#also i find the fact that the blonde in the photo has a denim jacket on hella amusing

[wikitpowers]

this is kit and ty.

need i say more? really?

[thiswasinevitableid]

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

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

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

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

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

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

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

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

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

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

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

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

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

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

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

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

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”

[gershwinn]

Lili Reinhart Never Had a Backup Plan

A fan favorite on the wildly popular teen soap Riverdale, Lili Reinhart has major movie stardom in her sights. And if you ask nicely, she just might read your horoscope.

Refreshingly, Reinhart is not vegan, gluten-free, keto, or on a macrobiotic diet. She is a self-described picky eater and considers this a treat. "No one wants to go [here] with me," she says, excitedly, when we sit down. Though Reinhart is dressed unfussily, in a faded black tee, Topshop denim jacket, jeans, thin hoop earrings, and a taupe baseball cap pulled over her buttery blonde hair, she is promptly approached by a woman at the next table. There's a lot the cap isn't hiding. Off-screen, Reinhart's eyes look as wide, upturned, and full-lashed as a Disney princess's; her clear, milky complexion is dotted youthfully with freckles; and her dimples seem to take turns showing off: a slight divot in her chin, then twin creases that show up on either side of her face when she's amused.

The woman leans over and asks Reinhart if she is on TV. Reinhart's lips tighten, and a wince flickers at her eyes, but she gives a polite smile and nods slowly. The woman plows on. Her son is a big fan, she says, motioning to a grinning boy beside her. He's an aspiring actor, and they're in town from Texas to give it a try. Reinhart relaxes a bit. She asks what part of Texas they are from, sincerely congratulates the boy on his endeavors, and turns to resume our interview. Reinhart says this moment — and others like it — is more full circle than she would care to admit.

"It's funny. I went to this Cheesecake Factory with my mom when I was, like, 15," she says. "We had flown in for an audition. I was sitting at the table over there, and I remember I got the email that I didn't get the part." Also around that time, Reinhart recalls spotting Zac Efron in a doctor's-office waiting room and surreptitiously snapping a photo of the actor. "I feel so gross about it now," she says. "It is flattering, but it also makes you feel like a zoo animal. Even when I'm sitting in the cast greenroom, if [someone is] holding their phone up like this, I'm like, ‘What are you doing?' I've become very paranoid."

I ask what she thinks about that F-word: fame. She changes the subject. "Cute boots," she remarks. I am flattered and launch into a monologue about how much I love Primark, specifically the one in Madrid, before realizing what she's done and ask her once more to talk. About. Fame. "It's so weird," she says, finally. "I don't really think about it until I'm around people. I don't think about it until I see young women, because those are the people that recognize me. Then all of a sudden, I become very aware."

True to her word, I notice Reinhart physically tenses up every time a teenage girl — or worse, a group of teenage girls — nears us. But when she's not on high alert for high schoolers, Reinhart is unguarded to a degree I would not expect from any stranger, much less one whose privacy is under constant scrutiny. For starters, she texts me directly, rather than having an assistant or manager handle our communication (standard for most celebrities).

Later that night, we decide on a meeting location for the next day. "As long as we go somewhere with eggs, I'm happy," she texts, before we settle on Dialog Cafe in West Hollywood and push back the time — neither of us feels like showing up before 9 a.m. Reinhart has an ease and openness in conversation that makes talking to her feel more like a slumber party than an interview. She volunteers thoughts on cute babies (just her goddaughter, for now), romantic love (something she prefers to fall into rarely, and fiercely), taking a spouse's surname (she favors hyphenation), and being the "grandma" of her friend group.

"When I get drunk, my friends act like it's a national holiday," Reinhart says. She offers up snippets from her camera roll and Instagram direct messages: photos of the hot-air balloon ride her boyfriend, Cole Sprouse, took her on for her birthday, and a dog she wishes were up for adoption — a shaggy shelter pup with no eyes. And just when I think I couldn't feel any more like the real-life Veronica to her Betty, she asks me if I want to go shopping.

Reinhart leads us by memory through a sprawling Barnes & Noble, up to two flights of escalators, then over to the left and back toward the windows, until we end up in the self-improvement section. Reinhart used to come here with friends, back when she first moved to L.A., and spend time poring over books like The Secret Language of Your Name. She tells me the provenance of her given name: Daniel and Amy Reinhart of Cleveland fell in love, got married, and named their second daughter after the actor Lili Taylor. There wasn't any special connection. "They just liked the spelling of her name. It's the French spelling."

Reinhart drags a dictionary-thick tome from the shelf. "This is a book that I own," she says, handing it to me. It's as weighty as a textbook — it has to be, because it guarantees deep and profound knowledge about absolutely everyone, based on their date of birth. She helps me look up mine, which is hilariously titled the Day of Sensual Charisma. Hers is September 13, which the book has ordained the Day of Passionate Care. She reads the entry aloud. "Resilient determination. That sounds about right," she says. "This part is very true: ‘They may face great obstacles to their success, but not for a moment will the outcome be in doubt for them.' I always knew this is what I was going to do. I never had a plan B." It might be difficult to imagine what the aforementioned "great obstacles" have been, considering the fact that she had landed her role on Riverdale by the age of 19.

But being young and female in just about any work environment can have its dark side. Reinhart was 16 when an adult work associate attempted to force himself on her. "I felt physically pinned down to the ground while someone dry humped me, basically," she says. She has spoken publicly about the assault before — but in retrospect, she believes those statements were premature. "I think I shared my story…before I had really understood it," Reinhart says. "I kept thinking of it as something physical, but it was more so a psychological abuse...that spanned a couple of months. I went along with it and was trying to get his approval because we were working together…. I wanted my work environment to be easy."

She was also a minor at the time, being exploited by someone in a position of power. It's clearly difficult for Reinhart to recount. When trying to recall details — how long it went on, whether verbal abuse was involved — she speaks evenly, but frequently pauses and tells me that that time in her life is "blurry" or that she's "locked it away." "What makes me hopeful is people like [Supergirl and Glee actor] Melissa Benoist sharing her story of domestic abuse with the world, because I think she helped a lot of people by doing that. When people come forward about a sexual abuse experience or physical abuse or them struggling with a disorder, they're encouraging other people to not suffer in silence."

Another personal obstacle Reinhart has been vocal about is mental health. She recently read an article she can't get out of her head, about a child under the age of 10 who ended his life after being severely bullied. "Now more than ever, we need to be bringing the idea of mental health into schools and teaching it," Reinhart says. "It's about communicating clearly." She recalls experiencing crippling anxiety when she was growing up. "I felt very alone. But I was not being bullied, which made it really hard for my parents to understand," Reinhart says.

Her high school experience couldn't have been more different from that of Betty Cooper, who drifts easily between cheerleading, running the school newspaper, and solving mysteries, with a cadre of unusually attractive friends by her side. "I went through a semester when I didn't have any friends in my lunch period, and I didn't want to sit in a huge cafeteria by myself, so I would find classrooms to go sit in alone, or spend time in the bathroom, just chilling," she recalls.

By the time Reinhart began working (she supported herself as a waitress and a Pier 1 sales associate before she landed Riverdale), she was just trying to get through the week without having a panic attack.

Now that time in her life is growing distant. And she'll get to go to prom for the first time, on this season of the show. "Three and a half years ago, I had no money. I didn't have a love in my life like I do now. I didn't have any sort of confidence that I was on the right track, and now I have those things," Reinhart says. And her momentum shows no signs of stopping. The week after our interview, she filmed her first commercial for CoverGirl, which recently signed her as one of its faces. A forthcoming collection of her poetry, Swimming Lessons, will hit bookstores this May.

Pay, or equal pay, has been an issue and probably will continue to be. But Reinhart is prepared. "Cami [Mendes, who plays Veronica] and I have had to deal with that from Riverdale," Reinhart says.

"Going into projects in the future, I'm much more aware of it. So is my lawyer." She's also learned from the experiences of women like Michelle Williams and Taraji P. Henson. "I was taking notes," she says. "Taraji Henson had said something like, when she renegotiated for Empire, she knew her value to the show. She knew what that value was, and she demanded it." Reinhart pauses, choosing her words, sounding more sure of herself with each sentence: "I do know the value that I bring as someone who attracts an audience. And I'm not going to accept less than what I think I'm worth. And it's okay to fight for what I'm worth."

Source: Allure

[fanfictiondreamscape]

Polaroids

Request: Like I already told you for my Liz Thompson x Boyfriend! Reader where the two of them are going on a road trip and the reader has to take photos of the trip and LIz: The eldest of the Thompson sisters request. I would like this request written as an one-shot

Title: Polaroids

Genre: I hope you don’t mind the request being marked as a fluffy and romantic piece! 

Pairing: Liz Thompson X Boyfriend!Reader

Notes: Fair warning before I begin, I want to preface everything I say with this: the work is cheesy, the work will be very cliche, but I do hope that it comes off as cute and acceptable. Thanks for the request!

(Also, I took some small liberties and made the characters older for the idea to work. I hope you don’t mind that!) 

Below the cut! 

Death City was sparkling under the sun, the heat pounding on the walkways and buildings. People were walking around from ice cream stand to cafe, and the weather was making itself obvious on their faces. 

The rushing crowd was big, but nonetheless, Liz and (y/n) had managed to sneak away for the time being. You had dragged Liz on a date, and it was a time spent trying to get Kid to let Liz go for the day - “He needs his weapons, and he had to have symmetry!”

Safe to assume, Liz was able to be free of the teenage reaper for the day (as long as she was prepared to come by if a kishin were to show up), and she was as happy as could be. In typical fashion, she was complaining, but (y/n) and her wouldn’t have it any other way.

The couple were holding hands, a safer way to go through the town without dealing with heatstroke, when an idea hit the male. “Weird idea, how about a road trip? Maybe later this week, possibly even today?” 

The dirty blonde blanched before responding, “Kid would flip, babe.It would take a lot of convincing.” (Y/n) groaned at the realization - his girlfriend’s right, Kid wouldn’t allow it. That is, unless...

“What if we invite them to come with? Or, at least give them the warning?” he inquired. Liz had stopped for a second, trying to deliberate the idea quickly. (Y/n) found the image of her pouting just the slightest super cute, though he knew he had to hold off from doing that if it meant the thought would come somewhat to fruition. 

She smiled after a few seconds, “Tell me about the plan over coffee, and we may have a deal.” 

(Y/n) snickered at the compromise, rolling his eyes with a grin, but gently tugged her to the nearest Deathbucks. “First things first....”

...

Overall, the idea deliberation went fairly well, but the fact of the matter was: the rest of the group would be a hazard to a peaceful experience. 

The couple had come to this conclusion by the time their date had come to an end, and this led to a compromise in which (Y/n) and Liz would do the trip themselves, and if needed, could allow the team reason to find them in the case of a kishin attack. 

It seemed to flow pretty well, and the idea was considered and confirmed. After all, a meister needs their weapon, and with Kid you had to be careful. Luckily, the plan went by well with him (Patty was flipping out throughout the whole pitch) and Liz had already started to get her stuff together. Once you got the confirmation, you did the same. 

It took a few days to pass, but everything was prepared and you two left at an ungodly hour (4:30 AM to be specific). Liz was extremely tired, so she didn’t last too long with the softer music playing from the speakers of the taller male’s vehicle. Though he was also tired, (Y/n) had to stay alert if the drive was to be safe.

The specialized playlist had continued to play throughout the time on the road, as well as when (Y/n) had peeked over at his girlfriend in the passenger’s seat. Her hair was strewn about the headrest despite being tied into a ponytail, her jacket had slipped off her shoulder, and her eyelashes were casting shadows on the top of her cheeks.

“An opportunity, perhaps...?” the male had inquired under his breath. His own thought overwhelmed him and he pulled off at a nearby rest stop.

(Y/n) had to get the picture, and what Liz didn’t know was that her boyfriend had brought a polaroid camera with his stuff. And it was sitting in the bigger pocket of his travel bag in the backseat of the vehicle.

Given the scenario and the photo op, he quietly leaned back and grabbed the camera. After checking to make sure she was still asleep, he snapped a picture and waited for the photo to come out. 

Once it was in his hands, he put the picture in his wallet and slid the camera back into his bag. ‘I’ll tell Liz later, she’ll have a field day if I tell her now.’

He had checked the time once more, and with it now hitting 7:30, hunger pains were bound to strike them soon enough. With no food, the couple (on both fronts) would definitely be angry. 

“:Liz? Hey, Liz, baby?” He had started to shake the sleeping female, which only elicited a groan. “Liz, come on.” Still shaking her, still shaking her, still shaking her.... “Baby, come on. We need to eat.” 

The mention of the food was what caught her attention, and she opened one eye while muttering about food under her breath. “Food?...Mmm, I’m getting up....”

The male deadpanned and watched as she lethargically pulled herself up, making eye contact and smirking just the slightest as she flung the vehicle door open energetically. 

“What the- you weren’t asleep were you?” Liz giggled as she was able to recount the photography moment. The male’s jaw was on the floor, but he trailed after his girlfriend and partook in mutual teasing throughout breakfast. 

...

Eventually the two had to switch out. There was a plan, after all (courtesy of (Y/n)), and they had to keep it going strong if they wanted to make it to their predetermined destination before 2 PM. 

Now, seeing as it was pushing time for the two to leave from breakfast, they had to hurry. Guess whose job it was to drive this time? 

That’s right, Liz’s. And boy, oh boy, was she hesitant. 

That being the case, though....

(Y/n) had taken the liberty of paying, so that left Liz to start the car up. That also left her some time to snag the polaroid and snap a picture or two. So, snag she did.

‘He’ll never know~.’

Either way things worked out, as he left she snapped a picture of him in the sunlight. The wind had been flowing, he was shielding his eyes from the light, and he was fair distance away so the chances that he would suspect she had taken a picture was very low. 

Thought the walk wasn’t that short, she had rummaged around in her bag and hid the camera behind it as the photo processed and came out. When it was out, she had hid it in a compartment in her stuff and grabbed her sunglasses before moving the camera into the blanket in between their stuff. 

Liz, looking posh with her dark sunglasses and pristine white tank top and denim shorts, had noticed the taller male looking at her through the windows of the vehicle.

Fake ogling, ‘aah’ing, and a  raised eyebrow were a result of that. He had encouraged her to strut even more than she already was and was dead set on making his jaw drop on the floor before the end of the night. 

She was already working there, and (Y/n) had burst out laughing when she had opened the door and her smirk lifted into a goofy Grinch face. She eventually broke out into belly laughs after he sent one back at her. 

Yes, little words were exchanged, but the whole scene was refreshing for them (considering they deal with kishins fairly often). 

...

The sun had only gotten brighter as the time had passed by. When they had gotten stopped at a light from time to time, too - well, prime time to listen to her hilarious rants of anger regarding life in general. 

Granted, (Y/n) did the same, but his angry rants never matched up to her’s if they were to pop up out of the blue. 

They had spent a good hour belting along to songs blasting through the speakers as well, and given the chance that (Y/n) had reached behind to the backseat to grab a water bottle, he had also grabbed the camera. 

Though it was becoming a game of back-and-forth with a camera, he wasn’t bothering to hide the fact that he was down to take a picture (or five) of his glowing girlfriend. 

In fact, when she was singing along to some obnoxious road-trip rock, they had been going along a forest road after leaving the city. The trees letting in small glimpses of sun through their branches framed her face perfectly, and the little wisps of hair that had popped out of her ponytail were visible. 

The perfect, aesthetic, and beauty capturing photo of Liz Thompson. A woman he is proud to call his girlfriend. 

As he lifted the camera to the light and took the picture, his nimble fingers froze when Liz peeked over at him and rolled her eyes. (Y/n) let out a short giggle when she looked away and continued belting the notes out of tune. 

A quick snap sound didn’t phase her as she just chuckled and continued on her action as he waved the photo to see it better after it was ejected. 

“You are loving that camera aren’t you, babe?”

��Hmm? Oh, I’m loving the camera? Are you sure you aren’t, princess - cause it definitely loves you.”

“Oh, shut it. I could say the same for you, you loser.”

The laughter that filled the room following the banter was contagious, though that moment allowed it to be reserved for the two of them alone. 

...

Yet again, as lunch began to loom over the two, the sun had continued to beat down upon the couple. They were able to determine that they wouldn’t last much longer without any filling food, as well. 

Yeah, they needed to find a restaurant or rest stop soon, or else their angry rants and singing would become more obnoxious and annoying. The conversations they were having were also beginning to cut themselves a little short. 

That, though, was not going to be allowed throughout the course of the trip. (Y/n) had pointed out where things were as they were nearing a small town en route to their destination. The quickest place to go just so they could maintain time happened to be a small hometown diner. 

It was bustling with life, seeing as it was lunchtime, and people were smiling excitedly over coffee and homemade hamburgers as the couple observed the scene through the window. Liz was pulling into the decently sized parking lot, and as she did so, the male beside her had reached behind him to grab his wallet from his bag. 

The sound of her moving the gear shift to ‘P’ alerted the male as the car stopped. He held his leather wallet in his hand as Liz pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them to him - they hit him in the shoulder when he tried to dodge. 

“Oh my Death, what the-”

“You of all people should’ve seen it coming, babe.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I was going to pay for both of our meals, but if you don’t want food, I guess...”

“Fine!”

(Y/n) chuckled at his girlfriend’s antics before opening the car door and leaving the vehicle. Liz pouted and rolled her eyes before doing the same.

While they were walking to the front door, Liz snatched the camera from her boyfriend’s hands and snapped a quick picture of his shocked face before waiting for the photo to come out. He laughed and snagged it right back. 

“Had to get your fill of payback, didn’t ya, princess?”

“Okay, you seriously need to stop calling me that.”

“No can do, princess.”

...

The both of them had been seated by a sweet middle-aged woman who then took their order. She had a huge smile on her face, and (Y/n) was beginning to find it addicting. 

As the woman went back to get their drinks of choice, Liz had sent a look towards her boyfriend after noticing the look that settled on his face. He had a simper that stretched to his eyes as he held the camera up and grabbed her hand that had been resting on the table in front of them.

With a playful glint in his eyes, he raised a question. “So, who’s taking the picture?” As he finished his inquiry, Liz rolled her eyes.

“You really are a romantic, aren’t you?”

“So I guess it’s me, then.”

She let out a snort and gestured to their intertwined hands on the table. “Go ahead, you idiot.”

A calm smile made its way onto the male’s face as he snapped a picture of their hands from above, the light hitting their flesh through shadows that were cast from the condiment bottle set up beside other consumer-used additions. 

They (read: (Y/n)) had continued to snap photos of extra cheesy moments shared between them over lunch.

One photo consisted of Liz, a burger in her one hand and her other reaching to cover the lens. Another consisted of (Y/n) stuffing his face with his food, which Liz found hilarious and couldn’t resist the urge to take a photo of. The final photo in the ever-growing stack of their lunch endeavor was one in which there was a kiss - a short peck on (Y/n)’s cheek on the way out of the establishment. 

As they left the diner, Liz tossed the keys to the towering male and slid into the passenger’s seat as soon as the doors were unlocked. (Y/n) slid the camera to Liz as he entered the vehicle, and she took another picture of him from the seat beside him. 

He just shook his head with a loving smile on his face, watching as she waited in clam delight for the picture to come out so she could see it. He then directed his attention from his girlfriend in the passenger’s side and to the vehicle, turning it on and leaving the lot in favor of the road. 

There wasn’t much more time until they reached their destination.

...

Given the scenario ((Y/n) behind the wheel, Liz holding the camera in the passenger’s seat), it wasn’t shocking when they both went on about their day as they had been - off-key singing and taking charge of the other’s road rage. 

While the upbeat music had continued to play throughout the surrounding speakers, Liz had the polaroid up against the sun. She had snapped a few pictures of the passing skylines through the trees, of the clouds in the sky at just the right angle. And the best ones? Well...

In her mild frenzy of photography, she had snuck multiple photos of the male beside her while he was driving. Some were funny (sometimes catching him pretending to belt out a high note, sometimes catching him holding up a finger to the driver in front or behind them with a disgusted grimace on his face), others were just beautiful. 

His silhouette was outlined by the afternoon sun, his sunglasses glinting in the light, and everything reflected just perfectly. ‘Yeah, I regret nothing.’

“Hey, princess, you done admiring those photos of me you took?”

Liz rolled her eyes at (Y/n) as he smirked at her expression. “You mean your mug? Yeah, right...”

“...mhm, be honest.”

“Fine - yeah, I was. Happy you cocky loser?” Liz uttered sarcastically, a smile sweeping across her features. (Y/n) had a similar joking smirk cross his face as she finished her statement. 

Soon, they reached a stoplight. It was here that Liz snapped another picture of the male and waited for it to eject from the camera as (Y/n) had checked the street signs. 

“Hey, Liz. We’re almost to the peak.” Her ears seemed to perk up at the statement. 

“Really? We’re almost there?” she questioned excitedly, her boyfriend observing her reaction from his peripheral vision. A smirk began to rest itself on his face, and he chuckled just the slightest. 

“Give it a few minutes, okay? If you’re thirsty, we can stop somewhere and get something to drink before we get there so we don’t die of dehydration.” 

Liz rolled her eyes at him, snapping a picture of his overdramatic expression - a hand, positioned on his forehead, in a woeful pose. He let out a chesty laugh after the image was taken and continued on the road to the peak. 

...

Time had seemed to slow down as Liz’s adrenaline started to kick in. She had suggested that they go to the peak, but she wasn’t sure that (Y/n) would agree with the idea. He’d never been the most romantic type, nor had she, but she wanted to try to be. 

It seemed that he wanted to as well, because he had told her what he had originally planned. Liz was ecstatic when she became aware of his romantic sunset-date that he had thought of. 

While the time was starting to get to her, especially after (Y/n) had run in a gas station and picked up something for the two to drink other than warm water. Things did come to a head when they made it to the destination, though.

This image in front of them made the two of them become quiet.

The both of them had only ever imagined what the view would look like, though (Y/n)’s was much more gorgeous than the setting sun in front of them. Liz, lit up by the purple and orange glow of the sun with the shadows of trees behind her acting as a frame, made his cheeks flush and his eyes flash with hearts.

Liz had left the polaroid in the vehicle in her rush, and the male had noticed it. The amount of joy he had when he realized that, had he not grabbed it, this moment couldn’t and wouldn’t be captured was through the roof.

He had to get a picture. Now. So he did.

The sound of the camera shutter drew Liz’s attention away from the rocky, glowing landscape. “What was that for, you loser? You distracted me.”

With a laugh to start, (Y/n) uttered a statement that made her cheeks flush tomato red. “I couldn’t help it, you were glowing. That, and the angle was perfect - you literally made the landscape so much more beautiful.”

Her boyfriend’s words shocked her, but she knew that this wouldn’t last long and her blushing face would be the target of teasing if she didn’t do something. So, she leaned up and kissed him quickly.

He froze at the action, and kept a tight grip on the camera as he stood still. ‘Okay, not happening.’

With almost superhuman speed, he had turned Liz’s body to face him and pressed his lips to hers gently. She had responded quickly, and in the moment, he had taken a picture of their lips intertwined.

The setting sun had made the whole scene take on a purple hue and, as it continued to set, everything throughout the day fell into place. All of the words settled into the chilly night air, their hands seemed to fit together even better than before, and the way that their heartbeats seemed to beat in time got even more synchronized.

The kiss got very passionate, and once the picture was taken, the hand holding it was dropped to the male’s side while his other went up to cup Liz’s cheek. She had a grip on his wrist and her other hand was resting on the back of (Y/n)’s head, and she had begun to push it into the base of his head as the kiss continued.

Before time had picked up, they had pulled away from the other and stared into the other’s eyes. Smiles slid onto their faces, but that was swapped for a look of surprise as Liz snagged the camera and took a picture of (Y/n)’s blushing face.

The fun continued to play out for another minute or so before they reached into the vehicle and set up a small rest spot. Liz had the blanket and pillows they had brought while (Y/n) had the drinks and leftover snacks. 

Five minutes passed as they set up, and the rest of the night passed by with stargazing, constellation games, and more teasing and kisses. 

By the time they had finished their items, their phones indicated the time, and they both packed up and got ready to head home or find a motel to crash at for the night. 

...

Morning had already struck, and Liz was behind the wheel while (Y/n) slept in the passenger’s side seat. His hair hit the headrest in a certain way, the coffee that was sitting in the cupholders halfway empty an indicator of a caffeine crash he had a couple hours back.

‘6:45. Great, it shouldn’t be too much longer until we get back home.’

She smiled lovingly at the (h/c) beside her before redirecting her attention to the road and continuing back to Death City. 

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 30 - It’s A Broken Kind Of Feeling

Dusseldorf Germany, April 16 1990

(Chris is 25, Andi is 20)

CHRIS:  "Andi?" I call after her but she slams the divider door. Standing there in the middle of the bus I can feel Kim and Matt looking at me as Jason peaks his head out of his bunk to asses the situation. This is the first fight they've actually seen between Andi and me and I have to say it was just a little awkward. Just as I was about to follow her, I see Kim shaking his head at me and lighting up a cigarette.

"What?" I ask.

"I think maybe you should just give her some space," Kim says.

"I need to make sure she's ok, I was only trying to stand up for her,"

"Chris... just stop and sit down... it's been a long night," Kim says to me but I make my way to the back of the bus, not even listening. I need to explain myself. I need her to know I was only trying to help.

"Andi?" I say quietly but I hear nothing on the other side. "Baby? Ok, I know you're angry with me but... I just..." I start but I still don't hear anything. "Babe? Can I come in?" I ask but still nothing. I felt my heart begin to pick up pace and I reach down to the divider handle pulling it open and see her clothes left in a pile on the floor.

*****

Seattle Washington, January 23 1990

(Andi is 20 and 20)

ANDI: "Fuck me," I say as I find myself in a familiar room, completely naked on the floor. I flip my curls out of my face and sit myself up leaning against the bed. It's our old bedroom, in the old apartment we lived in with Andy. I exhale and look around the room with my guitars on their stands next to Chris's, the posters of our favorite bands plastered all over the walls and a part of me can feel just how much I missed this place.

"I didn't want to slip... why can't I just..." I say quietly to myself as I bring my knees up to my chest, and rest my elbow, threading my fingers through my curls and gripping my roots. I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated at how the show went, I'm frustrated at that idiot promoter who just wouldn't let up on me and I'm frustrated that I can't let go of the grief I feel inside for Andy. I don't want to feel this way. I hate that I'm constantly leaving Chris all the fucking time. I hate that I can't control this... this insipid curse that takes me away from everyone and everything I love.

I sit for a little while trying to gather myself together, but also just letting myself feel the grief and heartbreak I've been feeling since the day Andy left. Just like how I felt when my mother left me, only this time, it's different. Andy's death affected me, and is still affecting me like I never thought it would.

I then decide to move over to my dresser and pull out some panties and a plain black bra, a plain racer back tank top and a frayed denim skirt. It was probably the easiest clothing find since I used to slip into Chris' room in the basement. Once I slip on some socks and my Doc Martens, I check myself in the mirror making sure I look presentable, and cautiously walk out into the hallway and see the apartment completely dark and slightly messy from what looked like a party that had taken place. I walk passed Andy's room and stop myself to just take a look since his door was left open. His room is the same as I remember with his bed still all a mess since he never made it. I can just hear his voice now...

'What's the point, if I'm gonna sleep in it anyways?'

I step over to his dresser where he would hang his scarves off the corner of the mirror and see tons of photos of him and Xana and a few of Me and Chris and one photo of me and Andy that I can't remember who took for the life of me. I glance down at the top of the dresser where a little calendar was turned to January and see the date circled in red marker and my name in bold 'Andrea's 20th'

It's my birthday? Wait... now I remember. Everyone is at The Moore.

I quickly head towards the door and grab my black spring jacket and head out of the apartment.

*****

It was a short walk to The Moore, only just a few blocks from the apartment. Once I round the corner I see a small line up of people waiting to get inside, so instead I make my way around the back of the building to the parking lot where I see Chris' blue Ford pick up truck that was parked next to the back entrance door. I make my way over to his truck and just as I come around the back, I see Andy leaning against the brick wall beside the back door puffing away on a cigarette.

Just the sight of him standing there with his blonde mane down passed his shoulders in a leather jacket with a plain black loosely fitted tank top, white jeans and Doc Marten's on his feet made a lump instantly form in my throat.

"Hey my love, what are you doing out here?" He says so sweetly with a smile. I couldn't help myself as I walk up to him, my bottom lip trembling, my eyebrows pulled to together trying my best to not bawl like a baby in the parking lot in front of him. "Andi?"

I start to cry and his expression changes as he removes himself from the wall flicking his cigarette off somewhere.

"Andi love, what happened?" He asks concerned and I couldn't bring myself to say the words as he embraces me in the warmest hug I've had from him in so long.

It was at that moment that I couldn't help the overwhelming grief bubbling up from inside me and I started to cry hard, I mean really hard. He holds me tighter to him, holding my head to his shoulder and softly rubs my back soothingly as I just let my tears flow. In all the years that we've known each other, he has never seen me break down like this and there is no way that I can tell him what has happened - what will happen in the next few months. After a few more moments I finally move myself from him and he places his lips to my forehead as I wipe my tears from my cheeks.

"It's you're Birthday love, you shouldn't be crying on your birthday. Was it Cornell? I'll kick his ass if it was him," He says when he breaks away from me. I give a little giggle because technically it was him, just not from this time.

"No, no it wasn't Chris," My voice breaks and I sniff. I look up at him and he brushes  a few curls away from my face and all I wanted to do was just keep this moment forever.

"You want me to try and find Xana?" He says softly.

"No, it's ok. I just... I wanna stay here with you... just for a little while," I say without even thinking how that might sound but I don't care. He looks around the parking lot for a moment and then back at me once again giving me that sweet smile.

"Take a walk with me?" He asks.

"Ok," I say softly and he takes my hand and we slowly walk through the parking lot out to the sidewalk.

"There's a little park up here... we can just sit for a while," He says and I nod as he continues to hold my hand in his. We eventually arrive at the little park a few blocks away from The Moore and find a picnic table to sit at.

"So love, what's going on with the birthday girl?" Andy says as he flips his blonde locks behind his shoulder, sitting across from me on the same side of the picnic table, but close enough that he could still rest his hand on my thigh.

"I don't know," I exhale and shrug my shoulders and try to think of what exactly to say to him. He pulls out a small silver flask from the pocket of his pants and unscrews the cap taking a sip, then offers me some. I gladly take it from him and take a sip from the flask, tasting the sharp bite of alcohol and flinch just a little bit.

"It's vodka," He smiles.

"I figured," I say making a face, taking a few more sips and handing it back to him while he chuckles. We sit in silence with each other, feeling the soft gentle January breeze blow through. I guess that Vodka warmed me up a little because that breeze feels amazing.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" He asks after a long while of us just sitting with each other.

"I do, but... I can't," I say trying to hold myself together.

"Why not, love? I swear, I'll kick Cornell's ass if I have to, I mean it. I know I'm shorter than him but... well... everyone's shorter than him... jeeze he's like some sort of blue eyed Adonis isn't he?" He chuckles and I start to giggle. "see that's much better than your tears,"

We both fall silent with each other again as Andy studies me and once again I just wanted to feel his arms around me, to feel him alive again. I lean myself in and place my head on his chest as he gently holds my head to him once more. Then after a few minutes I lift my head from his chest and touch my forehead to his, then without even realizing just what was happening , his lips were on mine.

At first I hesitated, knowing that it was wrong but I suddenly somehow didn't care and responded to him as his hands somehow made their was around my back pulling me closer into him so that I was practically sitting in his lap. Our kiss quickly becomes heated, turning slightly aggressive as his fingers find their way up under my shirt, lifting it up under my jacket and revealing my bra to him. He breaks from my lips and quickly moves down to my chest, his hands cupping the sides of my breasts as I grip my fingers through his blonde locks. I had no idea what the hell I was doing but I never expected this to happen at all. In fact I know this is completely wrong. Andy's my friend. We were only ever just friends and nothing more. But god damn this feels good.

He lays me back on the bench, his hands moving down to my thighs and pulling my skirt up while his lips move down my stomach. I squeeze my eyes closed, biting my bottom lip when I feel his hardness through his pants against me. Suddenly he stops kissing my skin and presses his forehead to my stomach as I cover my face with my hands.

"Andrea... Andrea what the fuck are we doing?" He pants and I feel like I'm about to cry all over again.

"I don't know... I  - I don't know," I say muffled through my hands and start to cry all over again. He lifts himself from me and helps pull my shirt back down, then takes my hand from my face as I begin to sob.

"Love ?- "

"No, don't," I cry as he helps me sit back up noticing the tattoo on my finger.

"Andi are you... are you time slipping?" He asks and I couldn't look at him, I couldn't bare the thought of never seeing him again and I didn't want to do this anymore.

"I'm sorry I have to go," I sniff.

"Love?" He says and reaches for me as I rise from the bench, but I pull away. "Andrea?!"

I begin to make my way out of the park wrapping my jacket around myself and wiping my tears from my cheeks as Andy follows. I can hear him still calling for me but I couldn't look back.

"Andrea wait," He says, catching my hand and turning me to face him. "Look I don't know what happened, and I know you said you can't tell me but... I'm here if you need me, you know that right, love?" He continues with his brown eyes searching mine. I still couldn't say anything.

"I won't say anything to Chris, I promise" He re-assures me reaching up and cupping my face in his palm.

"Ok,"I say quietly and he gives me a small smile, then pulls me in and places his lips to my forehead just like he always did whenever I was upset.

"C'mon, your man is playing tonight and on your birthday so... we should head back," He says as he pushes a stray curl from my eyes. I give him a small smile and he takes my hand and we walk back towards The Moore.

Once we reach the back door, I tell Andy that i just have to use the washroom so he heads inside first. Once I enter I see him disappear around the corner to the dressing room and I make my way in the opposite direction to gather myself together as best I can when I suddenly see myself walking towards me, dark curls all around. I always knew this moment was going to happen but it's so strange to be on the other side of it.

"Hi" I say to her.

"Hey," She smiles, knowing nothing of the few months ahead in store for her and for everyone.

[askwhathasthiscometo]

Imagine if Marlene and Dorcas never got together. 

Dorcas Meadowes: @dorathemetamorphmagus

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

Dorcas Meadowes

In sixth year Dorcas is 15 for a large part of the year. She's excited to come back and see all her friends again and have - as always - the best year at Hogwarts. When she steps out on platform 9 3/4 she spots her best friend's bright blonde hair immediately. Her hair's a little longer and she notices because she has let her long curls hang down the back of her new denim jacket. A new look for the always quidditch-ready Marls who usually had her hair up. During the train ride she sits silently thinking to herself how pretty this girl actually is. The next few months she kept having the same argument with herself over and over: yes, Marls looks unusually pretty, but Lily is pretty too... I guess?

They have been best friends for more than five years why is it suddenly... exciting to be around her? Dorcas woke up so many days catching herself wondering if Marls would notice the small amount of makeup she put on or that she curled the end of her ponytail. But she didn't tell anyone and got flustered when she caught herself having these thoughts.

The year went on and she appreciated every single second she had with all her friends so close to her. Especially Marlene.

First day of the seventh year and Dorcas had butterflies in her stomach as she stepped out on the platform. Which is so weird because she had done this six times already. Her eyes searched through the crowd for familiar faces and finally stopped as they met hazel eyes under long blonde hair. They both smiled. Is it possible that she exceeded pretty and just went straight for drop down beautiful? What is going on? It's only been two months.

This year was the year of the sigh. Sigh. What is it with this girl. Sigh. Her golden hair sparkles in this light. Sigh. Why is everything she says so interesting and funny. Sigh. These boys are idiots. Sigh. I want to touch her soft skin. Sigh. Her eyes are so beautiful. Sigh. I'm in love with my best friend. Sigh. Why is she not into girls. Sigh.

For Christmas she got Marlene a silly necklace. She didn't really think she would wear it but loved the photograph in it. In return she got, not one, but two books which were handed over with slight excuses of not being the best gifts but that she did improve one of them by adding her own scribbled lines on the last blank pages. She loved them. She could see they were second hand but the fact that she remembered her talking about these books earlier in the year and then went out to find them for her meant so much to her that they never left her bedside table.

She spend so many days starring at this breath taking blonde creature in front of her. Doing homework. Eating. Listening to teachers. Not listening to teachers. Playing quidditch. Being silly with the boys. Laughing. She sucked in every single second she spend with her. Cherished them. Cherished her. Marlene just didn't know. Oh Merlin how she wished she knew. But at what cost? What would it do to their friendship if she felt the same way? Or if she didn't feel the same way? The outcome scared her.

She got so aware of her every move, carefull not to linger too long in a touch or stare too much. Carefull not to say the wrong things that felt so right to say.

Of course they were girls and they were best friends and she thanked every social construct made up that girls are allowed to be very friendly with other girls. So she could touch a little more and she could stare a little longer. She could tell her that she loved her and she would blow her a kiss before she walked giggling out the portrait hole.

When school ended everything changed. They saw each other a lot but not as often as they were used to. The mood changed. Outside the walls of hogwarts everything seemed so real. So frightening. The war was really here and they were gonna fight it.

In this constant state of terror she started wondering if maybe she should just tell her. Bare her soul and pour her heart all over her unsuspecting presence. She could lose her. But she could also get what Lily and James had. A little light in this eternal darkness.

They fought battles side by side. They mended wounds side by side and at night they slept on the Potter's couch closer than just side by side. Time seemed to move past faster than she wanted it to but it pained her to be so close to her, but still just out of reach. She had to do something. Soon.

In June they spend the rare days off laying in sun rays on patches of grass looking up at the trees. The nights were order time. Dorcas started staying home more often to help Lily when she suddenly had her hands full. She didn't mind not being a part of the front out there, but it did worry her way more that she weren't there to help. She missed her. She missed her giggles and jokes and most of all just being. Just existing in peace and quiet the two of them. Alone. She had made her mind up. She was going to tell her as soon as she came back. What good would it be if something awful happened and she didn't come back? Now was the time. She spend all evening practicing the words in her head so much that Lily asked her several times if she was okay. Are you sure you're okay? She kept glancing at the clock on the wall for hours. It didnt usually take this long. Then she heard the front door unlock and her heart slowed down a bit. Finally. James walked in followed by Sirius and Peter. A moment went by and then Frank and some other Order members. But no Marlene. She had apparently gone by her parents' house on the way back.

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

Marlene McKinnon

In sixth year Marlene was 16 before the school year even started. As she was saying goodbye to her family, her father pointed out that her girlfriend was approaching. She was just about to exclaim that she didn't have one, when she realizes that he meant it platonic. 'Cause, you know, that's a thing. She turned around and her gaze found the prettiest brown eyes, that she has missed all summer. A girl who's my friend. My girlfriend. Her insides did a little dance as they hugged for the first time in two months. There was so much catching up to do on the train. She needed to know every detail of her summer that she didn't mention in any of the letters - well, and Lily's too. She loved to just sit back and listen to what she had to say and stare at her curvy lips as she talked. Her eyes always sparkled when she was really excited about a subject.

She had known for a while that she found Dorcas a little too cute and a little too beautiful for just your average friend. But had she also done nothing whatsoever? Yes. Because what exactly could she do? She was obviously her best friend which explained all the affection she received in return but she also talked about the boys like they had her full attention. She spend so much time being confused.

Summer before seventh year went by too slowly, but when she finally found herself on the platform with her family, her eyes kept searching the crowd over and over until, finally, dark chocolate hair made its way through the crowd. Her breath caught in her throat for a second before their eyes found each other almost immediately. They both smiled. This girl would be the death of her.

This year Lily made her aware that she sighed more than usual. To the point where it was annoying actually. She sighed once more before finally telling her what was eating her up from the inside. By Merlin it felt good to spill her heaviest thoughts. And to her surprise Lily didn't shut down her feelings completely because - as she pointed out - this was the 70s and just look at Pads and Moony. But being openly gay wasn't the problem. Losing her best friend was. Lily was in many ways her best friend and the same with Sirius but at the same time also Dorcas - in a third very different way.

For Christmas she got a locket necklace from Dorcas. It had a photograph of the two of them and Lily doing funny faces at Sirius who took the photo fifth year. She loved it so much that the only times she didn't wear it was on the Quidditch field only because she wouldn't want to risk losing it. It was weird how such a small item could hold so much meaning for her. For Dorcas she had found some cheap second hand books that she remembered her mentioning at some point. She did want to make them a little personal so she had found her inner poet and written some lines in the back on those last empty pages. Nothing much, just basically all her deepest feelings for this girl disguised as someone else's words. She felt almost embarrassed that her gift didn't match hers at all in any kind of value.

The year was almost over. Hogwarts was almost over. It was hard to imagine not being around these people all day every day. She tried to cherish every moment she had with all her friends but mostly with Dorcas. She became way more physical but at this point she didn't care anymore. She would put her head in her lap when they sat on the couch in the common room. Hold her hand when they were walking places. Stroke her hair when they lay on the grass in the sun. Put her arm around her whenever she had the chance. Hers, but not quite. Just gals being pals. Whenever she would get too sexually frustrated she would grab her broom and practice quidditch till her arms hurt and she was too exhausted to think. This was crazy. She needed to stop.

The war changed everything. She still saw her favorite people but times had drawn a dim blanket over everything. They were happy. Of course they were. But it was always hidden in the faces of everyone. You could see that it was constantly in the back of their minds. They were scared. She would hang around Lily and James' mostly because her own place was small and cold but also because she didn't want to be alone. But mostly because Dorcas also came by very often and so she could share the couch with her every other night, and come home from order missions to her. She could hold her hand.

Lily always proclaimed how jealous she was of Marlene's ability to just say whatever was on her mind. No filter. But this was one thing she could never get herself to put into actual words. Not even to Lily now. Guess she just had to be okay with not being okay. She grabbed her coat and wand and waved at Lily and Dorcas before following the boys out of the door. It was nice to have the missions to steal her focus and get her mind of Dorcas. But then again; it was very nice to have silly girl problems to keep her mind of the fact that an actual war was going on. The mission was over pretty early in the evening so she told the boys that she would swing by her parents’ to pick up some stuff. She had a muggle movie she wanted to show Dorcas tonight. As soon as she opened the door, she felt it. Something was wrong.

The End

[sunbird-tells-stories]

= T I M B E R W I L D E =

(Full color refs courtesy of @fbschin and @the-trinket-witch, please support the artists)

FULL NAME: Tapeesa ‘Timber’ Wilde

APPEARANCE: 6’2, and by virtue of her height is the second tallest Xiaolin Dragon (second only to Clay, and even then it’s pretty close).

Floofy blonde hair. It is usually worn long but it is currently cut short with parts of it dyed forget-me-not blue. Tan skin. Brown almond-shaped eyes. Often wears a black toque/beanie, and has a taste for punk, grungy, and “woodsy” type fashions like leather jackets, plaid, distressed denim, etc.

Current outfit is as follows: Long sleeve black shirt with Canadian maple leaf design. Plaid overshirt. Ripped jeans, black socks and black boots. Fingerless black gloves. Single piercing on her nose, multiple piercings in her ears, and a forest green jacket with brown fur lining on the hood. Jacket is designed to make the wearer look like a wolf. This is Timber’s trademark jacket and her most recognizable article of clothing.

GENDER/SEXUALITY: Female. Pansexual. Polyamorous and proud.

PRONOUNS: She/Her/Hers

ETHNICITY: Mixed race - her mother is an Inuk woman from Labrador, and her father was an Irish-Canadian man from Newfoundland.

BIRTHPLACE/BIRTHDATE: Born and raised in the province of Newfoundland, Canada on November 2nd, 2003. Scorpio. 16 going on 17.

GUILTY PLEASURES: Cigarettes. Food. Weed. Food. Sneaking into places she shouldn’t. Food. Saucy reading materials. Food. Pretty girls. Food. Feisty boys. Food. Abusing her powers to be lazy, get what she wants and take shortcuts. Food. Loud music. Food. Singing. Food. Sneaking out at night. Food. Petty vandalism. Food. Street hockey. Food. Regular hockey. Food. Skateboarding. Food. Tagging property with her own unique brand of art. Food. Cute dogs. Food. Taking lots and lots of selfies and candid photos, as photography is her biggest passion and addiction ALSO FOOD DID I MENTION FOOD YET BECAUSE THAT’S A BIG ONE SHE IS ALWAYS HUNGRY

QUIRKS: Constantly takes photos. Constantly gets distracted. Constantly wanders off. Bites her lip when she is anxious or about to lie. Takes great pride in her hair and prior to her forced haircut took good care of it and grew it out long, thick and messy. Her wild hair is a trademark of hers and she doesn’t like people touching it or doing anything to it.

Is well known for having a nervous tic in the form of shaking hands. She claims it’s due to bad medication - and may even in fact believe her own lie - but in reality, it’s completely psychological in nature, due to her undiagnosed PTSD and trauma from a formative life event when she was 8 years old. It is always present, worsens under stress, and at times affects her motor skills so intensely that she cannot tie her shoes or pick up a spoon. It is a great insecurity of hers and she does her best to hide it.

TRIGGERS: Mentions of her family, being called “crazy” and being near the ocean or on water.

FUN FACTS:

When visiting a new place, Timber will build or draw an inukshuk and take a photo of it to commemorate the occasion. She has been doing this since she was small, and she continues this ritual in honor of the loved one who taught her how to do this.

Her real name Tapeesa means “arctic flower” in the Inuktituk language, but most people know her as Timber. Earned the nickname ‘Timber’ from her father when she made a tree fall as a young girl due to her Wood elemental powers revealing themselves. Answers only to the name ‘Timber’ in his memory.

Really loves blueberries. She likes all food and eats like a starving animal but she gravitates to blueberries and blueberry flavored things. Her trademark favorite food though is blueberry pancakes with blueberry jam, as per her father’s recipe.

COLORS: Blue and Green

ANIMAL SYMBOLISM: Moths 🦋

PHOBIAS: Several, actually.

Going home.

Losing the one “friend” she has.

Being alone for the rest of her life.

Being an outcast for the rest of her life.

Not being able to fulfill her deal to Sun and complete the one mission that has kept her going for YEARS.

Being open and honest and vulnerable with other people.

Trusting other people.

Other people.

But the one thing she fears more than anything else is the ocean. Deep water in general makes her very uncomfortable and she slowly loses it when in close proximity to beaches, docks, and boats. She. HATES. Being on water.

And she has every reason to hate it.

WHAT SHE WOULD BE FAMOUS FOR: Timber Wilde is the first Dragon of Wood in centuries, a “Wilde” card that even Wuya herself was not aware of before she made herself known. And due to the complicated history of the Xiaolin Dragons and the Dragons of Wood, that alone is more than enough to have everyone from the Xiaolin to the Heylin hunting her down. Inexperienced in actual combat, but with enough raw power and natural talent that exceeds even Raimundo and Omi’s Shoku-level abilities, Timber Wilde is cunning, powerful, creative, and above all, unpredictable.

Timber Wilde is also currently the owner of the Crown of the Monkey King, the most dangerous Shen Gong Wu in existence. What’s more, she is also the faithful and long-suffering servant, student and sometimes host of the evil that resides in it.

Along with her traveling companions, Jack Spicer, the reluctant Dragon of Metal, and Jermaine Thompson, the kung-fu prodigy that was trained by Chase Young himself, Timber Wilde currently travels the world in an ongoing journey, keeping her secrets close, her “enemies” closer, and searching for a way to free her master in exchange for her one and only chance to rectify the greatest failure of her life.

She will do whatever it takes to reach this goal. Even if she has to burn down the whole world to do it. After all...a deal’s a deal, right?

WHAT THEY WOULD GET ARRESTED FOR:

Theft. Arson. Disturbing the peace. Possession and underage usage of tobacco products and marijuana. General teenage mayhem. Destruction of property. Aggravated assault. Vandalism and trespassing.

...Treason.

WHO DO YOU SHIP THEM WITH: Timber is polyamorous and has a lot of romantic potential with a few different characters. I feel like she’d be happiest in a polyamorous triad with Jack Spicer as one of her lifelong partners due to how well they connect and compliment each other, but jury’s still out on who would best complete their OT3.

She’s 100 percent into nerds tho. Nerds and angry types and red hair and blue eyes. All she wants is to be topped by someone smarter than her. She just needs a feisty bookworm who can put her in her place and teach her things.

CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO KILL THEM: Everyone is out to get Timber but sadly her worst enemy is in her own head. Literally. He’s in her HEAD.

FAVORITE BOOK/MOVIE GENRE: Historical/documtary type stuff because she’s hungry for knowledge of the world outside her small seaside town, but she also has a secret soft spot for shojo mangas and saucy romance books.

LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE/BOOK CLICHE: Sad endings, or stories where the dog dies.

TALENTS/POWERS: As the Dragon Of Wood, Timber Wilde has power over every form of plant life, and once again she’s nearly above Shoku level with her abilities. In addition to manipulating and accelerating plant growth, she can also....

Gift plants with sentience and speech,

Use pollen and scents to confuse, manipulate, charm or take out foes,

Create bioluminescent plants and fungi

Create armor for herself from plants

Use plants for camouflage, disguise, defense or offense

Create her own food source

And much more.

But the most important skill as Dragon of Wood she has is, above all, her healing abilities.

With the power to use the medicinal properties in her plants to heal almost any wound or illness, Timber Wilde’s healing powers make her invaluable in battle.

She also has learned one more technique from Sun, one that allows her to “borrow” another person’s power for her own.

But we can discuss that later.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Despite her many flaws, Timber Wilde isn’t that bad of a person. Deep down underneath her tough, nihilistic, cold exterior, she’s just a sweet, silly, mischief making teenager who just needs and wants a friend. She is a dreamer. She is an artist. Though she has long since lost faith in people she still has an eye for beauty and finds it everywhere in the world around her. She thirsts for adventure and wants to live life to the fullest and experience everything the unknown has to offer.

At her best, Timber Wilde is a lively, incredible, inspiring soul who is passionately devoted to everything and everyone she loves. She will go to the ends of the earth for anything and anyone she cares about, even if it costs her her own life.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: Timber Wilde is a deeply complicated person who has a lot of inner pain and fears. And like a certain other redhead, these feelings cause her to lash out at the world around her in less than ideal ways.

Timber lies. Timber keeps secrets. Timber can get very defensive when you poke past the casual front she tries to keep up and start asking her real questions. She has a loose sense of morals, and a survivalist mindset. She doesn’t reach out to other people. She doesn’t trust other people. In fact, the only person she puts her faith in is an evil entity trapped within the Shen Gong Wu she wears on her head. And because of his influence, her view of reality is severely warped.

She genuinely believes she has no real place in this world amongst other people. She genuinely believes everyone is out to get her and that everyone disappoints each other eventually and to make yourself vulnerable or to have faith in others is to invite hurt and heartbreak. And despite the fact that she holds her own needs and desires above everyone else’s, she thinks very, very lowly of herself.

She cannot forgive herself for past mistakes. She cannot let go of what’s already gone. She blames herself for the fate of her family and the untimely demise of the most important person in her life and this has taken a severe emotional and mental toll on her. And due to this loss, she has ONE goal in life that she chases after with all her heart and soul, and the way she tunnel visions in on her mission often means she leaves others to the wayside, though not always without guilt or regret.

Timber is....complicated. Like a wildfire, she burns and burns and burns, and each and every day she burns a little more out of control than before.

But fires don’t burn because they want to hurt people. Fires burn because they don’t know how else to keep from going out.

Timber Wilde knows her actions have consequences. But seeing no better options, she forces herself not to care. She lies to everyone, including herself.

HOW THEY CHANGE: Spoilers.

But I think a certain someone, or two certain someones, can help her change.

Power of friendship, baby.

Why You Love Them: Because she fulfills several of my wishes for what I wanted to see in Xiaolin Showdown.

A) She’s a female character

B) She’s a female XIAOLIN character

C) She is or will be a true blue ally and supportive friend to Jack Spicer, a boy who desperately needs friends

D) She’s a Dragon Of Wood and

E) She is a girl with grit who gets swept up into a magical life changing adventure

[innalterable]

[ park chaeyoung, 22 ] did you hear? there’s a new addition to the hypehens family! [ innalterable ] was starting to get known for [ speed paints, tutorials & supplies reviews ] and i think they will hit it big this time around as a part of the [ expresso ] squad at hypehens. [ kwang inna ] is known to be [ friendly & impulsive ] and enjoys [ collecting polaroids ]. with their vibes of [ singing horribly while taking a shower & enamel pins all over a denim jacket ] and a style that is unique, i think they are going to take the internet by storm!

hello everyone! i’m glad to introduce you to my daughter inna / danna! she’s a bit of a mess that only wants to spend the whole day in her home painting if possible. you can find her basics here, personality here, background here. if you're interested in plotting, you can find me in discord at internebula#6982!

without furher ado, here’s more about her: 

basic information

― full name: kwang inna ― nickname: nana ― age: twenty two ― date of birth: february 11th, 1998 ― birthplace: los angeles, california. ― current location: seoul, south korea ― ethnicity: asian ― nationality: (dual nationality) korean-american ― gender: cisfemale ― pronouns: she/her ― orientation: bisexual, demiromantic. ― religion: atheist ― occupation: content creator, freelance artist ― language(s) spoken: korean (fluent), english (fluent)

physical appearance

― faceclaim: park chaeyoung (rosé) of blackpink ― hair: naturally brown, currently dyed blonde. often put in messy buns, ponytails, french braids but also let loose with casual curls she gets from sleeping with her hair braided. ― eye colour: coffee brown ― height: 168cm ― weight: 45kg ― tattoos: four; the great wave off kanagawa on her right arm, flowery half sleeve on her left arm, moon arrow behind right ear and a matching triangle tattoo with her brother on her right inner forearm. ― piercings: lobe and upper lobe in both ears, anti-tragus on the left one, double helix on the right one. ― clothing style: high-waisted skirts, dresses that flow nicely with the wind, mom jeans that are a bit too long for her, graphic t-shirts she’s gotten from garage sales and thrift shops, oversized jackets she’s customized with either paint or enamel pins or patches, long coats that resemble those of classic detectives, her good ol’ dr. marteens in a variety of colors, knee and thigh high socks, athleisure outfits (consisting mainly of leggins and big sweatshirts), crop-tops, sling bags, whatever pair of sneakers she finds and matching bag or backpack.

headcanons

― born and raised in los angeles, her parents moved to usa right after they got married in their mid twenties only because of the feeling of adventure. they both got stable jobs there and even though her mom was the one that struggled the most with the different language, with the help of her husband she was able to improve steadily.

― ever since she was young, inna has showcased exceptional skills when it came to drawing and painting (if you consider the crayon scattered all over the walls of their apartment back in los angeles as art). always restless, she got easily bored with the common toys and games, only truly finding joy in the coloring books her parents always got her instead of dolls and an easy bake oven.

― she has always been heavily spoiled by every member of their family and inna grew used to this. it was no surprise that she always got what she wanted with a simple smile and her trademark grabby hands (she still does this till now and it’s absolutely gross). the one that spoiled her the most was her brother.

― inna holds dear every member of her family and despite being the ultimate spoiled princess, she always offered help around the house when she became older and realized that everyone had to do something for their household. she hated washing dishes though and always traded that task with her brother to the point that it became a natural thing for him to wash them and for her to mop and take the trash out. to this day, she will avoid washing dishes at any cost and her apartment often has a pile of dirty dishes which only makes it worse when she runs out of clean ones.

― the divorce of her parents hit her hard (spoiler alert: her father was awful when no one was seeing and cheated a lot on her mom, which she forgave every damn time until he crossed the line and brought another girl to their place) mainly because she didn’t understand what was happening at the moment and no one took their time to explain it to her. it was difficult to deal with her behaviour back then, she threw really loud tantrums and demanded to see her father almost daily and, whenever this didn’t happen, she’d go on a silent protest by not doing anything they asked her to. it’s years later that she understands everything (thanks to an argument she had with her brother for defending her dad and he just exploded). this, of course, greatly disappointed her and made her feel bad for still standing by her dad’s side.

― after that, inna just like her brother, closed a little to their father even though he was still as kind, loving and caring as ever with them despite everything. his attitude made her doubt her mother and brother several times, but then came the first girlfriend he ever introduced to them, and then the second… and so on.

― it was obvious that her mother drastically changed after the divorce and this scared inna a lot: letting someone in and become vulnerable with them only to have your heart broken sounded absolutely painful. and she didn’t want that. plus, her mom’s constant reminders of how she can’t trust anyone that its not her or her brother stayed deeply engraved within her.

― she’s never had a stable relationship, if anything, the longer she’s “gone out” with someone is a couple of weeks and after that, she ghosted them with no remorse. inna has had crushes in the past, but rarely ever actively pursues someone unless she’s really curious or interested to know more about them. nonetheless, she's a bit of a flirt and tends to get clingy and touchy when she's comfortable/close enough with someone.

― school is difficult in every stage for her, always getting rather mediocre grades in most of her classes except those that required a more creative and practical approach. simply put: she was bad at theoric classes and anything related to math and physics. though, inna was always close to failing but never did so. this was just one of the many reasons she didn’t want to pursue a college education.

― the creation of her channel is all thanks to her brother, her self-proclaimed number one fan and the one person that’s always encouraged her to keep going with her art. he suggested the idea and told her that they could do a testing video to see how comfortable she felt with it before uploading it. turns out, inna was more than okay with the camera for it focused on her hands and process the whole time. voice over was not necessary back then but as her channel evolved, so did the quality and content of her videos. steadily, she introduced different aspects of herself, starting with her voice by doing easy-to-follow tutorials and later on, her face was revealed when doing an art haul video. this helped her become more comfortable with the camera and now, every couple of weeks she posts vlogs of her visits to museums or events or just updates for her community.

― despite her popularity and some people even recognising her on the streets, inna has never considered herself to be a celebrity. in fact, she feels awkward with the title for she considers her channel to be just another one. she appreciates though whenever her prints get sold out or when someone asks for her autograph and a photo or even when she is invited to events as a special guest.

― the kind to get really excited when talking about things she likes. don’t get her started on her favorite medium or her favorite painting because she might go on for twenty seven minutes straight about how watercolors are the superior medium to work with.

― she likes experimenting with any and every medium out there, particularly enjoying art subscription boxes that always surprised her and push her out of her comfort zone. her specialization is landscapes and character design, though she’s recently learning to draw more animals and plants.

[wooowon]

for all the times ➳ hwang hyunjin

genre: fluff, angst, high school! au

pairing: hyunjin x reader

description: hyunjin, being the whole visual who is also the classroom's escort, was selected to be a contestant of mr. sopa and sadly, his partner wasn't you.

you just stared at the classroom wall in wonder while your boyfriend of 2 years, hwang hyunjin, the homeroom escort stood at the front, hands behind his back as he chews his bottom lip nervously.

he was chosen to participate in the upcoming event during the school festival tomorrow and he had stood at the front along with yuqi, a chinese exchange student who is excellent in korean, (sometimes, you wonder if she is even chinese) to represent your room and for the teacher to announce why they had to leave the room for they had to practice catwalking outside.

you weren't sad that you were not his partner but you were insecure. there were so many girls who were different from you, pretty and skinny girls who desrved hyunjin. you were just an average girl who had the right curves at the right parts with long straight hair and milky white skin, yet you felt insecure because there's a vast ocean of beautiful girls, afraid that hyunjin would leave you for one of them.

hyunjin no longer payed attention to chewing his bottom lip as he looks around for you, only to find that you're staring at space with your jaw cradled by your hand. he looks confused as he thinks of the many possibilities you could be thinking of, 'is she hungry? or sleepy? or tired?' he just shrugged it off, thinking that you just wanted the day to end so you could play with kkami after class since you've been whining that haven't seen kkami the whole weekend.

after what seemed like 1 a year, both of them finally returned to their seats. hyunjin takes a seat beside you as you still space out, when you hear the metal chair scrape the floor you are immediately out of your trance as you try to avoid hyunjin's stares and glances by pretending to be sleeping.

"i know you're faking it, princess. what were you thinking about that you were startled by the sound of my chair?" he, too lays his head facing you.

"why aren't you outside yet? didn't mr. yoo say you guys had to practice?" you ask rather harshly. you didn't mean it to sound harsh but you were just mad at yourself for being insecure. hyunjin had always caught you crying, heard you say that you weren't worthy of having him as a boyfriend since few people kept on going about why hyunjin even decided to have you instead of other girls. he always told you to not feel that you weren't deserving of him because you do deserve him, so it made you feel bad to just disregard his words.

"oh yeah, i just wanted to check on you. i'll see you at lunch, baby." he leans closer to your figure and kisses your cheek, his lips on your right cheek has you burning because he decided to make your heart palpitate for staying there for a minute while stroking your hair. after a minute, he kisses your forehead and goes away to the door.

2 years and he never fails to make your heart beat fast. throughout your relationship, he never actually got to kiss your lips, there were forehead pecks and cheek kisses but it was only up to there. he was intimate with you rather, backhugging and cuddling were his favorites because he took advantage of your height. he could easily spoon you and you found it cute that yesterday, instead of his arm being around your shoulder for a movie marathon, he wanted you to spoon him so you ended up with his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder, peppering kisses on your exposed skin through your worn-out grey sweater to which he pulled down.

he was a perfect boyfriend, a fluffy big baby who always took candid photos of you with his camera and someone who'd hold onto you pinky while you guys sneaked out at night to watch the stars, someone who'd stay at night with you, comforting you when lightning strikes as you snuggle closer to his chest, taking a waft of his cologne which smelled heavenly on him, much like his face. he was someone you never thought you'd have which you thought would only occur in your dreams. all of it made you think whether you deserve him or not.

[the next day]

cheers erupted from girls behind as hyunjin walked the runway, wearing a white turtleneck underneath a black jean jacket with light blue denim jeans as his blonde hair was parted. you smiled, thinking that he looked good and could be scouted for a model as he posed at front edge of the stage, looking for you at the crowd and winking at you.

you blushed madly while the girls behind you screamed much louder, "hyunjin winked at me! he winked at me!" she shooked her friend as her friend scoffed, "stop being delusional, he winked at his girlfriend in front of us, he may be handsome but he has no taste for women. he could easily have bae joohyun-sunbaenim or hwang yeji but he chose an ugly duckling. she doesn't deserve him." the girl snorted as she laughed while you felt tears blur your vision as you look down, overhearing their conversation hurt and what hurt even more was that it was true.

[backstage]

hyunjin bows at other contestants as he was the first to finish changing into summer wear, a white shirt underneath a blue polo with white flowers and white shorts with black sandals. his blonde hair parted at the side while he stood where they woukd be going out of, looking for you.

wheb he finally got ahold of your figure, he noticed that you had your head down and you were trembling, your back moving up and down slightly. 'is she crying?' it took him just 5 minutes to find the cause. the girls behind you were holding up their middle finger without you noticing and mocked you by purposely kicking your chair.

this made him furious. what were their rights to even do that to you? he knew about you being insecure and was confused why. he told you that you were his life and as cringy as it sounds, he didn't want to live life without you in it. he had always thought that you looked like a goddess who fell from the heavens, everytime you tucked a stray hair behind your ear he would always find himself staring while his inner self told him that you were a pure goddess. you were so attractive in so many ways, a straight a's student who'd always top the rankings and a girl who loved music, someone who had the most captivating smile and honey-sweet voice. you weren't a replica of a goddess but you were one. one of the perfect people who made him fall head over heels inlove with.

he wondered whether they were degrading you or talked about harsh things about you. it made him want to forfeit from the competition so that he could run to you and hug you tightly, whispering 'you'll be okay' while stroking your hair.

he made his way to the teacher in charge with clenched fists. "can i forfeit? i really need to go to my girlfriend who's crying and i'm worried that she might faint since she has breathing problems because of the enclosed space and loud screams."

"i'm sorry mr. hwang but we can't let you forfeit, that's against the rules since the show has started. if you forfeit you'll have minus points and a 2 day suspension for breaking a major rule and also refusing to represent your class." the teacher said as hyunjin sighed deeply. he didn't want to waste a day of school which makes him see you, his ethereal girlfriend. he uttered a thank you to the teacher and tapped his shoes on the worriedly while biting his nails.

he wanted the show to end quickly so that he'll engulf you in a hug, comforting you.

[after few hours]

when the show ended, you had puffy and red eyes. you wanted nothing else than to run into hyunjin's arms. he had won the title of mr. sopa while you smiled weakly, proud at your boyfriend.

you sat there while trying to calm your breathing. there were only few people left snd the participants, taking pictures with each other or other students. when you stood up and walked to the door, halfway towards the door a hand pulled you and you collided into someone's chest, his hands engulfing your waist. your first instinct was to push the man away but when his cologne took place in your nostrils and wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his chest. your eyes watered for the nth time and started sobbing into hyunjin's chest while hyunjin stroked your hair and whispered comforting things to you, all the while kissing your head.

he pulled away for what seemed like 10 minutes and placed his hands on you cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears and kissed your tears away.

"baby, why are you crying?" he asks as you hold his hands that were on your cheeks.

"they- they said that- i- i don't- hicc deserve you- hicc, because i'm- hicc ugly and i am- hicc i don't deserve you- hicc." you sob as you manage to spurt out a sentence.

"princess, you do deserve me. i'm not perfect you know and i just want you to know that i love you so much. don't listen to what they say and just think of what i'd feel if i knew you're hurt. i'd also feel hurt, more hurt than you are." he says as he feels tears sting his eyes, tearing due to the fact that you've been feeling hurt all this time because of harsh words that aren't true at all.

"you could easily have joohyun-sunbaenim or- hicc yeji but- hicc why did you choose me?" you choke out, slightly calming down as hyunjin pulls you closer and keeps his hands on either side of your cheeks.

"i chose you because you're you. i love you because you're not like them, because you're unique and perfect in my eyes. can't you see what i see in you, babygirl? i see perfection in you and i never once regretted that i fell inlove with you. i wish that you'd think what i see of you, princess. i'm hurt because you think so lowly of yourself. that you have such low self-esteem and confidence in yourself. you're perfect, baby. don't ever think that you're even of the same rank as them because you're way much more than that." hyunjin says as his tears flow down, pulling you again in a hug and strokes your hair, calming you down.

he pulls away and once again cradles you face with his hands, "you're so beautiful, babygirl." he says with much affection as he leans closer, staring at your lips.

when you feel his lips touch yours, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. by now, no space is left hanging and you've eliminated all the space between you two. his mouth opens under yours as his left hand wraps around your waist whilst his right gently cups your neck, tilting his head for a comfortable angle. you're addicted to the taste of his lips, intoxicated by the feeling of his lips colliding with yours. you crave more of him and as if he read your mind, he licks your lips, signalling you to open it to which you do, as your tongues fight for dominance. he pulls you even closer as he deepens the kiss, he lightly bites your lip as he pulls away, almost losing self control when he hears you whimper.

breathing heavily, he stares at you with so much love and adoration, "promise me that you'll never say that you don't deserve me or ever think that you're hideous."

feeling euphoria wash over you, you smile at him genuinely, thankful for having him as the love of your life, "i promise."

[fyeah-bangtan7]

The Greatest Showmen: An exclusive look inside the world of BTS

Maybe you saw them piled on the klieg-lit couches of Ellen DeGeneres and Jimmy Fallon, trading light bilingual banter with their starstruck hosts. Maybe it was when they spoke solemnly on mental health and self-love at the United Nations General Assembly last September, or when a wall of dolphin-like screams greeted them as they rolled into February’s Grammy Awards in trim matching tuxedos, their hair tinted various shades of pastel macaron.

Or maybe the cover of this magazine is the first time you’ve truly noticed BTS. (Stranger things have happened in 2019.) But it seems indisputable to say that sometime over the past two years, the septet have taken over the world: two No. 1 albums on the Billboard chart in the span of three months; more than 5 billion streams combined on Apple Music and Spotify; a string of sold-out concert dates from the Staples Center in Los Angeles to London’s famed Wembley Stadium.

That hardly makes them the first boy band to dominate a cultural moment, but the fact that they are all Korean-born and -raised, singing Korean-language songs only occasionally sprinkled with English, feels like something brand-new. And it speaks to an unprecedented kind of global currency — one where pop music moves without barriers or borders, even as geopolitics seem to retreat further behind hard lines and high walls.

On a blindingly bright March day in Seoul five weeks before the release of their upcoming sixth EP, Map of the Soul: Persona, the band is holed up at their record label Big Hit Entertainment, preparing. Buildings like this are where much of the magic of the phenomenon known as K-pop happens, though Big Hit’s headquarters on a quiet side street in the city’s Gangnam district (yes, the same one Psy sang about in his 2012 smash “Gangnam Style”) look a lot like any other tech office: sleek poured-cement corridors and glass-box conference rooms scattered with well-stocked mini-fridges, plush toys, and the occasional beanbag chair. Only a display case stacked with a truly staggering number of sales plaques and statuettes, and a glossy large-scale photo print of BTS at their sold-out concert at New York’s Citi Field last October, give away the business they do here.

Down a long hallway, all seven members lounge in various states of readiness as they gear up to pretape a thank-you video for an iHeartRadio award they won’t be able to accept in person. Jimin, bleached blond and pillow-lipped, is having his hair carefully flat-ironed in a wardrobe room filled with racks of coordinated denim and neon streetwear. Dozens of pairs of pristine Nikes and Converse are piled in a corner; a lone fun-fur jacket the color of strawberry ice cream slumps on a hanger behind him, like a neglected Fraggle.

Jung Kook, the baby of the band at 21, sits obediently in a folding chair in the dance studio, also having his hair tended to; J-Hope strides by in a white dress shirt emblazoned with an over-size silk-screen of Bart Simpson, then grins and disappears. Suga, V, and Jin huddle together on low sofas next door, scrolling through their phones and occasionally singing fragments of American R&B star Khalid’s “My Bad.” Twenty-four-year-old RM, the group’s de facto leader and lone fluent English speaker, is the last to arrive.

They run through their speech for a camera crew and do maybe four or five takes until the director is satisfied. Then they settle in for a conversation in an airy break room upstairs, accompanied by their longtime translator, a large, amiable bald man in a business suit named John. (Unless noted, the answers of all members other than RM come through him.) Several weeks after returning from their first Grammys, they’re still riding high off the experience: presenting the award to H.E.R. for Best R&B Album; chatting with Shawn Mendes in the men’s room — “I was like, ‘Do I need to tell him who I am?’ ” Jimin remembers, “but then he said hello first, which was really nice” — and being seated only a sequin’s throw from Dolly Parton. (“She was right there in front of us!” marvels Jung Kook. “Amazing.”)

As happily dazzled as they still seem to be by other celebrities, seeing BTS in the flesh triggers the same disorienting but not unpleasant sense of unreality. On screen, the band can look disconcertingly pretty; avatars of a sort of poreless, almost postgender beauty who seem to exist inside their own real-life Snapchat filters. In person they’re still ridiculously good-looking, but in a much more relatable, boyish way: bangs mussed, even the occasional chapped lip or small (okay, minuscule) blemish. Take away their Balenciaga high-tops and the discreet double Cs of Chanel jewelry, and they could almost be the cute college guy next to you at the coffee shop or on the train.

Except riding public transportation or casually dropping into a Starbucks stopped being an option for BTS a long time ago. In Seoul, their faces are plastered across makeup kiosks and street signs and the sides of buses — even on massive digital billboards that are bought and paid for by private citizens to acknowledge a beloved member’s birthday, or just because. In cities like São Paulo and Tokyo and Paris, fans camp out days in advance for concerts and public appearances, obsessively trading trivia and rumored sightings. When the band posted their takethis link opens in a new tab on Drake’s #InMyFeelingsChallenge, it became the most liked tweet of 2018; this summer, Mattel will release an official line of BTS dolls.

In the still center of this bizarre fame hurricane, the boys have managed to find a few pockets of normalcy. Jimin wistfully recalls a time in Chicago when they were able to slip out of their hotel rooms undetected “late at night, just to get some fresh air.” But most places, he admits, “that’s really out of the question” unless they split into smaller groups. “I mean, look at us,” RM adds with a laugh, running a hand through his own silver-nickel bangs. “Seven boys with dyed hair! It’s really too much.”

Instead, they focus on the things they can do, like sneaking out to the movies (“Always the latest or earliest show,” says RM, if they want to stay unseen), shopping online (V loves eBay, especially for clothes), going fishing, playing StarCraft at home. Group housing is actually common for K-pop stars, and BTS seem to appreciate the shared stability: “We’ve been living together for a while now, almost eight, nine years,” says Jimin. “So in the beginning we had a lot of arguments and conflicts. But we’ve reached the point where we can communicate wordlessly, basically just by watching each other and reading the expressions.”

Though they’re unfailingly polite and attentive in interviews, there’s a certain amount of contained chaos when they’re all together — a sort of tumbling-puppy cyclone of playful shoves, back slaps, and complicated handshakes — but also a surprising, endearing sweetness to the way they treat one another in quieter moments. When a question is posed to the group, they work hard to make sure each one of them is heard, and if someone is struggling to find a word, they’ll quickly reach out for a reassuring knee pat or side hug.

Even with the language barrier of speaking to an American reporter, though, their individual personalities quickly start to emerge: Asked to name their earliest pop memories, the answers land all over the map. “I loved Pussycat Dolls’ ‘Stickwitu,’ ’’ says J-Hope, the group’s most accomplished dancer, snapping his fingers and cooing the chorus. For RM, who started out in Seoul’s underground rap scene, it’s Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” (“I think that’s, like, a life pick for so many people around the world,” he admits, “but I can’t forget when I first watched 8 Mile and heard the guitars. That was my turning point.”) For Jung Kook, who has released covers of Justin Bieber and Troye Sivan songs, it was Richard Marx’s deathless lite-FM ballad “Now and Forever.”

The soft-spoken Suga cites John Lennon’s “Imagine” as “the first song I fell in love with,” which feels like a fitting gateway to ask where BTS see themselves in the pantheon of musical heartthrobs that the Fab Four essentially invented. “Sometimes it feels really embarrassing when someone calls us a 21st-century Beatles or something like that,” RM concedes. “But if they want to call us a boy band, then we’re a boy band. If they want to call us a boy group, we’re a boy group. If they want to call us K-pop, then we’re cool with K-pop.”

Ah, K-pop. In South Korea, where the genre has become not just a prime cultural commodity but a multibillion-dollar export, the players, known as “idols,” go through rigorous Fame-style schooling in song and dance and media training that often goes on for years before they’re considered ready for the spotlight. And it’s paid off: Business has been booming since the early ’90s, with stars from Girls’ Generation to G-Dragoncrossing over to various markets across Asia, Europe, and the Americas. But while the sound has remained fairly consistent — a canny mix of club-ready beats, hyper-sweetened choruses, and the more urban inflections of Western hip-hop and R&B — it’s never before landed with the lightning-bolt impact of BTS.

Bang Si-Hyuk, the CEO and founder of Big Hit, began putting the band together in 2010, when all the members were in their tweens or teens: RM and Suga were coming up on the local rap scene; Jimin and J-Hope studied dance at performing-arts schools; V, who focused on singing early on, joined officially in 2013. Jin was an aspiring actor recruited off the street for his striking looks; Jung Kook, now the group’s main vocalist, joined while he was still in junior high.

Though fansites tend to lean on their extracurricular differences (Jung Kook is a Virgo who loves pizza! V collects ties and clenches his teeth in his sleep!), each member genuinely does hold a unique space in the group’s process, whether it’s leaning more toward production, lyrics, or the supersize hooks the songs rest on. “With seven members we have seven different tastes, of course,” says RM. “So when it comes to songwriting, it’s like a big competition.” Occasionally, adds J-Hope, “we’ll write a lyric and decide, ‘This sort of reflects me [more], who I am and my own color,’ so we’ll want to keep that for a solo song.”

Because Big Hit doesn’t restrict their right to funnel some ideas into side projects — and because the appetite for more BTS-sourced material online is seemingly unquenchable — members regularly release solo work through EPs, SoundCloud, and mixtapes. But the primary impact still comes through the official album releases, and the particularly weighty subjects those songs take on — a notable departure from the narrow, often strenuously upbeat topics other K-pop artists typically cover.

“I promised the members from the very beginning that BTS’ music must come from their own stories,” says Bang; their subsequent openness about their own struggles with depression, self-doubt, and the pressure to conform took them all the way to the U.N. last fall, where RM addressed the band’s Love Myself campaign and #ENDviolence youth partnership with UNICEF.

“They stand out,” says Japanese-American DJ and producer Steve Aoki, a top-selling global dance artist who has also collaborated with the band on several tracks. “And I’m not just talking about K-pop. They add so much of their personality to the music and into their stories and how they present themselves. And the world has fallen in love with them because they are showing that vulnerable side that everyone wants to see.”

It helps, too, that the group’s more pointed messages are often slipped into the sticky aural peanut butter of anthems like “No More Dream,” “Dope,” and “Am I Wrong.” But they always appreciate the chance, Suga says, to get “a little more raw, a little more open.” RM elaborates: “I think it’s an endless dilemma for every artist, how much we should be frank and honest. But we try to reveal ourselves as much as we can.”

Honesty has its limits, of course, when you’re the biggest band in the world. Asked to describe the new album, due April 12 (at press time, it had already hit over 2.5 million in preorders), members offer up cryptic but enthusiastic koans like “therapeutic” and “refreshing crispness.” To be fair, they can’t say much in part because the new album’s track list isn’t actually finalized yet — late decisions being a luxury of in-house production — though they do agree to play one song, a propulsive rap-heavy banger called “Intro: Persona.” (It was released as a teaser March 27; you can watch the video herethis link opens in a new tab.)

When it comes to more personal questions about the challenges of dating or the goals they might want to pursue post-BTS, they pivot so gracefully to evasive, nonspecific answers, you almost can’t help but be impressed; it’s like watching a diplomat ice-dance. They want you to know that they are incredibly grateful for the devotion of their fans, and so blessed to be exactly where they are; that they really don’t think in terms of five- or 10-year plans. But they turn reflective when the subject of American pop’s holy grail, the Hot 100 singles chart, is raised. They cracked the top 10 last year with “Fake Love” but have yet to reach a higher spot, largely because mainstream radio airplay—a huge component of Hot 100 domination—still eludes them Stateside.

“It will have to be a great song,” Suga acknowledges, “but also there’s a whole strategy that’s associated with getting all the way up. And then there has to be a measure of luck, obviously. So what’s important for us is just to make good music and good performances and have those elements come together.” Does a Spanish-language smash like 2017’s “Despacito” — which spent a record 16 weeks at No. 1 — make them more optimistic about their own odds? “You know, Latin pop has its own Grammys in America, and it’s quite different,” RM says thoughtfully. “I don’t want to compare, but I think it’s even harder as an Asian group. A Hot 100 and a Grammy nomination, these are our goals. But they’re just goals — we don’t want to change our identity or our genuineness to get the number one. Like if we sing suddenly in full English, and change all these other things, then that’s not BTS. We’ll do everything, we’ll try. But if we couldn’t get number one or number five, that’s okay.”

Aoki, for one, has faith they’ll get there. “I think it’s 100 percent possible that a song sung entirely in Korean could crack the top of the Hot 100. I firmly believe that, and I really firmly believe that BTS can be the group that can do that. It’s going to pave the way for a lot of other groups, which they’ve already been doing—and when that happens, we’re all gonna celebrate.”

Back at Big Hit, though, the band has more immediate work to do. RM offers a quick tour of his production room (each member has his own dedicated space on site). The door outside is guarded by a quirky assemblage of figurines by the renowned street artist Kaws, but inside feels, incongruously, like stepping into a tiny, luxurious Sundance lodge that also just happens to have a soundboard: There’s a beautiful coffee table made from a single piece of black walnut; Navajo-style rugs; tasteful art on the walls. RM talks easily about his admiration for producers like Zedd and the Neptunes (“Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo were my true idols in 2006, 2007. Pharrell’s voice! It’s so sexy, how he sings”), and plays down his own skills (“As a beatmaker, Suga is way better than me. I don’t even know how to play the piano — I just do the chords like this,” he insists, miming keyboard Muppet hands).

Then it’s back to the dance studio, where they’ve changed into track pants and T-shirts to run through new steps with a choreographer. It starts with a rough triangle formation, and an elaborate hip-swivel-into-pelvic-thrust/crotch-grab combo that actually plays much more innocently than it sounds, mostly because they keep stopping to crack each other up. Soon, though, they drill down — repeating the moves until they seem crisp but easy, almost an afterthought. It feels like time to leave them; the boys wave happily, shouting out a rowdy chorus of goodbyes. Then they turn back to the mirror, and keep dancing.

[lukeysgirl]

The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.6

Part S I X 

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 4.5k+

AN: hAPPy fOURTH you guys (to whoever celebrates it, that is.) i hope you all have a good day today, disregarding of the holiday. i hope you enjoy this part and get it to 100 notes so we can flip out over 7. take care, stay safe, and be rad xx 

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E 

Saturday (Almost 1:00 A.M.)

“Why am I doing this?” You groaned, despising the agreement you had made with Luke. 

You were outside the venue, L8, with the girls waiting with you. Of course it wasn’t a school night, so you allowed yourself to be just a little exposed. Your torso was hugged lovingly by a tube top, flaunting your cleavage as well as the evident collarbones by your neck. Over it was a denim jacket with wisps of wide from scratches and rips. Your legs were covered by gray leggings with converse swallowing your feet. 

“Because you are prepared to slay tonight!” Des hyped, having Savannah and Alexis cheer her on. Des had came with a tight, nude dress that highlighted her double D breasts and plump ass. She stuck a few flowers in her braids with her tiny feet taken over by black Vans. 

“You also said you finally wanted to leave the house,” Savannah pointed out. She was dressed in a shiny, sky-blue sleeveless jumpsuit. It was similar to a blouse with it’s loose style, and it was as soft as silk. She work some casual white wedges with the outfit, adding to her tallness. Her hair was curled, seeing her long wisps of blonde dance in a spiral. 

“And you’re already here, so you can’t back out,” Alexis hummed, having her wrap her arms around your dropped shoulders. The gorgeous brunette wore a blouse-like tank top with black shorts. The blouse had pastel designs of blues and reds dancing down at the hem of her shirt. Going down her caramel, shaved legs were feet swallowed by silver heels she had stolen from her mother. Her long hair was up in a ponytail, allowing the ombre to be showed off on its own. 

“This already sucks,” you growled, your body vibrating from the concrete below sending the vibes from the building. Vibrations of intense music flowed from the building, giving you and others the loud tunes that were being emitted. It was already giving you a headache, compared to the drunk around you who were freely dancing to it. “Let’s just go in already.” 

The girls nodded, approaching the building with ease. It was a completely black, 3-story building. The only thing worth of color was the broken ‘L8′ sign between the first and second floor and the lights emitting from the windows. People were ornate in the front, sharing conversations of who-knows-what with alcoholic beverages nested in their hands. 

“So what do you make of Luke loving you?” Alexis asked as Savannah and Des led the way and held their own conversation. You were behind the two, looking at the nasty beige tiles that made up the walls. They were chipped and broken, with a lot of graffiti on them. Spiderwebs hung from the upper corners with the ground also black with splotches of water. 

“He doesn’t love me,” you began simply as you looked towards the door that held music and likely a huge crowd behind it. “Luke is stupid, he always acts this way.” 

“He sounded pretty serious,” Alexis hummed, having you shake your head from her assumption. 

“It’s Luke we’re talking about here,” you began quietly as you watched Des reach for the door. “He’s only got two things in his head that replaces his brain: sex and stupidity.” 

You all quickly walked into the bombastic room, an extreme dimness being fought against the strobe, colored lights. Bodies, sweaty and warm, were bouncing on the claimed dance floor. You allowed a pungent whiff of perfume and sex destroy your nose as Savannah paid the bodyguard for all of your entrances. She also declared herself as the guide, leading us inside to get closer to the stage. But she stopped at the bar, pointing at the 4 free stools for you all to take seats. 

“It’s fucking hot in here,” Des exclaimed, practically screaming in order for the rest of your to hear. You all nodded in agreement, allowing yourself to daze to see the stage where the music had been coming from. You noticed a few boys unplugging their instruments as a boombox continued the music. Congratulations kept the venue going as those boys disappeared from the stage and a new set come on. That’s when you saw Luke Hemmings. 

Of course, the tall lanky boy stood with confidence, his wide smile brightening the lives of those right in front of the stage. He, along with the other boys, were dressed in black suits. You were quick to judge them, knowing for a fact they’ll only sweat in those. His tie was an aqua blue, which danced perfectly with his ocean eyes as he bent down and grabbed the chord to connect his guitar. His hair was curly (as usual) but they were highlighted by the bright lights. You could see the real pure color of ochre that resided in his locks. 

“Pardon me, Miss.” You turned your head to face the bar tender. His brown dollops worth of eyes concentrated you as he scratched his prickly goatee. “Would you happen to go by the name of Y/N?” 

“Uh, yeah?” You replied, completely confused. You had suddenly found yourself praying that this male was not your stalker. But seeing him, your stalker was much more lanky and quite thin. 

“The dude asked me to give you this,” he replied, his voice having pure taste of Californian as he slid you a note. You eyed it, feeling the other girls eye it as well in your peripheral vision. “He’s paid for 6 drinks for you, so choose any 6 you’d like.” 

“Did you see who gave this to you?” You asked the bartender as you took the folded index card in your hand. The bartender merely shrugged, wiping the clear-coated wooden table with a weak, white cloth, You were quick to open the note to read the words of your stalker. 

I’m happy to see you have come to the party. You look beautiful, I bet. Please enjoy the drinks x - H 

“Did he show you a photo of me so you can give me this?” You quickly asked. It’d genuinely creep you out if your stalker had photos of you. You wouldn’t know how much you’d like to meet him then. 

“Nah, he told me to give this to the prettiest girl I see and confirm it with your name.” You blushed at the compliment, nodding gently as you rubbed the index finger with your thumb. 

“How many girls had you asked before I came along?” You began, knowing that you couldn’t be the first girl. Not because of little confidence, but just out of genuine certainty that you couldn’t have been the first girl and only girl he asked and got it right. 

“One,” the bartender admitted, having you raise your eyebrow curiously as Alexis snatched the note from your hand. “Would you like anything now?” 

“He’s so romantic!” Alexis swooned, having you roll your eyes as you looked at the alcohols sat on the racks. You wondered what you wanted first before anything. “Calling you beautiful and what not.” 

“This note was pre-written, Lex,” you began quietly as you eyed the bottle of Patron. “He has no clue what I look like now, so he just wrote it assuming I came looking nice.” 

“Or maybe,” Savannah interjected as she reached in front of you to fetch the note from Alexis. “You look beautiful to him regardless of whether you tried or not.” Before you could deny, the voice of a swine erupted behind you. 

“And who could possibly find Y/N beautiful?” Nadia hummed, having you twirl the stool to find Nadia in all her bitchy glory. 

The redhead from hell came to the party with (basically) strings worth of clothing. A belt was clipped around her upper torso, it’s brown leather being covering her nipples while pressing the actually breasts into her body. Going down her exposed stomach was some white booty shorts that she couldn’t pull off due to her ass being the equivalent to a cutting board. You couldn’t be asked to tilt your head down to see whatever covered her monstrous feet. 

“Nobody asked your slut-ass for your opinion,” Des jabbed, pursing her lips as attitude fumed the aura. Nadia rolled her eyes at your friend, her hands planted on her waist.

“What’d you say?” Nadia uttered, her hand flat and behind her ear as she directed her glare to Des. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak ape. Maybe Y/N could translate for me?” 

“I’m this close to throwing your ass out a window,” Des spat, her thumb and index finger creating a small space between to the two to keep from touching. “Y/N, can I?” 

“I don’t think you can if you even wanted to,” you said tiredly. “Her ego is so fat, carrying her would literally be impossible. Rolling her out a window is another story.” 

“You think you’re so clever, Y/N,” Nadia said with an eye roll. 

“I know I am,” you said simply. “Being the likely Valedictorian sorta makes me immensely wise. I’m sorry your close-to-dropout grades are inadequate in comparison to mine.” You listened to Alexis order a drink as you and the other girls glared at Nadia. 

“You’re nothing here, though,” Nadia said with a mischievous smirk. “The smart girl in a big, social gathering like this? How does your low self-confidence thrive in here?” 

“Look Nadia--” Savannah tried but Nadia was quick to raise her hand to her. 

“Be quiet, blondie,” Nadia said as she kept her eyes on yours. “Your skull is too dense to even conjure the answer to a simple 1+1 equation. They look like I’s to you, right?” 

“Bitch you done crossed a line,” Des growled, beginning to stand from her stool. But before Des could bother getting a punch in, Alexis was quick to splash Nadia with a glass worth of beer. Nadia stood there, frozen, with bystanders staring in shock before dissolving into hysteria. 

“Oh no, I just stained your stupid, sorry!” Alexis shrieked with a fake tone of remorse. Nadia glared at Alexis harshly, her eyes full of murder as she quickly escaped and disappeared into the crowd. You looked over at Alexis, with Savannah and Des awestruck themselves. 

“Ballsy,” you statement, giving her a gentle nudge on her shoulder of approval. Des and Savannah tapped on the table, cheering her on as Alexis chuckled. You shook your head, smiling at her audacity before turning back around to the bartender. 

“What a waste of a beer though,” Alexis stated, slightly vexed as she returned the glass cup to the bartender. 

“Lemme get another beer for my misses,” you muttered. “And a gin and tonic for me. That swine gave me a headache.” The bartender nodded before going off to prepare the drinks. As he did, you gave yourself a moment to chuckle at the fact that this dude didn’t ID you or the other girls. 

“I woulda punted her,” Des said simply, completely vexed as her chocolate temple rose veins. “But Alexis saved me from damaging my nails.” 

“True,” Savannah agreed, grabbing Des’ hand to admire the nail job. You smiled at the girls, feeling good that they were around. Tonight was turning out not so regretful, and you were pleasantly surprised by that. The bartender passed Alexis the beer and passed you the layered drink you requested. As you downed it, you noticed the club music fade away with a mic test occurring right after. 

“Hey, we’re 5 Seconds of Summer, and we’ve got shit you can vibe to.”

You turned to see the stage, seeing heads of people slightly block your sight of Luke Hemmings and his friends. You noticed his blue eyes scan the crowd before finally stumbling on you. You were a little taken aback when he gave you this incredibly warm smile, his rough lips barely widening to express an evident fondness. He then winked, having you feel a weird surging in your cheeks when he did. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Savannah asked beside you, having you give her a puzzled expression. “You’re a little red.” 

“That dumbass winked at me,” you grumbled. “My body just reacts to all the stupid shit he does to me for some reason.” Savannah gave you a teasing smirk and you couldn’t help but want to slap it off her face. 

“This first song is for the girl who won’t take my love,” Luke announced, directly staring at you. You cupped your hand and tried hiding your face by rising it against your forehead. The girls all touched your back, teasing you as you grabbed a straw and took a sip of your poison. 

Music was quick to play, but the lyrics came immediately after from Calum’s tongue. “I can’t look at you in the same light-- knowing whatcha did, my heart doesn’t feel right. Yeah, my head’s been tripping all night. I need another point of view.” 

“He’s mine!” Des yelled, pointing at Calum as she bounced from the stool and began dragging Savannah. “Ladies, let’s fuck it up!” You gulped down your glass before allowing Alexis to drag you to the dance floor. You passed through sweaty bodies before reaching a small clearance for you all to dance. 

Your alcohol tolerance was horrid, feeling your head already buzz as Alexis wrapped her arms around your neck. Your hands slid to her waist, the two of you weave your thighs together to do  basic two-step dance left to right. You kept bobbing your head, allowing your hair to bounce with every movement. The various colored lights were blinding you as you relied on Alexis to be your eyes momentarily. 

Songs go by, and every song that is played, the 4 of you wound up closer and closer to the stage. Next song was coming through, and you were already a few feet from Luke Hemmings. That gin and tonic was taking its course on you, the poison destroying all common sense with let-loose stupidity. You could feel Des grab your hand and dance in place with you as you let your hips roll with the beat. 

“It’s such a twisted story,” Luke sang, strumming his white, electric guitar. You looked up to see how shiny his face was from sweat. His cheeks were flushed, with his blue eyes still as electric as ever. They looked at you with an overwhelming intensity that proved itself to be inexplicable. And quite frankly, you were all down about it. “How you got me-- now you got me. So let me give you what you neeeeed.” 

As the boys continued singing, you watched as Luke removed the guitar from his torso and jumped from the stage. The sound of shrieks in sync deafened you as Luke joined the crowd and caught. Des let go, joining the rest of the girls as they leered you. Although you were already real drunk, you still did have a good chunk of sober in you. 

“Hemmings,” you muttered as he grabbed hold of your waist and pulled you on his body. You smelled the gentle scent of laundry from his suit as his hands held your firmly. With one hand pressed on his clothed chest, you used your free one to grab his jawbone and lower cheeks. “Why aren’t you up there singing?” 

“Because I needed my dosage of you tonight,” Luke murmured, his lips right at your ear. You felt his warm breath tickle the lobe as he guided you in dance. You noticed then that he hadn’t tried grinding his dick into your crotch, and you hadn’t really know why. But you did appreciate it and hoped you didn’t forget the morning after. 

“You’re not bad at that, by the way,” you hummed as your hands began to loosen his tie. Luke looked down at you, biting down his bottom lip as you finally untied it. You then began unbuttoning his white shirt. “That singing shit.”

“Thanks, I try,” Luke replied with a chuckle as you revealed his fairly creamy chest ornate with hair. His hands firmly stayed at your waist, not even daring to slide any lower. “Doubt I’d be this good without you.” 

August. 

“Hey, why don’t I get you a drink?” You slurred, gently slapping his clammy chest as you pulled away from his hold. Luke chuckled, placing his hand on your head to give it a nice pat. 

“Shouldn’t I be offering you that?” 

“Fuck off with your gender rules,” you growled, having Luke put his hands up as you led him through the crowd to the bar. “I have 4 more free drinks, so I might as well offer.” 

“Oh shit, really?” Luke began, looking surprise as he helped you sit down on the stool. He took a seat beside you, tapping on the bar as he stared at you. As usual, this look of adoration resided in his ocean eyes every time he stared at you. “Who’d you swoon to earn that?” 

“My stalker,” you said simply, tapping on the bar to get the bartender’s attention. The bartender came, noticing Luke immediately. You glanced over and saw Luke give him a stare before the bartender looked back at you. “Can we get four kamikaze shots? Those’ll be my last drinks.” 

“Coming right up.” Luke looked at you, his brows raised at your request. You looked over and gave him a smirk, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers. They were clammy and bony, with callouses ornate like small little mountains. All the skills he could produce with his hands resided in the rough skin, having you stare attentively at it. And Luke couldn’t help but flush up like a tomato. 

The shots finally came through, having you slide two to Luke to keep two for yourself. Raising the two in both hands, you clinked them with Luke’s before gulping them whole. Luke watched as you shuddered from the hot poison sliding down your throat and into your system. Luke then began unbuttoning his blazer before grabbing your hand and guiding you back onto the dance floor. 

“I think... I better get goin’ now,” you slurred, your body gradually becoming jelly as you loosely moved your body to the music. The bands have already switched, and the rest of the boys were with your girlfriends. Des was grinding on Calum, Alexis was held close by Ashton, and Michael carried Savannah in his arms as he spun the two. You were pressed against Luke, relying on him to keep you on your feet. “I’m not feeling too peachy.” 

“Want me to take you home?” Luke offered, having you reluctantly nod. Everything in your mind was just mushing together, having you fairly uncertain about Hemmings walking you home. But you didn’t want to ruin the girls’ fun by requesting them to get you home. “Alright, c’mon.” 

Luke grabbed your hand and began guiding you through the crowd, which a lot of the people delayed your escape due to them praising the blonde boy. But Luke held your hand tightly, as if there was something threatening to disconnect the two of you. But you slipped through all the hot, sweaty bodies to found yourself back at the dirty entrance of the venue. Luke guided you through the door and down the hall to the real exit, having your eyes go blur from the contrast of the wild colors to the eerie yellow light that flickered from the ceiling. 

“Lukey!” The shriek of the nasty Nadia gave your ear cancer once Luke got you outside. The cool air, though, soothed your body from your hot state as sweat collected in you and Luke’s interlocked hand. “Um, what’re you doing with the rat?” 

“Nadia, please don’t start,” Luke groaned, evidently annoyed as well by Nadia’s presence. Nadia glared at you, having you stick out your tongue carelessly as your head was growing more dizzy. You wanted nothing to do with her at all at this very time. 

“Is this one drunk already?” Nadia commented, flashing a smirk as the rest of her bitch crew laughed. “What happened? Did she take one sip of beer and topple on the dance floor?” 

“It’s none of your business, Nadia,” Luke began, evidently annoyed at the red-haired, blue-eyed devil. But let’s be real: who wouldn’t be? “Now can you please hop off?” 

“Or what?” Nadia teased. She then diverted her eyes on you. “Is Y/N gonna spew some intellectual shit on me? Oh no, I’m ever so terrified!” 

“I can’t,” you slurred, feeling your heart beat loudly in your skull. “Your skull is so dense that my words wouldn’t be able to access your brain capacity-- which is the size of a teaspoon.” 

“You bitch!” Nadia was prepared to lunge at you, but Luke quickly let go to grab the girl. You smirked, but then realized that Luke was gone and you had nothing to keep you up. Everything slowed, your sight multiplying infinitely as you were beginning to crash to the ground. You shut your eyes and waited for the clash, but fortunately, there wasn’t any. 

Pulling you back up were two arms, strong ones that smelled of fuckboy cologne and felt a little moist. They were warm, surely, but it was much better than your head colliding with the hard ground. You blinked a few times and turned your head to see yourself in the arms of Nathan Holland. 

“Hoeland?” You said quietly, grabbing hold of his face to feel his prickly beard tickle your fingers. “How’d you get here, Hoeland?” 

“It’s Holland, and Jesus, you’re drunk,” Nathan spoke gently, looking as your face was completely flushed and your skin shiny from the heat of the venue. You giggled, placing your index finger upon the boys’ lips weakly as you shushed him. 

“It’s Hoeland, okay?” You began, disproving his correction as Nathan nodded. You then giggled again and grabbed his jawline with your clammy hand. “You’re such a good boy, you listen!” 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” The aggravated voice caused you to turn your head to look at Luke. He’s glaring at me, you thought, having you flush up as you stared at the angry blonde. “Of course you come right when I try stopping Nadia, right?” 

“You could’ve kept holding Y/N while stopping that one with one hand,” Nathan insulting, rolling his eyes rudely at the blonde. “You don’t really think too fast, ay Lucas?” 

“Fuck off, I didn’t want her to hit Y/N,” Luke barked. “Stop calling me Lucas!” 

“Y/N would've been better off receiving a punch from that twig than a concussion from the floor,” Nathan spat, tightening his hold on you as you giggled. You, for some reason, laughed at the fact that you saw saliva spray out of Nathan’s mouth when he spoke. 

“Sprinkler,” you whispered, looking back to see a fuming Luke Hemmings. 

“Here, how about this,” Nathan began. “You keep hold of the beast over there, and I’ll take Y/N home.” 

“No.” Luke immediately threw out the idea. Nadia looked up at him, a little in shock from his tone. Aside from the fact that he did want you home, he wanted to be the one to take you home. But you couldn’t catch that as your brain was gone into a different dimension. “I’ll take her.” 

“Nah, you stay here and have your fun,” Nathan said simply, eyeing the way Nadia was staring at Luke. Luke simply glanced over at her and rolled his eyes before diverting his sight back to you. You notice Luke let go of Nadia’s wrists to allow his arms to hang loose at his sides. That allowed Nadia to cling onto him by the neck and press her body against him. 

“Lukey~!” Nadia purred, having Luke hold her sides in attempts to push her off gently. But she was too committed, nuzzling her face against his chest to press kisses on it. “You’re so hot when you’re angry...” 

“See you in class, Lucas!” Nathan called, helping you adjust by wrapping one arm around his torso. You let out a yawn as he held you by your side with one arm right above your waist while the other held your free arms hand by his body. You could hear Luke’s chants for you, but sound dissolved in thin air as Nathan guided you away from the venue and back into the streets. 

“I’m hungry,” you whined, having Nathan chuckle as he guided you down the sidewalk ornate with the lights of stores and people. 

“What do you want?” Nathan offered, looking down at you as you contemplated what would sit well in your stomach. Your eyes looked at the few closed stands, with the metallic cages in front of them to prevent access. You held onto Nathan’s hand tightly, feeling a headache ensue from hunger. 

“What time is it?” You whispered, eyeing a brightly lit store at the end of the block. Nathan halted the both of you, let your hand go to get his phone. 

“It’s almost 5,” Nathan said simply, having you nod as you two kept walking to find a Chinese food shop still open. You eyed it, evidently far too hungry to really get picky now. Like a child, you pointed at the food joint with plead in your eyes, having Nathan nod as he guided you two into the A-rank restaurant. 

2 orders and a few minutes later, you were dogging your meal in the rectangular, Styrofoam container. Nathan watched as you kept shoving huge spoonfuls in your mouth, as if you were literally starving. It made him smile, and you hadn’t really known why. But there was some sort of warmth in his expression, a random fondness that you couldn’t really get down in your head. 

“Drink some water, okay?” He hummed, sliding one of the 3 water bottles he bought for you. You quickly took the bottle and downed half of it before placing it down and taking a big inhale. “Tell me your address.” 

“How candid,” you said with a smirk, looking into his taunting eyes. But his blue eyes were gentle, those dollops of blue-gray seeming extremely tame. It completely deferred from their usually bright state, whenever he’s being smug or annoying to Luke. “Are you gonna stalk me, too?” 

“No,” Nathan said, his face expressing how stupid you sounded. “How am I gonna get you home without knowing where to take you?” You looked distantly at your food as he took out his phone. “Unless, of course, you wanted to come to my house.” 

You shook your head, receiving a cheeky grin from the boy. You then sighed, your heart racing fast but your mind completely blank. You were too blurred to even think about how nonsense it is. But then you rose from your seat and grabbed the boy by the hem of his green shirt, tugging him forward as your nose was just a few inches from his. Nathan’s eyes lit up, but quickly dulled when you skipped his face and got your lips near his ear. In a whisper, you uttered a few words before pulling away and sitting back down. 

Nathan sat back down in complete shock. His eyebrows rose, pure disbelief painting the entirety of his white boy-generic face. His lips were slightly parted, unsure as to how to actually respond to your address. It made you giggle, knowing that he’d have some sort of reaction like so. You then took your fork and reached over to grab one of his seasoned broccoli. 

“Surprise,” you gushed before taking the vegetable in your mouth.  

heLLO ! as usual, tell me whatcha think right over here and see you (hopefully) in the next part aha xx 

[myraelvira]

What Happened To Randy Sellers?

Randy Lee Sellers was born on September 6th, 1962. He was born to Wanda and John Cotton. Randy had a younger brother, Tyran Renard, that was born in 1967. He was considered to have been from the Visalia/Morning view area of Kentucky.

Randy was in Alternative school at the time, and according to anecdotal evidence, he was considered one of the ‘bad boys’ in his area. “Randy was in and out of trouble most of his teen years and the local cops were quite familiar with him.”.

On August 15th, 1980, Randy was at the Kenton County Fair in Independence, Kentucky, when he was arrested for disorderly conduct and public intoxication. Allegedly, he got into a fistfight with someone at the fair, and the cops were called. The police believe that Randy was under the influence of drugs at the time, and even struck one of the cops after he was put in the squad car.

As the story goes, Randy was dropped off by the police about one mile from his family’s home in Visalia. Some reports say that Randy provided unclear directions to the house, and others claim that the officers dropped in him at the location as a favor to Randy. Either way, Randy never returned home and was never heard from again.

A man named Jack Isles, an alleged friend of Randy’s, stated that he was at the fair on the night of Randy’s disappearance. In an article, he stated that he regretted not having offered Randy a ride home that night. “I wish I could have told him to come on home. Let him go with me. I wish he was here, God-honest truth with you.”.

At first, it was believed that Randy had drowned, with his footprints near the Licking River which hugs the Visalia area. The footprints matched a set of hiking boots owned by one of his relatives, and there were marks that someone may have slipped and fallen into the water. When authorities searched the river to find nothing, they then believed that the footprints were left by people searching for Randy.

Many people believe that a man named Donald LeRoy Evans murdered Randy. Evans was a drifter that was eventually sentenced to death for the murder of a child in Mississippi; he claimed that he picked Randy up along Route 177, the main road in the Visalia area. Allegedly he took Randy to Kincaid Lake State Park and shared a beer with him. Then he supposedly shot Randy in the head with a .45 and buried his body, on that night in 1980. Evans also claimed to be responsible for other unsolved cases, including the death of Kimberly Dawn McClaskey. Evans was rather notorious for having preyed on people in rest areas and parks.

One of the reasons why Evans was considered a possibility is because he actually confessed to the murder in Mississippi and led authorities to the body of the girl. He also confessed to a murder in Florida of a prostitute that was found in a hotel room. He told authorities details that led to a set of his prints. So at least twice over, he confessed to murders that were proven to be tied to him.

Authorities searched Kincaid Lake State Park for Randy’s body in 1994, 14 years after his disappearance, but nothing was found. Evans was never charged in the case, and police were not even sure if he was involved. His claims though, were considered credible. Another one of the main reasons people believed that Evans may have been responsible, was because he drew a crude yet accurate map of the park.

When they went to search for Randy’s body, there was nothing there. Evans initially stated he buried Randy 3 feet deep in the ground with some sheet metal that he found. Then later, he changed his story to having sort of just covering Randy’s body with some forest brush.

There have been multiple searches in order to find Randy or even his body, yet none have turned up anything. In 2018, there was a search in March at the Kincaid park where a rescue team’s dogs picked up the alleged scent of a decaying body. Apparently, the area the scent was found matched the area that Donald Evans claimed to have buried Randy’s body. There was the belief that the map Evans drew was potentially misinterpreted at first, when they searched for Randy in the 90’s. In the recent past, some people believed that reading the map in a different way (or upside down) could reveal more information and potentially find Randy (which to me, doesn’t prove that the map was accurate in the first place). It is unknown what came of that search, if there was any dead body at all. In my personal opinion, I do not see how a body can still be decaying 38 years after the fact. Interestingly, the case was still considered open, as of 2018.

Randy’s mother believes that her son hitched a ride with Evans to the park, in hopes of seeing her since she was staying there with a friend at the time. As recently as 2019, Wanda Cotton has been reported stating that she believes that Evans killed her son. Wanda said in 2019, “I believe in my heart, that Randy was killed by Donald LeRoy Evans.”. She believes that Randy’s body is somewhere in the park, with a marker to remember him, and another woman who was killed.

Randy’s physical appearance is described as having been 5’9”, 149 pounds, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Randy had a birthmark on the crown of his head, a scar above his left eye, and a surgical scar on his right knee. He had a scar on his left elbow, from an old fracture. There was a tattoo of the letter ‘R’ on his right forearm, though other sources state that it was on a forearm. He may have had a crown on tooth, and wore a beard on his chin at the time of his disappearance. He was last seen wearing a black shirt, blue jeans, and work shoes.

The reason I bring this up now, is that there is an interesting John Doe that seems to match that description. On doenetwork there is John Doe 419UMOK. He was found on April 9th, 1995 in Crowder, Oklahoma next to a Jane Doe. The Jane Doe was estimated to have been 18-30 years old, 5’6”, with long light brown almost blonde looking hair. Jane wore black denim size 10 pants, blue underwear, a red pullover shirt, white socks, and a white bra. She had 2 rings on her left hand, one of a yellow metal band, and other of a single white stone. John was estimated to have been 20-30 years old, 5’7”,with brown/light blond hair, with a light brown mustache. He wore a green denim pair of pants (31/34) black and white checkered briefs, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. He had a ring on his left hand, a yellow metal band, with 14k and TW inscribed on the inside. He also wore a watch that was still working at the time their bodies were found, though it was an hour behind the current. Most interestingly, is that this doe had a tattoo of the letter ‘R’ on his upper left forearm. He also had a tattoo of a cross on his upper left arm. Both bodies were found decomposing under a tree near Lake Eufala, and seemed to have been dragged about 50 feet from a dirt road. Though it may seem far fetched that this doe may have been Randy, the tattoo was a detail that I could not omit.

[NOTE: This doe has been excluded from Randy]

There are some interesting things that I have come across with Randy’s case, whether it be from online errors, to just random things. The first thing, is that on Randy’s page for the doe network site, he is listed as female, all other sites correctly list him as male. For some reason, the main photo used to show Randy’s most recent appearance when he disappeared, has black markings that make it look like he was wearing a black shirt. The full version of the photo is included on the namus profile for him, and it shows that he was shirtless. I know that this means nothing, but I can’t understand why someone would “photoshop” a fake shirt on a picture of him?

Through reading about this case, I have not came across a lot of information on Randy’s background. There is the info that he was in alternative school, and the anecdotal that he was a bit of a bad boy. There is a personal story on a post on websleuths were someone said that Randy was pretty familiar with the cops, so the idea that they didn’t know where his house was at was asinine. I haven’t even heard anything about the night of the fair, and I am curious what the fight that Randy had was about. Was it just a drunken brawl? Was there a reason that he got into the fight other than being drunk? Who was the person that he got into a fight with? Was it an adult or another teen? Was it perhaps someone related to a cop or a big official? How long had Randy been in alternative school for, and what the reason why he was there exactly? Did he have a hard time with his family? Did he ever talk about running away possibly?

I think that it is important too, to look at a map of the area as a whole. The Visalia area is not that far from Ohio.

There a few does from that area that may be plausibly close to being Randy.

https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/1712/details?nav

https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/6715?nav

There have been two facial progressions of Randy, one in 2006, and another in 2011. I will be completely honest, I think both are terrible. The first one from 2006 is honestly terrible and does not look like him at all. The second on from 2011 is closer, but it does not seem too accurate. This honestly reminds me of the Reet Jurvetson case where the drawings of her when she was Jane Doe were completely different from how she really looked. Personally, I think that Randy looked almost exactly like his father, down to the nose and hairline. I don’t understand why they did not go with a progression based off of that.

Unfortunately, on December 10th, 1990, Randy’s younger brother Tyran committed suicide. He is buried at Mother of God Cemetery in Kenton Vale, Kentucky.

There is still uncertainty as to what happened to Randy. Many people, like his mother, believed that he was murdered by Donald Evans. Despite looking for the body 14 years later, there has not been any evidence that Randy was buried in the park. Though at the same time too, a 14 year gap of looking for a body that may have been buried in a shallow grave leaves more than enough time for nature to naturally scatter the pieces. Others believe that Randy may have been killed by the police, potentially just tired of a ‘juvenile delinquent’. Rumors have said that police killed Randy, and buried the body on property of a policeman.

Randy’s parents, John and Wanda, are still alive today (as of 2020), and are still looking for answers as to what happened to their son. In 2019, it was revealed that John had been diagnosed with cancer. The parents expressed their worry that after they eventually pass away, who would remember Randy. Fortunately, research teams and the press have shown that people are still thinking about Randy, even to this day.

[SOURCES]

http://charleyproject.org/case/randy-lee-sellers

https://www.cincinnati.com/story/news/2019/06/04/randy-sellers-missing-case-kenton-county-towson-university/1338652001/

http://www.pollyklaas.org/missing/kids/randy-sellers.html

https://www.wcpo.com/news/local-news/kenton-county/police-renew-search-for-randy-sellers-in-1980-missing-person-case

https://local12.com/news/local/randy-sellers-parents-plead-for-tips-in-his-case-nearly-39-years-later

https://billiongraves.com/grave/Randy-L-Sellers/25146466

https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/5174/details

https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/5170?nav

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/136164576/_

http://www.doenetwork.org/cases/14dmky.html

https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/1712/details?nav

https://www.websleuths.com/forums/threads/ky-randy-sellers-17-visalia-16-aug-1980.31947/

[carpenuit]

Tuning in to Haim's indie look

Although each sister has a distinctive look, they share an unassuming just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-slipped-on-last-night's-clothes attitude and long, straight, center-parted '70s-style hair, courtesy of local stylist Candice Birns. Danielle (25, lead vocals and guitar) dons the mantle of tomboy chic in dark jeans, understated tops and leather jackets; one of her favorite designers is Isabel Marant. Este (28, bassist and harmony) is in sync with retro femininity: She sports blond hair, cherry-red lips and retro dresses. Alana (22, guitar, keyboards and harmony) favors a sporty-flirty vibe with vintage tees, varsity jackets and tiny Daisy Dukes by Calvin Klein that she dubs her "lucky shorts," noting that she has worn them at "95% of Haim shows."

One of their favorite pastimes is shopping for vintage fashion at local thrift shops. Top destinations are American Rag Cie, Out of the Closet stores, Hidden Treasures in Topanga, the American Way Thrift Store in Burbank and Jet Rag's Sunday dollar sale in Hollywood.

But the Haim sisters have also been known to embrace designer labels. The band played at the Los Angeles showing of Chloé's spring 2014 collection, attended the opening party for the new Acne Studios store in downtown L.A., wore head-to-toe Saint Laurent to the 2014 Brit Awards in London and sat in the front row at the Chloé and Acne Studios fall 2014 fashion presentations in Paris last month.

"When it comes to fashion week, we feel a little out of place," says Danielle. "But we were such huge fans of Acne and Chloé growing up. When I was in high school, I made my own prom dress in eyelet, and I modeled it after a Chloé dress. It was girly but not too feminine."

Clare Waight Keller, creative director of Chloé, contacted the band when she wanted to feature one of their songs in a runway show.

"I love the fact that they look so individual [and] have a strong image that is based in a real fresh attitude," Keller says.

Alana notes that she is obsessed with Givenchy and confesses to stalking Riccardo Tisci, the brand's creative director, on Instagram. The sisters have also recently discovered Agent Provocateur lingerie. All frequently wear leather jackets and booties by Acne Studios.

"I feel like finding the perfect leather jacket is every girl's quest in life; I think it was ours for years," says Alana.

The fresh-faced sisters have a minimalist approach to makeup. Recent finds include Laura Mercier's Secret Camouflage concealer and Chanel Vitalumiere Aqua foundation. Essentials include Mario Badescu Oil-Free Moisturizer SPF 17, Oribe hair spray and hair products by Italian brand Davines. They also share Los Angeles-made Miss Marisa Original perfume oil by Ebba with notes of plum blossom, cassis, Moroccan mint and waterlily.

Their local hangouts include Stella Cafe in Silver Lake or Little Dom's in Los Feliz for brunch, Tacos Villa Corona in Atwater Village and the Oyster House Saloon bar in Studio City. But what they love more than anything is a good house party.

And style. Here's a run-down on what the sisters were wearing at a recent photo shoot, some of their inspirations, and a little advice on what to wear in the desert:

Este:

What she was wearing: A vintage black-and-white floral mini-dress, Los Angeles-based jeweler Vanessa Mooney's "Queen of the Night" antler charm necklace and Palladium dagger ring, black Acne booties, and black Karen Walker sunglasses.

Style icons/inspiration: Selena and '90s Guess ads featuring Claudia Schiffer and Anna Nicole Smith.

Recent acquisitions: Dresses from Australian labels Shakuhachi and Lover.

Alana

What she was wearing: A jersey-style vintage tee, Calvin Klein denim cutoff shorts, her mother's tan leather Naf Naf belt, black leather Acne Studios booties, Pared Eyewear oversized tortoise cat-eye Puss & Boots sunglasses.

Style icons/inspiration: 1970s photographs of her mother and aunts.

Recent acquisitions: A Givenchy Pepe handbag, a black Saint Laurent Mini Sac De Jour handbag and a vintage Lakers starter jacket, and Keith Richards' memoir "Life."

Danielle

What she was wearing: A black Cos crew-neck sweater, ripped and faded vintage Levi's jeans, a vintage western-style belt, Isabel Marant black booties and Prada sunglasses.

Style icons/inspiration: Amelia Earhart, Katharine Hepburn, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin.

Recent acquisition: A Louis Vuitton Sofia Coppola handbag and shirts by Celine.