the phone in the room rings. Namjoon is on the other end when Jimin picks up. “We found a witness.”

...

next part

[emmies-archives]

My Only

I haven’t made a request before so pls forgive me if I’m doing this wrong, but i thought (from song prompts 2) number 3 and number 18 could be cute? With either bakugou or todoroki? Bonus points if theres some pining and ends happily :) if not ofc I’m happy to read whatever you do!

Song prompts: 

 3. “Trust me, Darling.” Bad Liar by Imagine Dragons.  18. “Push me out, I’ll pull you close.” What You’re Made of by Lindsey Stirling. 

Todoroki Shoto x Female Reader.

Word Count: 3.4K

Genre: Some angst, lots of fluff

Warnings: Endeavor being d*ck, cursing, slight nsfw mentions at end

Summary: Endeavor holds a charity ball. Shoto invites you as his date as your relationship has grown stronger. Endeavor tries to break the two of you up a few times, Shoto stands up for you twice, you stand up for Shoto once when Endeavor works behind his back. It only strengthens your relationship, bringing you even closer.

                  Everywhere you looked there were lights. Twinkling in sync like they were dancing to the soft music playing in the background. There was a warmth shifting through the room, despite the harsh chill outside. You could feel the warm drafts envelope you as they moved between others and the tables they sat at. Mixing in with the flames swaying at each table’s centerpiece. Everything was so beautiful and calm. It was as though nothing could break the trance the night had put on everyone.

Enji Todoroki always had a way about him that tended to ruin things for you though, especially because you were attending the charity ball he had set up. The first time he managed to get under your skin for the day was when you were getting ready. Shoto had offered for you to come over early to his house to get ready for the ball.

He had asked you the first chance he’d gotten to be his date for his father’s ball. It was an easy decision; it was no secret that you both had been feeling something for each other. At first, you both really didn’t understand what it was that you were feeling, but after the villain attack in the forest, the only person on each of your minds was each other. After that, the two of you had begun to study together, you went out to eat with only each other. It seemed like any chance Shoto got he asked to spend it with you, whether if it was in his dorm or the common areas, out somewhere, or just simply training.

He asked you one night as you both lay on his bed, both scrolling mindlessly on your phones if you wanted to meet his siblings. Of course, you said yes immediately wanting to know more about his private life and just more about him in general. You knew his family was a touchy subject for him and you were excited and happy that he trusted you enough to let you in on it. He warned you several times the day of to be wary of his father. That Enji would most likely try to pick you apart, to see exactly why Shoto was so fond of you.

You didn’t expect it to be so awful though. Before he arrived, you helped Fuyumi prep and cook the meal while Shoto stood at one of the counters watching. You could tell Fuyumi was so excited to see that Shoto brought someone home, let alone a girl. Every time she asked you something about Shoto you could feel the tips of your ears burning, even though you loved the butterflies that danced in your stomach.

“I so excited to finally meet you, Y/n!” Fuyumi said excitedly when you finished preparing dinner, “Shoto has been talking about you for as long as I can remember, and I couldn’t help thinking maybe you were made up! You seemed so perfect! How Shoto managed to snag you beats me, Hon.”

You saw Shoto glare at his sister and she just grinned at him, her nose scrunching up. “Oh no, that’s not true!” You said you were starting to get even more flustered. Fuyumi started to speak again but she was interrupted when someone burst into the dining room.

“Hey! Quick pestering little Sho’s girlfriend, Fuyumi.” Your heart jumped at the guy’s words, then he turned to you. “I’m Shoto’s older brother, Natsuo. Nice to meet you, Y/n.” He pulled you into a quick hug, “Don’t mind her, Fuyumi has always wanted a younger sister.” Natsuo said and moved to Shoto, wrapping an arm around his neck and ruffling his hair. “But on a real note, if you need me to beat him up just let me know. I’ll help you out.” Natsuo winked at you and laughed when Shoto shoved his arm off.

You were starting to really enjoy the energy of the siblings. It was refreshing to see. It only lasted a short while longer until a door slammed. Everyone in the room visibly stiffened, and the air grew heavy. A moment later, Enji Todoroki walked through the threshold of the dining room. He clapped his hands together before pulling out his chair to sit down, his eyes never seemed to stray from you from the moment he entered the room. “Well, is everyone ready? I’m starved.” Everyone followed his lead in sitting down. “I would love to get to know you, miss Y/n.”

Next to you, you could see Shoto clenching his teeth. He looked so stressed. You moved your foot nudging him; he turned his attention to you from the plate in front of him. You smiled at him and noticed his expression soften, and a small smile form on his face as well.

Enji wasted no time in bombarding you with questions, ranging from about you and your quirk, to your family and your home life. It was literally exhausting answering each one, searching for the right answer seemed impossible and it was hard to tell if the ones you gave satisfied him. All he ever gave in response was a grunt or a nod, then more questions followed. Once dinner was finally done, Shoto grabbed your hand immediately and started to pull you from your seat.

“Follow me, y/n.” He said softly once he saw your confusion. You started to follow him until Enji stopped you both.

“Stop.” His loud, steady voice said. Shoto stopped his pace and turned to glare at his father.

“What now?” Shoto asked, rolling his eyes.

“I want to say I am not impressed with your choice to bring this girl home, Shoto. She does not meet anywhere near my expectations of what I thought I taught you.” Enji spoke like you weren’t in the room with him.

“Are you kidding me, you have no right to say anything about her.” Shoto snapped back and started to pull you out of the room again. “We’re done with this now.”

“I did not enjoy having you here, miss Y/n,” Enji stated, locking eyes on you as you left the room.

The rest of the night was better than everything Enji had put you through before. Shoto had brought you to his room, he needed to cool off before you left for the dorms. He was visibly angry at his father’s words. You moved next to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, and laced your fingers through his.

“Hey,” You said softly. “Forget what he said.”

“Usually I do, but I don’t think I can. He insulted you, Y/n.” Shoto said and sighed. “Everything he did down there was absolutely uncalled for.”

“You’re right, it was very uncalled for. But I don’t care what he said at all, even if it was shitty.” You said back to him, and he turned to look at you. “All I care about is how you feel, and that your siblings are there for you.”

“What I feel?” Shoto asked it was soft like he was asking himself.

“Yeah. It doesn’t matter what your father says about anything, what you feel is right.” You said, and a small smile started to grow on his face. “Does that make sense, Shoto?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He said and grabbed your hands. “I feel like I want to kiss you right now.”

That made you laugh, even though butterflies erupted inside of you. “Then do it.”

Shoto moved in to press his lips against yours. It was slow and soft at first, then he pulled you closer. It was like all the pent-up stress he was holding from dinner melted away at your touch, your lips moving in sync with his. He was the first one to pull away, he had put you under a spell.

“Thank you for making me feel better, Y/n.” Shoto said, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Always, Shoto.”

You ended up staying in his room for the night instead of going back to the dorms. It was too far away and all you wanted to do was cuddle up in bed with him. Wrapped in his arms and wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt he gave you, it felt like something you’d been yearning for had finally come true.

  The time you spent with Shoto after that night seemed different. It felt more special, more whole. You weren’t wondering how he felt anymore, there was no need. He told you all the time. How special you were. How happy he was when he was with you. There was nothing between the two of you until Enji stepped in yet again.

The afternoon of the charity ball you were in Shoto’s room getting ready. He had gone out with Natsuo to get a last-minute suit adjustment for his brother. You had just finished zipping up your dress when a knock sounded at the door. When you opened it, the happy mood you were in faltered.

“Oh,” Enji said, a frown visible on his face. “Where is Shoto?”

“I believe he went out with Natsuo to get something.” You said stepping back away from the door.

“I need to speak with him.” He said, and you almost couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes.

“He has his phone on him I think, did you try calling him?” You asked, trying not to sound too rude. It was like Enji didn’t even think before barging to Shoto’s room.

“Not yet. I will soon.” He said and looked at his watch. “I suppose I could talk to you right now too.”

You waited for a moment for him to talk, but he didn’t say anything. “Okay? Anything in particular you need?”

“I’ll put it simply. I do not like you being with my son. Nothing good will come of it. I do not see a future with you in his life.” Enji said, bluntly.

“Excuse me?” You asked. You always knew Enji did not like you dating his son, but this seemed out of nowhere.

“It’ll be better if you end it sooner than later. I have big plans for him, and I do not want your petty little high school romance to ruin his career.” He pulled something out of his back pocket, it was a checkbook. “Of course, I would reimburse you. Name a price and it’s yours.”

“This has to be a joke, right?” You couldn’t believe what was happening. Nothing like this had ever happened to you, and you never thought Enji would even do this.

“I am not joking, miss Y/n,” Enji said, sighing at your blank stare and silence. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but tonight I will be having a young girl of equal promise meet with Shoto. If all goes well, they will be engaged tonight. I’d rather not have you there to mess it all up. So, name a price and I will have someone drive you home right now.”

“No.” You said, shaking your head.

“What?” Enji questioned, he raised an eyebrow like he couldn’t believe you.

“I won’t. You can’t force us apart.” You said louder, you were starting to get very frustrated.

Before Enji could say anything else, a door slammed shut and you could hear the boys back already. Shoto was home earlier than expected. “So be it, Y/n. He will no longer be yours by the end of the night anyway.”

He left the room after that. All you could do was stand, staring at the door where Shoto’s father stood. Enji Todoroki was a monster. You could feel tears pricking the back of your eyes, trying to crawl out.

“Y/n? Are you ready, love?” Shoto called from the hallway. You turned around quickly, grabbing your bag. “Some of the boys from our class are here already, it’s almost time to get going.” You heard him walk through the door, and you were all but kicking yourself to shake away what happened. “Y/n? Is everything okay?” Shoto asked softly, placing a hand on your elbow.

You turned to him nodded quickly. “Yeah, I, um. I just got a feeling I was forgetting something, but I remembered what it was.”

“Oh, good.” He said, smiling once he took in your outfit. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Shoto.” You said smiling, then pull him close to you. Moving your lips to meet his you sighed slightly when he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back.

“What was that for?” Shoto asked once you pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Just missed you, and I’m excited about the ball.” You said. Hopefully, you could get your mind off of the conversation you had with Enji before you reached the hall.

   A smile sat on your lips as you watched your friends dancing to the soft, slow music. Everyone looked so good tonight. So far you had been having a wonderful time, you had managed to even forget everything that happened with Enji. Dancing with Shoto a few times and sneaking a couple kisses helped a lot.

Though, it had been nearly thirty minutes since you had seen Shoto. You had been so distracted by your friends; you hadn’t realized how long it had been. Leaving the seat at your table you went to look for him. Then you saw Enji. He had a smug look on his face when you held his gaze, and your heart jumped.

“Oh no.” You muttered to yourself. You knew exactly where Shoto was now. Enji had taken him to meet some random girl, to steal him from you. Following Enji’s gesture toward the doors of the balcony, you made your way to them. Once you were on the threshold your heart fell as you saw Shoto. An absolutely gorgeous girl stood not even a foot away from him, her arms were dangerously close to being wrapped around them. This was it, you thought. The last time you’d be able to see Shoto before Enji’s horrible hands tore your relationship apart. How could Shoto resist the ‘perfect’ girl?

You gathered all the courage remaining in you and stepped onto the balcony. “Shoto?”

He turned to you, and you could feel tears in the corner of your eyes once again. “Y/n?”

“What do you want?” The girl sneered at you, her hands now resting around Shoto’s neck, his around her waist.

“Shut up.” You said through gritted teeth. So much for all the time, you spent on your makeup. The tears falling down now surely was ruining it.

“You need to leave!” She yelled at you, standing up straight now. “Don’t interrupt us!”

“No, you need to leave.” You all but growled once you were close to them, “Stop touching my boyfriend.”

“Your Boyfriend? I don’t think so.” The girl let go of his neck and her face almost turned into a snarl.

Shoto turned to the girl, a confused look on his face. “I thought you just fainted, Kanna.”

The girls, Kanna’s face went red, and she whipped toward him. “Oh, I did, Shocchan! I just, your strong arms helped me feel better.”

“I didn’t think it worked like that.” He said bluntly.

“It doesn’t, Shoto.” You said and stepped between them. Kanna squealed slightly and stomped her foot, it looked like she was beginning to throw a tantrum.

“Go away you freak!!” She yelled at you and tried to push you away. Her hands landed on Shoto however, he had moved between you and Kanna at the perfect moment.

His expression turned dark, “Don’t even try it, Kanna.”

“Oh! Shoto, I’m sorry. She is just being so annoying, ruining our special time together.” Kanna pouted.

“She isn’t ruining anything. You are. Don’t ever insult or threaten my girlfriend ever again.” Shoto moved his arm letting her hands fall from him. “Leave my sight before I do something I surely will regret.”

Kanna burst into tears, running towards the doors to the ballroom. You heard her cry out Enji’s name as she did. Shoto turned to you, and the dark expression still on his face. You had never seen him look so threatening and so hot at the same time. When he saw the tears on your face though, it fell in an instant.

“Y/n! Are you okay? What’s the matter?” Shoto questioned, holding your arms and staring into your eyes. He brought his hand up to wipe the stray tears on your cheeks.

“I, um.” You whispered; you could almost feel the concern in his eyes. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Is it about her? Don’t worry, I promise. She is one of my father’s puppets.” He said, a small frown falling onto his features. “Once in a while, my father will send her my way in hopes of us getting engaged.”

For some reason, you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief. “I thought…. Shoto I was so scared I was going to lose you!”

“You won't ever lose me.” Shoto said pulling you close into a hug. You didn’t know when you had started shivering but you felt it now. He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear. “Trust me, darling, you’re my only one.”

A sob of relief broke out at his words and you buried your face into his chest. You had never felt that way before, it was devastating. After a few moments of just holding each other, you pulled away to look up at him.

“Your father is the worst man I ever met.” You spoke, gaining a sharp laugh from Shoto.

“You have never spoken truer words.” He smiled at you, and he noticed you were still a bit tense. “Was there anything else bothering you, love.”

“Your father,” You started, breathing in deeply. “He told me to leave you, he tried to pay me to end what we have. He said there was no future for me with you.”

“That bastard.” Shoto growled and started to move from your grasp toward the doors.

“Wait!” You cupped his face pulling him into a kiss. It was deep, rushed. It took your breath away and it stopped Shoto in his tracks. You pulled away for breath. “Shoto, I said no. That I would never leave you. I couldn’t ever.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, y/n. I fell in love with you for a reason.” He said breathlessly. Butterflies soared from your stomach up to your heart, warming your body where they touched. The music inside grew louder, and he grabbed your hand, starting to dance along with the slow music.

You moved along gracefully with the music. Following Shoto’s lead, he was an amazing dancer. When he dipped you, a giggle left your mouth. He pulled you back up and you kissed him again. “I love you too, Shoto.”

“Even if forced you to leave me, Y/n.” Shoto began, stopping the dance. Pulling you close, your bodies flush. “Push me out, I’ll pull you closer. I’ve never had something that meant so much to me.”

You shivered at his words combining with the cold in your bones. Shoto shrugged off his suit jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. He grinned at you, then bowed slightly, his hand out.

“Can I have this dance, darling?” He asked, staring at you through long eyelashes

“Absolutely, Sho.” You placed your hand in his.

He placed a soft kiss on your hand and began to move you along to the music again. Even though the night almost turned to shit, it couldn’t have ended better. Being wrapped in Shoto’s arms under the beautiful night sky. 

He leaned close to your ear again. “You know what we should do, Y/n? Use my father’s credit card and take this to a hotel, the night is still very young. I want to show you just how much I love you.”

[babiesdreams]

Mirrors

This is a part 1 from a serie, I hope you all like it and my intention is to keep introducing members in the story, so please leave feedback about who else do you want to see in here.

Characters: fem! reader, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Taeyong.

Warnings: It gets a little angst at some point but it isn´t too heavy.

Word count: 4000

“Doyoung, an nct former member, is taking a hiatus from his career as he's dealing with anxiety. Nctzens must really support him during this time as he really needs support” The Tv was loudly announcing the gossip news. 

“So another idol” you thought. Definitely being an idol must be hard and everything, dealing with all the sasaengs, the media, the pressure. You understood their feelings but there must be something else. It's not like you know a lot about these boys, but you know they are famous, cool and a good support for their fans, so they might be good people.

Your mind wanders at the different outcomes of your plan. You never tried this before, not with a famous person, not with an idol you didn't even know. But maybe he needed it so… Why not?

You searched for information, multiple photos until you memorized his face, his name, age, you even listened to some of their songs. You got everything ready and looked up for the hour in Seoul, it was 4 AM there. Perfect for your plan. You looked at your phone, to see what hour was in your town. 5 PM, you managed to see. 

Okay so, not too bad, you weren't really sleepy but you could get to it. You laid on your bed, put on some music with your headphones and closed your eyes. You pictured the boy´s face right in front of you, searching for him. Eventually, you found him and went his way inside your dark mind. You were unsure if it worked as you never tried with an unknown person before, but you trusted your abilities and just hoped for the best.

“Kim Doyoung” you called him in the empty dark space you were in at the moment. You couldn't hear or see anything for a while, until you heard footsteps coming your way. 

“Who are you?” The boy said from the distance, completely inserted in the dark.

It started getting really cold there, you felt as cold as if it was snowing, or you were inserted in an iced lake of some sort. 

“I´m here to help you. Are you Kim Doyoung?” You screamed as if attempting to make him hear you from the distance. 

“Who are you?” He said getting closer to you, until you could finally recognize his face. 

“I´m Y/N, I came here so I could help you” you said getting closer to greet him. 

“Where is this place?” He said, confused looking around.

“Well I don´t know, you tell me, It's your dream” You said smiling at him.

“My dream?” He said even more confused.

“Yes, I came here to help you with your problems, I'm a dream traveler. I have the natural ability to get myself into others’ dreams and also control them. Cool right?” You explained, feeling proud of your abilities all of a sudden.

“That doesn't make sense” He said shaking his head.

“Yeah, maybe it doesn't. Shall we go somewhere else? “You said, picturing a beautiful empty beach at night, and as you pictured it, it appeared “Do you like this or…?” You said now looking at Doyoung´s shocking expression.

“Wait, How did you do that?” He said, curiously looking around as he walked through the beach, feeling the sand under his feet as he walked “This feels very real” He said, now grabbing a handful of sand letting it out of his fist slowly.

“That’s how dreams feel dummy” You say as if it were obvious. You started walking through the dark beach, hypnotized by the moonlight. It somehow had the same feeling as the previous empty black space you woke up in.

You turn to look at Doyoung, the boy is looking confused as he tries to understand and process everything.

And then, everything changes, both of you are in a nice cozy house, in the middle of the living room, with comfortable clothes that could perfectly be a pajama. You look around, the walls are a nice shade of light pink, making this room contrast the two previous scenarios you both went through. There's a big beige sofa resting on the wall, in front of it a cute coffee table full of small decorations and some plants. Further away, you can see a dining table, all set, with a cute centerpiece and five chairs matching the wood of the table.

You look at Doyoung again as he sits on the big sofa and you do the same, a couple of meters away, giving him space. You now imagine, he created this scenario, probably thinking of some old house, or maybe his actual living room. You get lost in his eyes as he starts talking about something that you don't even get to hear.

“So what is it?” He says, bringing you back to reality. You blink twice as you try to focus on his question. “Sorry, I didn't get that” You say looking down, ashamed of your behaviour. But, could you really blame yourself, I mean, you’ve seen a lot of handsome boys before, but he was different for sure. Maybe it was his perfectly parted dark hair, maybe his dark eyes, looking right through you, or maybe it was his personality that had you going this way. 

He sighed, as he had to repeat everything he just said. “Who do you work for?” He summarized. “Um..” You looked away. Your mind was working really hard, nobody ever asked you this. Should you pretend you are some kind of strange creature so that he doesn't look for you? Should you just tell the truth? What even was the truth?. You were confused as to what to say or do, but he thought you were just trying to hide something. “You can't tell me right? Maybe they're watching us” You just nodded, following his crazy theory, hoping for the best.

“So you definitely are not human, I mean no human can do this. Or maybe you are just a product of my imagination” He says to himself as he tries to understand everything. “I’m real, I mean, I have control of my own actions and words” You say trying to help him clear his confusion, but your words sound like a challenge to him. He focuses hard and you can actually tell he's trying to control your actions, but he just gives up after a while.

You sigh, cause nothing is going as planned. “Doyoung, we can talk about your problems, I'm here for that reason. And trust me, no one is watching us.” You say trying to clear things up a little bit. But Doyoung just looks at you, waiting for answers, answers that you are not willing to give.

After a long couple of minutes of your eyes meeting and exploring the other’s, the scenario starts changing again, and you both appear in a black room, full of mirrors pointing at all directions, making it hard to know the limits of the space. You can hear Doyoung´s footsteps in the distance, but you can't get to reach him with your eyes, as the confusing view makes your mind blurry. 

You start getting anxious, feeling completely useless and judged as you see your reflection everywhere you look. All the mirrors turn slowly, pointing at your direction. Tears start forming on your eyes, and you are not able to stop them from falling down your cheeks. But then something clicks on your mind, making you realize how you could change the scenarion in your advantage, yrt you weren’t exactly stong at the moment. You concentrate as best as you can, trying to avoid the anxious thought going around your mind. You let out a  loud scream breaking all the mirrors around you. The broken glass pieces reveal Doyoung´s figure standing right in front of you.

You now allow yourself to be weak, and vulnerable, falling on your knees while you let your tears drip down endlessly, not even bothered to make them stop. You notice the boy’s gaze fixed on you, and you can tell he feels guilty of your state. But probably, he didn't even intend to do this, as this was just a part of his mind.

You get up slowly, getting yourself together. Doyoung’s voice sounds distant, as your mind is not fully able to keep going. “I’m sorry, I always, fuck things up like this” You notice by the sound of his words how he’s also crying, getting to the place you’ve been looking for since the beggining. 

However, before you can bring yourself up to say something, you see a light coming out of the end of the space you both were in, and you just knew. He’s waking up. You imagine an empty white door frame, making it appear in the distance. The door frame and its content, are a light source to the room, making the near zones glow up around it. 

“I really have to go” You say running towards the door frame. Yet, when your feet are almost crossing the clowing exit, It vanishes. You turn yourself looking at Doyoung’s expression as you hear his low voice again “Don’t go”

“I will come back, Doyoung, I promise, I just… I have to go now” You picture a  new door frame right next to you, allowing your hands to get through it, finally.

You wake up breathing heavily, feeling cold sweat falling from your forehead and you try your best to calm down. That dream was intense, and that boy was definitely intense. You calm down slowly, trying to figure out the meaning the room full of mirrors. “Maybe he's judgemental”  You think to yourself. And just like that, you spend the rest of the night looking for answers so that you could help him once you come back.

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Doyoung wakes up as an intense light comes into his room. Normally he's a morning person but not today for sure. He wakes up angrily as he couldn’t discover much about you and got a bitter aftertaste of his dream experience. “There's no way she's real” He thinks to himself while his body comes out of the bed slowly. His mind is still trapped within his dreams, not wanting to let go of the memory of your presence. 

“She's way too perfect” He thinks now under the hot feeling of the water running through his body as he takes a shower. 

The hours keep passing by and he can't stop his mind from playing the moments he experienced while dreaming last night. He desperately wanted you to come back, he wanted to see you again, touch you again, just feel you around him. He wasn't in his right mind and anyone could notice that. He was continuously spacing out, not listening, walking around, laying down doing pretty much nothing… So it was no surprise when Taeyong sat down with him to check out what was wrong.

“Are you feeling worse Doyoung? We can call a therapist if you need to” He says in a calmed tone looking at Doyoung with sweet eyes. “I´m okay, I just need to rest” He says without looking at him. “Doyoung” Taeyong says in a far more serious tone now, forcing Doyoung´s eyes to rest on him. “I know it can get hard sometimes, but you can talk to me about whatever you need. I won't judge you in any way okay?” The sound of his words create a relaxing atmosphere in the room, making Doyoung feel a bit guilty about his behaviour. “I will talk to you when I figure this out, hyung, I promise” He just says smiling at the boy, wanting desperately to make him feel less worried. Taeyong just smiles and nods, patting Doyoung´s head before leaving the room.

It was for sure, one of the things that haunted Doyoung, how worried Taeyong would get about his health. Of course, he understood that it was concerning to see a friend like that, but he didn't want to hurt any of his friends with his own problems. He was afraid he would hurt them as well, or even worse, be judged by them. He kept thinking about the mirrors, how he saw his own reflexion on them, how he fought back the anxiety growing inside of him. How you were completely destroyed, crying out loud on the floor, surrounded by tiny broken mirror pieces, how you stepped on them and didn't even realize the pain. “She's never coming back” A thought passed through his mind, invading his whole body. 

Why would you come back? So that he would hurt you again? Why were you there in the first place? Maybe just work, probably forced by some boss or something. There's no way you would actually care for him, you didn't even know him. Or maybe you did know him. Maybe you were a fan. Was that the reason you were acting like that to him? Were you there just to fulfill one of your fantasies? And how even did you get inside his own dreams? How did you control his subconscious mind? Why couldn´t he control your actions? He really tried hard to. 

There were far too many questions and yet no easy answers. He laid down on his bed, defeated. His mind had been working hard all day long, and yet he didn't even know what was happening. At least, this was distracting himself of his normal, self-destructive thoughts. Maybe it really was a mechanism his own mind made up for him to calm down and forget about his intrusive thoughts.

While he let his mind wander around different thoughts, he started falling asleep on top of his bed, unable to control it.

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It could be. It was not that he judged others, but his mind judging himself. It was written in the way the mirrors pointed at him from the beginning. It was your own mind that turned them to look at you. But, What was he judging about himself? He's pretty much perfect. It really doesn't make sense to you.

You lift your head, realizing it's already afternoon. You think to yourself you still got some time to figure things out. But then you realize, he's in Seoul. They don't have the same schedule and you are, pretty much fucked up. You look at the clock on your phone, It’s 4 pm, one hour earlier than yesterday. You got it. You can definitely do it again. Right? Well you hope so, you promised it. He's probably waiting for you. “Fuck” You say to yourself.

You lay down on bed as fast as you can, play some music, the same way you did the day before, and try relaxing. You start picturing Doyoung´s perfect features in front of you, you even imagine his scent, or at least the one you got to smell on his dream. And you start falling asleep, traveling through your mind, looking for the boy´s dream. It's not as easy as the first time, but you get to it in the end. It's so different compared to yesterday's scenarios. 

You find yourself in a cozy little apartment, clean, well decorated, caressing you with a warm welcoming feeling. After looking around, noticing the white walls, the huge kitchen to your left, the parquet floor, the nice painting hanging on the walls, the huge cozy sofa in the middle of the living room, the distant bedroom, the nice little plants placed everywhere; you notice him, waiting, sat down on the couch, with his arms laying on his knees and his hands covering his face.

“Doyoung?” you say, still in your position, too afraid of getting closer to him.

The boy lifts his head, surprised by your voice, looking at you as if he didn't quite believe his eyes. After a whole minute processing the information, he looks away, pretending not to care, a little too late for you to believe it.

“You did come back” He says pressing his back against the couch.

“Sorry about being late, the time zones are really something” You say scratching the back of your head.

“So you are not living in Korea?” He asks tapping the couch in a signal for you to sit next to him.

“Obviously not” You say as you start walking towards the couch, sitting right next to his body and placing your gaze on him.

He chuckles lightly at your expression, just like he could read your mind.

“I'm not mad” He clears out, letting you breathe better and relax for a moment “I am actually sorry, about yesterday, I didn't mean to-”

“It was your subconscious, it's not your fault” you interrupt him, knowing what he was about to say “I´ve been thinking… Is that the way you usually think about yourself?” You ask, even though you are really scared of his reaction.

“Um I guess so” He simply says not really thinking about it, as something else was trapped in his mind. “Can you go into everyone's dreams?” He asks curiously.

You simply nod, not really sure about how true that statement really is. “It's been like that so far” would be a more accurate statement, but you just shut up. There's something about Doyoung that makes you feel like every word you say could break him, just like you did with the mirrors.

“Can you do it then? So that I can trust you” He says looking right into your eyes. You tilt your head, trying to understand just what he was talking about. “I´m famous, that's how you know me right?” You nod, still confused. “So you know all the members right?” You start trying to remember the names you memorized before the first dream, but you don't get to remember any of the 23 names. You curse at yourself how could you have such a bad memory? You shake your head at the boy admitting your lack of memorization abilities.

He sighs, not knowing what to do. “Okay, Jaehyun, he's one of the most popular members nowadays. You must know him” You try your best to remember, sure you have heard his name before, but you couldn't really picture him. Suddenly Doyoung grabs something from his pants’ pocket, showing it to you. It was a photo of the said boy, looking really perfect, which makes you wonder “Are all of them perfect looking?” 

“You can go into his dreams, right?” You nod, unsure. “I think so. Jung Jaehyun right?” You say, now remembering some of the information you looked up. “Yes” he says, looking far more interested now. “I have to go in order to do that” You clear up, knowing very well he feared not meeting you again.

“It's fine, Just make sure to let him know he has to tell me about you, okay?” He says hugging you so suddenly that it shocks you. “Good luck” He says before placing a kiss on your forehead. You nod, still shocked by the situation. You make a door frame just like yesterday, so that you can exit. You walk slowly towards it, stopping right before entering. You turn around to look at the boy, who’s now waving at you. You wave your hand back and cross the door frame, exiting the dream as you do.

You wake up on your bed, still confused by the situation. You search for some Jaehyun pictures so that you can imagine him, the same way you do with Doyoung. After a couple of minutes you are ready to insert yourself inside the boy's dream. 

This time is way faster, making you think that maybe you are getting better at controlling your abilities. 

Without thinking much, you look around, noticing you are in some sort of castle.  It looks like a special event, a ball of some sort, everyone around you is dressed like the renaissance french movies you saw from time to time. You look down at your own dress, looking really puffy and heavy and it is, indeed, heavy. You also feel your waist pressured by a corset. 

You look up, noticing a big figure in front of your eyes. “I have been waiting for you, princess” Jaehyun says as you look right into his eyes. “I- I have been looking for you” You say confused at the situation.

Jaehyun chuckles lightly, showing his dimples, and you find yourself falling into his charm. “Shall we?” He says offering you a hand letting you know he wants to dance. You notice, just now, his clothes are price-like, really making him look like an ethereal prince. 

“Sure” You just say, mesmerized by the view. You don't really know how to dance, not to this kind of music. But his hands guide you through the movements and you don't really think about it. The song keeps playing in the background and you smile at the cute moment you both are sharing. 

Just when the song comes to an end, Jaehyun’s body stops abruptly forcing you to follow. He cups your cheeks inside his palms and presses a soft kiss on your lips.

You gasp, making him pull off. “Are you okay?” He asks with a worried expression. “Y-Yes, I just, um…” You can't bring yourself to speak your mind and you just try to look away. It's now that your mind clears out and you remember. “You have to talk with Doyoung, you know him right?” The boy just nods, confused at the sudden hit of reality on his dream. “Talk to him about me. I have to go now” You say realizing a shiny light coming inside the room. 

“Will you come back?” Jaehyun says, raising his arm in your direction. “Sure” You say running towards the frame you just created as fast as you possibly can. You end up succeeding, exiting the weird dream fastly.

You wake up on your bed, confused and feeling really weird. You touch your lips with your fingertips, remembering the feeling of Jaehyun’s lips on yours. That's the weird thing about dreams, they are impossible in real life, but they feel just too real.

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Doyoung wakes up, after a while, thinking about how much time you need to succeed at your mission. He's getting anxious, impatient. He just wants to know if this shit is real, he wants to know more about you. What was it on you that made him feel this way? He barely knew you.

He couldn't wait any longer sitting there, like an idiot, he had to find answers. So he got dressed up and walked his way to the boy’s dorm, looking for him anxiously. He finally entered the bedroom, looking at the half-waken boy.

“Hey, Jaehyun, did you sleep well?” Doyoung says sitting on the limit of Jaehyun’s bed. “Um, yeah, I had a pretty weird dream, I was gonna tell you about it” the boy says, in a sleepy tone. “Really?” Doyoung asks intrigued. 

“Yes, so okay, I was in this giant palace, and I was the prince, waiting for the princess, and she arrived, a little bit late. But the way she looked, it was enough to forgive her for being late, to even forget she was late. And then I asked her to dance with me, and the way our bodies moved with the music, was just magical” He started explaining, completely immersed in the story.

“You both danced, cool” Doyoung says in a totally uncool tone. “Yes, and when the song finished, I grabbed her face and kissed her. I´m not lying dude, It was the best kiss I ever had in my life, even if it wasn't real” The boy was looking at the ceiling, replaying the dream on his head. “Oh, you guys kissed” Doyoung says, clenching his jaw, in a jealous expression. 

“Yes, but she was shocked, I guess she didn't really expect that. And then she asked me if I knew you, which was weird. And she told me to tell you about the dream, that's why I’m, you know, telling you” He says, finally looking at Doyoung’s angry expression. “How did she look like?” Doyoung asks, angry, pissed off, about to explode. “Dude, like a fucking angel, I´m not even kidding” Jaehyun just says making Doyoung get up from the bed and leave the room slaming the door angrily. 

She is just playing with me or what? he thinks to himself before stopping abruptly. “What am I even thinking about? I don't even know her, I can't react like this” He keeps repeating this like a mantra all day long, trying to convince himself of those words.

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Masterlist

So this is it babies, I hope you liked this first part and give this serie a lot of support, I´m planning to introduce some smut chapters so please leave feedback

[shiningamongdarkness]

Chapter 39. The Black Prom

Shining among Darkness

By WingzemonX

Chapter 39. The Black Prom

The rented limo took them right to the school gates. From the very entrance, the place was already decorated, almost in a dream. There were lights in all the trees. And from the sidewalk to the door, they had spread a long blue carpet, as if it were the entrance of some awards. Lighted moons and stars had hung, indeed resembling a starry sky.

From her window, Carrie could see that a significant number of guests were arriving, all in beautiful suits and dresses in spring colors. They all laughed and talked among themselves, showing great joy and enthusiasm.

For a moment, the young woman felt overwhelmed and very scared. Tommy made the gesture of wanting to open his door, but she reflexively reached out her hand to him to stop him.

"Can we wait a moment?" Carrie murmured slowly, almost like a plea.

Tommy looked at her a little puzzled.

"Yeah, sure. All the time you want."

Carrie nodded gratefully. Then stared out of her window for a while at the rest of the people who were passing by her limousine and heading inside the school.

"Are you scared?"

"I'm afraid all of this could have been a mistake," the young woman whispered softly.

"They're not bad people, really," Tommy added mockingly. "Besides, I need you there. Dancing alone would surely look silly."

A little giggle escaped from the girl's lips without her really intending to. That single comment somehow managed to lighten a bit the heavy burden that she carried with her. Perhaps not all, but part of it.

"Ok, let's go."

Tommy got out first and turned the vehicle around to open the door for her. The two of them walked side by side across the blue carpet toward the entrance, and with each step, Carrie felt accompanied by the pounding of her heart. But even more important than being taken by Tommy Ross's arm was the feeling of entering that place along with all the other attendees, as one of them. They were all there for the same reason: to enjoy that night and have fun like never before. And she was part of it now, no more and no less.

The initial hit of the loud music and lights was at first somewhat stunning for Carrie. The place was almost dark, except for the large reflectors in the ceilings that reflected lights of different colors and shapes everywhere. The DJ's music echoed with great force in the gym's natural echo, ringing Carrie's sensitive ears, a little more accustomed to the silence and calm of her home.

After the first impression, and once her ears and eyes adjusted, she managed to appreciate all better. During regular school days, she always saw the boys at her school as aliens to her. But at that moment, they all looked so beautiful, almost ethereal. But Carrie was not intimidated but rather fascinated. It was like entering a fantasy world, with glitters, colors, and sounds that couldn't exist where she came from. And all the others were characters in that curious tale.

As they entered, Tommy introduced her to his friend George and her girlfriend Frieda, who were quite friendly. For a moment, Tommy concentrated on greeting George, quite effusively, and Frieda took it upon herself to chat with Carrie while they walked to their table. She was even impressed by her dress, and it was hard to believe that she had done it.

The four of them sat at the table; even the decoration of this one, with its white tablecloths and centerpieces, seemed beautiful to Carrie. Tommy chatted lively with his two friends, and Carrie generally just listened and smiled. There wasn't much she could add to their conversation, and that embarrassed her. She was so inexperienced at hanging out with people that she didn't really have normal talking points, beyond biblical interpretations, sewing, and recently psychic powers. But she was sure none of those topics would be of interest to people like Tommy and his friends.

Her greatest delight, or perhaps suffering, was looking around to appreciate others. They all seemed so happy with their friends, taking photos and dancing. There were already several people dancing to a very moving song, moving with enough grace and rhythm. Carrie found herself suddenly almost mesmerized by the movements they were making, and several of them seemed to her bordering on obscene. The women waving their butts in their tight dresses, reveling in the fact that the boys saw them like this. Men sticking their bodies against their partners, rubbing their crotches against them.

Carrie was appalled for a few moments by all of this but tried not to let the feeling take over. This was how her mother would react (or actually much worse), but not her. All of this had to seem as normal as possible to her... she must.

George and Frieda got up just as another song started and hurried out onto the dance floor. Carrie followed them with her eyes, accompanied by a sincere smile.

"George and Frieda are nice," she pointed out slowly.

"Yes, they are," Tommy replied. "They are good people; there are a lot of good people here." Carrie had no doubt. "You want to dance?"

The sudden proposal created a shock in the young woman, who once again looked in the dance floor's direction, observing and scrutinizing all the movements and steps that those present were performing. Leaving aside their dances' sinfulness, the truth was that she did not know in the least how to do what they did, or at least approach something relatively normal or similar.

"Can we keep talking?" She asked sadly.

"Yes, however you want. We can wait for a slower song if you want."

"Yes, it would be better..."

She had said that, but actually, she doubted if a slow song would be different.

A few minutes later, she could see an adult woman coming straight towards them in the dancing crowd. She had short dark brown hair and wore a bare-arm navy blue dress. She looked incredibly amazed and happy to see her, and Carrie responded to her excitement with a small smile.

"Carrie," muttered Miss Desjardin, the PE teacher. She had hardly recognized her until she was close enough, and Carrie believed it must have been the same in her case.

"Miss Desjardin," Carrie greeted her lightly. "You look beautiful."

"Me? Look to you. You are so pretty."

"Thank you... I don't think that's the case, but thank you."

She glanced sideways as Tommy was standing up from his chair just now.

"Can I leave you a moment?" The boy commented. "Do you want me to get you some punch, Miss Desjardin? I heard they put it a little of Brandy."

Tommy laughed a little right after he made that comment, but Rita Desjardin's stern gaze told him that she didn't share the same sentiment.

"Seriously?"

"No, of course not," he answered quickly, his smile fading. "Just kidding..."

Even Carrie found that a little funny. Tommy walked away to the punch table's direction, and Miss Desjardin sat in the chair right next to the girl.

"I'm glad you decided to come after all."

"I had my doubts, but I spoke with someone who finished convincing me to accept the invitation."

"With whom? Some friend?"

Carrie thought for a few moments. A friend? That was how she could call her? She wasn't really sure about it, but... she liked the very possibility that it could be so.

"Are you doing well?" Miss Desjardin asked her suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. Carrie just smiled at her and nodded slightly.

The teacher's presence didn't bother her, but it did cause her a bit of discomfort. It wasn't that they had talked much before. She had been the one who stepped in to help her with that shower incident and had brought her to the principal's office, although she had had to slap her to achieve it. Carrie did not blame her for that, and she was grateful. But seeing her right now made her remember that incident in a certain way, and it was what she least wanted to think about in those moments.

Of course, Carrie was unaware of everything Miss Desjardin had done, other than pulling her out of the showers and taking her to Principal Grayle. She did not know how the teacher had reprimanded those involved, or the pressure she had put on Mr. Grayle to impose their harsh punishments, or even how she had imposed herself on Mr. Hargensen when he wanted to reverse his daughter's suspension. If she knew, perhaps then would have understood why she was so happy to see her there... or, maybe relieved was the best word.

"I remember my prom," Miss Desjardin commented, looking over at the rest of the attendees on the floor. Carrie looked at her curiously. "I went with the captain of the basketball team. I was six feet tall, so I went and bought some four-inch heels; so that when we danced, I would look less strange by his side. He passed me by in his truck, but it broke down on the way. Can you believe it?" She gave a little laugh. "And we had to walk the last kilometer to school. And by the time we got there, those damn heels had smashed my feet. You can imagine that I couldn't dance a single piece, and we had to sit all night."

Her expression abruptly changed to being crowned with a nostalgic look.

"But still, it was a wonderful thing." She turned abruptly to Carrie then, making her a little intimidated by the sudden gaze. "Is that how you feel?"

"Well ..." Carrie muttered nervously. "Everything is nice."

"Just nice?"

"No, no... It's like being somewhere else, far from my home. I wouldn't know how to explain it to anyone, I think. It's such a... new feeling."

"Do you think you'll forget it?"

Again, Carrie thought for a bit before answering.

"No... I hope not."

Miss Desjardin smiled with pleasure. She reached out a hand to her, and placed it somewhat firmly on her shoulder.

"Focus on keeping those memories," the teacher murmured solemnly. "The pretty ones, the ones that after many years still make you smile. Not the bad ones..."

Carrie looked at her thoughtfully. She knew exactly what she was referring to... and that brought back that incident again.

"Have fun."

"Thank you," Carrie answered a little colder than she intended.

The teacher smiled at her one last time and then stood up and got back on track. Carrie objectively knew she was trying to give her some advice and help... but she couldn't help but feel some resentment, even so.

Tommy came back a little later with two glasses of punch. Since Miss Desjardin was gone, Carrie accepted the glass for her, although the taste was not entirely pleasant. She was hoping it didn't really have brandy.

"Carrie, do you really have to be at home that early?" The boy asked suddenly. Carrie nodded slightly.

"I promised it."

"Yes, sure, I understand. It's just that several of the guys and I are going to Kelly after the dance, and..."

"Yes, I understand..." Carrie answered suddenly with some regret before he finished what he was going to say. "Don't worry about me, go with your friends. I can go home alone, it's not that far. I always go walking during the week."

"What? No, no... I actually expected you to go with us."

Carrie turned fully toward him, her eyes wide in amazement.

"To... Kelly? I don't think I know her..." Tommy couldn't help but laugh a little. "What? What happens?"

"It's not a she; it's a he. I mean, it's actually a place... kind of like a coffee shop. Have you never been there?" Carrie shook her head shyly. "Well, it's one more reason for you to go and meet it, right?"

Carrie was not able to answer anything. She kept her eyes downcast and her hands rubbing each other nervously. She couldn't get out of her mind that she had locked up her mother; she had to get home on time and free her. Besides, Tommy would surely prefer to go alone to that place he was talking about so that he could talk more calmly with his friends without having to carry her around.

The atmosphere in the gym changed abruptly. The shaky and somewhat shrill music stopped and switched to a much softer one.

"Listen, it's a slow song," Tommy pointed out knowingly.

"No, I can't..." Carrie muttered nervously, shaking her head.

"Yes, you can. Let's go."

Tommy took her hand and stood up. Carrie hesitated but couldn't stop her body from reacting and rising up with him.

"No, Tommy. I have never danced."

"If you've made it this far, you should at least dance a piece, don't you think?"

His voice was so sweet and so convincing. It was as if he managed to penetrate the depths of her mind and make her act out of mere reaction, without really giving it much thought. When she least thought about it, they were already entering the dance floor, making their way among all the other couples that now rocked embraced to the rhythm of that sweet melody.

"It's easy, I'll guide you," said Tommy, then taking her by both hands and moving them into position. "Put this hand here, and this one on my shoulder. I'll put my hand on your hip, don't panic."

With great ease, he managed to get both of them into the dance position. Their bodies were so close that Carrie felt too embarrassed. Tommy's hand on her hip made her throat tighten. If that wasn't a sin... it was pretty close to it.

Tommy began to rock slightly like the others did, and Carrie hopelessly followed. Little by little, she began to feel a bit more relaxed... a little more normal.

"See? It's easy," Tommy pointed out confidently. "It's fun, right?"

Carrie didn't answer, but she couldn't deny that it indeed was, even a little. Without consciously intending to, she leaned her head forward, leaning her face against the boy's chest. The firmness of his chest, as well as the heat that it emanated, ended up letting go of the concerns that invaded him so much.

Or, maybe not all...

"Why am I here?" The young woman suddenly whispered slowly, still holding her face against his chest.

"Why?" Tommy replied with a laugh. "It's your graduation, and I invited you, remember?"

"Yes, but why?"

"Are you still questioning that? You're already here, and I'm really enjoying it."

"Seriously?" Carrie muttered, surprised.

"Of course. And I hope you are doing it too."

Carrie wanted to tell him many things. She wanted to tell him how much she was really enjoying it, how grateful she felt to him for having given her that beautiful night, and all the wonderful sensations that ran through her entire body until that moment unknown to her. She wanted to tell him all that and much more. But nothing came from her lips. She felt so engrossed in her thoughts, but they didn't quite fit together to become words. So she just kept quiet and just enjoyed the moment.

"So, what do you say?" Tommy's sweet voice whispered suddenly, bringing her back to reality a bit. "Will you accompany me to Kelly? We're leaving after some foolish couple is crowned King and Queen, and I'll take you home at 10:30. Agree?"

Suddenly, this self-imposed arrival time seemed absurd.

"Yes... Or at 11, maybe..."

They danced one more piece and then returned to the table, just in time for the King and Queen Vote. Carrie remembered that Tommy had mentioned something about that while they were dancing. Still, she really didn't quite understand what it was about. On each table, in front of each chair, they had placed an envelope and a pencil, both memorabilia of the dance with the name of the event and its date. Inside the envelope came a ballot with options of pairs to mark. Seeing it, Carrie was stunned. One of those options clearly stated:

Thomas Ross and Carrie White

It did not even say Sue Snell's name but directly named her.

"Are we in the options?" She questioned, puzzled, turning to Tommy in search of some explanation. However, he looked just intrigued as she was.

"Yes, I saw," he murmured as he looked at the ballot. "It bothers you?"

"I don't know... And you?"

"It's not a big deal," Tommy replied with a shrug, rather nonchalantly. He then turned in the direction of the main stage, where two men were setting up what appeared to be two glowing thrones. "If we win, we just go up on stage, get on those thrones, take a picture, everyone applauds us, and then we dance a little bit to make a fool of ourselves in front of everyone."

Carrie looked up at the thrones, and in her mind, she visualized as best she could everything Tommy was describing to her. King and Queen of the prom... it would be a magnificent way to crown that perfect night.

"It would be nice," she suddenly escaped without her proposing it at all. She stirred her thoughts a bit, trying to focus on what they were doing right now. "So... Who are we going to vote for? I really don't think I know any of these people very well."

"Then let's vote for ourselves," Tommy pointed out. "You know us, and we are great, don't you think?"

"No, no," Carrie repeated several times, almost scared by the idea. "I mean... I know I said it would be nice, but no... I couldn't deal with that."

"Come on, calm down. Still, it's unlikely we'll actually win..." Tommy fell silent as if suddenly regretting his words. "I mean, not because you don't have queen material, you're obviously the cutest girl around here, but..."

"No, it's ok, you're right," Carrie pointed out with a small smile. She looked at the ballot again, took her pencil, and without much thought marked their names with a big X. "What harm can it do?"

"That's right, to hell with false modesty."

Carrie's eyes widened in terror as she heard him say such a thing.

"To hell?" She murmured slowly in horror, but little by little, she began to relax. Again, that would be her mother's reaction, and she couldn't get carried away with it. "Yes... to hell."

They came shortly after to collect the ballots to put them in the ballot box. During the minutes that followed as the votes were collected and counted, Carrie amused herself, trying to chat with Tommy, George, and Frieda. A couple of guys passed by with cameras recording goodbye messages, although she didn't really know what to say. Until a few days ago, the idea of ​​leaving that school for good was quite indifferent to her. On the one hand, she would walk away from all those who had done so much harm to her for so many years. But, on the other hand, she would be practically all day at the mercy of her mother to do and undo only what she said.

But things had changed. She no longer had to resign herself to living under her mother's roof or under her care and submission. She had other options, better options like Dr. Honey's proposal to go with her to Boston as soon as she graduated. In September, she would be of legal age, and she could do whatever she wanted then. She would only have to endure a few more months, which actually might not be so bad now that her mother had learned that it was not in her best interest to mess with her by force. And after that, she would leave that place, towards a new and better life waiting for her.

So there was no nostalgia or sadness, other than for Tommy, if anything. But, for the most part, there was only joy and excitement for what would come from there. Because now, everything would be different...

The dance program said that the coronation would be at 10:00. After about ten minutes of that hour, Vic Mooney, president of the graduates, appeared on stage with quite a bit of enthusiasm on his face, holding the microphone firmly in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. The music fell silent at his signal, and everyone's attention focused on him, knowing that it was time. For most of the students present, the whole King and Queen business was insignificant, but it was the most important thing of the night for others.

"We got the results," Vic communicated, his voice echoing through the speakers, "and they were really, really closed." He held up the piece of paper on which he had written the names of the winners. This was more spectacle than anything else because he obviously already knew. "Drumming sound, please!" The DJ took care of placing the drum roll sound through the speakers. "By one vote, the winners are... Tommy Ross and Carrie White!"

There was an avalanche of screams and applause at that moment, echoing loudly throughout the gym. However, for Carrie, everything became silent... It felt as if her brain had shut down or was using all its capacity to process what she had just heard, and everything else had been pushed aside.

Had he said her name? Did he say that she won as Prom Queen? But... no... That didn't make sense...

Her mind was torn between accepting the joy of the moment and outright denying it.

What should she do? Should stand there in front of everyone? Was she really supposed to? Could she really...?

"Come on, come on," she heard Tommy say, and then he took her hand. Just as he had led her to the dance floor before, the young woman reacted by herself and stood up. Her feet practically moved of their own accord to follow her companion.

Little by little, her mind cleared up again, and she became aware of everything around them. She was able to appreciate the light from the floodlights shining on them as they advanced to the school hymn's rhythm. Carrie looked at her own glowing image, projected onto the large screens at the sides of the stage. She noticed people stepping aside to make way for them, still clapping harmoniously, bright smiles lighting up their faces. They were all looking at her, but their eyes did not cause her discomfort, nor did they cause fear. Because they did not look at her with mockery or revulsion, but with great admiration and respect... as if she was a true queen.

Her steps were so light that she almost felt that was floating in her walk. It all seemed so unreal, an image that not even in her wildest dreams could have imagined. The butterflies that roamed her entire body must be a product of sinful and undue sensations, surely; sensations that God would definitely not welcome in one of His loyal servants. But, even then, she didn't care. If God didn't like to see her like this, then He should turn His sigh to another way.

Never, in so many years of praying and pleading, had she felt so much joy as in those moments. That night was not for God, nor for her mother: that night was hers and no one else's.

"I present to you the newly crowned King and Queen of the ball! Tommy Ross and Carrie White," Vic Mooney enunciated with intensity, just as they both began to climb the front steps to the stage. And then the shower of applause became even more intense.

Once up, they both turned to the crowd, and Carrie faced them. Again their applause and their looks of happiness and pride were only for her. A young lady approached and handed her a beautiful bouquet of pink roses, which Carrie gladly accepted. One more placed on her head a diadem crown with sparkles that resembled diamonds; entirely false, but at the moment, they were worth gold to her.

Carrie stood next to Tommy, very close to him, seeking to feel his closeness and support. He accepted her and actually reached his hand close to hers and took it gently. At that point, the girl was unable to think clearly about anything. Everything was so much more beautiful and perfect than she could have expected. She couldn't think of anything that could have made it better. That shower of applause was the ideal way to say goodbye to the old her, the fearful and submissive, who was invisible to everyone. Now, she was welcomed with open arms to that new world full of possibilities.

Now, really, everything would be different.

And then, everything was painted red...

The first thing Carrie felt was a blow to the head that shook her, accompanied by a cold sensation that chilled her body. Her head was pushed forward, and her plastic crown flew off. The cold sensation worked its way through her head to her shoulders, down her back, and through her entire torso, and then down her legs and feet. Although it was very confusing initially, after a few seconds, she understood that it had been a sensation similar to as if cold water had been poured over her. But that was not water.

By mere reflex, she closed her eyes. And while she was not seeing, she could perceive that Tommy leaped to the side in shock, and the applause and the screams slowly faded into absolute silence. Carrie slowly opened her eyes again and saw everything as if it had been painted red. People were still staring at her, but the pride and excitement were gone; now, there was only confusion, much confusion on their faces.

The young woman slowly turned her face towards Tommy; he also looked at her the same way or even more. But beyond his gaze, what astonished her was seeing his white jacket, soaked in red on one side; his face also had several spots of the same shade on it. That was not paint and didn't smell like paint. It was a metallic smell and at the same time disgusting... and it was totally impregnated in her.

She looked at herself then, and what she saw was so disturbing, so repulsive, and so strange that she simply couldn't immediately understand that it was real. Her dress, all her beautiful salmon pink dress, was dyed red from top to bottom. Her arms, her hands, everything was stained with the same substance. Some of her hair strands fell over her face and were also damp and stuck against her skin. And on the ground just below her, a wide misshapen pool had formed, bright red, reflecting the light from the searchlights.

He looked up then. Above her head, tied to a rope, was a bucket, from which even at that time, small traces of that substance were still dripping; even one of those drops fell directly into her right eye.

Carrie felt intense terror but was unable to scream. She dropped the bunch of flowers out of sheer instinct, falling it into the puddle at her feet: a pool of blood...

"And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world. And the raven was called 'Sin.' And the first sin was intercourse. And the Lord visited Eve with the curse, and the curse was the curse of blood..."

"Tommy..." was the only thing that managed to escape her throat, like a painful moan. She looked at him again, searching for some kind of explanation for him, to tell her it was a mistake, or a dream, or her imagination, something that would prevent her from thinking about the idea that was violently invading her mind at that time.

"Carrie, I don't..." Tommy muttered, so difficult for him to put together the words and complete a sentence. Was he trying to tell her that he had nothing to do with that? The Carrie from a few seconds ago would have believed him whatever he said. But the one at that moment... she couldn't even think...

Tommy then turned to the crowd, snapping furiously.

"What did you do?! Who did this...?!"

Some looked at each other in confusion, seemingly doubtful how to react.

"Plug it up!" She heard a sudden blast from the audio equipment speakers, and Carrie inevitably looked up ahead. "Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!"

Those chorus screams... Oh God, Carrie recognized them right away. She turned her eyes just a little to the side, and then she saw it. Projected on one of those large screens, there was the video, the video of what had happened in the showers, the video of her writhing on the floor, naked and defenseless while everyone surrounded her yelled and threw things at her. There it was, her moment of humiliation, big for all to see it.

And then they came, long-awaited and predictable: the laughs, few at first, but quickly turning into millions of them resonating at the same time. In a single second, that entire gym was filled with laughter and mocking glances, all directed at her.

And there it was once more, from being at the top to scrubbing again in the dirtiest and most stinking mud. Or, maybe she had never really gotten out of it... perhaps it had all just been an evil illusion.

She felt the anguish, the anger, the sadness, all building up in her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She had to get out of there; she had to leave immediately.

Then she began to walk forward with some desperation.

"Carrie, wait..." Tommy Ross muttered, but she ignored him. She didn't want to see him; she didn't want to hear him. If she ever heard him again, she feared that perhaps...

Her right foot stomped into the pool of blood, and she slid violently to the side on the wet, slippery surface. Carrie's entire body slumped forward after that slip, landing on her right thigh, and she just didn't fall on her nose because she had the reflex to stop with her hands before it was too late.

As she fell, she could hear how the laughs increased exponentially. That, accompanied by that infernal chorus of "Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!" rumbled violently in her head, scrambling her ideas, stirring up any logic or common sense. Little by little, she could no longer reason, hear, or even see: she only saw red... everything was red.

"Help this sinful woman who is next to me to see the sin in her life and her works. Show her that if she had remained pure, the curse of the blood would not have fallen on her."

"Carrie," came Miss Desjardin's voice, pushing her way through the crowd and onto the stage. She walked up the steps toward her and held out a hand, offering it to her. "Let me help..."

The teacher was not even able to finish her offer, as her entire body was abruptly thrown back as if she had been tackled head-on by a burly football player. She collided with a group of students in the front row, and both she and they fell to the ground, stunned.

The laughter gradually stopped after this, but the video was still playing in the background. Everyone's stunned and confused eyes fell once more on Carrie White, who began to rise slowly. Her breathing was so agitated that her lungs seemed to explode. Her eyes were wild and lost, and her pupils had been enlarged as much as possible. The veins in her temples pounded and throbbed. Her fingers flexed and contracted against each other so violently that the bones seemed about to break. And the blood... the blood from the pool, the blood that was still liquid and had not completely adhered to the skin on her arms and face, began to slowly rise around, like tiny dewdrops.

Everyone took a step back, even Tommy.

"Carrie..." the boy said in a shaky voice, but she wasn't even aware that he was still next to her.

This was how she wanted them all to see her: scared and confused, ignorant of what was presented to them. She had tried, she really had. She wanted to be one of them, to be good, to be normal... But it was a privilege that all those impious pigs were not willing to give her. They were all a bunch of sinners, morons, and bastards with no trace of compassion on their frail and pathetic bodies. Everyone in that place had made her life a nightmare with their mockery, jokes, mistreatment, and indifference. And if God did not come down from Heaven to impose His justice, she would unleash the Hell itself on them, and on that entire decaying city!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" Carrie screamed loudly and with all her might, resounding with a tremendous explosion. And in the blink of an eye, everyone, and everything around, was pushed in all directions as if a tremendous gust of wind had hit them.

Bodies flew through the air on all sides, crashing against tables, walls, doors, or each other. The speakers, the screens on the walls, the arrangements, the tables and chairs themselves, everything was ripped from its place and deployed through the air like projectiles.

Even Tommy Ross, who was behind her, flew backward as hard as if a tremendous truck had crashed head-on. Perhaps because it was the closest to the source of all that energy deployment, the shock was much more intense. His body slammed headlong into the back wall of the gym, and his neck twisted like a stick. But that didn't matter because he didn't even feel it. The first blow he received from the front had been so tremendous that it had practically shattered his heart, dying almost instantly and without pain, without even knowing what had happened. And yet, in a way, he was the luckiest of the night. The only one who had, perhaps, the most peaceful and pious death possible...

END OF CHAPTER 39

Author's Notes:

Originally my intention was that Chapter 38 and this one were only one. Still, the final length turned out to be too long, so I decided to divide it into two better.

As I mentioned earlier, this chapter is also based mostly on the events of the film Carrie from 2013, also taking into account the 1976 movie and the original novel. But mainly, my intention was to give my own personal interpretation of these events, and primarily of the character of Carrie, her introspections, and thoughts while all this was happening.

As you could see, not everything that happened was narrated, but rather what could be described from Carrie's point of view, trying to capture her confusion and her changes of thought. Also, as you can see, I took some freedoms with several issues, some for simple personal taste and others more to match the tone and style that story has had until now.

The previous chapter and this one are almost like a personal tribute to Carrie White, her novel, and her two most influential film versions (and actually two of my favorite horror movies).

The next chapter will conclude Carrie's story, but now from Matilda's perspective. It will depart more from what was seen in the versions already mentioned. However, it will still be based a lot on them.

See you soon.

[chxxpers]

Purple Tainted Lillies : Prologue

Sometimes, when times are rough, people need something to fall back upon. Jacob (Hutt River) dedicated himself to that something, so much so it shaped his entire being. He focused on his virtues, and yet left his flaws open - easy to manipulate, and easy to control. 

Disclaimer: 1950′s AU with Hutt River, Australia, Wy and others. Mentions/allusions of alcoholism, homophobia (internalised and externalised,) Period/Location based racism, and religious thematics included. Nothing graphic is mentioned.  7s7v AU by @facadep. Brief mentions of @ask-deus-romano‘s character. 

Words: 2,230 

Chapter One: Absence

 The incense still lingered on his flesh, the pin pricks in his fingers still bled, and his body still hung heavy from exhaustion. It was unusual for Jacob to be wandering around town this late at night, where the only noise that accompanied his quiet footsteps came from Dave’s old pub and the nature that stalked the Australian Outback. He wouldn’t normally have hung around the church until so late, sister Claire always berated him for overworking himself, but he had confessions to make - and places to avoid. He’d rather be making tapestries than be elsewhere, under the careful guidance and soft spoken false assurances the clergy always offered. He’d rather help the nuns out with their risky maintenance, he wouldn’t forgive himself for any harm that came their way. He’d rather be amongst these women than anywhere else. He refused to go home.

 Going home meant running into his mother and listening to her subtle remarks about how much of a golden child he was - how much she relied on him, and yet how much she hated it. It meant having to quietly tuck Victoria into her small bed each night, set up in the broken down sunroom out the back, where she frequently feared what might get her one evening through the cracks, only protected in her sanctuary by a rusted lock and a single lamp. It meant entering the house, and meeting Jett with an almost drained brown bottle, and whilst he’d smile at Jacob in reassurance - it was nights like those that ruined the brotherly bond they had built between them. Going home meant facing the reality that the church hid away from him.

 Jacob had taken to sitting on the pub’s verandah steps on his way home, the only people still inhabiting the pub this late into the night being bushmen and tired shift workers. He’d remain there, undisturbed by all except for the barmaid when she snuck him a beer or two, maternally rubbing his shoulder in a way Jacob never experienced elsewhere. Going to the pub wasn’t for a night in, it wasn’t for the jesting nor the merriment that radiated throughout the bluestone building. It was for the moments where Jacob could pretend to be normal and welcomed.

 He couldn’t see the differences between him and the workers that always spent their nights in the pub - he couldn’t see the differences the whiter men could. He found peace with them, they couldn’t tell the difference between his tan and theirs, nor did they didn’t question why he could speak some of their language. His natural demeanor wasn’t portrayed as alien like it was amongst his community, but he found it rather common with these European outcasts - he could be comfortable with them. He was a new family member to add to their growing list.

 That was what Santino had claimed of him the prior week, his face still sweaty after running around after cattle all day, hands shaky and filthy, but the grubbiness of his appearance was easily overlooked in preference of the beautiful way he smiled. Santino was a statement piece at Dave’s pub, an attraction that brought more woman to the bar than ever before. His accent was thick, his eyes stunning, and his English barely legible - and Jacob loved listening to him ramble, as he always did every Saturday prior. The outback of Australia was interesting to the foreign teenager, just as much as Jacob was interested in him back.

 Santino carried himself with such positivity that it was increasingly infectious, no matter the gnawing fact that he was a man that stood for everything that Jacob didn’t. He was sin, but it was refreshing - it lightened up Jacob’s world a little bit every time they spoke, no matter that it found Jacob in confessional more often than not. It wasn’t the heavy shadow haunting himself, nor the sin that consumed his blood and created an ill name for the Smith family. It was light-hearted sin, a fictitious element Jacob couldn’t imagine himself ever bearing.

 The other two Vargas siblings weren’t as exciting, Jacob could begrudgingly admit. Feliciano was a soft-spoken young man, who acted more childish than Victoria would, and was almost always found with a little smudge of paint in his hair or on his clothes. A mess with feet, Santino had once referred to him, unable to keep in his bubbling laugh at the thought. Whilst Lovino was a stark contrast to the both of them, with uncannily bleached blonde hair and the scarred body of a veteran that whispered all the stories he himself would never speak of. No one really spoke to Lovino, although.

 “Sometimes I think he was replaced during the war…” Santino would jest openly - but his eyes spoke it all. The bleached hair, and the flamboyance of his bravado wasn’t normal according to him, but Jacob liked that about Lovino. He could appreciate a man who didn’t stick to the social normalities - who loved himself so thoroughly, no matter what his siblings thought of him. Jacob could only imagine what that freedom was like. What it would be like to embrace himself that way - and step outside of what this little town wanted of him.

 But that’d have to wait another day. The pub had a very distinct absence of the Vargas brothers, and the clock was ticking by. He could have used the foreign tales and extravagant exaggerations to fill in his time, but his procrastination had come to an end. Jacob took a sip of his final beer, and stood on his feet firmly - relaxation escaping and tension filling his limbs like poison. He gave his glass back to the barmaid, where she kissed him on the cheek and sent him off on his way, and he found himself plunged into darkness again.

 It wasn’t a long walk home, even shorter from the pub, but Jacob had taken his time. The crickets soothed him a little, and the moon dutifully reflected off the water of the lake nearby,  disguising the thick red sludge and overgrowth with an luminescent glow. An absolute disaster he couldn’t help but notice. Maybe others found it pretty, he knew Jett sure did, but Jacob found it scenically poor. On the outside it was gorgeous, and was romantic to the untrained eye, but the closer anyone got the more it lost its appeal. What was so attractive about a dirty, littered, and unkempt body of water? The moon was happy to love the lake, just as the lake was happy to be a centerpiece, no matter how pathetic it was. The very idea haunted Jacob every step home.

 “Jacob fucking Smith, where have you been?” Jett called, standing at the door - brown bottle in hand, and another fisting at his own tank-top. “It’s a quarter past midnight, and Baptiste was looking for you!”

  Of course . Jacob rolled his eyes, but smiled up to his brother all the same - if he avoided looking at the bottle, he could pretend his heart wasn’t beating rapidly, could pretend that Jett didn’t know exactly where he’d been. The thought that their French neighbour had taken the time out of his day to look for him was warming, and he knew - no matter how much Jett would deny it - that his older brother had been waiting up for him out of concern too and not duty. He had probably sat out in the overbearingly hot night, sweaty and sticky, just waiting for him to return home. It wasn’t safe for boys like him to be outside, no matter how many people claimed the world was different after the war. He was too much of everything he wished he was more of.

 He didn’t have his brothers broader nose, nor tanned skin. He wasn’t strong or sturdy, and he didn’t have his carefree, distinct smile. He was lucky to not have these things, Jett insisted, but Jacob didn’t feel it. He wanted everything Jett had, and more. Even if it meant he wasn’t safe, it meant he had a little piece of home with him everywhere - the home he wanted .

 “I’m sorry- I got side-tracked and-”

 “Just come here” Jett embraced Jacob in close, the strain between them finally easing away with each passing second. “You scared me and Vic, mate. Stop doing that.”

 With a firm pat on the back Jett led Jacob into their home, shutting and locking the door behind blindly, the only light in the room coming from a single lamp on by the couch. It never did feel very alive for a living room, how could it when the couches were second-hand and worn, the tables held up barely and mended with glue or tape, and mold decorating the poorly painted popcorn ceiling. How could it even be considered living when no one ever was home. “Hey Jett… Where’s Ma?”

 “At Nana’s, Baptiste stayed and made dinner though, c’mon…” Further into the small home was the forever cold kitchen - a relief on hot summer days, but an absolute nightmare for Jacob, who felt cold just from his tire and overall dread. The cool tiles seeped into his body as he sat down at the table, Jett meeting him with a creak of his chair, and a sigh deep from the depths of his chest. He couldn’t even touch the left over food, no matter how amazing Baptiste had surely prepared the meal, he was sure he’d bring it back up. It hurt too much to breath, let alone swallow, and it only made everything worse having Jett there, especially when his body displayed so explicitly that he was uncomfortable. With trembling hands he re-tied his hair back into the loose ponytail, the only object of freedom he seemed to have under this roof.  “Can we talk?”

 “Are we not?”

 Jett grunted dismissively, reaching over and placing a hand over Jacob’s wrist, thumb pressed against the webbing of his hand with a gentle, familiar stroke. “You’re killing yourself with all of this. God’s all loving is he not?”

 “Oh, Jett… could we not?” Could we not? Jacob always asked that question, desperate to escape these confrontations. Jett always acted like he knew what was best for him - he always did this! But the answers never changed, nor did their positions, nor opinions, nor did their relationship change. The frequency of these talks drove Jacob absolutely ballistic, especially when it always ended the same; somehow, Jacob would find himself cornered by his brother, his hand gently encased, and the stench of alcohol stained on their breaths. It was more often than not that tears tended to paint Jacob’s face. “You know I only-”

 “Every single thought you have won’t upset the thing up there, Jake. Not every lil’ fucken thing will put you in hell.”

 “It’s my comfort…” He whispered, unable to retract his hand from the others grip. He felt hollow - his brother always bore through him like this with only a sentence. “If there is a big man up there, isn’t it better to be safer than sorry? If there’s happiness after this life at least I’ll get it. I could be like Ma-”

Jett shook his head in disagreement, but didn’t say much more. He had drained his bottle, his eyes staring out into nothing, exhausted of this conversation already. The clock ticked on somewhere, enunciating the precious time they were wasting in silence. “You can be lost, and still believe you’re happy Jacob. If anyone’s going to hell, it’ll be me. I can’t repent for the things I’ve done-”

 He swallowed his tongue, and the rest of the sentence remained unspoken. It was silent, the only sound being a drip from somewhere in the house, and a quiet little creak of the floorboards under pressure. Nothing more needed to be said with an admission as such, and the two knew it so well by now.  

 Jacob didn’t look up when Jett moved, nor did he look at him when he went into the lounge, rummaging through whatever he was. His eyes stayed on his wrist, even when he felt Jett suddenly tease a hand through his hair, playing with it like he had when they were children and oblivious to the pain surrounding them, blind to the agony between them alone. He stroked his hair maternally, in a way Jacob had learnt to stroke Victoria’s himself before school every morning, filling in for the affection the little girl was missing, like Jett had done for him. It wasn’t fair on them, and Jett was growing to hate the very thought of Jacob’s ‘comfort’ - and the destruction it was causing his brother. He was beginning to hate this ‘saving grace,’ when it hurt his brother like this. Jacob knew his brother hated everything the church stood for, even when it was the only positive they had left.

 With a small shift of the hair tie, Jett placed something in Jacob’s hair, stabilising it delicately. “Don’t dwell on it too much, and go rest… love you kiddo.”

 Jett left in silence as Jacob removed the flower from his hair, gently stroking the soft petals of the pristine white lily that Baptiste had surely brought over earlier in the night for Victoria. The simple gesture of affection was enough to bring Jacob into little, stifled, hiccuped tears.

[annakie]

Random SWTOR Blather

Not interesting at all if you don’t play and only slightly interesting if you do.

I’ve basically been off and on SWTOR since it came out.  My longest break was less than a year after I lost most of my credits to a GTN scammer, back when 8 million credits was a LOT that I’d spent like months of intense crafting to save up.  

At the beginning of 2017 I decided to get serious about playing and joined a guild.  They were great for a few months, then things got slow and I dropped out of SWTOR for awhile after Andromeda came out and then my summer was crazy like it always was at my last job and then job drama started happening in the late summer through fall.

In November I went back and things got really awesome again in the guild, and for over two months it was daily log-in and fun, fun times.  There was heavy recruitment and we’d have like 20+ on at night and we were running FPs and Ops like, daily, working on Vet mode Ops.

And then the new WoW expansion came out and overnight attendance dropped like a stone, and there was a little officer drama, and then the GL had some RL drama and left and... now the guild is completely dead again.  We still hang out on Discord some but no one is playing.

So I guess I’m back in search of a guild of ADULT, MATURE (not in the ERP sense, just you know, like, actual grownups) guild of nice people and no drama on Star Forge.  My DPS Trooper and healing Scoundrel are both Command Level 300 and both are well outfitted.  Those are my mains.  RP Optional, I could do it, I’d be OK with not.  So if you know of an active, established guild an oldie like me (I’m over 40) would fit into, let me know.

Anyway, other stuff...

I have spent an insane amount of time and credits decorating.  Ever since Strongholds were introduced it’s maybe been my favorite aspect of the game.

I spent just... dozens of hours making my Tatooine Stronghold awesome.  Tat was my #1 choice for a main Stronghold because it feels like a place you would actually live, even if it is you know, on a barren desert planet.  It has nicely sized, well-sectioned rooms.  It really just makes such SUCH good use of the space and hooks it has. It’s exactly the right size to feel like if you live there and have it decorated it’s where a wealthy person would live.  I love it.  It’s been my Trooper Bethlany’s home for two years now, though I think of it as a “family home” for all my characters.  Now I’m constantly now trying to figure out what hooks to remove so I can add new, cool stuff.

It’s not only got an awesome party Cantina/dance hall/casino/sportsbar combo, but a full-service medical clinic, an indoors science room and an entire outdoor science section.  An awesome garden, a marketplace, a garage with a welcome area, droid repair section and full monitoring, a decked out master bedroom and Vos-ka inspired guest room, a diplomacy / meeting room, a sculpture garden, a techno war-camp for Aric, and a Rakata / non-technical training / archeology site, a small area dedicated to celebrating Life Day all year round, and a small oasis for large and small animals alike. 

But like, I never stopped buying decorations.  And when Manaan was introduced I decided this would be the home for my Inquisitor.  Manaan is gorgeous, even though the hook situation there is completely wtf.   Oh yeah, let’s put a ton of tiny hooks on narrow, already decorated walls.  Lets only put narrow hooks along the walls in this huge, open room.  Let’s make most of the ceiling hooks angeled, so almost nothing can be put there and look even halfway not-stupid.  The entry outside is great, the narrow hallway is terrible, the big room upstairs is so, so frustrating, though the patio is generally nice.  The downstairs mostly needs better ceiling hooks.   IDK.  But, it looks amazing.  And I did a pretty good job making it feel like a breezy vacation home, with a very dark and private undersea area fit for training a new generation of Sith.  It’s got the majority of my statues out in the entry area, and not a neon sign or non-organic plant in sight.  And there’s a lot of plants and stone and water everywhere.

All of my characters use it as a vacation home, my lightsiders (which is... almost all of them) just avoid the undersea part.  They’ll go back to their ships for sleeping after a dip in the hot tub, thanks.

I was going to start on re-making Naar Shadaa next and then Umbaraa came out, and I knew that train belonged to my Imperial Agent, Croach.  Dark and moody with an urgent feel.  I filled it with all the “Cargo” and “precious resources” I could find, with a couple of makeshift sleeping areas for the guards and a slightly nicer car for the Agent and her companions.  So many centerpiece hooks to finally put so many misc huge things I had no other use for.  Hey, yeah, we totally would be transporting this huge machine and this droid in a big ‘ol jar and there’s some rancor and huge turrets and ginormous droids up top along with most of my collection of rotating Zakuul turrets guarding it.  Drop in a bunch of Imp guards standing around, and even made use of a lot of the destroyed speeders and walkers and turrets then slap some blaster marks on the walls to give the place a “we’ve already seen some shit” feel.

And then... my Secretly-a-Double-Agent-For-The-Republic got her Vector back and holy shit the Imps mistreated the Killks, and then oh shit (huge spoilers for Nathema in the IA storyline here) Shara Jenn found out she’s a double agent and welp... any cover she ever had was now blown.  Despite going with Acina on Iokath, Croach told Lana to make a deal with the Republic.  Might as well finally make the move officially.

So now in my head, the Umbara home is a covert mission, and everyone there is actually working for the Republic... with the train made up to look Imperial to sneak through some checkpoints.  Also, her ship resides on Tatooine, Beth is watching out for it (it’s hidden in the garage, while the Thunderclap sits out on the visible landing pad.)

With finally getting the Umbara Stronghold feeling “Done” (though it and Manaan are only like 70% filled each, I don’t want to cram more stuff in there just TO when aesthetically they look good) it’s time to turn my attention to Naar Shadaa.  For the first year or so of Strongholds, it was my main Stronghold, but I grew out of it easily and moved to Tatooine, and have always meant to get back to it.

It’d always meant to be my Smuggler’s home, she was my second Main, after all.  I’d also bought the Mandalorian War Camp pack in hopes of making my BH a home someday.  Because of the server merge I have two Nar Shadaas, and I figured one for each.  But looking at my available decos, it’d be a long time until I could make it happen.  When Rishi was announced I was excited, thinking I could make it work for the BH, but after watching Dulfy’s walkthrough Video I was disheartened.  It is definitely beautiful and awesome for guilds, but it doesn’t really feel like a home for a person. I feel the same way about Yavin 4, btw.  It’s an amazing place to visit, and great for guilds, but it’s just not a functional home.  Too damp, and no actual rooms, especially not rooms with doors.  I’ll hang out there all day, but I’m going back to my ship to sleep.

I still eventually might try to make the base of Rishi work, IDK.  It will probably come down to cost.

Anyway, back to Naar Shadaa.  I started decorating it for my Smuggler and quickly realized that if I was going to ever get to Coruscant and Dromund Kaas, compromises would need to be made.  My BH defected to the Republic at the end of her class storyline, as little good as that did in canon.  I think she, too, is going to make a deal with the Republic when I finish her storyline.

Which means either my Counselor or Knight is gonna take a turn for the Imps, I haven’t decided which yet, just to bring back a little bit of balance, and also, see that side of things.  It’ll be interesting.  I’m going to wait to see what making that decision actually does in the next bit of the story before moving either of them along.

So anyway, my BH and my Smuggler always knew each other in my backstories for them, they were contacts, helped each other with jobs, etc.  So when Orna heads to the Republic, she and Red went into business together.  They each have a suite of rooms near the front, but the rest of it is their shopping center, battle arena (place your bets!), casino, spa, dance club, and sports bar business. Please, come and spend all your money there, and feel free to use a private booth to make your deals.  As soon as possible I’m going to find a second spa to add in that service, too. Torian is happy with the Mandalorian flair the place has, and Theron has a monitoring/spy station.  Where better to pick up the best information than the most popular nightlife spot on Naar Shadaa, anyway?  The only part that sucks is just one starship hook, so I’ll be rotating which ship is parked there occasionally.

That’s still in progress, but coming along.

Next I’m moving to Coruscant to make it a Jedi training hall and haven for Annakie, Jyn’leeviyah, Kira and Nadia, along with a medical clinic for Doc and an information outpost for Felix.  

And then making Dromund Kaas into a Sith academy and Imperial for Sith Warrior Frevi and moody, romantic hideaway for her and Malavai.

...I really need to start crafting and finding more expensive stuff to sell on the GTN.  I’m usually careful to stay over like 90 million credits, but I’m running out of good shit to sell. >.>

Anyway, so much rambling.  I should actually like... go play.

[caveatauditor]

My favorite albums, days 1-10

Friends have requested that I share my favorite albums on social media, preferably with vaguely autobiographical blurbs accompanying them, so to avoid polluting the wholesomeness of my Facebook timeline with music geekery, these are they until I change my mind. I excluded albums from this decade because the decade isn’t over, so the ten gems that follow represent an attempt to make history conform to me.

1. Lil Wayne, Da Drought 3

Two discs of Wayne freestyling, bloviating, and holding a conversation over a bunch of sampled and/or stolen and/or obscure music, arranged randomly because in theory the mixtape goes on forever in both directions, a gorgeous tapestry whose details happen to consist of delectable beats and wild free-associative blather. Wayne raps like a child in a candy store, eschewing parsable semantic content in favor of puns and stray impulses and improvised phonetic twaddle and whatever he feels like saying in the moment; likewise, the beats don’t cohere, sonically or in sequence, instead sticking as many hooks as possible wherever possible as often as possible; the overall result comes off like a transmission from the filthiest corner of the id. The ultimate triumph of mid-‘00s mixtape culture, Da Drought 3 is fabulous aural wallpaper and hardly an album at all, so of course it’s my favorite album.

2. Joni Mitchell, Hejira

Given how beloved this album is among a surprisingly large number of my friends, I almost went with the equally astonishing Hissing of Summer Lawns, but let’s be real now--Hejira is flawlessly, magnificently beautiful like nothing else I’ve ever heard. The guitar lines lap and peal over breathtakingly wide, sweeping expanses of empty space--space like the open road, like the southwestern desert in the winter, like the urge to travel and stay on the move, like the empty human heart. The lyrics use the familiar musicianly trope of going on tour as a springboard for a set of travelogue meditations on solitude and perpetual motion, a condition imposed partially by circumstance and partially by internal existential need; she’s moving before the ringing opening chords of “Coyote” and she’s moving after “Refuge of the Roads” pensively winds down. The latter song in particular contains several moments that always, always make me cry, especially during the first verse (“We laughed at how our perfection would always be denied”) and the third (“A thunderhead of judgment was gathering in my gaze”). I’ll never use “relate” as a verb, but I’ve often taken refuge in the road. I always take this album with me, though.

3. Jandek, Blue Corpse

I’m cheating here: Jandek is a relatively new discovery for me, and I’m still working through his ridiculously massive catalog, but I’ve listened to him with sufficient fascination enough over the past year and a half that he deserves a spot. Fans say that Blue Corpse is a good starting point because it’s his most accessible album, but accessibility is a relative concept when we’re talking about experimental atonal lo-fi acoustic quasi-blues fuckery, so let’s just call it his most carefully sequenced--side two builds the way a second side should, starting with an extended harmonica solo before leading into his cover of “House of the Rising Sun” and the album’s ten-minute centerpiece, the lonely, furious “Only Lover”. I love this album so much I could easily imagine a better one lurking in some dank, unexplored discographical corner.

4. Janet Jackson, The Velvet Rope

As a sophomore in high school I heard The Velvet Rope and immediately decided this was the sexiest and most sophisticated music I had ever heard. I was right! To this day I hold a special place in my heart for R&B that confounds the traditional banger/ballad distinction--there are no ballads on this album! With its swirly synthesizer and xylophonesque keyboard chords, “Empty” sounds like a conventional slow song until you notice the second layer of hyperactive drums clicking maniacally atop the core rhythm track: nervous energy disrupting and complementing preternatural spiritual calm. “Tonight’s the Night” is a great cover because the act of covering an established hit mirrors the act of initial erotic exploration, of navigating your way through a series of gestures you knew about before trying yourself; the way she sings “Cause I love you girl ain’t nobody gonna stop us now” is defiantly blunt, unshowy, matter-of-fact. Those are the lyrics! She’ll sing them. Breezy, mechanical, exquisite, The Velvet Rope captures the fragility of intimacy.

5. Fall Out Boy, From Under the Cork Tree

I first became aware of Fall Out Boy in middle school, when the girl whose locker neighbored mine put up a bunch of Pete Wentz posters on the inside of her locker door. I envied her brilliance and poise, since she was obviously way smarter and cooler than me, and I’m pleased to say she was right: this daft, idiotic, magnificent album captures a world of teenage crushes, fixations, stupid feelings poorly rationalized, awkward proclamations blurted out and immediately retracted, aftershave clumsily sprayed on to impress a special someone, the scent of cheap perfume, lipstick stains on your pillowcase and friction in your jeans. It’s so flushed and clumsy it automatically enters the realm of hormonal teenpop utopia, with the crunchy guitars mirroring the anguish in eternal adolescent Patrick Stump’s heart. Pete Wentz writes solecistic, self-aggrandizing lyrics because teenagers in love are supposed to utter howlers like “The only thing worse than not knowing is you thinking that I don’t know” and (sigh) “Turn off the lights and turn off the shyness”. It’s an ode to the enduring power of romantic absurdity, in all its most entertaining guises.

6. Duran Duran, Rio

Like From Under the Cork Tree, only glitzier. Occasionally I play a game with select friends of mine where we try to guess whether a random snippet of doggerel is a Fall Out Boy or a Duran Duran lyric. “It’s just like a scene out of Voltaire twisting out of sight”? Obviously Duran, for citing French philosophy is such a New Romantic move. “We’re well-read and poised/we’re the best boys”? Self-defeating self-objectification is Pete Wentz’s favorite rhetorical device. “The sun drips down bedding heavy behind/the front of your dress all shadowy lined/and the droning engine throbs in time with your beating heart”? Too florid; gotta be Duran. “Couldn’t cut me deeper with a knife if you tried/just take a look before you run off and hide”? No clue--blood and betrayal could go either way. “Let’s fade away together one dream at a time”? “Some people call it a one-night stand but we can call it paradise”? Well!

7. PJ Harvey, To Bring You My Love

As a senior in high school I heard To Bring You My Love and immediately decided this was the sexiest and rawest music I had ever heard. I was right! To this day I know no harsher or more beautiful approximation of what it means to yearn for the sublime. The tiny guitar figure in “Working for the Man”, half-concealed beneath the drums and muffled, thumping bass, devastates because it’s creepy and horrible; the maximalist guitar roar in “Long Snake Moan”, almost as loud and thundering as her distorted vocals, devastates because so would getting run over by a tank. On the rest of the album, she hits every mood between those two extremes, including rapture and delight in addition to all the abrasive ones.

8. Fleetwood Mac, Tusk

I almost went with Tango in the Night, given how my generation seems to have discovered and reclaimed it, with “Seven Wonders” popping up in Balearic dance mixes and American Horror Story. Tusk, however, is a giant compendium of whirring gears and rotating spokes and plinky keys and strummed acoustic guitars and tinkly music boxes and billions of other moving parts, and the totality of the sound correlates with a draining, overwhelming emotional extremity. Lindsey Buckingham fills the space with a bunch of tightly crafted miniatures, distilling his imagined ideal of the Fleetwood Mac sound into the searing anger of “What Makes You Think I’m the One” and “I Know I’m Not Wrong” (Lindsey Buckingham in a song title), but Stevie Nicks gets all the big statements: the thundering “Sisters of the Moon��, the incomparable breakup ballad “Storms” (“Never have I been a blue calm sea/I have always been a storrrrrrm” always makes me cry), “Sara”. Meanwhile, Christine McVie’s “Brown Eyes”/“Never Make Me Cry” couplet is the axis on which the album’s sequence turns. Tusk resonates because it conflates the singer-songwriter confessional urge with the band’s collaborative dynamic, creating a communal space for them all to bask in their shared hate for and exhaustion with each other.

9. Crunk Hits

I needed a compilation, and this magnificent one brings to life my favorite radio format: mainstream hip-hop in the mid-‘00s. Crunk and R&B were everywhere back then; to me this album sounds like New York in the hot, lazy summers of ’05 and ’06, when these songs confounded with their unprecedented hedonism and aggression and delight. Definitively singles-oriented, this music saturated a subsequent generation of hip-hop fans, so that album artistes in this decade like Young Thug and Playboi Carti have internalized crunk’s valuable lessons about shamelessly exposing the id. I couldn’t omit an album whose first five songs are Usher’s “Yeah”, Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz’s “Get Low”, T.I.’s “Rubber Band Man”, Chingy’s “Right Thurr”, and Ciara’s “Goodies”--damn! It’s practically a greatest-hits album for the entire decade.

10. Steely Dan, Gaucho

When I bought this album in seventh grade, I wasn’t aware I was buying the fleetest, shallowest, most efficient howl of anguish ever set to music. Donald Fagen and Walter Becker are only ironists insofar as they’re romantics who mask their feelings in inscrutable form. The question with any of their albums, which are basically all flawless, is to what degree they’ll reveal their bleeding hearts, and on Gaucho there’s such a gash in the fabric the blood spurts out everywhere, staining the shag carpet, dripping through the singer’s sleeve onto his fancy leather shoes. The modest functionalism of their slick California studio-rock, the tasty licks and glossy keyboards and sparingly deployed saxophone and sudden sharp bursts of guitar, hardly enters into a dialectic with the desperation and horror of the songwriting--it’s the perfect musical expression for these feelings, as perfection that’s slightly disfigured is so much more devastating than total abrasion (when critics use “Bret Easton Ellis” as shorthand for the demented luxury porn we’ve enjoyed and suffered through this decade, what they really mean is “Steely Dan”). No matter how many glass tables you smash, how many ashtrays you inhale, you’ll never feel as shitty as this record.

[hadesburns]

For Tybalt, an app that will probably go nowhere and do nothing now

Character | Tybalt, AKA Tiberius Capulet, AKA Hell In The Form Of A Man.

What drew you to this character? | 

His rage drew me first. That cutting edge, that ticking time-bomb, the way he seethes through his life like a monster wrapped in human skin, something large and terrible and stronger than his circumstances will allow; his fury and barely restrained contempt flickers in the blackness for me like the only candle in a darkened world. Something about how he starves for violence, as though breaking his own bones is how he fixes them, as though setting himself on fire is how he douses the unfairness of his heritage, reminds me of characters I’ve written before, characters I’ve loved before.

I want to write about the scars on his palms, the knife wounds in his side, the way he only recognizes his mouth as long as it’s sneering something hateful and tasting of iron and blood. I want to write about the burns he got on his arms when he was still a teenager from standing too close to every fire in Verona. I want to write about the bullet marks in his shoulder, a shootout he’d survived on his twentieth birthday despite everyone saying he’d never make it past nineteen, proving once more that God is a sadistic bitch. I want to write about how much he hates this city, how much he adores this city, how it pulls him in and suffocates him, like all the best love stories.

I like the way he’s driven, the way he knows what he wants and knows how to get there the most direct route, the bloodiest path from which there are no exit signs from, no repeats, no apologies, no room for error, but he doesn’t take it, he doesn’t kill all his obstacles. Because his obstacles are his family, in the end, and that might be the one step he’s not willing to take. A beast with reddened vision, bruised knuckles, fiery temper, but subservient to his queen and her advisor, two women, both younger than him, both subtler than him. It shows he has a weight deeper inside his chest than just his ambition, just his hunger. Whereas he may be used to forceful tactics everywhere else, to get the amount of power he wants- the only amount of power he believes will fill in the cracks of his life, the seams in his skin- he’ll have to be smarter, quicker, more impressive with the two of them. I want to write that, I want to see what I can get him to do with that problem.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

TIBERIUS, THE MAN-EATING TIGER

Everyone knows he is a great white shark on a leash, a maelstrom in a bottle, a gathering forest fire threatening to spread, and everyone knows the vicious inclinations that run through his veins, but there are always optimists in every court and even a tiger cannot prowl every minute of the day. Sometimes he breathes, sometimes he dilutes himself, the pyre of his hunger easing through the pores in his skin like prayers up to an empty Heaven. It’s in these moments that the world finds time to build bridges that should burn, houses that should collapse, smiles that should falter. 

They see him too far removed from the chaos he dresses himself in, they think him tamed, they think him tethered. He gives these moments the effort they deserve, the stillness they demand, the same dedication with which he gives all things, and when the time is right, he crushes them into dust, betrays whatever kindness had been thought of him, destroys whatever trust had been held up to him. He catches their heart and uses the veins to rip the organ out. He plays their Judas: a kiss, and then blood.

TIBERIUS, THE GREAT WHITE SHARK

Black and red are the colors he’s most recognizable in, but stepping into a marble hall with golden trim and champagne chalices, he is dressed in stark white cashmere and silk, playing the part of a changed creature, a suited gentleman, a facade he has little interest in but is impressed upon to make. The social, high-collared gathering is a labyrinth to navigate through, with walls that watch and chairs that bite, and every wrong move he makes is a blemish on his Capulet heritage.

He needs a guide, like Dante needed Virgil through the layers of Hades, some beautiful, more careful assistant who knows how to shimmer and gleam in the crystal chandeliers better than him, a magical partner in this endeavour to distract the masses away from him sufficiently enough to get his true purpose completed. This is not the version of Verona he’s aligned his life with, not bloody enough, not ruthless enough, but duty brings him forth and kicks him onward, and although the night is full of too many stars and too many smiles, he knows how these sort of things always end: in the gutter.

TIBERIUS, THE DEATHSTALKER SCORPION

There is a hate that broils in the core of him, a venom that steams through his flesh like white-hot water lingering before it evaporates and poisons his atmosphere, clinging to him like a curse branded into his life. He holds a simmering disdain for all things Montague, and the head of their snakish, rat-pack clan, their heir apparent, their scion, their inheritor; Roman the boy-king, Roman the soft-hearted wannabe god, Roman and his pretences of hellish illusion. The Montague heir’s attempts at brutality do not fool Tiberius, and in fact, enrage him further, the way all monsters sneer at love-sick fables.

There will be a day, when the sun burns down its brackish spendor, when Verona holds her breath in the streets of her lungs, the atriums of her houses, when he and this Montague brat come to blows. There will be a day when his bullet crosses Roman’s, the gunbarrels of their hate clashing, metal on metal, steel against iron, the sky against the world, and one of them will die. One of them will meet the ground like a lover and every ounce of blood once inside their veins, now spilling for the city’s sake.

And Tiberius, for one, makes no quiet opinion of how he eagerly awaits that day.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | As long as the death is as angstful and dramatic as possible, I don’t mind him dying for the plot. I mean, isn’t that what Tybalt does in his story anyway?

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample: Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across. 

The midnight moon hangs crooked and grinning in the sky just above the cathedral spikes, long stretched Catholic crosses pointing to the sky as though everything below them is already destined for Hell, already damned to worm through the chaos of oblivion for eternity. There is no hope left here in the world, here in a city as beautiful as Verona, where the buildings gleam in summer winds and cafe shop music is always just an alley or two away. Against all the treachery in the streets and the turmoil of humanity, those crosses stand tall and unfaltering, reaching forever towards a Heaven they were designed to dedicate the world to.

Tiberius believes in a God, but he does away with all notions of man, and men are the ones who built this church, men are the ones who laid the stones and the bricks, carved the steps and the illustriously intricate doors, which makes this house no more holy than the one that sits next to it. Tiberius believes in the unholy, aligns himself with the word of the blasphemous, because someone in this God-forsaken world must, because someone on these streets has to set aside their desired roles in the afterlife, so that the earth can continue spinning. The economy set up by his father and forefathers, his ancestors and their ancestors, must never crawl to a halt, and if keeping that status quo means dipping his hands in the most blasphemous of blood conceivable… then that’s what he’ll have to do. That’s what monsters do.

The leather of his jacket clutches against the line of his neck as he climbs the stairs to the thick, weighted doors, both hands on the gold-plated rods to yank them open before stepping inside just enough so that they can swing shut behind him, enclose him into this dimly-lit place, embrace him into the church’s atmosphere as they would any child of the religion. The walls are lost in the ensuing darkness, pews cascading up ahead of him like spilled divinity, in rows and rows of mahogany wood, all leading his gaze towards the centerpiece of the room, the heart of all churches: the shrine. Hundred-year-old paintings flicker calmly in the candlelight above the stage, Mary and Jesus, hosts of angels, all dour and disapproving from their ornate thrones and golden attire. A thousand white tongues of flame are collected before and around the altar, titles and plaques denoting which candles are given to which grouping of people- some for the lost children, some for dead police officers, some for army veterans.

Tiberius walks slow, careful, an intruder, every step a threat, every move a challenge, tall and built like a mountain making his descent down the long center aisle towards the core of the building, where prayers are pinned and beliefs are forged. He walks the way a demon might, hungry and burning with every inch, defying all odds of bursting into sparks at his mere existence in a place so consecrated. But this house is less holy than its parishioners would like to believe, less divinely linked to the clouds as those crosses outside would portray, less blessed, more hooked. A church like this one is too seated in the ground despite the upwards stairs outside, too heavy with worldly things like gravity and money and blood.

Then again, isn’t every religion diluted with war and waste in its history, if not its present? Heaven is empty of its God, and Hell is empty of its demons.

He stops five rows from the front and slips into a pew to his left, blue eyes trained on the confessional booth, the quiet murmurings of occupants eating away at the silence he’d thought had permeated through the whole room upon first arrival. He sits and waits like a tiger, coiled and ready for any change in environment, his patience held only by strings and wisps of notes murmured in the dimness. He doesn’t need to look at the time to know it’s gaining on one o’clock in the morning.

He remains immobile until the door opens and a short, quaint-looking man steps out, the confessor obviously, judging from his sweaty brow and nervous eyes, the way they widen when he spots Tiberius in the pew, the way they shift away quickly as he passes and rushes up the aisle. Tiberius doesn’t turn around, doesn’t trail behind him with any attention, doesn’t look away from the confessional as the church doors open and shut, slamming against each other with a ring of finality, the last sanctified act of the night come and gone.

And now, a different phase of the night begins.

Somewhere in the city, a clock chimes and Tiberius would like to think that Judas betrayed Jesus near the same hour as this, with the moon outside listening avidly, casting shades through the stain-glass windows. He wonders if Jesus prayed that night as fervently as he knows this temple’s priest is praying, even where no one can see him, even when no one is listening to his pleas.

When the holy man steps out of the confessional, he doesn’t look surprised to see the Capulet. Distraught, maybe, heartbroken, sure, but not surprised, which tells Tiberius all he needs to know about the deal that had been struck and is now crumbled.

“Forgive me, Father,” Tiberius intones, the baritone of his voice echoing off the walls, closing in the space between them without having to move a muscle, “for I am about to sin.”

He watches the older man’s shoulders hunch, his fingers grip his rosary, the slight stumble he makes as he approaches the dais, his nervousness coursing off of him in waves, like a stench. Father Bianchi is a tall, willowy figure, his falling robes fixing him to look even longer and tree-like, with an easy face and a careful accent, a demeanor too good to be true and too easily trusted. Tiberius hears the gulp in his throat before he even pushes out his first contradiction. “You can’t do this here,” he insists, shakily. “This is a church.”

“It’s a large building with a pointy top.” Tiberius does not believe in things made from men, especially not men like these. “Nothing that happens inside these walls reaches God. Isn’t that how you’ve been able to operate all this time without divine retribution?”

Now the man grows some teeth. “We had a deal,” he hisses, the seething sound slithering just under the noses of all the angels up near the ceiling, who suddenly seem to be staring down with as much condemnation for the priest as Tiberius himself.

“And you broke that deal,” Tiberius reminds him. “You already owed your life to Capulets and now you’ve forfeited it.”

The priest looks like he wants to argue more, looks like he wants to run, looks like he wants to fight, but he is older and thinner and Tiberius broke him once before, when this had only been about money, when this had only been about theft between a holy man and his holy church. It would take nothing now to break him again. His countenance falls, brows pulling together like storm clouds, the lines in his face creasing deeper, his lips pressing together in a pained white shade.

Tiberius slides out from the pew and walks towards the man, his boots thudding softly against the carpet, sure-footed and deliberate, as inevitable as death, recognizing the end of the conversation, the featureless cliff-edge of defeat in the other male. He stands towering in contrast to the fearful priest, his skin dark and scarred, his eyes blue and steady, every inch of him like sharpened iron, his clothes as black as his deeds, the utilitarian makeshift of his body as accurate as the gun that sits in its holster in his side.

“Will you make it quick?” Father Bianchi asks, gesturing to the weapon as its steel catches the light from the altar honorifics. He seems hopeful, accepting for a moment, as though he thinks his beliefs in the Almighty will be enough to carry him through to the next life, the next world beyond this one, as though the sins of his crimes will not touch him here, will not mar his entrance through pearly gates.

And for a second, Tiberius thinks about it, considers it; the option of doing this quickly, efficiently, methodically. Killing a priest is already bad manners if not downright heretical in and of itself, so surely there could be no greater profanity than this that is expected of him? Father Bianchi’s death will be a statement piece, a warning sign for others to never cross the Capulets like this again, a red alarm bell ringing for years to come, and for those in the know, Tiberius Capulet will be synonymous with this act, the one responsible. Surely that would suffice, that would convey the proper designation that’s required.

“No,” he responds anyway, reaching out quickly for one of the candelabras, a large piece he’d spotted earlier, metallic and weighty, and swings it around to strike the priest’s temple. The man cries out, goes down, and Tiberius raises his impromptu baton again.

Ten minutes pass before Tiberius exits the church, the pews behind him splattered in blood, several holy pieces from the altar shrine used in the restraint and eventual murder of Father Bianchi, whose bodily remains lay in broken heaps and lifeless chunks at the foot of his false god, his blood mixing with the velvetine carpet. Far above his strewn, battered corpse, Mary the Virgin Mother watches onwards, as unmoved by the massacre as Tiberius expected her to be, not a muscle out of place, not a tear in sight. It’ll be hours before anyone finds the gruesome vision, but even when they do, Tiberius is not worried. Years from now, when he faces his own impending death, he will not be worried. Fear has never been something that touches him, either by crushing reality or supernatural horror, come god or darkness.

He closes and locks the church doors in his wake, sauntering down the stone steps with ease before making his way across the sleepy street to where he’d parked his convertible. He reaches into the back first, pulling out a towel to wipe his hands with, staining the cloth red as he smears his fingers into it and attempts to dab at the blood caught on his clothes. When he’s satisfied enough, he climbs into the driver’s side and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and inhaling it deeply, taking his time, enjoying the free air, the world spreading out around him, the nicotine threading through his veins.

After a long minute, he finally looks over at the soldier sitting in his passenger side seat, blue eyes clear and deadly. “I’m hungry. You hungry? Let’s catch some food.” The engine revs to life, rumbling like a monster below his feet, the uncurling of the devil between his palms, and he grins as evil as the moon.

[voodoochili]

My Favorite Songs of 2019

2019 was a fantastic year for music, but then again every year is. We as listeners have been blessed with abundance, and tasked with the delightful work of sifting through freshwater to find gold. This year, the most reliably golden genres were West African pop and West Coast Rap. Go figure.

The following represents my favorite 100 songs of the year. My only rules: 1) one song per lead artist (a lucky few earned multiple placements through the “featured artist” loophole).

Below are the write-ups (everyone’s favorite part) and stay tuned for my albums list, coming next week. Don’t forget to scroll all the way down for a Spotify playlist of the full list!

25. Desperate Journalist - “Satellite” - A sweeping, emotional rock song by a veteran rock band that can uncork one of these in their sleep. What makes this one special? The dynamic changes in the pre-chorus, the soaring guitar solo, and the passionate performance from lead singer Jo Bevan.

24. Jacques Greene - “Stars” - A brilliant bit of ambient techno that evokes the seminal electronic classic “Little Fluffy Clouds,” by The Orb. Instead of desert clouds, the anonymous female narrator describes a pastoral dream about the night skies of her youth. A transporting piece of music that should’ve been twice as long--five minutes is a cruelly short lifespan for this kind of bliss.

23. Rosalía - “Con Altura” ft. J Balvin - After the brilliant and singular El Mal Querer demonstrated Rosalía’s singular talent, “Con Altura” announced her intentions for worldwide domination. Created with frequent Rosalía collaborator El Guincho and chameleonic superstar J Balvin, “Con Altura” contains two of the year’s most insidious hooks--the soft-spoken call-and-response chorus, and Rosalía’s snake-charming bridge, the strongest indication yet that global stardom won’t stop the Catalonian chanteuse from pushing music forward.

22. Faye Webster - “Room Temperature” – 2019’s answer to “Swingin’ Party,” the Replacements’ great anthem for introverts, the introductory track on Webster’s Atlanta Millionaire’s Club album drifts along with Hawaiian-flavored pedal steel and a palpable sense of regret, as the 21-year-old singer longs to escape her perfectly comfortable surroundings. 21. Yhung T.O. - “Lately” ft. Lil Sheik - Easy, breezy, beautiful Bay Area rap, carried by T.O.’s dulcet tones and Sheik’s unrepentant dirtbaggery. The beat by Armani Depaul is one of my favorite retro-facing rap beats in a while, complete with smooth digital strings and security-pad synths. 20. The New Pornographers - “You’ll Need a New Backseat Driver” - Every five years or so, A.C. Newman writes a melody so strong that it requires Neko Case’s ultra-powerful alto to properly do it justice. This year, that song is “You’ll Need a New Backseat Driver,” which strives for, and nearly approaches, the heights of previous Pornos stunners like “The Laws Have Changed” and “Champions of Red Wine.” 

19. Floating Points - “LesAlpx” - Surrounded by outré synth experiments and beatless soundscapes on Crush, the first Floating Points album since 2015, “LesAlpx” is Sam Shepherd’s gift to club-goers everywhere. It’s a lean and mean house track, foregrounding propulsive percussion and rubbery bass, but it’s also deeply cerebral, creating a sense of foreboding urgency with detuned synths and ambient sine waves. 18. Daphni - “Sizzling” ft. Paradise - Built around a sample of Paradise’s seminal single “Sizzlin’ Hot,” Dan Snaith’s “Sizzling” extends the best moments of the classic post-disco smash to create five minutes of pure euphoria. The song starts in media res, with the groove in full form, and peaks at the end, when Snaith finally allows Paradise’s June Ventzos to finish her thought atop jubilant trumpets. 17. J Hus - “Must Be” - The latest genre-blending collaboration between J Hus and genius producer JAE5 proves that no man is safe from Hus’s dazzling logic, as he stacks syllogism after syllogism over an irresistible, afropop-flavored groove: “If it walk like an opp/Talk like an opp/Smell like an opp/Then it must be.” 16. Vampire Weekend - “Jerusalem, New York, Berlin” - Ever indulging his literary ambitions, Ezra Koenig uses the final track on Father Of The Bride to examine his Jewish identity, and to reckon with a world that hasn’t made sense since World War I. The prettiest melody on an album dripping with pretty melodies, “Jerusalem, New York, Berlin” packs enough symbolism into three minutes to inspire a seminar at Koenig’s Ivy League alma mater. Supported by yearning, spritely piano, Koenig ends the song with a poignant plea for peace, within reason: “So let them win the battle/But don't let them restart/That genocidal feeling/That beats in every heart.” 15. Great Grandpa - “Bloom” - The highlight from Great Grandpa’s outstanding Four Of Arrows album, “Bloom” is two songs in one. Part one brings punchy acoustic guitar that recalls ‘90s adult alternative (think Matchbox 20) and prime-era Saddle Creek (think Rilo Kiley) in equal measure. The second par tcompletes the song’s emotional arc, slowing down for a hypnotic wordless chorus, backed by weeping violins,. The key line here: “Please say I’m young enough to change.” 14. Spellling - “Real Fun” – Gleefully dramatic and overflowing with evil-sounding synths, “Real Fun” synthesizes Neneh Cherry, Bauhaus, and Cabaret into something that sounds like a villain’s theme in an animated musical that hasn’t been written yet.   13. Earthgang - “Proud Of U” ft. Young Thug – There’s no straight man to ground this ATL trio, as all three emcees lean into their vocal eccentricities while expressing their thanks to the women in their lives atop a mutating, guitar-driven beat. 12. Stella Donnelly - “Tricks” – In which the young heroine attempts to rid herself of a particularly toxic ex, who isn’t just misogynist, but a potential white supremacist sympathizer (her subject’s “Southern Cross Tattoo” is like an Aussie version of the MAGA hat). Heavy stuff, but Donnelly delivers everything with a grin, as if she’s wondering in real time why the hell she ever bothered with this jamoke. 11. Jenny Lewis - “On The Line” - The title track and emotional climax of Jenny Lewis’ latest album, “On The Line” boasts one of the finest vocal performances in her long career, sweetly assassinating her cheating ex-lover with a lilting melody and wry smile.

10. Lucinda Chua - “Whatever It Takes” – Lucinda Chua makes languid art pop in the tradition of fka twigs, but I prefer her understated longing to twigs herself. Her main instrument is the cello, but this track foregoes that sound almost entirely, opting instead for resonant Wurlitzer keys and multi-layered vocal harmonies, and shunting traditional song structure aside in favor of one enigmatic verse, repeating at odd intervals throughout: “Wait/The demons I carry are fake/I will fight our fire, too late.” 9. ShooterGang Kony - “Charlie” – The year’s most cold-blooded mob banger starts with the line “fuck the police and your mama if you ask me” and only escalates from there. Rhyming without affect over hiccuping bass, Kony mercilessly ethers cops, R&B singers, and women named Ashley before threatening to shoot you with a gun that sounds like Fozzy Bear. 8. KEY! - “Miami Too Much” – My favorite Atlanta rap song of the year gets its power from its hilariously specific central conceit, with KEY’s impassioned vocal selling the bit: “If you seen that ass, you'd make a song too.” How often must someone visit Dade County before it becomes an irreconcilable difference in an otherwise healthy relationship? 7. Raphael Saadiq - “Something Keeps Calling” ft. Rob Bacon - Named after his older brother, Raphael Saddiq’s towering Jimmy Lee album examines the personal cost of the crack epidemic, and the outsized role addiction plays in the lives of the destitute. “Something Keeps Calling” is the album’s crushing centerpiece, painting substances as at once a seductive lover and a heavy burden, one that overrides all common sense and decency: “My friends say I can never pull it together/Well they might be right, at least tonight/My kids say I'll never come home again/And I know they're right, at least tonight.” The song climaxes with Rob Bacon’s wailing guitar solo, which tries in vain to reach out to those beyond hope. 6. Bad Bunny & J Balvin - “La Canción” - Nestled in the middle of Balvin and Bunny’s summer smash OASIS, “La Canción” takes a break from the party to dwell on the inherent emptiness of their hedonistic lifestyle, as a mournful trumpet echoes the Reggaetoneros’ longing for meaningful connection amidst their chaotic lives. 5. Polo G - “Pop Out” ft. Lil TJay – Only Polo G would interrupt his own robbery to examine the sociological causes of his behavior: “We come from poverty, man, we ain't have a thing.” But on the rest of “Pop Out,” Polo leans into the dark side of his persona, before 2019’s most unlikely guest verse assassin Lil TJay brings the pathos: “If I showed you all my charges, you won't look at me the same.” In contrast to how effortless the two rappers sound atop the dramatic piano loop, listening to Lil Baby and Gunna wheeze through the remix hammers home the high degree of difficulty of such nimble melodics. It’s a testament to how fast rap music moves these days that Polo and TJay can make last year’s It Duo sound like geezers. 4. Octo Octa - “I Need You” – It starts as an intoxicatingly minimal expression of dancefloor lust, but halfway through, “I Need You” morphs into a sincere and moving tribute to everybody who helped Octo Octa become the woman she is today. It’s a moving moment tucked within an epic club track that works equally well as build-up or comedown.

3. Purple Mountains - “All My Happiness Is Gone” - It’s hard to find the words for this one, a matter-of-fact documentation of a man slowly losing his will to live--which became heartbreakingly clear when David Berman committed suicide in August. But because it’s Berman, “All My Happiness Is Gone” is packed with genius-level wordplay and devastating observations, and enough gallows humor to truly emphasize the gravity of his situation: “Friends are warmer than gold when you're old/And keeping them is harder than you might suppose//Lately, I tend to make strangers wherever I go/Some of them were once people I was happy to know.” I’ll keep going: “Ten thousand afternoons ago/All my happiness just overflowed/That was life at first and goal to go.” And one more: “Where nothing's wrong and no one's asking/But the fear's so strong it leaves you gasping/No way to last out here like this for long.”

2. Big Thief - “Not” - A torrid, slow-burning rocker, “Not” showcases lead singer-songwriter Adrienne Lenker’s skill with oblique imagery and wild-eyed intensity. Lenker rattles off a long list of poetic observations, trying to get to the heart of something (everything?) without ever finding a satisfactory answer, as the music morphs from a controlled simmer to a cacophonous freakout. “Not” climaxes with a riotous guitar solo from Lenker herself, one that reaches towards the cosmos and echoes her frayed vocal. As always with Big Thief, though, the song soars in the smallest moments, like when guitarist Buck Meek enters with plainspoken backing vocals, and at the beginning of the second verse when the guitars drop out and Lenker’s voice stands alone.

1. Burna Boy - “Anybody” - Sometimes the best song of the year is the one that makes you feel the best, and no song this year made me feel better than “Anybody.” “Anybody” is both inviting and aloof, urgent and relaxing. Riding an irresistible groove defined by syncopated keys, driving percussion, and an eager-to-please saxophone, Burna Boy slides between Pidgin English and Yoruba chasing a feeling that resonates beyond the capabilities of language. It’s a song about demanding and receiving respect, dripping with the contagious confidence of an African Giant. And for three minutes, you’ll feel like a giant too.

THE REST: 26. DaBaby - “Intro” 27. Perfume Genius - “Eye On The Wall” 28. Yves Jarvis - “To Say That Is Easy” 29. Doja Cat - “Cyber Sex” 30. Mannequin Pussy - “Drunk II” 31. Better Oblivion Community Center - “Dylan Thomas” 32. Shoreline Mafia - “Wings” 33. Kehlani - “Footsteps” ft. Musiq Soulchild 34. Obangjayar - “Frens” 35. Ariana Grande - “NASA” 36. Mustard ft. Roddy Ricch - “Ballin” 37. Baby Keem - “ORANGE SODA” 38. Jessie Ware - “Adore You” 39. 03 Greedo x Kenny Beats - “Disco Shit” ft. Freddie Gibbs 40. Martha - “Love Keeps Kicking” 41. Lucki - “More Than Ever” 42. Park Hye-Jin - “Call Me” 43. DaVido - “Disturbance” ft. Peruzzi 44. The Japanese House - “Worms” 45. Spencer Radcliffe - “Here Comes The Snow” 46. Dawn Richard - “Dreams And Converse” 47. ALLBLACK & Offset Jim - “Fees” ft. Capolow 48. David Kilgour - “Smoke You Right Out Of Here” 49. Sandro Perri - “Wrong About The Rain” 50. Nilüfer Yanya - “In Your Head” 51. Julia Jacklin - “Don’t Know How To Keep Loving You” 52. Miraa May - “Angles” ft. JME 53. (Sandy) Alex G - “Gretel” 54. Kelsey Lu - “Due West” 55. glass beach - “classic j dies and goes to hell, pt. 1” 56. Peggy Gou - “Starry Night” 57. Cate Le Bon - “Home To You” 58. Busy Signal - “Balloon” 59. NLE Choppa - “Shotta Flow” 60. Dee Watkins - “Hell Raiser” 61. Ari Lennox - “I Been” 62. The National - “Not In Kansas” 63. Shordie Shordie - “Both Sides” ft. Shoreline Mafia 64. Alex Lahey - “Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself” 65. Angel Olsen - “New Love Cassette” 66. Young Dolph - “Tric Or Treat” 67. Koffee - “Throne” 68. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - “Half Manne, Half Cocaine” 69. Noname - “Song 32” 70. Anthony Naples - “A.I.R.” 71. Samthing Soweto - “Omama Bomthandazo (feat Makhafula Vilakazi)” 72. KAYTRANADA - “10%” ft. Kali Uchis 73. Moodymann - “Got Me Coming Back Right Now” 74. Drakeo The Ruler - “Let’s Go” ft. 03 Greedo 75. Teejayx6 - “Dark Web” 76. Cass McCombs - “I Followed The River South to What” 77. Gunna - “Idk Why” 78. Sharon Van Etten - “You Shadow” 79. Tresor - “Sondela” ft. Msaki 80. E-40 - “Chase The Money” ft. Quavo, Roddy Ricch, ScHoolboy Q & A$AP Ferg 81. Spielbergs - “Running All The Way Home” 82. 24kGoldn - “Valentino” 83. Quelle Chris - “Box of Wheaties” 84. Emily King - “Go Back” 85. AzChike - “Yadda Mean” ft. Keak Da Sneak 86. Club Night - “Path” 87. Zeelooperz - “Easter Sunday” ft. Earl Sweatshirt 88. Kim Gordon - “Murdered Out” 89. YS - “Bompton” (Remix) ft. 1TakeJay & OhGeesy 90. Future - “Never Stop” 91. Lowly - “baglaens” 92. SAULT - “Masterpiece” 93. Earl Sweatshirt - “TISK TISK/COOKIES” 94. Fireboy DML - “Energy” 95. Rio Da Young OG & Lil E - “Buy The Block” 96. Sacred Paws - “Write This Down” 97. Wilco - “Everyone Hides” 98. Black Belt Eagle Scout - “Real Lovin” 99. Sleepy Hallow - “Breakin Bad (Okay)” ft. Sheff G 100. Aimee Leigh & Baby Billy - “Misbehavin’ (1989)”

Here’s a Spotify playlist of the full list: 

[universitykpop]

Reputation; Series (Part 8)

Summary: Zhang Yixing was a typical jock. He had the looks, athleticism, and cockiness, all the makings of a football boy. Though he was popular and had people around him at all times, he didn’t talk much. There had to be another side to him, and you needed to find out.

PART 8

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Member: Chanyeol, Lay, and Xiumin

Words: 2,164

A/N: This part has been such a pain in my ass. Please enjoy it.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

The silver rhinestones stitched into the dress glimmered under the fluorescent lighting in the dressing room. Your reflection was beautiful, but the hem of the dress was shorter than what you would have liked. You tugged on it only for it to retract back into place. Throwing the curtain to the side, you stepped out into the lobby of the dressing room.

“Chanyeol, I’m not feeling this one.” You gave him a look of uneasiness.

“You look really pretty in it. What’s wrong with it?” He stood from the bench to get a closer look.

“It’s too short. What if I drop something? I can’t bend over.” You pointed out, glancing down at the dress.

“I don’t see what the problem is.” He sent you a greasy grin, to which you punched him in the shoulder. “I’m kidding. My aunt can fix the length.”

You sighed, “Do I have to go to homecoming?”

“Yes! How is Yixing going to be jealous if you’re not there to show him what he’s missing out on?!”

“He already doesn’t like me because of you! The fact you asked me to homecoming didn’t help with that either!” You shouted, making the tall boy droop.

“I’ve already said I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I did. But you’re just as much at fault as I am. You let it happen too. If I had known you liked Yixing, I wouldn’t have let it go as far as it did… You know what? Just forget it. You don’t have to go to the dance.” Chanyeol turned to leave the dressing rooms.

You acted quickly before he could exit. He reluctantly looked into your eyes as you began, “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. You’re putting a lot of effort into helping me. I shouldn’t be complaining. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, even if all of it didn’t go right.”

He stared down at you for a moment and then tugged you into a tight hug. “I know we’ve only been friends for a little while, but I love you. Not romantically but like family, you know? I would do a lot for you.”

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” You mumbled into his sweatshirt, “But I’m still gonna kick your ass for how you asked me.”

-

Half time was almost over, and the cheer team’s routine was coming to a close. You watched slightly zoned out until the cheerleaders lifted up posters with the question, “Go to HoCo with me?” You snorted at the poor person who was being asked. This was as embarrassing as it gets. The speakers cracked before Chanyeol’s voice came over.

He walked to the middle of the cheerleaders’ formation with a bouquet in one hand and the mic in the other. His hair was sweaty and plastered to his face. The black paint on his cheeks was smudged. Who in the world was he asking? You didn’t know of anyone he was interested in.

“Y/N, I wanted to show how much you mean to me, and what better way to do that than in front of almost the entire school?”  He spoke, earning praise from the crowd.

Your face felt like it was on fire, your eyes wide in fear.

“So, will you go to homecoming with me?”

“Y/N, go down there!” Jia nudged you out of your seat. You hesitantly hurried to the nearest gate to the field and jogged to Chanyeol with the crowd cheering for you.

“Will you?” He smiled widely at you. Well, you kind of couldn’t say no in this situation…

You nodded, accepting the flowers and wrapping your arms around his waist. As the crowd freaked out, Chanyeol pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

-

“Why are you like this?” Chanyeol whined.

“Because. Now go get your aunt so we can get the dress fixed.” You waved him off.

His aunt owned a successful formal dress store which made it easy to find a dress. School dances were just a bunch of hassles disguised in sparkly dresses, heavy makeup, and unnecessary hype.

A kind, short woman entered the room with a familiar smile. She asked you about lengths you were comfortable with as she measured you. Chanyeol appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“Chanyeol, when are you going to actually date a nice, sweet girl like Y/N?” His aunt piped up when she noticed his presence.

“You promised you weren’t going to meddle!” He immediately devolved into a child.

“I know, but seriously, Yeol. I want grand nieces and nephews one day, and that’s not going to happen if you keep up your silly playboy phase.”

You glanced up at him with a suppressed grin to see him stood, arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. This obviously wasn’t the first time he had heard this from his aunt.

-

Never having a boyfriend meant never having to deal with everything that was homecoming. Mums and garters were ridiculous. There were so many things that had to be added, and you were starting to wonder if it was worth all the trouble.

There was a mess across your kitchen table; ribbons, glitter, bells, and bows everywhere. Adding a stuffed toy mascot to the center of the flower, a bit of hot glue landed on your thumb.

“Son of a bitch!” You jerked your hand back, surprisingly not messing up the garter, “Why is this necessary?!”

Just as you felt like throwing the garter across the room, your phone rang with a text from Chanyeol telling you he was outside your house. You sprang from your seat and opened the front door. His eyes widened before a smile broke out on his face.

“Well, don’t you look cute.” He looked you up and down.

“Stop.” You whined, knowing he was mocking your comfy clothes. He didn’t look too bad himself in those sweatpants.

“Is that him?!” Your mom excitedly yelled from the kitchen, “Invite him in!”

Chanyeol followed you inside, holding a giant mum. How were you supposed to pin that to your shirt without the fabric ripping?!

“Oh, my! It’s so beautiful.” Your mom said once she caught sight of the mum.

“Thank you. I had to get my mom’s help for some of it. I didn’t mean to make it so heavy.” Chanyeol chuckled, “I made it so that you can put it over your shoulder instead of pinning it.”

“You made this?” You were shocked. It never occurred to you that he could create something so artistic.

He nodded proudly, and you felt bad that the garter you made couldn’t come close to the same quality.

“I just finished your garter, but it’s not as good. I did it myself.” You trudged to your dining room table, picking up the pathetic excuse.

“What are you talking about? It’s amazing!” Chanyeol’s grin was ear to ear; you had to keep yourself from pinching his cheeks.

“Put them on, so I can take your pictures!” Your mom pulled up the camera on her phone.

You helped Chanyeol slide the garter up his arm, and he laid the mum over your shoulder. His arm rested around your waist, giving a light squeeze as the picture was being taken. After your mom took more pictures than necessary, she was quick to invite him for dinner.

“Chanyeol, are you staying to eat?”

“Oh, n-”

“Sit, sweetheart. You’re staying. It’s almost done.” She smiled before going back to the kitchen.

“I am so sorry.” You nervously laughed.

“Don’t be. Takeout isn’t healthy anyway.” He watched your mom buzz around grabbing bowls in amusement.

“So, did that girl say yes to Yixing?” You asked quietly.

Chanyeol’s head snapped in your direction, “You didn’t see it on Twitter? She said no, like not even a gentle let down. Someone videoed it. Apparently, she has a boyfriend that no one knew of. Yixing is going to homecoming solo for once.”

-

The school dance was so hyped up for the past month, you were pretty let down when you actually arrived at the school gym. The football guys had wanted to show up for the last hour of the dance, and now you understood why.

“Just wait for the afterparty,” Chanyeol spoke into your ear, guiding you to one of the lunch tables with a metallic table cloth and an ugly centerpiece with balloons.

Hani sat beside you while the guys went off to get drinks. Your eyes followed Yixing, admiring the way his body looked in slacks and a button up.

“Stop, you might start drooling.” Hani nudged your leg with her knee.

“I can’t.” You whine, “How does someone say no to him?”

“Someone who has tall, dark, and handsome from the soccer team.” Hani pointed toward the dance floor where the female lead of the musical slow danced with Choi Minho.

Ah yes, Minho; amazingly athletic and charismatic. A smile that could make anyone swoon and a body that could make anyone faint. What was keeping you from crushing on him?

And there, you could hear why. His laugh, the most annoying thing you’ve ever heard…

Before you scrutinized her boyfriend any more, Chanyeol sat a cup of punch in front of you. The seats on either side of you and Hani were occupied by your dates. Chanyeol’s arm rested on the back of your chair naturally.

Your foot tapping along with the music, your gaze wandered around the room and noticed Ahn Hyejin peeking over at Chanyeol. You quickly nudged him, almost making him spill punch in his lap.

“What?” He asked as if there was an emergency.

“Have you ever been with Hyejin?” You whispered into his ear.

His body tensed at the question, and he hesitantly nodded.

“She keeps looking over here. You should go dance with her.” You discreetly gestured in her direction.

“She probably wants to kill me, not dance with me.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“We hooked up a few times. She really liked me, and I think I liked her too, but I pushed her away.”

“Do you still like her?”

“I don’t know.” Chanyeol squirmed in his seat, avoiding your attentive gaze.

“Go dance with her. Maybe this is a second chance.” You nudged him with more force. He turned to protest, but you pointed a finger in his face. With an exasperated sigh, he stood and unsurely made his way to the short girl.

You watched as he asked her to dance, her looking back at you in confusion. You quickly gestured for them to go out on the dance floor, giving her assurance to dance with your date. His awkwardness melted in no time as the two of them fell back into a familiar comfort.

“Hey, would you be mad if I went out there with Minseok?” Hani asked in your ear.

You faced your friend with scrunched eyebrows, “Why would I? Go have fun.”

Once they left, you realized you were alone. Though grinding on random classmates wasn’t the most fun thing to do, you felt left out. Ever since Chanyeol kissed you at that party, you’ve begun to feel like you were a part of something, and now even that ‘something’ was leaving you behind. You downed the rest of your punch hoping that somebody had spiked it. While you looked into the empty cup, someone tapped your shoulder.

“Yixing?” You exclaimed in surprise.

“I noticed your date isn’t with you.” He stated… with a hint of disapproval?

“Yeah, I told him to go dance with Hyejin.” You explained.

“I see… Do you want to dance with me?” He asked nervously.

There had to have been alcohol in that punch. Yixing had been actively avoiding you for a few days and now he wants to be a friend?

“It’s a slow song though.” You reminded him, but he only held his hand out for yours.

Yixing led you into the crowd of hormonal teenagers and placed his hands on your hips, keeping a decent amount of space between you. He rocked the two of you side to side to the beat of the cheesy love song. Your heart was pounding against your chest; this was the best thing to happen out of the blue. You just hoped your hands weren’t shaking where they rested on his shoulders.

“How have you been?” Yixing questioned over the music.

“Good. What about you?” You answered as casually as you could.

“I’ve been pretty busy,” He shrugged, “I need to ask you something though.”

“What?”

“Do you-”

“Students, please clear the floor, so we can announce homecoming court.” The principal abruptly interrupted the music and, unfortunately, Yixing. The crowd started to disperse, and Yixing took your hand to guide you back to the table.

“What did you want to ask?” You tried to get him to return to your conversation.

“It can wait.” He smiled weakly and abandoned you at the table for football players with dates.

[emmies-archives]

I haven’t made a request before so pls forgive me if I’m doing this wrong, but i thought (from song prompts 2) number 3 and number 18 could be cute? With either bakugou or todoroki? Bonus points if theres some pining and ends happily :) if not ofc I’m happy to read whatever you do!

Thank you so much for requesting!!  Song prompts:  3. “Trust me, Darling.” Bad Liar by Imagine Dragons. 18. “Push me out, I’ll pull you close.” What You’re Made of by Lindsey Stirling.

Todoroki Shoto x Female Reader.

Word Count: 3.4K

Genre: Some angst, lots of fluff

Warnings: Endeavor being d*ck, cursing, slight nsfw mentions at end

Summary: Endeavor holds a charity ball. Shoto invites you as his date as your relationship has grown stronger. Endeavor tries to break the two of you up a few times, Shoto stands up for you twice, you stand up for Shoto once when Endeavor works behind his back. It only strengthens your relationship, bringing you even closer.

            Everywhere you looked there were lights. Twinkling in sync like they were dancing to the soft music playing in the background. There was a warmth shifting through the room, despite the harsh chill outside. You could feel the warm drafts envelope you as they moved between others and the tables they sat at. Mixing in with the flames swaying at each table’s centerpiece. Everything was so beautiful and calm. It was as though nothing could break the trance the night had put on everyone.

Enji Todoroki always had a way about him that tended to ruin things for you though, especially because you were attending the charity ball he had set up. The first time he managed to get under your skin for the day was when you were getting ready. Shoto had offered for you to come over early to his house to get ready for the ball.

He had asked you the first chance he’d gotten to be his date for his father’s ball. It was an easy decision; it was no secret that you both had been feeling something for each other. At first, you both really didn’t understand what it was that you were feeling, but after the villain attack in the forest, the only person on each of your minds was each other. After that, the two of you had begun to study together, you went out to eat with only each other. It seemed like any chance Shoto got he asked to spend it with you, whether if it was in his dorm or the common areas, out somewhere, or just simply training.

He asked you one night as you both lay on his bed, both scrolling mindlessly on your phones if you wanted to meet his siblings. Of course, you said yes immediately wanting to know more about his private life and just more about him in general. You knew his family was a touchy subject for him and you were excited and happy that he trusted you enough to let you in on it. He warned you several times the day of to be wary of his father. That Enji would most likely try to pick you apart, to see exactly why Shoto was so fond of you.

You didn’t expect it to be so awful though. Before he arrived, you helped Fuyumi prep and cook the meal while Shoto stood at one of the counters watching. You could tell Fuyumi was so excited to see that Shoto brought someone home, let alone a girl. Every time she asked you something about Shoto you could feel the tips of your ears burning, even though you loved the butterflies that danced in your stomach.

“I so excited to finally meet you, Y/n!” Fuyumi said excitedly when you finished preparing dinner, “Shoto has been talking about you for as long as I can remember, and I couldn’t help thinking maybe you were made up! You seemed so perfect! How Shoto managed to snag you beats me, Hon.”

You saw Shoto glare at his sister and she just grinned at him, her nose scrunching up. “Oh no, that’s not true!” You said you were starting to get even more flustered. Fuyumi started to speak again but she was interrupted when someone burst into the dining room.

“Hey! Quick pestering little Sho’s girlfriend, Fuyumi.” Your heart jumped at the guy’s words, then he turned to you. “I’m Shoto’s older brother, Natsuo. Nice to meet you, Y/n.” He pulled you into a quick hug, “Don’t mind her, Fuyumi has always wanted a younger sister.” Natsuo said and moved to Shoto, wrapping an arm around his neck and ruffling his hair. “But on a real note, if you need me to beat him up just let me know. I’ll help you out.” Natsuo winked at you and laughed when Shoto shoved his arm off.

You were starting to really enjoy the energy of the siblings. It was refreshing to see. It only lasted a short while longer until a door slammed. Everyone in the room visibly stiffened, and the air grew heavy. A moment later, Enji Todoroki walked through the threshold of the dining room. He clapped his hands together before pulling out his chair to sit down, his eyes never seemed to stray from you from the moment he entered the room. “Well, is everyone ready? I’m starved.” Everyone followed his lead in sitting down. “I would love to get to know you, miss Y/n.”

Next to you, you could see Shoto clenching his teeth. He looked so stressed. You moved your foot nudging him; he turned his attention to you from the plate in front of him. You smiled at him and noticed his expression soften, and a small smile form on his face as well.

Enji wasted no time in bombarding you with questions, ranging from about you and your quirk, to your family and your home life. It was literally exhausting answering each one, searching for the right answer seemed impossible and it was hard to tell if the ones you gave satisfied him. All he ever gave in response was a grunt or a nod, then more questions followed. Once dinner was finally done, Shoto grabbed your hand immediately and started to pull you from your seat.

“Follow me, y/n.” He said softly once he saw your confusion. You started to follow him until Enji stopped you both.

“Stop.” His loud, steady voice said. Shoto stopped his pace and turned to glare at his father.

“What now?” Shoto asked, rolling his eyes.

“I want to say I am not impressed with your choice to bring this girl home, Shoto. She does not meet anywhere near my expectations of what I thought I taught you.” Enji spoke like you weren’t in the room with him.

“Are you kidding me, you have no right to say anything about her.” Shoto snapped back and started to pull you out of the room again. “We’re done with this now.”

“I did not enjoy having you here, miss Y/n,” Enji stated, locking eyes on you as you left the room.

The rest of the night was better than everything Enji had put you through before. Shoto had brought you to his room, he needed to cool off before you left for the dorms. He was visibly angry at his father’s words. You moved next to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, and laced your fingers through his.

“Hey,” You said softly. “Forget what he said.”

“Usually I do, but I don’t think I can. He insulted you, Y/n.” Shoto said and sighed. “Everything he did down there was absolutely uncalled for.”

“You’re right, it was very uncalled for. But I don’t care what he said at all, even if it was shitty.” You said back to him, and he turned to look at you. “All I care about is how you feel, and that your siblings are there for you.”

“What I feel?” Shoto asked it was soft like he was asking himself.

“Yeah. It doesn’t matter what your father says about anything, what you feel is right.” You said, and a small smile started to grow on his face. “Does that make sense, Shoto?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He said and grabbed your hands. “I feel like I want to kiss you right now.”

That made you laugh, even though butterflies erupted inside of you. “Then do it.”

Shoto moved in to press his lips against yours. It was slow and soft at first, then he pulled you closer. It was like all the pent-up stress he was holding from dinner melted away at your touch, your lips moving in sync with his. He was the first one to pull away, he had put you under a spell.

“Thank you for making me feel better, Y/n.” Shoto said, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Always, Shoto.”

You ended up staying in his room for the night instead of going back to the dorms. It was too far away and all you wanted to do was cuddle up in bed with him. Wrapped in his arms and wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt he gave you, it felt like something you’d been yearning for had finally come true.

   The time you spent with Shoto after that night seemed different. It felt more special, more whole. You weren’t wondering how he felt anymore, there was no need. He told you all the time. How special you were. How happy he was when he was with you. There was nothing between the two of you until Enji stepped in yet again.

The afternoon of the charity ball you were in Shoto’s room getting ready. He had gone out with Natsuo to get a last-minute suit adjustment for his brother. You had just finished zipping up your dress when a knock sounded at the door. When you opened it, the happy mood you were in faltered.

“Oh,” Enji said, a frown visible on his face. “Where is Shoto?”

“I believe he went out with Natsuo to get something.” You said stepping back away from the door.

“I need to speak with him.” He said, and you almost couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes.

“He has his phone on him I think, did you try calling him?” You asked, trying not to sound too rude. It was like Enji didn’t even think before barging to Shoto’s room.

“Not yet. I will soon.” He said and looked at his watch. “I suppose I could talk to you right now too.”

You waited for a moment for him to talk, but he didn’t say anything. “Okay? Anything in particular you need?”

“I’ll put it simply. I do not like you being with my son. Nothing good will come of it. I do not see a future with you in his life.” Enji said, bluntly.

“Excuse me?” You asked. You always knew Enji did not like you dating his son, but this seemed out of nowhere.

“It’ll be better if you end it sooner than later. I have big plans for him, and I do not want your petty little high school romance to ruin his career.” He pulled something out of his back pocket, it was a checkbook. “Of course, I would reimburse you. Name a price and it’s yours.”

“This has to be a joke, right?” You couldn’t believe what was happening. Nothing like this had ever happened to you, and you never thought Enji would even do this.

“I am not joking, miss Y/n,” Enji said, sighing at your blank stare and silence. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but tonight I will be having a young girl of equal promise meet with Shoto. If all goes well, they will be engaged tonight. I’d rather not have you there to mess it all up. So, name a price and I will have someone drive you home right now.”

“No.” You said, shaking your head.

“What?” Enji questioned, he raised an eyebrow like he couldn’t believe you.

“I won’t. You can’t force us apart.” You said louder, you were starting to get very frustrated.

Before Enji could say anything else, a door slammed shut and you could hear the boys back already. Shoto was home earlier than expected. “So be it, Y/n. He will no longer be yours by the end of the night anyway.”

He left the room after that. All you could do was stand, staring at the door where Shoto’s father stood. Enji Todoroki was a monster. You could feel tears pricking the back of your eyes, trying to crawl out.

“Y/n? Are you ready, love?” Shoto called from the hallway. You turned around quickly, grabbing your bag. “Some of the boys from our class are here already, it’s almost time to get going.” You heard him walk through the door, and you were all but kicking yourself to shake away what happened. “Y/n? Is everything okay?” Shoto asked softly, placing a hand on your elbow.

You turned to him nodded quickly. “Yeah, I, um. I just got a feeling I was forgetting something, but I remembered what it was.”

“Oh, good.” He said, smiling once he took in your outfit. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Shoto.” You said smiling, then pull him close to you. Moving your lips to meet his you sighed slightly when he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back.

“What was that for?” Shoto asked once you pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Just missed you, and I’m excited about the ball.” You said. Hopefully, you could get your mind off of the conversation you had with Enji before you reached the hall.

    A smile sat on your lips as you watched your friends dancing to the soft, slow music. Everyone looked so good tonight. So far you had been having a wonderful time, you had managed to even forget everything that happened with Enji. Dancing with Shoto a few times and sneaking a couple kisses helped a lot.

Though, it had been nearly thirty minutes since you had seen Shoto. You had been so distracted by your friends; you hadn’t realized how long it had been. Leaving the seat at your table you went to look for him. Then you saw Enji. He had a smug look on his face when you held his gaze, and your heart jumped.

“Oh no.” You muttered to yourself. You knew exactly where Shoto was now. Enji had taken him to meet some random girl, to steal him from you. Following Enji’s gesture toward the doors of the balcony, you made your way to them. Once you were on the threshold your heart fell as you saw Shoto. An absolutely gorgeous girl stood not even a foot away from him, her arms were dangerously close to being wrapped around them. This was it, you thought. The last time you’d be able to see Shoto before Enji’s horrible hands tore your relationship apart. How could Shoto resist the ‘perfect’ girl?

You gathered all the courage remaining in you and stepped onto the balcony. “Shoto?”

He turned to you, and you could feel tears in the corner of your eyes once again. “Y/n?”

“What do you want?” The girl sneered at you, her hands now resting around Shoto’s neck, his around her waist.

“Shut up.” You said through gritted teeth. So much for all the time, you spent on your makeup. The tears falling down now surely was ruining it.

“You need to leave!” She yelled at you, standing up straight now. “Don’t interrupt us!”

“No, you need to leave.” You all but growled once you were close to them, “Stop touching my boyfriend.”

“Your Boyfriend? I don’t think so.” The girl let go of his neck and her face almost turned into a snarl.

Shoto turned to the girl, a confused look on his face. “I thought you just fainted, Kanna.”

The girls, Kanna’s face went red, and she whipped toward him. “Oh, I did, Shocchan! I just, your strong arms helped me feel better.”

“I didn’t think it worked like that.” He said bluntly.

“It doesn’t, Shoto.” You said and stepped between them. Kanna squealed slightly and stomped her foot, it looked like she was beginning to throw a tantrum.

“Go away you freak!!” She yelled at you and tried to push you away. Her hands landed on Shoto however, he had moved between you and Kanna at the perfect moment.

His expression turned dark, “Don’t even try it, Kanna.”

“Oh! Shoto, I’m sorry. She is just being so annoying, ruining our special time together.” Kanna pouted.

“She isn’t ruining anything. You are. Don’t ever insult or threaten my girlfriend ever again.” Shoto moved his arm letting her hands fall from him. “Leave my sight before I do something I surely will regret.”

Kanna burst into tears, running towards the doors to the ballroom. You heard her cry out Enji’s name as she did. Shoto turned to you, and the dark expression still on his face. You had never seen him look so threatening and so hot at the same time. When he saw the tears on your face though, it fell in an instant.

“Y/n! Are you okay? What’s the matter?” Shoto questioned, holding your arms and staring into your eyes. He brought his hand up to wipe the stray tears on your cheeks.

“I, um.” You whispered; you could almost feel the concern in his eyes. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Is it about her? Don’t worry, I promise. She is one of my father’s puppets.” He said, a small frown falling onto his features. “Once in a while, my father will send her my way in hopes of us getting engaged.”

For some reason, you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief. “I thought…. Shoto I was so scared I was going to lose you!”

“You won't ever lose me.” Shoto said pulling you close into a hug. You didn’t know when you had started shivering but you felt it now. He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear. “Trust me, darling, you’re my only one.”

A sob of relief broke out at his words and you buried your face into his chest. You had never felt that way before, it was devastating. After a few moments of just holding each other, you pulled away to look up at him.

“Your father is the worst man I ever met.” You spoke, gaining a sharp laugh from Shoto.

“You have never spoken truer words.” He smiled at you, and he noticed you were still a bit tense. “Was there anything else bothering you, love.”

“Your father,” You started, breathing in deeply. “He told me to leave you, he tried to pay me to end what we have. He said there was no future for me with you.”

“That bastard.” Shoto growled and started to move from your grasp toward the doors.

“Wait!” You cupped his face pulling him into a kiss. It was deep, rushed. It took your breath away and it stopped Shoto in his tracks. You pulled away for breath. “Shoto, I said no. That I would never leave you. I couldn’t ever.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, y/n. I fell in love with you for a reason.” He said breathlessly. Butterflies soared from your stomach up to your heart, warming your body where they touched. The music inside grew louder, and he grabbed your hand, starting to dance along with the slow music.

You moved along gracefully with the music. Following Shoto’s lead, he was an amazing dancer. When he dipped you, a giggle left your mouth. He pulled you back up and you kissed him again. “I love you too, Shoto.”

“Even if forced you to leave me, Y/n.” Shoto began, stopping the dance. Pulling you close, your bodies flush. “Push me out, I’ll pull you closer. I’ve never had something that meant so much to me.”

You shivered at his words combining with the cold in your bones. Shoto shrugged off his suit jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. He grinned at you, then bowed slightly, his hand out.

“Can I have this dance, darling?” He asked, staring at you through long eyelashes

“Absolutely, Sho.” You placed your hand in his.

He placed a soft kiss on your hand and began to move you along to the music again. Even though the night almost turned to shit, it couldn’t have ended better. Being wrapped in Shoto’s arms under the beautiful night sky. He leaned close to your ear again. “You know what we should do, Y/n? Use my father’s credit card and take this to a hotel, the night is still very young. I want to show you just how much I love you.”

[andreaeppolitoevents]

White and White and Luxe All Over: Wedding of Meagan & Kasey

Las Vegas Wedding Planner Andrea Eppolito. Images by Adam Frazier.

Locals know that Las Vegas is a tiny town inside a big city, and it is not unusual for locals to find common connections with one another. When bride-to-be Meagan was searching for wedding inspiration online, she stumbled upon photos of Danielle and CJ’s wedding. Quickly recognizing the couple as one she went to high school with, Meagan found herself getting lost in the couple’s wedding photos. The photos lead her to the behind the scenes video we had produced, and that lead her to me. Soon, Meagan and I were on the phone, lost in conversation, and deep in wedding planning.  

Meagan and Kasey were drawn to the clean, luxurious look of the white and gray wedding that they had seen featured on my Instagram. They wanted very much to do something similar, but I have a policy of never doing the same event twice. I believe that the best design is one that tells my couple’s unique love story. The only way to truly connect with your guests is to show them something real. The decor and experience must be designed to be fully and authentically you. It does not work if you try to tell someone else’s story. Meagan understood this and agreed. While we found inspiration online, the wedding of Meagan and Kasey would stand alone as a unique design created just for them.

To do that, we started in the beginning. Meagan, a television producer, and Kasey, an executive, met through their best friends. While they shared an instant connection, each lived in a different city. This made having a serious relationship geographically undesirable. They danced around one another for years and developed a deep friendship before realizing that no amount of distance mattered.  

Above all things, both Meagan and Kasey value relationships. It was very clear from the beginning that they wanted to take excellent care of their guests. Having been to many weddings over the years, this couple was determined to create a warm environment that kept everyone very comfortable. They wanted the space to be elegant, of course, but deferred to comfort and function above all. They wanted big tables that gave their guests space to visit and eat, comfortable chairs and sofas that guests could sit in, and textures that felt like home.  

As a couple, they are drawn to clean lines, strong shapes, and warm undertones. Meagan also asked for something with a sense of whimsy that would feel a bit otherworldly and unexpected. An avid reader, the bride, kept going back to the idea of being warm and cozy, the way you feel when you are wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with a great book. My groom asked me for one thing; a killer band. Overall, they wanted the wedding to feel like one of the parties they host at home; lots of people, so much laughter, food, drinks, music, and warmth.

Both agreed that the ceremony was to be pristine and clean. The vows and the commitment that Meagan and Kasey were making to one another had to be the focus. Knowing this made designing the ceremony design very easy.  They would wed in a pristine room filled with white.  Our goal was to keep the design streamlined.  We added a touch of floral at the back of the aisle for Meagan to walk through.  She and the groom would meet beneath a full but structured arch of roses at the front. Nothing would distract from the promises that they were making, and we would save the over the top elements for the reception.

While most wedding planning kicks off with the aesthetic design, we did things a little different. Knowing that my groom wanted a big band and party, the first thing I did was reach out to The Jordan Kahn Orchestra. Everything about Jordan and his entertainers was a perfect fit for this couple. I shared a few videos of Jordan’s performances with Kasey, and we immediately decided to book them. Our dreams were nearly shattered when I was told that another client had already put the band on hold. I called my groom with the news, and he said, “Buy them out! Challenge the hold! I want them!”  

We did just that, and in those moments of back and forth phone calls, I knew that I was working with a couple absolutely dedicated to getting what they wanted. They were committed, fast-acting, and all in. This couple came to plan and to play. I knew that this would be fun!

When you are working with shades of white, certain elements can get lost. The lack of color can trick the eye, and pieces can begin to blend into one another. To avoid that, you must layer different shades and different textures. Alternating hight also becomes important. You want the eye to move over the space to prevent the room from falling flat. 

Having already draped this particular ballroom in shades of white and dove gray, I looked for a soft champagne tone. I knew that introducing something that shimmered a bit would instantly add softness and serenity.  

Creating a unique seating experience can be difficult, as there are only so many ways you can set up a table and chairs. Having already done round tables and long tables and having used linens, mirrored tops, and glass finishes, I was looking for something fresh and unexpected. White, matte serpentine tables were brought in to wind throughout the room and break up the round tables. They satisfied my bride’s wish for whimsy and set the tone for something fun and unexpected.  

To avoid taking a look too far away from their love of tradition, we topped the serpentines with clear crystal candelabras wrapped in roses, with connecting bundles of flowers lining the center as a runner. Our round tables were the epitome of traditional elegance, topped with tall, full centerpieces in the shape of a circle. Meagan specifically did not want depth or variety in these pieces. She insisted that they be large, compact, and immaculate. Candlelight was everywhere. We mixed low pillar candles with long tapered ones and scattered votive candles on every surface imaginable. 

In keeping with the idea of introducing shapes as a design element in a white-on-white room, we used round charger plates with gold edges. The metallic rims were echoed in the tops of the glasses we brought in and picked up by the flatware. Square menus were placed on each charger, accented with a gold foil-pressed rose pattern.

The stage was white, of course, and Javier Valentino Studios created panels that were wrapped in a stretched fabric, topped with clusters of flowers and lights. This stage was set directly across from my couple’s head table, which was dressed with crystal candelabras and finished with trailing garlands of roses and hydrangea. 

I went back to the idea of creating a residential space. Lounge areas and soft seating have become almost expected over the years, and taking it to the next level became very interesting to me. Imagining that Meagan’s coffee table and end tables at home were littered with books, we brought in glossy coffee table books that focused on fashion, art, and weddings. We had taken beautiful engagement photos that I knew were displayed in the couple’s house. It is calming to be surrounded by things you love on your wedding day, so I asked Meagan to bring me a few of their actual frames and photos from home. I stuck in between the books and votive candles. Next, I turned my attention to the couches. When I snuggle in, I need a big blanket and soft pillows. Despite it being August, I worked with Meagan to source fur throw blankets and personalized, monogrammed pillows that now reside in their den as a constant reminder of their wedding day. 

At this point in the planning process, we had satisfied all of the design requests that Meagan and Kasey had, but I still felt as if the ballroom was lacking something. We needed a big moment. I wanted a statement piece that would push the rest of the room over the top. All of the lines and edges of the room were very sleek. We had incorporated a lot of geometry into the design of the reception.  The softness was coming from the hues of the room, not from the shapes. I wanted to do something unexpected that would both take the edge off of the room but also really make the stark white stand out. To accomplish this, Javier and I designed flowering white trees that would sit on each side of the head table and cascade over with blooms dripping almost to the floor. We made them functional by adding benches that guests could sit on, literally as if you were to sit under a tree to read or relax. Meagan loved the idea, and we held back the design from everyone else as a surprise element.

One night over dinner with my couple, the groom made one more request of me. Both he and Meagan are deeply patriotic, with a true love of this country. Kasey asked if Jordan would mind singing the National Anthem. When he said this, I cried! I loved that this moment would be included in the day and immediately made arrangements for the flag to be brought in as well.

One day before the wedding, Meagan posed for a bridal session with photographer Adam Frazier before we hosted a rehearsal dinner. We kidnapped the bridal party and whisked them off for a photo in front of the Bellagio Fountains, an iconic image that this group will treasure for a lifetime. 

On the day of the wedding, Meagan walked down the aisle in a custom Badgley Mischka wedding gown, holding a bouquet of beautiful white flowers. Her bridesmaids, also in white, stood by her side as she and Kasey exchanged personal vows. Their ceremony was officiated by a personal friend. Afterward, guests enjoyed a heavy cocktail hour and live music while we opened up the ballroom and transformed the space.  

Everything was set to perfection. I brought my bride and groom in for an advanced look, and when Meagan opened her eyes, she cried. After a year of planning and plotting, this quiet moment in the room was just for the newlyweds. They strolled through the tables, walked across the dance floor, and took in each element in the space. This was better than any inspiration or photo they could have found online. This room was theirs. It told their story in a way that nothing else could have because it was built solely for them.

 Guests marveled at the space as they entered the room, stopped to take portraits in front of our beautiful trees. The newlyweds entered the room to a song by The Red Hot Chili Peppers and shared their first dance with their guests to the sounds of Marvin Gaye. We set the tone for a big party night by beginning with a dance set before anything else.  

Once guests were settled in their seats, the American flag was carried out onto the center of the stage. Jordan Kahn stepped forward and sung our National Anthem a cappella. There are no words for how moving a moment this was. Over 220 people stood up, placed their hands over their hearts, and literary cheered. Many people in the room had served our country.  There was not a dry eye in the house, including mine.

With emotions already running high, the father of the bride took to the floor to toast his beautiful girl and his new son in law. The bride danced with her father, and then the groom took his turn with his mother.  

After dinner service Meagan slipped out of the room to change into her second dress, a form-fitting Galia Lahav. The ceremony arch now housed the wedding cake. Tall, slim, and covered in folded fondant, the cake design took its cue from the pleated florals on Meagan’s ceremony dress. The cake was red velvet with cream cheese filling, a delicious end to a multi-course meal that had been served with a wine pairing. 

Our dance floor was packed all night long with members of every generation, from grandparents to parents to younger kids and children. The band joined our guests on the dance floor before ending their set and turning the after party over to DJ Nate Nelson.  

We extended the evening again and again, as no one wanted to leave. In the wee hours of the morning, our bridal party finally said good night, with Meagan and Kasey returning to their suite before leaving town for their honeymoon.  

Always…

CREDITS:

Venue & Catering: Waldorf Astoria, Las Vegas • Photography:  Adam Frazier Photography • Video:  Newfly Films • Florals:  Javier Valentino Designs • Rentals:  Palace Party Rentals • Lighting:  LED Unplugged • Ceremony Gown:  Badgley Mischka • Reception Gown:  Galia Lahav • Shoes:  Badgley Mischka • Beauty:  Paper Bag Beauty • Band:  Jordan Kahn Orchestra • DJ:  Nate Nelson • Behind the Scenes Documentary:  M Place Pro

[biancaweddingblog-blog]

2018 Wedding Decor Trends

Timeless | Classy | Stunning

And now to talk about my absolute favorite topic... decor! Specifically, let’s look at the current trends in the wedding industry. There is no doubt trends come and go every single year when it comes to weddings. Of course, all trends (at least from what I’ve seen) are absolutely beautiful, but I think the current decor trends are my favorites thus far. Let’s take a look!

1) LOTS of greenery. This year, brides cannot get enough greenery! Whether it’s for their bouquets, centerpieces, altar arrangements, etc. greenery is everywhere. Some people may think greenery is boring to incorporate in weddings, but some of the pieces I’ve seen are stunning! It makes for a very classy touch for any wedding. Some greens in particular that are very commonly used include Eucalyptus (true blue and silver dollar), Italian Ruscus, Monstera leaves, and even Succulents. A benefit to this trend is greenery is a lot less expensive compared to heavy florals! Save some money, use some greenery. 

2) Mirrored pieces are stunning. Simple as that! Mirrored pieces are being used as accents for absolutely anything you can think of and they create such a timeless feel. Need a menu sign? Use a mirror. Need aisle or altar columns? Use mirrored stands. Need an extra something for your centerpieces? Use a mirrored plate. Need a unique idea for an aisle runner? WALK ON MIRRORS! Can you tell I’m excited about this trend? *enter one-million heart-eyed emojis here*. To see more of this stunning trend, follow this link: https://www.marthastewartweddings.com/646635/mirrored-wedding-decorations. You won’t regret it!

3) When it comes to the current chandelier trend, the more the merrier. Chandeliers are a decor element that seem to be an absolute must for every bride. Some of my brides have actually picked their wedding venue based off the built-in chandeliers - it’s that serious. Do not fear, if your venue does not have built-in chandeliers, you can always rent them and have them placed strategically throughout the ballroom. When you rent chandeliers, you can go crazy with what you choose as there are SO many options. This decor element can really light up the night... literally. 

4) Surprisingly, our blushing brides love blush pink. Actually, this year I think every single wedding I designed had blush pink incorporated at some point. No complaints here, this color gives off such a romantic feel which is perfect for any wedding. Additionally, blush pink matches just about any accent color. Gold, silver, rose gold all look amazing next to blush pink which makes it easy for any decor designer! If you’re looking for a romantic color to base your wedding off of, look no further... blush is your answer. 

For more 2018 trends, including dress and altar trends, click here: https://junebugweddings.com/wedding-blog/2018-wedding-trends-youll-want-to-use-for-your-big-day/.

As always, happy planning!

With love, 

Bianca

Photo Credit: Layers Photo, Elizabeth Messina, Liz Banfield, and Larissa Cleveland 

[thegregorybruce]

Pallet Wood Yard Dominoes + Printable Scorecard and Game Instructions

It’s finally warming up here in Utah, so we are dreaming of sun and family vacations and playing games outside in our beautiful yard. Awhile back we made a YARDZEE yard dice set that we’ve really enjoyed (and it makes a great easy gift idea, too!) and today we’re adding to our favorite yard games list with these DIY yard dominoes. These would be a great indoor game as well, and dominoes are a great tool to keep your kids mental math skills sharp over the summer break (and, if you’re like me, your own mental math skills, too!)

So for this month’s partnership with Canon, we have a free printable domino scorecard and easy domino game instructions for the whole family

plus, in true can’t-have-it-just-one-way Remodelaholic style, we’re showing you how to make your own yard dominoes in THREE different ways: using pallet wood and a drill bit, using inexpensive 1x4s and paint, or by using 1x4s and our favorite print mounting technique (which we first showed you here with these beautiful feather prints). And for a bonus #4, you could print the domino templates below on a heavy cardstock or or go-to Canon matte photo paper and play that way — I think that would be a great option for using jumbo dominoes in a classroom setting for math games!

How to Make DIY Yard Dominoes – 3 Ways!

This post contains affiliate links; learn more here. 

For any of the methods, click here to download the free domino printable scorecard, game rules, and templates. The Canon iP8720 prints both letter sized pages AND up to 13″ x 19″ pages, too — a major bonus for large prints like these or a wall calendar like this.

The free domino printable set has 24 pages: 2 pages of scorecard and game play instruction and rules, which are easily printed on cardstock or matte photo paper and slipped into a plastic page protector; 2 pages of printable templates for both a smaller 1×4 size domino and a larger 1×6 pallet slat domino, 1 page of miniature domino templates for your reference in DIYing (or for printing for a classroom set), and 19 pages of 3.5″ oversized dominoes for printing and mounting on cut boards. The template pages that you’ll need to print will depend on your DIY domino method, so keep reading for those details, and happy DIYing!

Option 1: Mounting Printable Dominoes on Boards

For a full set of 55 double-nine dominoes, you’ll need 4 – 1″x4″ boards, cut into 6.75″ pieces. With careful cuts, you can get 14 dominoes from each board, so you’ll have 56 total pieces — one to spare! The most efficient way to cut all the pieces will be to set up a stop and cut the boards using a miter saw.

Once you have your boards cut, sand any rough edges, and then grab your spray adhesive and a sanding block, and follow the tutorial here (also included in the video above) for mounting each domino print on to one piece of board. Print the large domino set (pages 6-24 of the printable domino set) on a thicker paper like cardstock or matte photo paper to give it some durability. (This set of dominoes will not be weatherproof, so be sure to play and store them safely away from the elements.)

Option 2: Painted Yard Dominoes Using a Printed Double-Nine Domino Template

Again, for the full set of 55 double-nine dominoes, you’ll need  4 – 1″x4″ boards, cut into 6.75″ pieces (using a miter saw and a stop), and that will give you one spare domino piece.

Sand the yard domino blocks, and grab your paint and brush — I’d recommend a round foam stencil brush like this. Then print the double-nine domino template (page 3 of the printable domino set) on thick paper such as heavy cardstock, chipboard, or matte photo paper. Use an X-acto knife to carefully cut out each circle in the template, and then stencil your dominoes following the patterns on page 5 for reference. You can stain or seal over the paint, if you’d like.

Option 3: Reclaimed Wood Pallet Yard Dominoes + Storage Box

Last but not least, the fabulous Krista had a bunch of leftover pallet pieces from the pallet wood tray and centerpiece that she built, so she cut them up to make this set of colorful yard dominoes with a bonus storage box! In addition to being larger than the 1×4 dominoes above, Krista also gave the face of her dominoes dimension using a drill bit and a router, so they look and feel more like traditional dominoes — just jumbo sized!

This set will make a set of double six dominoes, and and storage box to keep them from spreading everywhere! If you decide you’d like to make the full double-nine set, you’ll need to build 2 boxes or double the size of the box. This box is easily adapted to fit the smaller sized dominoes detailed above, too. Krista measured and made her own wood template to drill the domino dots, but we’ve made it even easier for you by including a 5.5″ sized template in the domino printable set (page 4).

Here’s Krista with the details to build your own pallet wood yard dominoes!

Cut List:

For the dominoes:

30 @ 11 x 5 1/2″

For the storage box:

2 @ 13 1/2″ x 5 1/2″

2 @ 11 x 5 1/2″

2 @ 12 1/4″ x 5 1/2″

1 @ 9 3/4″ x 5 1/2″

Supplies and Tools

Biscuit joiner and Size 0 biscuits

Miter saw

Router

Drill

Palm Sander

Paint

Making the Pallet Wood Dominoes

Step 1: Route the center domino line (called the bar)

I used my router and a 3/8″ round router bit for the center line on the dominoes. I set a fence @ 5 1/2″ from the center of the bit, and went to town! Route all 30 11″ pieces

  Step 2: Create the domino dot template

Download the template here and trace it onto your template piece, or you can follow Krista’s directions to calculate your own placement.

Draw a grid on one end of the domino. Marking a center line and a line 1″ from both sides.

Turn the domino, and mark 1″ from the end, the center, and 1″ from the middle of the routed channel.

Then using a 3/4″ drill bit drill at each cross point. I found it was easier for the bit to stay in place if I pre-drilled a 1/4″ hole first. See how the left side holes are wonky!

Step 3: Mark all the domino dots

Clamp your template to one domino. You can see I placed tape around the drill bit to mark the depth of the hole where I wanted it. If you have a drill press, this step is much easier!

You will need to make the following dominoes

Zeros: 0:1, 0:2, 0:3, 0:4, 0:5, 0:6

Ones: 1:1, 1:2, 1:3, 1:4, 1:5, 1:6

Twos: 2:2, 2:3, 2:4, 2:5, 2:6

Threes: 3:3, 3:4, 3:5, 3:6

Fours: 4:4, 4:5, 4:6

Fives: 5:5, 5:6

Sizes: 6:6

Step 4: Finishing

My holes were a little rough around the edges, so I sanded them a little to prevent slivers.

Then – gather some fun paint colors! These are left overs from a craft my kids did.

Then paint all the ones one color, twos another, etc.

You can spray them with polyurethane to make them water proof, or just go play and have fun!

Making the Yard Dominoes Storage Box

Step 1

Using biscuit joiner cut biscuit slots as follows (you can use pocket hole screws instead)

Two on the inside of each of the 13 1/2″  pieces

One on each end of the 11″ pieces

One on each narrow end of the 12 1/4″ pieces and one in the center as shown.

One on each narrow end of the 9 3/4″ piece

  Step 2

Glue and clamp the 2 13 1/2″ pieces together.

Step 3

Join one 12 1/4″ piece to one 11″ piece with a bead of glue on the joint and biscuits (or pocket hole screws)

Step 4

Attach other 11″ piece.

Step 5

Attach the 9 3/4″ piece

Step 6

Attach the final 12 1/4″ piece. If using biscuit joint you will need to gently pry the ends to get everything to fit together.

I like to do these steps quickly so the glue hasn’t dried and the pieces will still move.

Step 7

Place pieces from Step 1 on the bottom of box, and using a brad nail gun and glue. Run a bead of glue around the bottom of the assembled pieces, and nail into place.

Sand and finish as you please! Paint, stain or plain!

Just print the scorecard above and you’re set for hours of family fun!

Be sure to pin and share this with your friends, too!

We are so happy to be partnering with Canon to show you fun and easy print-at-home projects.  Printables make life easier, so please check out our printable library and pin and share your favorites. 

DIY Yardzee Yard Dice + Printable Scorecard

Free Printable Cleaning Binder + Cover + Recipes

Printable Infographic Birthday Poster

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My 16 Favorite Fat Sources (Plus My Latest Big-Ass Salad)

Going ketogenic has made me hone in on my fat sources even more than before. This is an essential practice for anyone seriously pursuing a ketogenic diet. As fat will comprise the majority of your calories, you need to maximize the nutrition you’ll obtain from the fats you choose. You could technically go keto using canola oil, refined coconut oil, and MCT oil powder—many of the ketogenic formulas used in epilepsy clinics are highly processed and refined—but I wouldn’t recommend it. Micronutrients still matter. They arguably matter even more when your food sources are restricted.

I try to get whole food fats. If the fat is isolated and extracted, I try to make sure it’s rich in micronutrients. If it’s low in micronutrients, I make sure I have a good reason to consume it.

There are many reasons. Some rooted more in nutrition, some more in pleasure, some convenience.

So what are my favorite fat sources? How do I use them? What do I find so appealing?

Extra Virgin Olive Oil

From the historical precedent (1000s of years of heavy use in the Mediterranean and Levant), the clinical support (hundreds of trials showing beneficial effects), and the light peppery finish, it’s difficult for anyone to deny the beauty and enduring utility of a good bottle of extra virgin olive oil. I’ll. Even though EVOO is quite robust in the face of high heat, I still prefer using it in certain dressings and for lightly grilling fish, just to preserve the delicate flavor.

Go to a farmer’s market and buy the local olive oil that tastes best to you. Absent that, the EVOOs from California are usually quite good (and real).

Extra Virgin Avocado Oil

I rifled through dozens of avocado producers to find the perfect source of extra virgin avocado oil so that I could sell the best product, sure, but also because I wanted the best for myself. That’s ultimately how I come up with any of my projects and businesses—to scratch my own itches. It seems to be working, because I haven’t had a tastier oil that asserts itself without losing its capacity to work with other foods. EVOO doesn’t work with everything. EVAO, in my experience, does.

This one’s quite good. And all our Primal Kitchen dressings are made with avocado oil.

Coconut Milk in Smoothies and Curries

In powder form, coconut milk creates the creamiest, smoothest protein (whether whey or collagen) powder I’ve ever tasted, which is why I added it to Primal Fuel and Collagen Fuel. Plus, it’s a great source of medium chain triglycerides, special fatty acids that convert directly into ketones.

The fact that it’s a traditional fat used by many successful Pacific Islander cultures, sometimes in copious amounts, without any indication of poor health consequences is another mark in its favor.

I like Aroy-D in the small cartons.

Egg Yolks

Gram for gram, egg yolks are the most nutrient-dense fat around. And they’re not just something you scramble. They’re legitimate culinary fats. No, you won’t sauté your veggies in egg yolk. That wouldn’t work. Egg yolks can provide the backbone of a salad dressing, like classic Caesar or one of my personal favorites (yolks, sesame oil, minced garlic, lemon juice, kosher salt, pepper, and a little avocado oil to round it out). You can drop them whole into sauces right after you turn off the heat to thicken. They blend well into smoothies and hot coffee.

Go for local pastured eggs if you can get them. If not, many grocery stores are starting to offer very good pastured eggs, and not just the health food stores. Vital Farms pastured eggs are very good and available pretty much everywhere, like Target and major grocery stores.

Emmental Cheese

Maybe next year it’s aged gouda. And the year after that, pecorino romano. but right now, I’m really digging Emmental cheese. If you haven’t had it, Emmental is a medium-hard Swiss-style cheese. It’s not intense like an aged gouda. It’s nutty and mild, so you have to really listen to the flavors to extract the most pleasure.

True Emmental comes from raw, grass-fed cow milk. Look for that kind.

It’s also my current favorite on my latest version of my Big-Ass (Keto) Salad. Emmental, along with avocado and avocado oil-based Caesar dressing, is in part what makes me call it my “fat bomb” salad. As most of you know, my Big Ass Salad has always been the centerpiece to my day, but it’s even more important now. It’s become a crucial vehicle for the delivery of my daily fat intake during my keto stretches. If you haven’t already, go check out my new and improved Big-Ass Keto Salad. Try it, and let me know what you think.

Avocado

Slice it, smash it, spread it, Jeb it, even grill it. Avocado is the greatest. Even though I have ample access to all the avocado oil and avocado oil-based mayos and dressings I want, I still return to the humble avocado. Maybe it’s because I like the fiber and potassium. Maybe it’s because I like reducing the inflammatory load of my meals.

California hass all the way.

Grass-Fed Butter

These days, I mostly use grass-fed butter on any steamed veggie that enters my mouth. Broccoli, spinach, kale, cauliflower, and dozens more. I’ll also dip shrimp in melted butter.

Kerrygold is a stalwart and available almost everywhere.

Bacon Fat for Sautéing Veggies and Frying Eggs

Man can’t live on bacon alone. It’s just not feasible or advisable to obtain the bulk of your calories from bacon strips. But if you keep some bacon fat around for sautéing veggies and frying eggs, you’ll always have that hint of bacon. Now, some caveats. I cook my bacon slow over low heat, which reduces oxidative damage to the fats. My bacon comes from pigs fed oats and barley, which creates a more oxidatively-stable fatty acid profile (higher in MUFAs, lower in PUFAs) and imbues the fat with more actual antioxidants. Don’t know what the pigs ate? The harder/firmer the raw bacon, the more saturated/monounsaturated/stable it’ll be.

Aim for pastured and/or firm bacon.

Ghee

I err on the side of tradition, usually. And if I’m making an Indian curry or sautéing some okra with mustard seed, turmeric, and ginger, I stick with ghee. That’s what these recipes were “meant” to include, and it tastes great. Ghee’s also a good option for high heat searing, since the proteins and lactose (which burn) have been completely removed.

I love the brown butter ghee from Tin Star.

Red Palm Oil

If I’m eating starch, I’ll often turn to red palm oil. A couple of red potatoes, baked, smashed (skin on), then doused with red palm oil, sprinkled with crunchy salt and a ton of cracked black pepper? Almost no one in the history of the world has eaten this, let alone eats this on a regular basis, but it’s really good. It’s also quite good on butternut squash (less starchy than potatoes) with turmeric, salt, and black pepper. (Both versions are strictly for my non-keto days.)  

As for African dishes, I’m far from an expert. What seems to work is sautéing garlic, onions, tomatoes, and ginger in red palm oil, then adding some protein (chicken or fish, usually), and stirring in a nut butter and perhaps some hot pepper toward the end.

Best stuff I’ve had came from a random West African market, sold in mason jars marked only with the country of origin. The redder the better. Good to look for sustainable sourcing, too. If you don’t have any of those nearby, this one’s good too.

Mac Nut Butter

I’ll eat other nuts, like Brazils (selenium) and almonds (magnesium), but I don’t consider them to be fat sources. They’re certainly rich in fat. They just have other macronutrients, too. Mac nuts are basically pure fat. Mac nut butter, if it comes from really good mac nuts (and there can be some duds), is so sweet and buttery that I consider a spoonful of it a worthy dessert.

I usually grind my own in the food processor.

Coconut Butter

Talk about dessert. A big spoonful of coconut butter provides a whopping dose of medium chain triglycerides and other saturated fats, plus fiber and manganese. I vastly prefer using a blend of coconut butter and bone broth to plain coconut milk when making curries. And that spoonful will really take the edge off while allowing you to remain ketogenic.

Artisana’s is the best I’ve had.

Tahini

Hummus shmummus. I like hummus. I really do, especially given my updated stance on legumes. But for the time being I’m strictly keto, and I can’t really eat more than a tablespoon of hummus and hope to maintain. Luckily, tahini—the sesame paste that’s integral to good hummus—is great on a spoon. If you get a good source, it’s actually quite sweet and, again, qualifies as a keto dessert. Tahini also works well in salad dressings.

MCT Oil

Sometimes coconut fat isn’t enough. Sometimes I want a more concentrated source of medium chain triglycerides to boost ketone production, like before a workout. These days, myfavorite pre-workout meal is a Collagen Fuel smoothie with extra MCT oil. The collagen fills my glycine reserves in preparation for connective tissue loading and healing, and the MCTs provide a bit more oomph.

I keep both powdered MCT oil and liquid on hand.

Whipped Cream with Mascarpone Cheese (and Lime Zest) on Berries for Dessert

The beauty of being fat-adapted is that you realize “sweet” is relative. The minuscule amounts of lactose in whipped cream and mascarpone are plenty sweet enough, especially combined with a bowl of ripe blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries. If it’s not, you can add a pinch or two of sugar (or brown sugar, or honey, or even just stevia) to increase the sweetness without incurring too many carbs.

Throw the cream and mascarpone in a metal bowl using a 2:1 cream to mascarpone ratio and whip it up using an electric beater. And don’t forget the lime zest.

Steamed Heavy Cream in Coffee

What can I say? I’ve tried doing coffee black. If it’s a lighter roast, I can do it. But I still prefer steamed heavy cream in my coffee, and I’m done feeling bad about that. Sorry, barista in a bowtie. Now, you don’t need much. If you’re trying to increase fat intake, you can add more. If you just like the taste, I find a splash or two (as opposed to a glug or two) is plenty.

I grab something organic from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s.

That’s it for today, folks. Those are my favorite fat sources, as of right now. The list might change. It’ll probably grow; I don’t think I’ll suddenly tire of heavy cream or become convinced that coconut fat is killing us all.

What about you? What are your favorite fats? How do you eat them?

Thanks for reading. Take care, be well!