#Not to be silly but the thought of either of us picking up the wavelength and running with it is fun to me haha ��

[sysig]

Time Loops are they/them culture (Patreon)

Bonus of my little guy in ISaT style:

[mazeinthemiroh]

i was wondering if you could write a skz 9th member head cannons?

stray kids with the 9th member

genre: headcanons; general, reader is the 9th member

word count: 1k

warnings: cursing

please like and reblog if you enjoy :D

bangchan

collaborators

you're a power duo

you and chan have an amazing bond together. you both are on the same wavelength with regard to producing and can adapt well to each other's ideas and speculations for different concepts

you bounce off each other well and articulate your plans for the group efficiently

communication between the pair of you is top-notch, tbh

while you guys have both similar and different music tastes, it proves to be beneficial that way because the variety is there and you can adhere to a wider audience

helping each other to be open-minded, so you definitely are useful to each other in that way

definitely a sub-unit that fans heavily anticipate with every upcoming album

lee know

partners in crime

well minho is a bad influence

this comes as no surprise

you remember a time when you were innocent. a time when you were well-behaved and kept to yourself

ah, simpler times...

you get roped into a lot of his shenanigans and you can't even complain about it because you love it

just the silly little pranks you both do on the members to tick them off have developed into a bonding session for you and him

i feel bad for the younger members because they are usually the victims of these said pranks...

and then the other members just scold the both of you

never really acts as a deterrent though. it's probably more of a motive, to be completely honest

changbin

motivators

changbin never allows you to get low beyond no return

in other words, he's always there to pick you back up when you're in a slump

and you're so grateful to him for the role he takes on in your life

there are times were the job can be hard. very hard. so hard that it can be hard to bare

rising to fame can mean both good and bad things

more exposure to different people can mean more opportunities for haters to strike. and you knew that all too well

changbin never stopped uplifting you and neither did you to him. you knew better than to indulge the negative thoughts of others. if you did that, it was only going to be harder

both you and changbin not only encourage each other but also look out for the other members, supporting them when needed

hyunjin

competitors

you both bring out each other competitive side

like hyunjin, you specialise in dancing. not only that, but you have a very similar style to his own

which at first caused a bit of tension

resulting in you both practising your asses off and working harder to outdo each other

and, in effect, you both become two of the most talented dancers in the industry

your dance battles are legendary

but, more importantly, you both come to an understanding fairly soon after debuting

any dance covers you do together are seriously some of the best pieces of work you both have produced

so you thank each other for being so equally passionate and working harder together

han

siblings

you both act like you're related

people can't believe that you're not

you guys laugh like siblings. have the same jokes as siblings. certainly, fight like you're siblings

the arguments are fierce and can get personal very quickly

but you both come back around eventually. you both love each other too well than to just give up

and it's usually all fun and games regardless of any arguments you may have had

inside jokes galore

you both know a lot more about each other than you let on

han's able to recite your fast food order as if he had been practising

but it's purely due to how much you hang out together. you still find it endearing either way

felix

comforters

it's a natural gift of felix's to be a source of comfort

he has a big heart and is ready to give all the love to those closest to him

he's a beacon of kindness and reassurance

so when you seek this type of consolation out, you turn to him

he, in turn, does the same with you

he gravitates towards you when he is feeling down because you have helped him through some problems in the past. he looks up to you, knowing you have a lot of sound advice and words of wisdom

but even if he's not seeking advice, he just goes to you anyway

because you're always there for him to provide a listening ear and a big hug if he needs it

seungmin

best friends

seungmin is your safe place

out of all the members in your group, he is the one you trust the most

similar age, similar outlook on life, similar approach to people; you both make a great pair

you'll spend the most time with him outside of work

he relies on you the most, although he will never admit it out loud

mutual affection for each other - you both are very observant. he, for one, can tell when your mood has dropped. as well as this, he knows what to do when you feel low

helpful to each other

will stay together during social events because neither of you really wants to speak to anyone else unless it's necessary

jeongin

admirers

you've always had a soft spot for innie

you don't know whether it's because he's the youngest and you view him like a little brother or whether it's due to his endearing personality

either way, you love him to bits

constantly praising how much he has improved

it's like you've watched him grow up into the awesome man he is today. the progress he has made is amazing

and he reciprocates that praise to you

you both admire each other's talents and skills in your selected area

your always eager to work on a new project or song together because you both seem to extract mutual inspiration from each other

[dyke-quixote]

normal anon with the SPOOKY SCARY NSFW thoughts that arose while trying to be normal about little sancho. this vampire has changed my brain structure i swear to god.

i acidentally discovered another kink of mine because i actively come up with more thoughts as i write these. theres lactation im so sorry. <- knows you keep saying we’re on the same wavelength but like. anxiety y’know?? 👍

Sancho not putting the crib’s bars down even if she wants to try to make it to the potty, which is moved into her room at night even tho theres no way for her to reach it. Bonus points if Don Quixote and/or Bari intentionally made sure she drank before bed so she would need to go potty. Warm milk makes her very agreeable because it makes her feel fuzzy but it hits her bladder much harder than anything else for some reason (I INITIALLY WROTE WATER THERE LMAOOO GIRLS NOT DRINKING WATER WHAT AM I ON).

So she’s trapped in the crib, staring at the potty, tears in her eyes just a little bit because she’s trying to hold so badly!!! its right there!! she just needs to wait however long it’ll be for Papa to wake up and come get her and then she can use the potty like a big girl! (She doesn’t make it.)

Combine with secret baby monitor plushies to hearts content but. I really really like omo where less embarrassing relief was just mere seconds away and if she had JUST held on a little bit longer…! because it SEEMS random when Don Quixote enters her room but in reality he was paying attention through the baby monitor. He shows up right after she wets her pull-up and she starts crying and hes like “shhh shhh its ok babies like you normally can’t hold it” and GAH. it makes her head feel fuzzy but…

and oh. oh god. what if they ask her what fixer she wants on her pull-up when they change her. and she has to choose between her favorite fixer (cool! and epic!) knowing that the design will go away (sad :c) when she pees, or picking a fixer she doesn’t like as much (they’re all her favorites she just has less favorites or something idk) because she knows shes gonna use it sooner or later.

combine wearing favorite fixer pull-up to bed + fake near-salvation and you might get Sancho to full on ugly cry. she was so close and now the red m/ist design has faded because she couldn’t hold herself for just a couple seconds more!!! and her papa is so nice and comforting.

why am i censoring fixer names but not the actual characters. whatever. go my anxiety. /silly

bonus fluffy/more sfw thoughts that arose just now: Bari keeping an eye on Sancho even while she’s out exploring because both plushies have a baby monitor. Don Quixote plushie stand in is monitored by Don Quixote, Bari plushie stand in is monitored by Bari. So while Bari is away, she keeps an eye on little Sancho through the plushie.

if Sancho ever finds out about the baby monitor in the plushie, if she’s ever feeling little when Bari isn’t there and she’s missing Bari, she carries it around even if it means people will see it because lil baby misses her.

those two way radio monitor thingies. y’know what i mean right? either way. Sancho struggling to sleep, Don Quixote doesn’t know what to do, so Bari begins to tell a bedtime story. Don Quixote sleeps better when Bari tells bedtime stories too but idk. i just like this trio. you have changed my brain chemicals (<- used to not be a fan of Doncho but ITS GROWN ON ME BECAUSE OF YOU /GEN /POS)

alright no more fluff /silly

(lactation stuff starts here)

transfem Don Quixote on hormones and he ends up lactating. Don Quixote being like “oh! interesting :3 why are my boobs leaking liquids” and Bari being like “oh yeah thats lactation” (I can be mean to Bari too because here she has to explain to Don Quixote and Sancho the purpose of lactation and Don Quixote asks if Bari is capable of lactating and now. Now that idea is stuck in both Sancho AND Bari’s heads and. yeah.)

but Bari explaining lactation is so that a parent can feed their baby. Don Quixote looks at Sancho and cue the ingenious idea exchange. he doesn’t press her on it but the next time she sits on his lap (cause you KNOW that any time her papa is sitting down Sancho near MATERIALIZES next to him to sit on his lap. even in the universe where he tells her to leave him alone she’s still chronically puppydog.*) he takes out a boob and she fusses but eventually gives in and. holy fuck it has the effects of BOTH A HUMAN DRINK AND A BODY FLUID (ie - emotional satiation, even tho when little just being sweet and cute w/ her is really quite filling, the sheer LOVE from her papa’s milk?? but it also hits her bladder like a truck. whoops! sucks too bc afaik it hurts if you have a build up of breast milk and the best way is to either feed or pump it but i think we both know that if he’s going to pump the milk its still going into Sancho’s tummy + bladder. just instead of from the boob its from the bottle.)

Sancho + Bari’s solo adventure (IDK WHAT ELSE TO CALL IT ;A;). Early on Sancho’s little and sitting on Bari’s lap and she’s not quite aware of what she’s doing. Goes to knead Bari’s breast bc she eventually started doing that with Don Quixote to get more milk. Bari having to chuckle nervously because she wasn’t lactating at that point. Sometime later after they stop by some village or something, and Bari picks up some sort of lactation inducer so she can breastfeed Sancho if thats really what she wants. And embarrassingly for Sancho it is what she wants. She’s hit with a totally different set of emotions and love than when she breastfed from Papa and Bari’s milk is somehow so much different and so much the same (and she cries the first time because it reminds her of papa.). maybe she can taste some of the love Bari has for her Papa and that makes her both happy and sad.

(lactation stuff ends here)

* and AUGH DID YOU KNOW. DID YOU KNOW THAT MANAGER OF LA MANCHALAND SANCHO STILL REGRESSES IN MY HEART OF HEARTS. I’M NOT GOING INTO THAT HERE BECAUSE THIS IS PRIME EMBARRASS SANCHO HOURS.

if all heathcliffs must die, then all sanchos must piss their pants and be puppy dog *nods sagely* -v- /silly (shes not puppy dog in like a petplay way (unless? /half joking) but this girl follows Don Quixote around like a dog to the point that its LITERALLY IN THE CANTO SONG girl is SO puppy dog.)

As I was writing the more SFW ask I suddenly got hit with the idea of Dulcinea being jealous of Sancho and the care shes getting from their Father and. Dulcinea does NOT know how to handle the fact shes envious of the girl who pisses herself and isn’t potty trained anymore.

Perhaps going to Nicolina and asking for her to make like. a cloth diaper. tries to phrase it in a way where its not obvious what she’s doing. nicolina goes “Oh so a diaper? ^-^”. Dulcinea about dies on the spot. not up to date on lamanchaland lore and upties but i hc nicolina as like. actively running a store in la manchaland where sometimes kindred show up and are like “hey can i get like. a shirt.” nicolina doesnt ask questions she just makes you your shirt. maybe she throws in a fucked up tie dye. But Dulcinea is SO fucking glad that there was no one else when nicolina just chirps “ah, ok! you want me to make you a diaper? i can do that but I will need measurements.”

something about that power dynamic reversal is actually so. so fucking good. im sorry i know im the one who wrote it but when i write the words come out of my fingers and not my brain. idk how to explain that better LOL

HI HELLO HI. i read quixote on estrogen lactation and got lightheaded. this is literally so good i love this so much im going to cry.

everything about the crib and the plushies and the training potty and bari and quixote is so cute i love it so much i love them and i am HONORED that i have made you endeared to them......

i will NEVER stop thinking of quixote and bari breastfeeding little sancho now that will live in my head forever its so cute...... bari buying something just so she can try and help because sancho was such an emotional mess during the solo adventure wahhh i love them....

also you are SO RIGHT about puppy sancho in every universe. she is SO PUPPY coded. before canto 7 i wrote exclusively puppyplay with don and didnt get into the agere until after canto 7 and now she is so both. (MANAGER SANCHO SO DOES REGRESS YOU ARE RIGHT)

also MAN i always think of Nicolina being a little but the idea of Dulcinea being interested and the swap in dynamics is SO GOOD. ive thought about little Dulcinea before where she likes tea parties and dressing up her Kindred and Quixote but she HATES regressing around Sancho so she tends to suppress it. (also also i ALSO had the headcanon that Nicolina had a store so this is canon to me...)

[lire-casander]

tienes mi voz, tienes mis versos (no somos perfectos)

[3,090 words] [teen and up audiences] [beta’ed by @meloingly] [title from moriré en el intento by antonio orozco. the title roughly translates into you have my voice, you have my verses (we are not perfect)]  [carlos reyes, tk strand, paul strickland, mateo chavez] [angst, mentions of a fight, blanket theft, making up, fluff, love languages] [written for the @tarlos-valentine Tarlos Corazonados Weekend 2021, day #1: “babe, please, sharing is caring” + blanket hogging + favorite outfit] [love languages used: physical touch + receiving gifts] 

[he knows they need to talk, he knows they need to make this right]

tienes mi voz, tienes mis versos (no somos perfectos)

The envelope is glaring at Carlos from its spot on the kitchen counter where he’s dropped it as though it burns, after he’s signed the paper the postman has forced upon him in order to receive this registered letter.

He knows he should call TK — he knows he should interrupt his scheduled shift and barge into the station brandishing the letter like a sword. Or a shield. It should have been them against the world, but they’re currently in a situation that prevents Carlos from even picking up his phone and calling TK, because he knows TK won’t pick up.

He’s fucked up. Again.

It had all started with a small, petty fight. Carlos doesn’t want to remember how they went from eating a rushed breakfast before their shifts to the yelling that ensued — he just knows it's been half a week, and they haven't been on speaking terms ever since. And Carlos is aware that most of it is on him — heʼs to blame for the silence that stretched after the yelling, for the slamming door in his wake, for not picking up the phone and for driving TK away from him.

It's been a pattern these past months ever since they started this process; the rollercoaster of emotions usually catches them together, on the same wavelength, but not this time. This time Carlos had to go and be stupid about something as silly as TK hogging the blanket at night. So yeah, maybe he remembers why it all started. So sue him. He still doesn’t want to reminisce about it.

He just wants TK to talk to him again.

But that seems to be an impossible feat right now, because TK is currently in the middle of a forty-eight-hour shift and Carlos has just begun the first of his three days off work.

He wanders through their apartment aimlessly, moving from the couch to the fridge without opening it, only to climb up the stairs and stop dead in his tracks right before entering their bedroom. Carlos sighs when he finds himself one step away from the bed for the fourth time in a single morning; it's evident that heʼs mourning something he isn’t even sure is dead. He needs to talk to TK.

He needs to set things right.

He makes a decision in a split second, grabbing his wallet and his keys, and pocketing them as he walks out of the building. The ride to the station is short, but Carlos can't help dreading arriving at his destination. There’s not much he remembers about the reasons why they were fighting, but there’s just one thing he canʼt shake off — TK has gone on shift without saying I love you, without Carlos making sure TK knows he has a home to come back to, a beacon in the night in case things go south at work.

Carlos knows that everything can change in a second, and he doesn’t want to waste another moment. This is why they never go to bed angry at each other; maybe they should create a new habit of never parting ways without having cleared the air between them, if either one or both of them are starting a shift. They're both first responders — there’s a high chance one day they wonʼt make it back home.

He parks the Camaro outside the station but he doesn’t get out of the car. He needs time to think, time to organize his thoughts and carefully choose his words. Then he goes back to the fight from earlier in the week, he begins to remember clearly that he was being grumpy about TK hogging the blankets on the bed during the night. Heʼd thought he was being polite but his words had come out all wrong and TK had been upset and somehow they had started shouting things neither of them truly believed.

Or at least Carlos hopes TK doesn’t. It would break his heart if he did.

“Carlos?” he hears, followed by tapping on the window. When he looks up, he can see Paulʼs concerned eyes looking down at him. Carlos rolls down the window. “You okay, man?”

He wants to tell Paul that heʼs peachy, but when Carlos takes a second, longer look at Paul, he can tell that Paul might already know, if his sympathetic smile is anything to go by. Carlos doesn’t know what he was thinking, coming here and trying to play it cool after talking himself into walking inside — of all the people the universe could send to him in his moment, it had to be Paul Strickland, observant extraordinaire.

“I don’t know,” Carlos replies.

“Well, your man isn’t any better,” Paul points out. “Same nervous energy, same bags under his eyes. You know, if I didn’t know you two, I would think youʼd have kept each other up all night.”

“And how do you know that's not the case?” Carlos doesn’t know where this sassiness is coming from, but he's also conscious that he isn’t fooling Paul.

“For once, TK and I have been together for twenty-four hours now in this shift, Reyes. Not a chance I’d have missed him sneaking out to get some,” Paul replies, arching one eyebrow as though daring Carlos to deny it. “And then, I can assure you, after all this time, I think I can distinguish TKʼs nervous energy from his Iʼve gotten laid energy,” he finishes crudely, air quotes in place. When Carlos doesn’t say anything, Paul sighs. “Are you getting in to talk to him? Judd's so close to throwing him out a window next call.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Without waiting for Paulʼs answer, Carlos maneuvers to open the door and steps outside, under the inquisitive gaze of his friend.

“Heʼs in the kitchen, probably terrorizing Mateo,” Paul guides him. “Tell the probie that I need him out here. I guess Marj and Judd would know better than to stay where they could get in the crossfire.”

“You know it's been literal years since Mateo stopped being the probie, right?” Paul simply stares at him, his eyebrow shooting up again in a dare, and Carlos chooses not to argue. “Iʼll tell him.”

“You must. The kid wouldn’t realize heʼs in a landmine even if a bomb exploded under his feet.”

Carlos chokes out a startled laugh. Paul pats his shoulder before leaning into the Camaro and crossing his arms. Carlos hesitates with his first step forward, but as he approaches the open space he feels more and more secure in his skin. He needs to talk to TK, he needs to apologize. And if Paul is right — and he’s usually right — TK isn’t in better shape than he is.

When he heads for the kitchen, he sees Marjan and Judd making their way out of the station hastily. Judd shakes his head in greeting, while Marjan squeezes his arm in passing. It’s a small gesture, but Carlos appreciates it anyway — it makes him feel like part of the family, like he matters to them.

Like he can fix this.

Carlos stops dead in his tracks a few steps before reaching his destination. TK is in the kitchen with Mateo, just as Paul said, leaning into a counter and actually terrorizing Mateo with a rant about — Carlos doesn’t need to strain his ears to actually hear it — bubble tea and the properties it holds in comparison to other kinds of tea.

“If you let him go on,” he interrupts, leaning into the closest counter. Mateo jumps a little upon hearing his voice, but TK simply stares ahead. Carlos doesn’t rule out the fact that TK might have sensed him coming in. “If you let him go on, you’ll be trapped here forever. And Paul needs you outside.”

“I—I should go. Now,” Mateo mumbles, rushing out of the kitchen. Owen is nowhere to be seen, as are Tommy, Nancy and Freddie, but even though they’re alone in the kitchen TK is stubbornly refusing to acknowledge him.

“TK,” he begins, hands moving on their own accord to touch TK’s arm on the counter. He stops his movement when he sees TK visibly flinching. He doesn’t want to be the reason why TK is afraid of touch anymore. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that.”

TK sighs. “You were right,” he mutters. “I do hog the blankets at night. I get cold, but that shouldn’t be an excuse.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos repeats. This time, when he moves his fingers, he reaches TK’s skin and squeezes his arm without TK moving away. “It was a horrible thing to shout at you.”

“You were just speaking your truth,” TK mumbles. Carlos takes step after step until he’s standing behind TK, his larger frame covering TK’s body, his hands resting next to TK’s on top of the counter. “It’s me who’s sorry.”

“You can’t really believe that me screaming at you because you hog the blankets is my truth, right?” Carlos speaks directly into TK’s ear. “I’ve known you for seven years now, Tyler Kennedy, I’m used to you stealing the blankets. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was stressed, I’m still stressed, but that’s no excuse.”

“What would you have said, instead?” TK twists in Carlos’ arms until they’re facing each other; Carlos can feel TK’s breath on his skin. “Babe, please, sharing is caring?”

“Most probably,” Carlos chuckles. He’s beginning to get drunk on TK’s scent, now that he can see his green eyes once again searching his soul. He allows his gaze to roam over TK, taking in every single detail of his appearance, until he realizes something. “Why aren’t you on your AFD uniform?” he asks.

TK’s wearing his grey hoodie, the one from all those nights back when they stared at the green-lit skies on top of his Camaro — the night it all started. His eyes widen as he faintly remembers the clothes he’s hastily put on before running out of their apartment.

He’s wearing the maroon polo shirt he’d been wearing back then, because he knows how much TK loves the way the color brightens up his eyes.

“I’m benched,” TK confesses. “Dad doesn’t want me out there while I’m unable to focus. And he’s right, I’ve been out of my mind ever since this shift started.”

Carlos nods. He knows exactly what TK means — he’s not been himself either.

“I left you without telling you how much I love you. I broke our promise,” TK mumbles. Carlos’ hands shoot up, drawing caressing patterns on TK’s arms.

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. I drove you away, remember? I yelled at you because you have cold feet at night and steal the blanket. Something that can be easily fixed if I bought another blanket for myself.”

“Or if I wore socks in bed,” TK suggests, resting his forehead against Carlos’ chest. And God, Carlos has missed this, this touch, this feeling of invincibility just because TK is staring right into his soul.

“Wearing socks in bed is sacrilege,” Carlos jokes. “Do you forgive me?”

TK giggles, the sound reverberating through Carlos’ body. “Is this your way of apologizing? I would have thought you’d be more thorough, Officer.”

“Not when we’re in public, Firefighter,” he jabs back. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that,” TK points out.

“You haven’t said if you forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you, you twit,” Tk says, swatting at him. “I’ve forgiven you the moment you stepped into the station. Probably way before that. But,” he adds, “I’ll only forgive you if you forgive me.”

“What for?” Carlos pushes TK away briefly, a frown marring his features. He doesn’t understand.

“Well, I’ve been stressed about this whole process. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, and I’ve been taking it out on you.”

“We’ve both been stressed. The interviews, the background checks, all that takes its toll,” Carlos tries to reason. They’ve been through this before, several times, from the moment they decided to embark in this adventure.

“But what if we don’t make it because of me?” TK says in despair. “What if they have a look at my file and decide that they won’t give us a chance because they won’t give a child to an addict who also has been arrested before?”

“There were no charges pressed against you, remember?” Carlos sighs. “And they’d be idiots not to give us that chance. And even if they are, it won’t be your fault. It’d be theirs. And if that ever happens, we’ll go somewhere else. We’ll start anew. We can do it.”

“We should have received a letter by now,” TK says with a creaking voice. “It surely means bad news, huh?”

“Actually,” Carlos starts, holding his breath when TK looks up at him. “A letter came in the post today. Had to sign the reception and all that jazz.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” TK says frantically. “Where is it? What does it say?”

“Hey, hey, take a breath, tiger,” Carlos tries to calm him, his fingers already cupping TK’s face lovingly, stroking the skin until he feels TK’s breathing slowing down. “I haven’t brought it with me. I want to open it with you, but I want to do it at home, together. We can wait until you’re back from your long shift.”

TK leans into Carlos’ touch. “Okay, that will be my reason to power through this hell. And now you should go,” he continues, looking over Carlos’ shoulder. “The whole crew is snooping.”

Carlos laughs. “Okay, I’ll leave. I have a couple of days off ahead of me and I should really, really catch up on some sleep.”

“Sleep for me, will you?” TK says playfully, lifting his hands to caress Caros’ cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Carlos whispers, pecking TK’s lips before the catcalls come.

He saunters out of the station with a new spring on his step. He’s just content that things have finally worked out between them — he just wishes he hadn’t been so stubborn not to come over the station sooner. He should have done it, but there’s no point in dwelling on the past now that they’re good again.

They will get through anything. Together.

He hops into his Camaro and starts it, mentally going through the groceries he will need to buy. He decides to stop at the store on his way back home, since he needs to restock their pantry.

When he pulls up next to their building, it’s almost three hours later. He jumps out, grabs the bags and balances them as he fishes his keys in his pocket. He frowns when he feels the ease with which he opens the door, as though the door had been unlocked. He enters the house with caution, not knowing what to expect, when he spots TK in the middle of the living room with his hands tucked into his hoodie pocket.

“TK?” Carlos asks, surprised. Soon his astonishment morphs into worry. “Are you hurt? That's why you're home so early?”

“No, nothing like that,” TK rushes to explain. “I, uhm. I was dismissed when Dad knew the letter had arrived. He literally told me he didn’t need me to be distracted on site. And to call him the moment we knew, bad news or good news. The rest of the fam wants in, as well.”

Carlos chuckles. “Let me leave this in the kitchen and I will be back here with you.” He does as he says, the bags falling askew on the counters, before he runs out of the room and into the living room.

Where there’s no sign of TK.

“Love?” he calls out. “Where are you?”

“The bedroom,” comes the muffled reply from upstairs.

“But the letter is—” Carlos trails off when he notices that the letter isn’t where he put it in the morning. The envelope is nowhere to be seen.

Carlos climbs the stairs, two steps at a time, and heʼs panting when he reaches their bedroom. He sticks his head through the open threshold, and the sight steals the rest of his breath.

TK is standing in the middle of the room, next to the bed, where Carlos can see what looks like a navy blue blanket. It seems fluffy and soft, and Carlos finds himself wishing he could touch it. But there’s more.

There’s a note on top of it, and he can spy the corner of the envelope with the letter he's been dreading to open on his own.

“How? When?” he manages to croak out. He’s walked into the room without even paying attention to his movement.

“I might have bought it the moment I stepped out after our fight,” TK confesses. “Several online stores deliver the same day to fire stations, so I was just waiting to apologize to you with it.”

Carlos smiles softly. He leans in, dropping a kiss on TKʼs already pursed lips. “Thank you.”

“There are other ways to say I love you, not just your touchy-feely method,” TK jokes.

“I don’t remember you complaining about my touchy-feely ways a couple of days ago.”

“Hush now,” TK mumbles, kissing Carlos back.

Carlos maneuvers them across the room until heʼs within armʼs reach of the blanket. There are words written in TKʼs messy scrawl on the note. Carlos feels his heart swelling with pride and so much love that it's almost unbearable.

“Sharing is caring,” he reads out loud on the note that's left on top of the fluffy blanket, before picking up the envelope that's beneath with shaky fingers.

“Are you ready to know?” TK says at his back, arms sneaking around his waist and pulling him in closer.

Carlos can only nod, overwhelmed by the love he is feeling right in this moment. He manages to tear the envelope open and extracts a piece of paper from the inside. “Dear Mr. and Mr. Strand-Reyes,” he begins reading before he breaks down in tears and falls on his knees on the floor, accompanied in the motion by TK, who's holding him tighter.

“Babe,” TK whispers into his hair, dropping a kiss on his hair, a suspicious wetness coloring his words. “We made it. Weʼre in.”

Carlos nods, turning in TKʼs arms until heʼs openly crying into his hoodie, the letter abandoned on the floor, although the words are engraved in his mind forever.

We are happy to inform you that you have been approved as prospective adopting parents by the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services.

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 2.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

The day has finally arrived.   Jimin opens the door for you and follows.   “You’re going to do great,” he reassures in a soft murmur.   “We’ll do great,” you correct and he grins.   The both of you enter the room and it’s a familiar scene. There are people pacing around the room, singing while making wild gestures, trying to round out their sound and warm up their throats. These beautiful people are getting into character, aiming for the main role of Cosette or Marius. It’s obvious that they went to salons to get makeovers, nails done, face full of makeup, clothing fresh from the laundromat.   But unlike the last audition, this time you have someone with you. You’re not so scared with Jimin by your side. And he’s close enough, avoiding being hit by the people theatrically swinging their arms, that his shoulder brushes with yours.   “Are these auditions really always this...extravagant?”   “It’s all for show,” you tell him, reminded of the stranger’s words from last time. “Don’t be intimidated.”   He hums and nods while the pair of you take a seat. “Should we intimidate them then?”   You burst out laughing. “How would we do that?”   “We’ll dance.”   You giggle even louder and he gazes at you with his own smile. “I’m pretty sure security would escort me off the premise for scaring everyone.”   “You’re not that bad,” Jimin emphasizes. “But I’m kidding. All you have to do to intimidate others is start singing. You’ll blow them all out of the water so fast, they’ll leave without even trying.”   Usually, you’d get flustered from his praise. Maybe you’d even feel greasy from the way he butters you up so excessively, but at this moment when the nerves are beginning to ebb at your mind, you appreciate it.   Jimin’s your personal cheerleader.   “What do you want to do after?” he suddenly asks, pulling your thoughts away on how your palms are getting clammy and tearing your eyes away from the beautiful girl across the room who’s gracefully flipping through a script.   “What do you mean?”   “For dinner, silly.” Jimin’s eyes light up, crinkling when he smiles. “What do you want to eat?”   “I’m fine with anything.”   “Oh c’mon.” He nudges you gently. “You gotta have a better opinion than that. If we do well during the audition, then it can be a celebratory dinner. And if we do badly, then it’ll be like comfort food.”   Another laugh comes spilling out. “How about fried chicken then?”   Jimin snaps his fingers. “You read my mind. We’re always on the same wavelength, aren’t we? But whose apartment are we going to tonight?”   Neither of you want to leave a mess or the smell of greasy chicken wings to linger in your home to haunt you for breakfast. So an intense game of rock-paper-scissors begins — one where you lose and Jimin’s throwing his arms up into the air doing childish fist pumps before he throws his arms over you and gives a triumphant hug. Jimin rubs his victory in your face, making you laugh while being smothered by his affection. You don’t notice some of the stares in the room.    Jimin continues talking about nonsense that doesn’t matter, keeping you from thinking too hard and getting nervous. He’s doing it on purpose to distract you and knowing so puts you even more at ease.   But you’re on your own when he gets called in first.   “Good luck, okay?”   You clasp his hand, squeezing. He smiles softly and nods. Jimin stands, fingers still tightly on yours until he has to let go. You watch his backside and the door closes.   You hope he does well — he’s practiced and prepared lots, and even wanted you to choose his song for him. He said it would make it more meaningful, so you picked the song ‘We Kiss in the Shadow’ from The King and I, another Broadway show you once watched when you were young.   It was perfect for him, and you memorized the lyrics as well.   Trying to keep your composure, you shut your eyes, tapping your finger against your bag. You envision Jimin inside the room, in the center of the space with faceless judges, singing.   You murmur with him. “We kiss in a shadow, we hide from the moon. Our meetings are few and over too soon.” He’ll be just fine. You believe in him, his gift, his personality, his likability. “We speak in a whisper, afraid to be heard. When people are near, we speak not a word.”   You’re humming to yourself and soon enough, after ten full minutes, the door opens again.   You stand, coming to grab his hands and search his expression. “How’d you do?”   “Fine.” Jimin smiles, and suddenly your own name gets called on the list.   The timing is poor.   It’s too sudden. You haven’t even asked him on the details of his audition. You’re unprepared, disoriented. But Jimin helps you grab your belongings and he fixes the collar of your shirt, then urges you forward with a grin. “You can do it.”   You nod, taking a deep breath and following after the lady.   It’s like last time — exhausted faces lazily watching you, their pupils flickering while their bodies are slumped in their uncomfortable chair like they’ve been encased in ice. But it’s fewer people than last time. There are two producers, a music director, a casting director, and a writer.   You approach the group of them with another deep breath, handing out your application package of headshots and resumes.   “Hello, my name is Y/N L/N.” You stand on the tape that’s been put in the center of the room, and you offer your best smile.   “Hello Y/N,” the lady off the left of the table says as she lances at your application. “Today, you’re auditioning for…?”   “The role of a factory girl, so part of the female ensemble.”   “Alright then.” She jots something down. “Can you tell us anything about your experiences? It doesn’t have to be on Broadway either, any experience you have with musicals.”   You nod vigorously, clearing your throat. You’re more prepared than last time, and it helps to know that there’s someone waiting for you on the outside who is praying and hoping for your success as much as you were doing for his.   “I performed at my local theater since I was ten. I also went through a theater company school and I moved to New York shortly after on my own. Currently, I’m working as an intern for the production of Phantom of the Opera here in this studio.”   There are more hums. The man in the center looks up and puts down his pen. “Is there a reason you haven’t performed since graduating? It looks like there’s been quite a bit of a time gap since your last on-stage performance.”   “Oh, um….” You rack your brain before you scrape by with an excuse. “I had some family issues in the past several years. It prevented me from performing, but now I’m ready to again.”   There are understanding nods and you take a sigh of relief.   The woman asks, “What song will you be singing for us today?”   “When Will Someone Hear by Martin Guerre.” You head over to the pianist in the corner, handing them the sheet music before you stride back to the center of the room.   Your palms are getting clammy, the world is starting to spin. You swallow hard.   “You can start when you’re ready,” the bored producer states in a monotone.   You inhale another deep breath. You can do it — there’s only five of them watching. It’s not too bad.    You try to imagine that it’s just Jimin watching, so you give a signal to the pianist and the notes begin.   “W-When will someone hear? All I know is fear.” It’s off to a bad start, your voice cracking, going out of tune, though you quickly stead yourself.   But it’s happening again.    You put your hands behind your back, hiding the tremor. “A-And now I see the loneliness of losing all you trust. Day has turned to night. Stone has turned to dust. And now I need to find the words. When will someone hear?”   Your voice goes quieter and quieter against your will. This isn’t how you practiced. This isn’t what you prepared. This isn’t how you wanted this to go. But you feel so out of control.   Time is moving too quickly — and it’s happening in front of you. Your body won’t listen.   Your eyes divert, unable to hold consistent contact with theirs when you feel your face drained of blood. Their scrutiny is too much. Your heart is pumping so fast, you can feel it all the way up to your throat and it clogs it, keeping the proper notes from streaming out.    “Love that once was close. Faith that once was clear. Now all I've known and all I've loved is all I have to grieve.”   Your face twitches. Your mouth goes dry. You’re so dizzy, you might throw up.   The spotlight is too much to handle.    “All that I've begun. All that I believe is just another broken dream. W-When will someone hear?”   You’re choking over your own singing. The notes are smothered. And you want to cry, especially when you can see it in slow motion — the man raising his hand to silence the pianist, the instrument fading away, the opportunity slipping from your fingers.   They can’t hear you the way you want them to.   “I-I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately. “I got so nervous, I—”   “It’s alright.” The woman offers a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for coming in today. We’ll give you a call to let you know the outcome in the following week.”   You would have preferred that they laughed at you, that they told you to get out. The kindness, the pitied looks, acting like you have a real chance — it’s mocking. It hurts.   You leave the room, holding back tears. Jimin meets you half-way and reads your expression with his brows scrunched, lips lopsided. You exhale a staggering breath, shaking your head, and you tell him directly��   “I did badly.”   “I’m sure you did fine,” he murmurs but when you shake your head again, the two of you merely walk out together in tense silence. Jimin glances at you a few times. “I didn’t do too great either,” he admits with a self-deprecating smile. “When they asked for my name, I got so nervous, I accidentally said Bark Jimin.”   “What?”   You turn to him.   “Bark Jimin,” he deadpans and sighs. “Can you believe that?”   You laugh. It bubbles out without you realizing. Then you wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt, sniffling hard. Jimin puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest. It’s warm in the cold night.   “Why do I keep messing up, Jimin? What’s wrong with me?”   “Nothing,” he answers, able to see a cloud emit from his lips into the chilly air as he speaks. “There’s definitely nothing wrong with you. Some things we succeed in, some things we don’t. But it’s always a learning experience. They’ll always be a next time, right?”   You’re comforted by his presence, by his words.   The pair of you are in this together. You’re not alone in your successes or failures.   “So you up for some fried chicken?” he asks and keeps staring. “Hmm?”   “Yeah.”   “Hmmm?!” he increases his volume, decreasing the distance between you two even more until your foreheads are almost bumping against each other’s.   “Yes!” You laugh and Jimin shifts away again, satisfied since he was waiting for that smile.   The both of you go off into the night together.   //   It’s the first time that you don’t feel so bad about messing up an audition.   They’re rare and hard to come by and when you fuck it up, you often go through the stages of grief, feeling like you’ve reeled back to square one, making you question all things. But you bounce right back with Jimin right here.   He’s your partner in crime who motivates and comforts you. He walks in sync with your footsteps — never does it feel like you’re racing, that you’re trying to catch up to him.   You’re in this crazy madness together.   You tie your garbage bags, hauling them out of your apartment with your arms straining from the weight. The door shuts behind you as you lug it down the hallway, but then there’s a sudden shout of your name.   It comes from a smooth, very familiar timbre.   “Y/N!”   You turn around, catching the brunette walking down the wall, having turned the corner where the stairwell is. His eyes light up. They shimmer in the corridor lights and he approaches with his hands dug in the pockets of his trench coat.   It takes too long, so he runs to you, meeting you the entire way.   “Did you get a call?”   “No—”   “I got the role!” he exclaims happily, jumping up and down, cheeks nearly bursting from his enormous smile. Jimin pulls you in for a hug, giddy laughter spilling from his chest. “I got the role for Les Mis!”   You feel your heart drop to your stomach — your blood runs cold — you’re shell-shocked.   “R-Really?”   “Yes!” He pulls apart from you, but his hands are still placed securely on your shoulders. He might get a noise complaint for how loud he’s being, but he doesn’t care. “They told me I got the role of Jean Prouvaire.”   “Wow—”   “He’s part of the Les Amis de l’ABC or whatever that means, well I know what it means but it’s not important right now. Listen, Y/N, the character is a shy poet, loves flowers, and is a bad dresser. A good fit for me, right? Except for the bad dresser part — or at least hopefully they don’t think I’m a bad dresser. I only get around one line and I get shot two thirds of the way through, but this means I get to make my Broadway debut! My Broadway debut, Y/N!”   He’s rambling, so eager and excited.   You muster up a stiff smile that cracks at the corners. But he’s too caught up in his own world to notice, to read your expression, see the way it turns sour.   “T-That’s great, Jimin. Congrats…”   You can’t mean it sincerely. You can’t find it in you to be truly happy for him.   He lied to you — he didn’t do poorly in the audition. Not if he got a role.   “I’m so excited, Y/N! I couldn’t have done it without you. They said my singing really sold them.”   Your jealousy and envy make you feel ugly. Jimin makes you feel ugly.   “—wanting this so badly—”   It’s not that you blame him for failing the audition — that was your fault and yours only. But suddenly, you can’t fathom why you were hoping and praying so desperately for him to succeed when he obviously didn’t need it. You should’ve prayed for yourself.    Why did you think his accomplishments would be your own — you’re both different people. Why you were wasting your time — you should’ve spent it on yourself.    Why do you put your heart on your sleeve?   You’ve made a mistake. A horrible mistake.   “—guess I won’t have to work as an intern anymore!”   You thought you were in this together. But you’re not. You can’t believe you could’ve been so stupid. Jimin was never walking in sync with you. The two of you were never even on the same path, on the journey together. You’re not friends, not even colleagues, just neighbors at most.    Strangers who happen to live next to one another.   He’s gotten what he wants from you. He just wanted you to teach him how to sing, and now he’s finally better than his teacher. He’s succeeded. While you’re still stuck here. For the past year.   “They told me to come in next Monday—”   Jimin’s voice drowns in and out. You’re no longer paying any attention. You’re merely watching his delighted grin, his rosy cheeks that threaten to burst, how it almost breaks his face. You wonder when his smile became so damn irritating to look at.    “—I’m actually performing on stage on Broadway.”   You self-sabotaged yourself. All those nights spent with him, teaching him, you should’ve used to practice yourself. You should’ve worked harder instead of being so concerned about him. You were so wrapped up in Jimin that you neglected your own career.   And now he gets to pour salt all over your wounds. He gets to rub it in your face.   “My parents are gonna be so stoked to hear. They can finally be proud of me—”   You failed to realize...   “I can’t believe I’m actually performing on stage on Broadway, Y/N. I came here just two months ago and I already have myself a role.”   Jimin was your rival this entire time.

[smuttymess]

bts astro soulmate reading | for jenn

sign: virgo sun | virgo moon | taurus rising

lover: kim namjoon | soulmate: kim taehyung

This reading is for Jenn, a cutie who triple biases Yoongi, Jimin and Namjoon but is regularly wrecked by Jungkook. And to complicate things further you are astrologically compatible with 2/3 of the Big Dick Kim line! It certainly can’t be easy living this way. Anyway, hope you enjoy this reading, love.

Where to begin, Virgo? Determined, intellectual, gracious and refined are some of the ways you are perceived by the world around you. With both your Sun and Moon in Virgo, these traits are fully amplified and realized on a daily basis and make up your sense of identity - your dedication to hard work, patience, fairness and learning acting as the pillars of your life. You are one of the strongest and most secure forces in the zodiac, and you value this piece of yourself highly as it is tied into your ego but also your truest self. A natural leader, the confidence exuded from your innately stable, curious and rational mind is very attractive to those around you who lack your focus and fortitude in their own lives. The desire and ability to help people is more or less in your DNA, and your friends, family, and colleagues are always happy to take your advice, which you are able to deliver plainly and matter-of-factly- a true gift heightened by your Taurus rising. The analyzer of the star signs, beneath your outwardly stoic exterior is a mind that is constantly hard at work, looking to improve or correct either yourself or society at large. To you, beauty lies in the ability to identify problems - of which there are endless amounts - and fix them methodologically. Full of ideas, solutions, and well-informed insights, alongside a meticulously detailed mind - you see things that other’s regularly miss. With such strong principles and a dedication to righteousness in all areas of your life, you no stranger to openly voicing your thoughts to others about how the world can and should be. If only the world would listen!

You are the pure embodiment of quantity over quality, with everything and everyone in your orbit serving as an irreplaceable, valuable part of your life. It is exceptionally rare for you to engage with any frivolity and and careless behavior, and you want those around you to exist on a similarly high wavelength. While you are sociable and curious, it is likely that you have a small circle of extremely close friends, family, and romantic relationships who you hold dear. Loyalty comes naturally to you when people provide themselves to be trustworthy and kind, and you enjoy deep, lifelong connections with those select few. Quality also exists in the way you present yourself, the food you eat, and the beverages you consume. You are certainly not someone that over-indulges in lavish meals or time-consuming practices, opting instead to buy high quality ingredients and cook at home. It is in the organic produce section of the grocery store where you see a man looking extremely lost as he navigates around all of the fruits and vegetables. You're pretty sure by just looking at him that he has not ever made a meal in his life, his large hands clumsily handling each piece of produce in search of the right one, and you hate seeing a poor attractive stranger in need. Are you lost? After successfully guiding him to the right section, your helper Virgo at work, you turn to walk away before he shyly asks if you could also help him locate another item in the store. I have to make dinner for my hyungs tonight and as you can see have no idea what I'm doing. Though typically not easily distracted, there is no way you're saying no to this man - who introduces himself as Kim Namjoon - or those strong arms that you can imagine wrapping around your frame, holding you close and moving over your curves.

The relationship that ensues between you and Namjoon is initially relatively platonic, with you two Earth signs moving at a notoriously glacial pace physically - choosing instead to build and truly get to know each other's minds first and foremost. Between two Virgos is an immediate mental connection as you are both incredibly intellectual, able to jump easily across a vast range of topics. With Namjoon, you don't even have to go far to feel a world away - enthralled in the depth of his intelligence, virtues and drive provided by his Mercury in Libra and Jupiter in Scorpio. Your chart equips you with a strength, wisdom, and shyness that mimics his own character, and that is highly attractive to him. Only when you feel that you've established full trust with each other's hearts can you move into the physical, which ranges from sweet and passionate to energetic and frenzied. You're not ones for exhibition or excessive experimentation, preferring your tried-and-true methods of getting each other off in the privacy of your own home. Foreplay for you normally consists of an intellectual sparring match over dinner, the ideas flowing back and forth before you find yourselves back at his apartment, lips locked as you your hands float down down his strong, firm back as he carries you to the bedroom. Two Virgos are typically not as passionate as they are skilled, and you both derive satisfaction from seeing the other go crazy under your expert touch. As his hands move gently down your frame before slipping two fingers in between your thighs, you are taken out of the harsh, thinking world and into a more sensual one where you are both able to lose yourselves. Nothing turns Namjoon more than seeing you squirm beneath him, panting as he fucks you with his perfectly thick cock. It is hard to not completely fall apart at his voice or his smirk above you, his eyes increasingly dark at the sight of your pure lust. You look so fucking good baby. Say my name and tell me how much you love this, I want to hear you. Louder, baby.

Two Virgos have the capacity for romance, but in the long term gets eclipsed by the high levels of criticism that exists in this pairing. You are both prone individually to being nit-picking and finding flaws in yourself and others out of a shared desire to seek perfection in everything. For you, nothing is ever enough, and the journey to perfection is unending. Unfortunately, when you apply this much criticism to a relationship without enough emotional investment or words of affection, it will inevitably buckle beneath such pressure. Ultimately, after the dust of the breakup settles, you and Namjoon are able to acknowledge your differences and accepting that you are better as friends. And this is a lifelong friendship, with both of you serving as a resource to bounce ideas off of and get valuable feedback from. Namjoon regularly confides in you about his concerns about the future of his career, knowing you will provide an objective and logical take. Meanwhile, you find comfort in knowing that regardless of all of your pursuits, Namjoon will always hold you to the highest possible standard and that he is always a simple phone call away. Confidants in your professional realms, you are not afraid to share in each others growth, taking pride in your individual growth.

Not one to jump from one romantic relationship to the next, you use your time post-Namjoon to fully immerse yourself in your work and your interpersonal relationships. It surprises you as much as anyone when you find yourself giving your phone number to Kim Taehyung at a small gathering of friends. A Capricorn Sun with his Moon in Aries, he is the embodiment of intense and deliberate charm, which he decides to use to break down your more reserved, shy Virgo. He finds your initial standoffishness very cute and refreshing in a sea of men and women that constantly try to get his attention, and immediately senses that there is much more to you than meets the eye than a serious, stubborn brat. While you are relatively disinterested at first - he seems silly and a potential charmer on this particular night - he does not stop until he leaves with your number, promising to see you soon. Admittedly, your poor reasonable Virgo heart never stood a chance against the Capricorn deliberate intention paired with his godly visuals. That night you definitely go home and fantasize about how it would feel like to have those fingers playing with your nipples and grasping at every inch of you.

You are impressed to learn that Tae offers more than a gorgeous face and lethal charm. More than anything, you want to be secure, and in dating Taehyung you see the opportunity to create a life of comfort, stability and peace. While highly motivated and a perfectionist in his own right (Sun and Mercury in Capricorn) Tae possesses a cool, relaxed approach to life and his place within it. This quality, aided by his Venus in Aquarius. that provides you with the ideal level of autonomy, nurturing, and support you need in a partner. He doesn't need you to leave him alone because he knows when to pull back and let you focus, returning to share and engage in stories of your separate interests. The mutual appreciation and respect allows you two to form a very strong mind-soul connection over time. While you are both slow to engage in physical relationship, when you do it is here that your relationship is taken to new heights. Sex with Tae is not always spontaneous, but you are both extremely focused on each others pleasure and he is known to surprise you by shaking up the routine. You could be prepping dinner before you feel his hands on you kisses all over your body  before moving down to move your legs apart, his breath moving against your slit as he teases you. Wanting to ensure you are always in the present and not thinking about the next item on your to-do list, it is normal for his eyes to stay fixed on yours as he thrusts hard and deeply into you. He possess a magical ability to transport you to a much more uninhibited mindset - the growls leaving his mouth as your wetness drips down your thighs enough to make you forget you have the stove on. Phone sex when he is on the road is also a given, and he can make you come in record time simply by describing the way he wants you to touch your neck, the sensitive skin on your inner thighs. You body shakes as you hear him losing himself on the other end of the line. God, I can’t wait to fuck you my gorgeous girl. When I get home need you to be ready for me, just like you are right now. Send me a picture, I need to see how needy you are.

Your life with Taehyung is one built on mutual trust, respect and dedication. It is likely that you cultivate a minimalistic, stylish home that has all of the small comforts you desire and also showcases your individual personalities: Tae's photography on the walls and your many books and accolades lining the shelves. It is here that you enjoy a much-deserved refuge of the grind of everyday life before heading back out into the world to take it on full force the next morning. Though you approach life's challenges similarly (with full force and concentration) you are also able to show each other different ways of seeing the world: you with pure, pointed reason from your list experiences and he with more out-of-the-box, future-focused thinking. Tae's eccentric self allows you to access a more vulnerable and childlike side of yourself that was likely buried beneath the hardships of adulthood and daily life, served by his Jupiter in Sagittarius, which is spontaneous, inspirational and enthusiastic. He encourages you to occasionally stop and appreciate who you are, where you've been, and all that you've become - something you often miss in your quest for being the absolute best version of yourself. Together you establish yourselves as a team, working in tandem with each other to reach higher in your respective fields and deepen your understanding of life and love through each other's shared perspectives. With Tae, you learn that the journey in itself can be just as beautiful as the destination and there is perfection in the present. Ultimately, this is a duo that can and will navigate life's ups and down efficiently with confidence in each other and a tenacity, strength and care that is almost unmatched by any other astrological pairing. 

[evakuality]

Make a clear statement, straight up: Communication in Druck s3 (part two)

This is part two of my ongoing discussion of the theme of communication in s3 of Druck.  You can find part one over here: You look good tonight: Communication in Druck s3 (part one)

If episodes 1-4 were characterised by a growing buildup of trust and communication between Matteo and David, and were contrasted quite heavily with Matteo’s lack of communication with other people in his life, then episodes 5-7 take almost the opposite tack.  Matteo becomes much more able to communicate with the other people around him and David pulls back from it (and Matteo) in a lot of ways.  Since this got really long again, I’m splitting it in two parts: Matteo and David, and Matteo and everyone else.  I’ll post the ‘everyone else’ section in the next day or two.

Matteo and David

This episode starts, of course, with a very intimate scene of the two of them getting to know each other better.  Among the kissing etc there’s a lot of talking and laughing.  But an important point to note here is that we’re not privy to what they say for a lot of it.  We see it happening, but we’re not allowed to hear it.  As with episode two, this allows us to watch the build up of a connection but it still keeps us and them a little distanced.  We can’t tell what they’re talking about, or what sort of communicating they’re doing.  All we know is that they’re relaxed and happy and the focus here is on both of them whereas in episode 2 we got more of Matteo than David.  This is contrasted quite strongly in the later episodes, where we do see almost all of what they say, and which we’ll talk about in more detail when we get there.

Of course, once things turn more serious we do get to hear what is being said, and more importantly what is being communicated.  We, along with Matteo, learn that David is concerned very strongly with his own ability to have control.  He doesn’t like things that come in and take over, removing his ability to make his own choices and he says very clearly that if things went badly he’d run away, hide, wait out the storm.  He’s very clear about this.  To him, this is a specific and logical plan, but Matteo fails to pick up on what he’s actually saying.  To him it’s a philosophical puzzle: well, what about in a natural catastrophe?  How would you deal with that?  You can’t choose that happening.  To be fair to Matteo, David did pose it as a philosophical thing with the idea of believing in fate etc, and it seems like this is an extension of what he was doing in their first conversation: saying real stuff behind a mask or a curtain.  He’s more open, more willing to explain himself here, but there’s still enough here holding him back from being completely open.  And the way he’s choosing to talk about it, as a hypothetical possibility, means that Matteo and therefore by extension the audience doesn’t realise just how serious he is.  This is despite the fact that his body language is communicating exactly how important this is to him.  His hands in particular say a lot; the way they twist and the way he holds them and then the rest of his body, rigid and tense really gives a sense of how serious this is, but it’s done in such a low key quiet way that Matteo doesn’t really pick up on it and by extension the audience doesn’t either.  Of course, this is exacerbated by the show itself, when it does Matteo’s voiceover about the situation with his parents over a very light, silly, easy montage of them wrestling and having fun.  It undercuts the message and directs us away from it: very much as David has been trying to do.

This scene also tells us two clearly communicated things about the two of them which define who they are and how and why they act the way they do.  Matteo says specifically that being alone is bad, and David says in his usual convoluted way that living with non-family counts as being alone.  To Matteo, you need people and connection and it’s fairly clear that the isolation he’s been feeling from others is damaging him, and has been for a while.  This is presumably why the connection he’s creating with David is so important to him.  David, on the other hand, is making it obvious that connection with new people outside his family circle doesn’t ‘count’ - at least not in the same way.  To him, being alone is safe and secure; it’s a situation where you have total control and can rely on yourself, and this connection he’s forming with Matteo is difficult and scary because it’s undercutting that.  So what’s happening is that while they are being open with each other and communicating their thoughts and feelings, there are things hiding behind the words that aren’t necessarily being picked up on.  Having said that, the nonverbal communication between them is telling them both (the laughter, the easiness of the physical bond, the stupid playful fighting etc) that they enjoy each other, and they’re on the same wavelength, which is at least partly why the actual words are not being communicated as effectively as they might be.

In this episode we also get the start of David’s new way of communicating: through art.  Even though he still thinks he needs to isolate himself, he wants that connection despite it being something difficult and potentially scary in terms of what he has to say for it to something real.  This shows progress from episode two where he just left, but it’s still a certain unwillingness to really embrace that connection with Matteo.  Still, he keeps making visual connections with him.  Things like the ‘breathing underwater’ post that literally no-one but Matteo would get, and of course the little vampire pictures.  There’s a sense that even though he’s still holding himself aloof, he’s also wanting that connection to Matteo and is actively communicating that through these reasonably obscure things.  Things that will mean things to himself and to Matteo but won’t communicate anything to the rest of the world even as some are very public.  He continues to share himself with Matteo (in the form of a song he likes as well as his art) even after he’s made his decision to pull back.  So, to be clear, it’s important that David still makes these gestures after he’s told Matteo he’s not interested in anything with him.  There’s a reason why Matteo says he ‘can’t believe’ David isn’t interested, and it’s not just because of the way he acted when they were together.

The date they have together is also important in terms of their communication and their reactions to the connections they’ve been building.  It starts well, with them once again enjoying being together, playful and laughing.  Clearly spending a lot of time together and talking etc.  Once again, though, we’re not privy to those conversations.  All we see is the delight they have in each other and in being together.  When we do tune into their conversation it’s once again with a more serious, less cheerful message.  Matteo has been heartened by the time they just spent and he very clearly tells David that he broke up with his girlfriend for him.  One thing Matteo is actually very good at (with David) is clearly articulating what he feels and what he wants.  David, who has been probably consoling himself with ‘well he has a girlfriend, this can’t be too serious’ is suddenly confronted with reality (and again as people have pointed out, the things they do are often tinged with the ‘fake’ because there’s an air of unreality to it all that means he can pretend like this).  David now gets a clearly communicated declaration of intent from Matteo, both verbal ‘there’s this guy’ and nonverbal, the kiss, and he’s now faced with a dilemma.  His actions have all been communicating what he really feels: a deep connection to Matteo, but his words have been a little more obscure.  He says things he thinks he should be saying: I need to be alone, free will, hide and wait it out etc, but Matteo hasn’t picked it up (again, fair enough, since the body language has been saying something different). So it becomes imperative here, in David’s mind, to preserve his safety, and he does.  As Matteo did before him, he chooses to send a text with some truth in it ‘it’s gone a bit fast’ but also with some kindness ‘I need some time; don’t be angry’.  But, as Matteo learned before him, that text didn’t work and his partner comes to him to get answers.  And so we have a harsher text, this one a genuine lie.  Matteo doesn’t believe the content, but he sure believes the door shut firmly in his face and the intent behind the text.  He knows David likes him, but he also knows that he’s shut Matteo out, literally and figuratively, and he’s not sure why.

The fact that Matteo continuously uses the small pieces of David that he left for him (the song, the pictures etc) to feel closer to him is also important.  This allows him to easily go back to David; he’s got tangible reminders of exactly what he means to David.  Despite being out of contact during most of this next section of the show, and despite the seemingly clear ‘I’m not into you,’ Matteo takes and uses those things he knows, those things David has communicated about his true feelings, to settle himself.  Even at his most vulnerable and depressed, he still has those pieces there close by him, either listening to them or keeping them near him wherever he is in his room.  The connection they made has not been severed despite David’s attempts.  Partly because his nonverbal communication has been telling the real truth and Matteo knows it.

That means, of course, that Matteo is willing to fall into a hug when he sees David again.  He can see that there’s something wrong, see that he’s not his usual self and tbh he seems to have noticed during the end of their date as well; David is quieter, less able to talk properly, far less communicative than usual even in his body language.  There may not be any verbal communication in this final scene of this section, but they don’t need it at this point.  Matteo’s text to David was clear, thanks in part to his friends’ help, but also because as I said before, Matteo is very good at communicating his thoughts and feelings to David.  David sends a cryptic picture of them both running away to Detroit with other in-jokes that mean nothing to others, and Matteo finally thinks ‘well, that’s just not cutting it; I need clarity on what this all means’ and so he immediately does what the boys suggest: makes a clear declaration.  You either communicate with me properly or you leave me alone.  David hears it, gets it and comes.  Therefore they don’t need anymore words.  They just need that hug to know that things are still there.  It’s not perfect, they’re not ready to give themselves over entirely.  There are still things that are hiding (literally as David hides his face in Matteo’s shoulder), but they know they’re on the same page now.  

The title of this part is ‘make a clear statement, straight up’ and Matteo has actually been pretty good at doing this with David right through; it’s also somewhat ironic because the person saying it is literally not being ‘straight up’ in his communication with Hanna, and nor is Abdi with Sam.  However, Matteo’s ‘straight up’ communication with David does come to a head in this last scene, when he gets fed up with the back and forth, seemingly wishy washy, communication.  When he sends the message ‘stop sending me drawings if you don’t want to be together with me’ (a clear call back to the harsh text where david tells him this) we know Matteo isn’t fooling around, and so does David.  He’s been clear to this point, but now it’s not hidden behind a joke ‘sandwich fetish’ or light heartedness; it’s serious and direct.  There’s no room to mess around anymore.  This is giving a good set up for (mostly) good communication between these two in the final section of the season.  They get much better at making ‘a clear statement’ as the rest of the season continues.

Part three can now be found here: He doesn’t talk to me: Communication in Druck s3 (part three)

[seasonofthegeek]

Break Me

Today’s drabble was requested by @damelicorne for Chloe and Luka.

“I think maybe this isn’t working out.” Luka rubbed the guitar pick between his thumb and forefinger and wished he had his guitar with him. It would make this so much easier, but now wasn’t the time to go down to his room to get it. He started this and he needed to finish things before he lost his nerve.

Chloe slid her sunglasses down over her eyes and looked out at the calm water. “Yeah, maybe it isn’t.”

“Maybe we just aren’t compatible and that’s okay. Not all melodies fit.”

“Spare me the music talk, Luka. You’re dumping me because of what happened the other day and that’s all this is.”

He frowned and tried to remember what he’d rehearsed in his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this. I think that right now, we’re just having trouble staying on the same tune.” He faltered, feeling his cheeks burn. “The same wavelength,” he amended. “That’s not to say there couldn’t be a future for us later.”

Chloe took a deep breath and stood. She blindly reached out for her purse and pulled it over her shoulder. “Just call me a bitch and be done with it.”

He blinked up in surprise. “What?”

She stiffened. “That’s what you’re thinking, right? I caused another akuma to happen, one that really hurt a lot of people. It’s not like you would be the only one saying it.” She swallowed hard and adjusted her sunglasses.  “There’s a petition for Ladybug to take my Miraculous away. An actual...” Her voice cracked and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Hey, Chlo...” Luka reached for her but she stepped away.

“Don’t,” she growled. “I deserve it. All of it. I don’t know who I thought I was fooling.”

He stood with her but moved back to lean against the railing of the boat deck. “First of all, you didn’t cause the akuma; Hawk Moth did.”

“I think that petition would tell you otherwise,” she sniffed.

“Chloe, you aren’t a bad person.”

“Says the guy who literally just broke up with me.”

“Forget that for a minute.”

She barked out a bitter laugh and crossed her arms. “Get to your point, Couffaine. I’ve got other places to be.”

“Why are you so mean to people?”

Her mouth snapped shut, the snarky retort she had ready for whatever he said dying on her tongue. 

“I guess I don’t understand,” he shrugged. “You say Sabrina is your best friend but you aren’t very nice to her. And you talk so bad about your classmates sometimes. I thought maybe you were leaving all that behind as Queen Bee but lately, it’s gotten worse and I...it’s just a lot of negativity to handle, Chlo.”

Her jaw was clenched tight and her hands curled into fists. Luka saw the tears streaking down from under her sunglasses but he stayed where he was. He was familiar enough to know not to touch her like this.

“If everyone hates me,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “it won’t hurt as much when they inevitably leave me.”

“Chloe.”

She swore under her breath. “I hate that I tell you stuff like that. I hate that you make me feel like...I just hate you, Luka. I hate you.”

“You don’t.”

“I really do,” she seethed. “I hate that I feel so comfortable around you and that I...that I can be anyone with you. I hate how relaxed you act because you’re just as anxious as everyone else.”

His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. “I’m not...I’m just me.”

“You’re a liar too, just like me.” She spun on her heel and headed towards the temporary stairs leading back to the riverwalk.

“You’re not the only one to have people leave,” he called. “And you’re not the only one who feels like they aren’t understood. And I think you’re being a coward.” He swallowed hard and closed his hand around the guitar pick so the plastic cut into his palm. 

Chloe froze but didn’t look back at him. “What?”

“You’re a coward. You’re afraid to let people see the real you so you push them away and say nasty things and that’s why I’m breaking up with you, not because of some stupid akuma.” He hissed when he realized he’d gripped the pick hard enough to slice his skin and he let it drop to the colorful wooden planks. “I’ve seen who you can be, Chloe, and I’m not going to settle for anything else. I know I’m not perfect either but I was hoping we could help each other.”

“I took a chance and opened up to you and look what happened,” she shot back.

Luka deflated. “I’m sorry. I...I don’t want it to be like this with us. I really like you.”

She scrubbed the toe of her sandal against worn wood. “I really like you too,” she mumbled. “And...and it’s possible you have some points.”

“And I know I have stuff to work on too,” he offered. “But I don’t know, maybe we can help each other with out...” He trailed off with a smile. “With our stuff, I guess.”

Chloe raised her chin. “Is this you unbreaking up with me?”

“Are you going to try to be more open with people and stop pushing them away?” he countered.

“I don’t know. Are you going to try to talk without that silly guitar more?”

He flushed but nodded. “I’ll try. I am trying.”

“Then I’ll try too.”

“And we’ll see where it goes.” Luka reached out his hand and Chloe watched it hang in the air for a moment before she grabbed it.

“And we’ll see where it goes,” she echoed.

Buy me a cherry coke?

[regrettablewritings]

Pink (Rafael Barba x Reader)

@ohbelieveyoume This wasn’t the Barba fluff I initially intended on writing … But I thought of this this morning and had to write it! … Even though I wound up doing so in a tired stupor. I think it shows … Either way, I hope I did your favorite color justice! *crosses fingers* @xemopeachx Thanks for checking this out!

Pink: For centuries, it was presented as a rich, raw color, one suited best for boys in its relation to the lively red. At some point in the early to mid-1900s, however, the shift from pink boys and blue girls to blue boys and pink girls happened, and it was socially suggested that pink, now standing for femininity, was a weak, delicate color best reserved for the decidedly more docile sex. Any man who dared to wear pink was either a sissy, or had to be a real, robust and rugged man to be able to pull it off.

While his personality was more sleek than robust and his appearance classy rather than gritty, you had no doubts whatsoever that Rafael was as real of a man as they came. You didn’t need his pink attire and accessories to tell you this, but the way he wore them surely didn’t slow down your belief in this whatsoever.

If you liked pink before, dating and eventually marrying Rafael had made you adore it: It striped some of his shirts and dominated others; it was the color of one of his many suspenders; it speckled quite a few ties in intricate designs, muted in pastel form on his pocket square. A bright, electric hue as his yachting shirt, much to your amusement. It was the color your cheeks would assume every time he complimented you, the color his face would turn whenever you praised your beloved husband for how incredible you found his work ethic. It was the color of the tie you’d picked out for him that morning as he dressed himself up for work, and it was the color of the roses he’d had delivered to your workplace yesterday, which were now placed in a glass vase centered at the kitchen table.

It was also the color of the two lines on the stick you’d been staring at for the past ten minutes.

It was funny, how pink was now commonly associated as being a more gentle, weaker color. Had the result of the test been blue, you would have shrugged it off, carried on with your day. But pink? That was a whole other situation. Pink was a strong color, one with the power to knock you to the floor, where you had been sitting for what seemed like ages, saying absolutely nothing. It winded you.

“… Holy shit.” The whisper, crude as it was, barely registered as a sound, yet it broke the silence of your bathroom like a sledgehammer to glass. Needless to say, a lot of seemingly small things were causing big impacts of sorts today. Starting with the little, jelly bean-sized thing that the test stated was dwelling inside you.

You and Rafael had spoken about the idea of starting a family, of course. It was simply the proper thing to do when intending to stick together for the long run. And while neither party was against the prospect, it wasn’t necessarily something you were actively looking to accomplish: “Que sera sera,” Rafi stated. All you had to do was wait and see what would happen, when it happened.

Well, as signified by the pink of the pregnancy test, it happened. Soon, your cheeks, too, became rosy. Had the people from the apartment building across from yours looked at your dwelling space, they would have been able to observe you performing a rhythmless, aimless dance spanning from the bedroom to the living room.

But how to tell Rafi? you pondered. After your silly little joy dance had inevitably winded you, you decided to replenish your energy with a gracious helping of snacks. Particularly, the ones that Rafael would’ve scolded you for eating rather than a healthy lunch like any regular person would. You reasoned that it was fine for you to eat in such a way, being that you were now carrying for two.

Even more reason for you to eat healthily, Cariño, the Rafael part of your mind chided.

Leave me alone, Rafi, lemme eat my Frosted Flakes in peace, you fussed right back. It was between crunches that you remembered what kind of man you married: Rafael may have been reasonable, but he was also a rather fussy man and one that was a bit hard to impress. He barely cracked a smile even when his toughest cases had breakthroughs for God’s sake! You had no doubts that Rafael would be excited about your little announcement, but you still wanted something impressionable. Something that’d knock the color right into his cheeks the way it knocked you to the floor for nearly twenty whole minutes. You didn’t even want to tempt the subsequent fussing you’d receive if you handed him the pregnancy test – that would only result in 10% excitement and 90% “You-Peed-on-This!”-ment.

You inwardly cursed yourself for marrying such a sophisticated man. If only he weren’t so uppity or with high expectations, maybe –  

“… Wait …”

“They need me in court tomorrow morning,” Rafael sighed, collapsing onto the couch next to you. “But the case is basically open and shut at this point.”

“Mhmm,” you responded, eyes trained on your book. You hadn’t meant to come off as blasé, you really didn’t. Usually, you enjoyed offering an ear for Rafael to speak into. But you weren’t usually pregnant. The thrill and anxiousness of something new would always and forever cause an excitement within you that made everything else seem so … small. It was funny to think that your spouse’s work now seemed smaller compared to something that was only the size of a tiny piece of candy, but that was the truth. A very funny truth that threatened to be prematurely spilled if you didn’t try your darndest to keep your mouth shut long enough to suffocate the giggles that had been accumulating with every passing moment.

Unfortunately, Rafael’s legal eagle eyes caught your expression. He might be off the clock at the moment, but his lawyer mode was still very much active. Not that he needed much to notice that there was something … off about you this evening. You were reading, which wasn’t unusual at all, but he highly doubted that there was anything in A Clockwork Orange that would warrant the smile you were just barely able to bite back. But even beyond that, there was something else about you. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was almost as if what he was trying to place wasn’t even on the same wavelength as you and himself. Nevertheless, Rafael was never one to just let something of intrigue pass by.

“Cariño? You feeling alright?” His brows furrowed, concern seeping into his green eyes. You didn’t want to look into them to offer a reply, fearful that you’d snap and burst into laughter if you did. But if you wanted the plan to play out as you intended, you had to play the part.

You glanced at Rafael, skillfully morphing your potentially mischievous smile into an assuring one. “I’m fine, Rafi,” you gently insisted. “Why do you ask?”

You watched him press his mouth into a thin line of disbelief.

“Well, for starters, you’ve barely said anything in response to whatever I’ve been saying –”

“The case is in the bag – your bag. You know I’m proud of you without having to say anything.”

“And that’s what’s weird: Usually you practically smother me with praises in these situations,” Rafael pointed out. The small smirk that played along his lips coaxed an eye roll from you.

“So you think something’s up because I’m not feeding your ‘big brass ego’?” was your sarcasm-coated response. I’m already going to be dealing with someone big-headed, was what you really wanted to say.

With what you did say, however, Rafael gently huffed and continued his previous argument. “Anyway … What puzzles me most, mi amor, is that you seem a little … different.” The grin that threatened to practically break your face was presented as an intrigued smirk

“ ‘Different’? How so?” Now you’re getting it, you mentally cooed.

Rafael licked his lips in thought. “Dunno. Did you switch lotions or something?”

“No, still the same lotion,” you responded. You returned your attention back to your literature in the hopes that it would pose as a buffer.

“Shampoo?”

You shook your head, “I didn’t even wash my hair today, Rafi.”

“… Did something happen?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’

“Something you’re not telling me?”

You hummed a ‘no.’

“Mírame a los ojos y dilo,” he demanded, making you shudder. Dammit. He knew what speaking Spanish did to you. Especially when he used that demanding, lawyer tone of his.

You prayed that he mistook the shudder for one of your usual pleasure, rather than one born out of anxiousness that you had been cornered. In the meantime, all you could do for yourself was turn to him, look him in his suspecting eyes, and calmly insist, “Rafael: I am fine. I just enjoyed my day off is all.” Before he could respond with anything else, you returned back to A Clockwork Orange, signifying the end of that particular discussion.

Despite reading over the same sentence over and over for the last couple of minutes, you turned the page. You needed to land this façade just long enough. It was when you heard your husband sigh with exasperation that you knew your bid had been bought.

“Whatever,” he muttered. Getting himself up from the couch, he continued, “If you’re not going to tell me anything, then that’s your decision. I’m not going to humor this.”

You pouted, “Awwww. Don’t be grumpy, Rafaelito.” You glanced up from your book just long enough to see him try and fight off a somewhat amused grin.

“I’m not grumpy …” your better half said as he began to beeline for the bedroom. As soon as he was out of your sight and you his, you stopped trying to fight the smile that had been threatening to bloom all this time. Your brought your knees up to your chest so you could excitedly tap your feet against the couch cushions as if to perform the quietest dance imaginable.

Rafael was a creature of habit, something that especially applied when in the comfort of his own home. You knew his morning routine to his eating habits to his evening routine. This meant knowing how he preferred to plot out most of his outfits for the next day the night before, suits, suspenders, etc. He’d usually let you choose the tie, but your tie of choice almost always correlated with the colorful socks he’d chosen to wear when he laid out his outfit in the first place. Like clockwork, you heard him entering his closet, shuffling things around. You heard the screech of hangers sliding across the support bar, the click of his tongue as he contemplated suit jackets and dress shirts.

Normally, these sounds would fall on deaf ears. But right now, they were blaring. They were agonizing, a mere obstacle.

Then you heard the soft click of Rafael opening up his cufflink trunk, followed by the quiet tingling sound of fingers brushing over the tiny accessories. The clack of his selection being placed on the dresser told you that what you were waiting most on was set to occur.

It was the hushed, dragging noise of his sock drawer that caused your heart to skip more than just a single beat. By the time your heart returned back to beating at all, it was sputtering and sprinting with eagerness. You inhaled deeply and held your breath in, not wanting a single noise to distract from what you had been evening for. Straining your ears, you heard the expected sounds: The soft rearranging of socks as Rafael inspected pair after pair to search for the perfect ones to coordinate with tomorrow’s attire. Maybe the low knock of his knuckle hitting the tray’s wooden wall. It was a lenient, yet still purposeful pace. One that had been ritualized by its performer for eons to the point of being almost completely blasé about the action.

It was therefore quite telling when you heard the shuffling suddenly stop.

You inhaled sharply, causing your lungs to practically beg you to stop as they had long since reached capacity. Your heart and mind, on the other hand, screamed in giddy unison. The exhale that shuttered out of your body was the only noise that was made for what felt like longer than a minute. No noise came from you, otherwise. And certainly no noise came from the bedroom. Not even the sound of the sock drawer closing.

And then, footsteps. Not slow ones, and not running ones. But ones filled with drive. Ones that practically thundered down the small hallway, growing louder and louder until they stopped right where the threshold between the living room and the corridor met.

“Ca … Cariño,” you heard Rafael whisper. You didn’t dare turn around, but you also couldn’t pretend for much longer. You opted for hiding your face in your knees, gently biting your bottom lip to keep it from quivering into a smile.

“Cariño, I …” He stopped talking, taking a silent gulp. You took note in the tone with which he spoke: It was present, and yet on a different plane. If glazed eyes could be in a voice, that was the voice Rafael was speaking in. It was weird. It was uncharacteristic… . It was exactly what you wanted!

“Yes, Rafaelito?” you said quietly. It was then that you allowed yourself to finally smile. As you slowly turned to face your husband, it threatened to become a slightly wettened one.

There he stood, eyes directed unblinkingly at you, yet spacious all at once. It was an unusual look for Rafael, who usually looked so well-grounded and calm. Making the sight before you all the more peculiar was the pair of itty, bitty, pink-brown-and-cream argyle socks he held delicately in his hands.

Rafael continued to stare at you with glassy eyes, continued to gulp and open and shut his mouth in a constant struggle of finding the right words.

“I … I think my socks might’ve shrunk in … in the wash …” was the final result. And you couldn’t be happier with it.

You giggled and shook your head, “No, Rafael. I don’t think those socks are yours.” You watched and heard the sharp intake of breath that followed in heed of your response.

“… An … And these are real?” he pressed. His voice picked up an octave near the sentence’s end, accompanying a corner of his mouth turning up.

At this point, the toothy smile you had been bearing before closed itself tightly. If it didn’t, then the tears beginning to streak down your face would’ve gotten into it. You couldn’t speak, due to the lump in your throat. But based on the completion of Rafael’s smile, your high pitched hum of approval and the slow nod of your head was enough.

You were a little too preoccupied with wiping away your tears to notice when Rafael had gone to your side, tiny dress socks in hand. It only came to your acknowledgment once you felt his hands cup your face, the teensy socks still in their grasp. You didn’t mind having the soft, pastel cotton against your face, making you feel delicate and warm. The pleasant feeling was only enhanced as kisses began to speckle your cheeks, forehead, and lips in a fervent manner, leaving no part of your face untouched. Between every peck was an assortment of phrases going in and out of English, the excitement apparently flustering your husband into elated Spanish. You couldn’t understand much of what he said (mainly because it was said so rapidly that you didn’t have time to piece it together before the next kiss). But for now, it didn’t matter.

You just wanted to bask in this moment, where you were embraced in your wonderful husband’s arms, getting smothered by kisses, gazing lovingly at the tiny pair of socks you two held together, both of your faces glowing with jubilation.

Pink: In modern society, it was associated with being delicate and undesirable for deepened impact. But you knew better. Pink was the color of Rafael’s tie that day, the color of the roses that he’d sent to you the day before. It was the color his cheeks turned out of absolute joy and pride that evening as he continued to hold you in his adoring embrace, as well as your own with every kiss he continued to give you for the next few hours. It was the color of newborns, the color of a few diamonds on what would be your child’s first pair of socks (which prompted Rafael to insist that you would have the best dressed baby in New York). Pink meant fresh starts, love, and exhilaration.

Pink, you determined, was a very strong, beautiful color indeed.

[shardclan]

The sounds of breaking had become part of the atmosphere on the eastern shore of the Sunbeam Ruins. The greater ocean swelled, tides breaking on the pebble beaches common to that side of the territory. Any amount of flotsam could be beneath the stones, tiny grains of debris worn by the elements and pushed deep into the innumerable crevices.

A tingle of energy raised goosebumps on Dust's skin. A glass bottle shattered under Lutia's power. The pieces came to Dust, caught in the natural gravity of her power.

She was witch of shattered things. She didn't have the power to break things, but once they were broken they were hers to control. Glass, metal, some stones. Chitin and seashells. Bone, if it was old and dead to the point it was little more than hardened mineral. She could feel tiny grains of things if she focused. The grit and ash. The dust. But she could not control them like she had during her explosive debut in the canyon.

That, Lutia promised, would come back to her and be in her full control once she was taught the way by older witches. For now, all Lutia could do was teach Dust the baby steps.

Dust opened her eyes. A gently spinning globe of shattered glass and warped copper and flickering seashells surrounded her. Not just in a single layer, but in concentric strata all gently turning so that the bits she could see of her surroundings were like static. Flecks of the outside no bigger than the odds and ends that surrounded her. In every direction, she was surrounded, sunlight and the flicker of electricity from her her lightning-glass horns refracting and reflecting until she felt she was in an egg made from a thousand suncatchers.

I'm strong.

It was more of a self-affirmation than an observation, but she believed it a little more every day.

"Good," came Lutia's voice. "Very stable. Are you ready for the hard part?"

I'm...strong.

Unconsciously, Dust hugged at her right side. From the shoulder down to the thigh, she bore the marks from the shattering of Bestealcian's fan.

"I've got you," Lutia reminded her. "I'm here."

Stability wasn't beyond Dust when it came to gathering pieces to herself. Moving them as she liked offered her more challenge, and the looming threat of hurting herself or Lutia didn't help her confidence. Lutia was there yes, offering subtle synchronicity as Dust practiced. Her magic dwelled below Dust's own, guiding it as gently as a breath of air guiding a bubble.

"I'm here. I will be there in the moment you confront those who hurt you. You are the controller of an infinite storm of shrapnel, and all you need to do...is direct it."

Lutia's guiding magic changed. The gentle breeze suddenly a bolt of lightning. Stronger, fiercer, filled with more raw vengefulness that Dust felt possible.

Dust yelped, and the debris fell. None of it touched her.

Lutia remained impassive. She was beyond impatience or irritation with the effort. To her, it was something that simply needed to be done again until it was successful.

It was Ashes who sighed. He had plenty of room for irritation, and clapped his book shut while gingerly picking his way over to Dust's side.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's not your fault. I see why I was asked here and I see the problem." He crossed his arms, staring at Lutia. "You two are entirely mismatched. Can't you tone it down a little?"

"Tone what down?"

"Your anger. You're overwhelming her."

Dust tugged at Ashes robes. "I asked her to do that."

"Why? It's clearly not the right wavelength for you."

"Everyone keeps saying it's fine if I'm mad. That I can't be blamed for being mad." Dust gripped at her own skirts. The debris stirred, scraping across the stones. "I hate them. I want them dead, but I have to fight all the time just to feel like I'm not terrified. I should be able to get so angry that I’m not scared."

Ashes stepped back a little, just outside of the minor circle of her influence. It was fascinating to watch; he had never had the opportunity to see a witch be trained. He had never personally seen witches do magic at all, really. It was a lot more emotional than he expected. It made sense, given the massive blowout that had occurred in Clan Feldspar with their sea witch. But it was a sensitive event in a time riddled with sensitive events and he'd never thought to ask their allies any questions. He hadn't even been a Tribune at the time; it wouldn't have been his place to ask if he’d had questions.

And it wasn't like anybody had foreseen that they'd have to help train a fledgling witch.

"I think..." he began slowly. "You may be approaching this the wrong way, Dust. You should be able to get mad, yeah. But anger may not be the root of your feelings."

"How could I not be angry?" Dust marveled. "They tried to eat me!"

"There are other ways to feel about it. And feeling like you should be angry, or feeling angry on the surface, doesn't necessarily mean that the basis of your feelings is anger."

Dust's brow furrowed, and the scraping of the broken things stopped. She stared at him with nothing short of confusion.

He scratched at his mess of hair. "Well, consider Telos. She's the Morning Queen, and her signature feature--more than her crown or dress or rapier--is the trail of tears she traces on her cheeks. A mourning queen. But it became apparent very quickly when she started training that rather than sadness, what she really feels, waaaay deep down in there, is anger."

Dust glanced at Lutia. The Archmage wasn't quite quick enough to hide the wistful sort of resignation that filled her eyes when she looked at Ashes.

"Does that mean deep down somewhere, you're not mad at Lutia?"

Had Dust slammed a rock into either of their heads, she would've stunned them less.

Ashes picked her up, totally ignoring the question. "We're going to see Metafalica. I think you'll understand it better if you can get a demonstration."

Dust locked up the moment she set eyes on the skydancer. Ever since Azricai had revealed the extent of the species' power, she was easily overwhelmed by meeting new ones. They all had such different scopes of power, and while Azricai had promised they couldn't technically read her mind, the idea of anyone knowing what she was feeling immediately caused heat to rush to her chest.

Metafalica paid them little mind. She sat passively by the edge of the falls, seemingly guarding a pile of beautiful stones and shells and various shiny bits. Sphalerite bounded up and down the riverbank with all the bottomless energy of a dwarf hainu. When her hands were full, she dumped more of her treasures down and went back for more.

Dust leaned in close to Ashes. "What are they doing...?"

"Hm? Gathering decoration and jewelry materials for the Artisan's Guild. Sphal's got a good eye for sea stones. Don't mind her, she's in her own world. Metafalica, are you able to take a job right now?"

She tilted her head toward the sound, her blinders obscuring her traditional vision. "Yes."

"Good. Dust is having some trouble with her power and we think it might be an emotional thing. Some exploratory song magic might be good to clear this up."

"I do not sing. I am a song."

"But you can translate things into songs. I met with your other sisters and they said that was something you can all do. But you're a skydancer alter now. You should be able to look into Dust and sound-map her innermost feelings and relay them to her, right?"

Metafalica's covered gaze lowered, approximately to where Dust was. "Yes, I can do this."

Dust's eyes flicked between the two older dragons. "Okay, how do we start...?"

Ashes nudged Dust forward. "You have to ask her."

"Didn't you already do that?"

"I asked if she was able because this was only a hypothesis I had. You have to ask on your own behalf to show that you're willing."

While it struck Dust on the surface as a silly process, the voice inside her, the voice of the witch she would properly be one day, told her that was how it should be. If it wasn't willing, it was worthless. And more importantly, if she was going to have someone dive into her and bring back , it needed to be private.

"Can you give us some time alone?"

Ashes wordlessly backed up and strolled off along the cliff edge. He was a small speck in the distance with Dust turned back to Metafalica, and said words that rose out of some ancient instinct rather than her mind.

"Show me what lies beneath."

[night-poster]

Hiya! May I request a matchup? :-)

I’m a nonbinary person (with any pronouns) and bi. I often come off as pretty silly and cheerful at first since I’ll take any chance I get to tell a joke or pun (but mostly I just say the most bizarre stuff I can come up with, such as: “what if we are all snails covered in gasoline sliding down a window together with the raindrops in heavy downpour.....”), but after, like, a week of knowing me it’s probably really easy to tell that I’m... not that cheerful and silly beneath it all, with my anxiety and depression. I tend to simultaneously rely a bit too much on my closest friends and family while also somehow pushing them away, basically this push and pull of “you mean a lot to me and I trust you enough to let you know I’m not okay” and “I don’t want to burden you and even if I was okay burdening you with all my baggage, I don’t even know how to tell you what I’m feeling”.

I am an artist and like to draw, read, write and make music occasionally. I’d like to think I’m pretty creative! I love sharing my ideas even if they’re often only half-baked lol, especially since I often abandon the idea really quickly to move onto the next one. I am a bit awkward about sharing my interests with people I know IRL, but I’m not closed off about anything either.

I,,, think I’m kind? I’m doing my best, at least. Unless someone’s an ass to me, in which case I am decidedly not friendly. I tend to hold grudges too, and first impressions often mean more to me than they should. But I’m not often outright aggressive, I’m more... passive aggressive lol. I do have a bad habit of speaking before I think though, so uh yeah. ANYWAYS, to people I like I’m still a bit reserved since I’m a major introvert now (kinda weird, since I used to be an extrovert before my depression kicked in, but whatever) but I’m also not hesitant to step in and help them if they need it. I’m not necessarily good at helping but I try lmao,,,, And I have this habit of wanting to spoil everyone I like by buying them stuff when we’re together (but for some reason, I really don’t like getting birthday gifts? I think it’s because I want them to be there when I buy it so I get their actual input I’m the moment) and get really uncomfortable when somebody tries to pay for me.

I don’t know if this will help lol, but when I asked my friends what my undertale soul colour would be, my friends couldn’t decide between green (kindness), orange (bravery) or yellow (justice). I personally think I lean most towards yellow or orange. :-)

Thank you!! Have a nice day 💖

Hey anon! Based off your description i’m matching you with Red, i know- i know, hear me out on this. He would pick up in your boundaries quickly, because he’s on a similar wavelength when it comes to telling people problems. Red would also find your random thoughts funny and add onto them.

[amycathryn]

Alchemy and Manifestation

Once upon a time, before I chose to delve into my own spirituality, I used to believe manifestation was new-age crap. Even when I started doing psychic readings, I had a hard time believing it was actually a real thing.

I get it—we make our own reality—blah, blah, blah...But a lot of my spiritual friends were constantly talking about it and for the longest time, I didn't take them seriously.

That is, until I picked up and read my first esoteric book (a version of it by Doreen Virtue, anyways), The Kyballion. The Kyballion was published in 1908 by anonymous authors under the pseudonym "The Three Initiates". It discusses the metaphysical rules our world is built on, and overall a great book for anyone looking to delve deeper into alchemy, manifestation, and their own spirituality. Doreen Virtue has published an easy-to-read, modern-day interpretation of it for comparison. 

In short, that book changed my life. 

For the longest time, I searched for a philosophical understanding of metaphysics (without religion, dogma or conspiracies involved). The problem I kept running into was that the text out there were either, too ritualistic, cultish, or dogmatic. I happened across "alchemical" books, but thought alchemy was just about turning lead into gold or whatever—after all, what did a delusional form of medieval chemistry have to do with mysticism? I quickly realized that wasn't what alchemy was at all. I found out that Mental Alchemy, along with Hermetic Mysticism was the philosophical teachings that quenched my dying thirst for mystical knowledge. It ties a lot of metaphysical philosophies together found in science and even religions across the globe—ranging from parallels in quantum mechanics to the Kabbalah to Buddhism.   

Is There a Difference?

Short answer: yes.  Long answer: ehhh...

Manifestation

Manifestation, also known in some circles as the "Law of Attraction", is the ability to render thoughts and feelings into reality. "Like attracts like", so to speak. It's more than wishful thinking—it's the understanding that we are not subjects of our reality, but both conscious—and subconscious—masters of it.

Alchemy

Mental Alchemy—not to be confused with the medieval pursuit of turning lead into gold—is the mental discipline of transmuting thoughts to bring both internal and external changes to your reality. It is based on Hermetic Law—a school of thought based out of Egypt lead by a man by the name of Hermes Trismegistus. Mental Alchemy delves deep into multiple ways of manifesting through 7 principles—not just one as The Law of Attraction does.

I feel the techniques found in The Kyballion and through The Law of Attraction are both great gateway drugs to the world of manifestation, and in many ways, they're both forms of alchemy. However, I lean more towards The Kyballion because it not only goes into great detail on alchemical techniques, but also provides solutions to problems one may come across in their attempts to manifest. 

How A Psychic Sees It

I didn't start taking it seriously until I read The Kyballion, but I really started to believe it after seeing things consistently manifest for my clients in readings. I started noticing unmistakable energetic patterns that were associated with their thoughts and feelings regarding their own realities.

The best way to describe it is it first starts in the realm of thoughts—I see that realm work at a higher vibration than the emotional realm, but lower than the spiritual realm. Concepts can take on energetic form with enough focus. Then, those concepts are connected to emotions. The emotional realm expands out with lower, longer wavelengths (not unlike infrared waves) that even extend into the future. I've noticed people (including myself) get excited about a new opportunity emotionally before it happens—sometimes even weeks before it happens. 

We put energy into our thoughts and feelings, and they shape our reality. God will often times have us go through a "hermit" or "reflection" phase before a massive life change so we can make sure our mental and emotional states are aligned with the highest version of our life path. That's why things seem stagnant right before takeoff during certain times in our lives.

How to manifest

Of course, everyone can manifest. If you can think and feel, you can manifest.  Without going into detail on the 7 Hermetic techniques (because honestly, you should just go read the book for yourself), here are some basic techniques to manifest:

Ask For It

This one is a no-brainer. You have to clearly form in your head the thing you're trying to manifest. You have to ask for it. Just be sure to take into account the free will choices (and best interest) of others when you do. 

Think It

Not as silly as it sounds. This one of the hardest parts as you have to put yourself in the mindset that what you want has already come to you (versus that it's "coming" to you because that always places the manifestation in the future, versus the present). It's easy to get discouraged, or forget, so it's important that you set constant reminders to keep yourself in the "belief" mindset. Manifestation boards and mantras work well for this.

Feel It

Put yourself in the emotional state that you would be in when you get what you want. Visualize feeling the way you feel when you receive the thing you're trying to manifest. In energy terms, it puts you on the same frequency as the thing you're manifesting—allowing it to happen more quickly and easily.

Repeat

Keep at it! Many fail because they try to manifest, and give up, get discouraged or forget after a week or so. Then they wonder why it doesn't work. What you don't realize, is that you're working against your subconscious's thoughts and confirmation bias.

If you're a "Debbie Downer" as I'd like to say, thinking happy, positive manifestation thoughts for a brief period of time won't instantly cure your depressive tendencies. You must continually and consciously shift yourself into the mental and emotional frequencies to receive what you are wanting to manifest.

There's a reason they call Mental Alchemy a discipline. 

Personal Experiences...

Manifestation works if you really make an effort to put yourself into the right headspace. If I'm upset, or just "not feeling in the mood", it's much harder. One of the more fun things I'd like to manifest (and funny enough, only do so when I'm in a really big hurry) is to get to places on time. I have had a lot of success manifesting getting somewhere on time, even when statistics, traffic and the odds were against me. It helps to think in terms of probability. Though instead of increasing your odds, visualize the scenario (however improbable) manifesting and holding onto that timeline and keeping it pried open for dear life. 

There will be the occasion where something just isn't meant to happen, and though free will is involved and the manifestation still has a chance of working, sometimes an entity (or even another person), may conflict with your goal and make it more difficult to accomplish because what they are trying to manifest competes with what you are trying to manifest (thus creating a manifestation tug-of-war). 

Other things I've manifested include a new job, indrawing more clients, more time to work on a project, and even very recently, a piece of labradorite for my art area. You'll notice as you become more in-tune with energy, you will be able to manifest things more easily.

"The energy from your emotions and thoughts you put into your actions have an effect on their outcome."

Something else to take into consideration is the energy you put into your actions. When I went job hunting, I was frustrated with the job I had. However, I was cautious about the mental and emotional state I was in when I went searching for new jobs because I wanted to indraw the right job with the right energy. When I was panicky, upset or moody while applying for jobs, the ones that would turn up and even in some cases, respond, were stressful, too fast-paced and generally not what I was looking for in advancing my career. When I applied for jobs while level-headed, relaxed and confident, I began to not only see great opportunities but also receive promising responses. 

The energy from your emotions and thoughts you put into your actions have an effect on their outcome.

[againjack]

Once upon a dream

Colby ended up back in town Wednesday due to the car drama. We had chatted about seeing a movie, and had feared it would be leaving theaters soon. So while neither of us HAD to see the other that evening, and I had confirmed the movie would be around at least another week or so, he really wanted to get together. I was supposed to be in a meeting, but figured I wasn’t necessary and skipped it. 

He met me at the door with a big hug and lovely kiss. Oh how I had missed him, and he clearly missed me. At that point it was two weeks and a day since we had last seen each other. 

We chilled and talked for a bit after I put some groceries away that I had picked up on the way to his place away. (More nesting on my part - ensuring I have breakfast as well as salty and sweet snacks at his place. I also picked up a few things he had asked me to, since he literally had gotten back two hours before hand and I had offered.) He was clearly exhausted and sorta surprised when I snuggled up to him like a cat, conforming to how he was sitting. I was surprised that he didn’t share his dramas, since he had alluded to them at various points either via text/chat/phone conversations. 

When he decided we should head to the theater he asked me to drive, since after 5 hours he was done.:P I complied. He was amused at how I cleaned out the front seat from dog and random other stuff. Even being tired he was a good navigator, since he wanted me to go a specific way. This bodes well for whenever we do a road trip together. (Note: aka checklist item for long term potential.) 

While in line for popcorn, because he insists on it and was shocked I avoid it, we had some interesting discussions. I mentioned how I had told my parents about him based upon our discussions at the french restaurant. He wasn’t sure what I was referring to. I was all awkward and said that I must be one of those women who reads into things too much, but standing in line with people all around us was not the time or place to have that discussion. 

We had some very interesting discussions about the movie afterwards. It was nice to have such a varied and in depth analysis with so many references that we both understood. It was nice to have such an intellectual discussion with a hint of silliness. It was... awesome. An item on my long term potential checklist I didn’t know I had and needed. An item that was placed there from my exhusband who set a high bar there. :P

Back at his place we had dinner. We sat and chatted for a bit, he putzed at something while I nuked the casserole. It felt lopsided and very traditional gender roles. Dinner wasn’t anything that stood out from our conversation. After dinner he just sat there and chatted at me while I began to clean up. I started to feel resentful that it felt like more gender stereotype roles. He did eventually bring his own dishes in and took care of them. This is definitely a point to discuss in the (near) future. 

We walked his dog and I commented about an email I had sent earlier. I am trying to “manage” him, like one would with your boss at work - present options or situations ahead of time to give them time to think things through and be ready to make a plan/decision/action when the time comes. This email was about my birthday in two weeks. The email was that I wasn’t sure if he had made note of it when it was brought up off hand months ago. That I wasn’t expecting anything from him (except maybe a card.) That I know he has a lot on his plate and unknowns (like he has to go back to SC to pick up his car if it is repaired.) But I wanted to make plans and wanted to know IF he had any ideas or wanted me to be available for him to do something with. That way if he couldn’t/didn’t it was ok and I could make other plans. He said he had scanned it and was thinking about it. He said he appreciated my ‘managing’ him.

He was putzing some more after walking the dog, so I pulled out the book I am studying to make notecards as part of my study process. After a few minutes he noticed and seemed taken aback. I told him that I expected he would focus on things, so I brought something to do in the mean time. He knows my test is coming up (exactly a month from today!) and that I’ve got a lot of responsibility with work and my synagogue in the next few weeks as well. I told him that I understand how present he is when with me, and I want to give him the same. That I only wanted to do the cards while he was busy with something else. He said he understood but gave an air of being disappointed and maybe hurt.  He went upstairs to get ready for bed. 

I finished the card I was on, then grabbed a different book and notebook for notes so I could read while he got ready. He was unpacking his bag while I read, and he tossed something at me while he walked to the bathroom. I looked up confused. He said that it was sort of an early birthday present. I blinked and asked him if he wanted me to open it then or to wait - he said it was up to me. (At this point I was wondering if this was my only gift from him or if it was a prelude. I also wonder if it was meant to be something else but due to the bday talk earlier he decided to call it that. :\ ) 

I decided to open it right then, since I feel it is important to open a gift from someone in front of them and I wasn’t sure if we would be together on my bday or not. It was a beautiful scarf. Hand dyed indigo cotton scarf. So soft and beautiful. He had left the price tag on it, and it was way more than I would have paid - even being artisan and expensive materials.:P But that is the definition of a gift, right? Something you want but wouldn’t buy for yourself. 

It was funny how after that we discussed why he chose that one over other patterns - like one too polkadoty, another being very tallis like... He was obviously pleased with my reaction. 

Part of why I wonder about if it was intended as a bday gift or for that evening was he seemed miffed that I was studying/reading rather than puppy dog following him around with him as my sole attention. Part of our conversation after I thanked him and was playing with the scarf he said some very interesting things. He thanked me for sticking by him the past few months that his life was way more crazy than normal. He showed in his voice, face, and mannerisms that it meant a lot to him and he felt it was special and rare. That he didn’t expect it and was surprised and values that. I joked how I have the patience of a saint, and told him how awesome and special he is and what I think we have together is. I focused more on him than us. I feel like he is getting closer to saying he loves me, and I’m not sure if what I say/do encourages or pushes that away. 

On the radio the other day was a discussion about a study about when in a relationship people say I love you for the first time. Most people it is an even split between the first week or at the 3 month mark. Only 5% took longer than three months. It really made me think about how I am and when I say it, as well as when my previous partners have said it. The whole world (that reads this or talks to me) knows how I fell in love instantly with Colby and it has only deepened and become more real over time. (The radio personalities reacted like most people that if someone says I love you in the first week it is a huge red flag and to run! So I am glad that while I have felt that way I haven’t said it.) It has been over three months since we met, and we are 10 days from the three months after our first date. I’m really curious when he will say it and it is getting harder for me to wait. I’ve been alluding to it, but occasionally saying things like, “good morning, luv.” 

A part of me is wondering with his being a self proclaimed romantic if he is saving his declaration of love - or sex - for my birthday. Being a romantic myself, and being that the first time is special, I think we are on the same wavelength. Of course, I could just be building castles in the clouds. 

When he laid down he said the light didn’t bother him, but it clearly did. So I gave up on reading and snuggled up with him. It was clear he missed that, even though he didn’t say anything.  While snuggled up before he fell asleep I joked that he is off the hook for cake and flowers (that I had mentioned in the email as suggestions for my bday.) More of how I think he missed me, when I rolled over to my side of the (king sized bed) because he kept moving (while sound asleep) to be closer to me or to touch me (his foot to my leg, his back to my side/back...) He hasn’t moved to the middle of the bed like that before. 

In the morning he noticed and seemed to like that I was wearing the scarf. He also was clearly having trouble with the idea of us parting ways for work. He was still on island time and thinking he was on vacation, wanting to just take his time and chill with me. :)

We have chatted a lot more through the days. Probably both because I gave him a stern but lightish poke about going days without contact again, as well as now that he was back to normal and not on vacation and with family I reached out more. I found myself wrapping the scarf around my shoulders, like a pashmina/shawl, and pulling it tight, imagining it was him hugging/holding me. I decided to be a romantic dork and told him that, his response was a smile. Since he is such a romantic I know he really appreciated that thought and that I told him too. 

We don’t have plans of when to see each other next, but I feel no worries right now. I am still on the Colby-high though. :P 

Today while chatting he sent me a link about Harry Potter erotica. (An article about a guy who thought he bought the series to read when instead he bought erotic fanfic and had no clue until talking to a friend about book 5. Hilarious article and I really want to read that fanfic series. lol) I told him I wanted to read it, and told him that he isn’t helping with my keeping at his pace - that I was turned on and really wanted him. I took it a bit further, saying how was naturally extra horny due to being midcycle, though it would be hard for him to know since I have a consistently high appetite. lol (Sorta to explain why I playfully bit his ear Wednesday night. >><<) 

I feel like we have slipped a wee bit deeper into being a couple and being comfortable with each other. I feel a bit more solid about how he feels and what I mean to him.