#also my association is jersey devil

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[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Three

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 13k

Chapter Warnings: angst obviously what would this story be without it, poppy and nico having an overdue conversation, nico moping again with his big sad brown eyes, nico being jealous again, drinking, cursing, meddling friends, being stood up, mentions of controlling parents as always, a little touching maybe a little more kissing too and even more meddling friends

Summary: Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Two)

A/N: I have nothing to say honestly just hope you enjoy I really don't know why I struggled writing most of this despite knowing what I wanted to do with it I think just figuring out how I want certain conversations to go and how to get from a to b is pure stresssss I'm not entirely in love with it but what can you do also proofread her? I hardly know her

but if you have anything to say pls send it my way lmao I'd really like to hear any thoughts or opinions 💓

Poppy

Poppy was once told by her good friend, Kelsey, that she would be able to tell everything she needed to know about a guy by the way they answered one very simple question. 

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

She thinks about it more often than she really should, if she’s honest with herself, but Kelsey’s rationale behind each potential answer is actually a stroke of rare genius - and Poppy often finds herself applying the logic to most people that she encounters.

Guys who say super speed are the ultimate red flag. No one wants a quick finisher, no matter how fast they may be in any other aspect of life. Some things specifically require time and patience. Sacrificing your partner’s satisfaction all to say you can run the world record fastest 5k is the ultimate ick.

There’s an argument to be made for the endurance choosers, it sure has its perks, but Poppy thinks it’s a boring pick. To be given the option of any superpower, and to choose perseverance, of all things? Get a life. 

Anyone who chooses x-ray vision is a certified pervert, obviously. The same could be said for those wanting to read minds, although most of the guys Poppy has seen in her life struggle to comprehend the things she says in plain words, never mind whatever nonsense is circling through her inner thoughts. 

Those who choose flying are one dimensional, rarely able to see beyond what’s right in front of them, because, if they could, they’d choose the much better option of teleportation.

Who chooses flying when you could just think about somewhere and instantaneously arrive? With your hair in tact and no risk of bumping into any territorial birds.

Teleportation is what Poppy would have picked if anyone would have asked her a week ago, for the mere fact that commuting anywhere is the bane of her entire existence, and if she thinks too hard about it or looks to much into it, it always has been. 

She associates it with sitting in the back of her dad’s Bentley as a child, a tangible, frosty silence lingering in the air between her parents after one of their many even-toned arguments disguised as discussions, the fresh pine scent making her car sick and the leather seats making the back of her thighs sticky. 

Or the fragile bones of her hand being crushed by her mother’s tight grip as they rode the Amtrak over to Manhattan, Priscilla sneering at anyone who dared step too close on the crowded carriage, Poppy being dragged throughout department stores in the name of mother-daughter bonding time, and clutching to a tiny consolation Macy’s bag housing a sparkly lip gloss like her life depended on it the whole way home. 

She thinks of all the hours of her life she’s wasted on the Palisades Parkway, no longer able to enjoy the scenic route whenever she has to drive back to her parent’s house in Alpine after having watched one too many crime shows where a broken down car leads to a girl’s face plastered all over the news.

Even driving to work can feel like hell when the traffic is bad, what should be a 30 minute drive sometimes turning into an hour, Poppy’s fingers cramping around the wheel and her feet itching to touch solid ground after too long.

Teleportation sounds perfect.

And, there’s even a romance element to it. Being whisked away to Paris in the blink of an eye, suddenly sitting outside a boulangerie, decadent, rich hot chocolate on a table in front of her and a plate full of pastries, all because she mentioned a slight craving for a pain au chocolat. 

Teleportation has always been the only correct, green-flag answer to the question. 

Until Poppy properly considered time travel, that is.

The concept of it has always been a little too much or her to handle - too many strange loopholes, too many bad examples from the sci-fi movies her brother had loved as a kid. Travelling back in time to when her parents were her age and accidentally capturing her adolescent father’s attention à la Marty McFly? Sounds like hell and horror to Poppy. 

But that was before she screwed everything up.

If she could have any superpower right now, currently weighed down with the burden of hindsight - which people have always told her is a funny thing, but she thinks is actually somewhat diabolical - she would pick time travel a thousand times over.

Because if human beings have a specific part of their brain that is dedicated to forcing them to sit and stew on their every poor decision for days on end - lets them rethink and regret everything until they’re blue in the face, and can’t think of anything other than how idiotic they have been - it should also offer the kindness of being able to go back and change what they so royally fucked up.

That’s what Poppy thinks, at least, as she throws herself down onto her bed, her back hitting the duvet in a whoosh and all she can do is stare at the ceiling and wonder how and when she became such a certified moron.

There’s a part of her that suspects it’s in her genes. Inevitable. Unavoidable. Nature and nurture, she was born and raised to be a full blown fool.

Poppy comes from a long line of privilege, and while it does take a certain element of intelligence to amass the wealth her family has, it also tends to go hand in hand with ignorance in its many forms.

Behind every fortuitous business move her father makes are a million other mistakes - failed ventures, bad investments, shoddy pieces of advice accepted from the untrustworthy snakes he surrounds himself with. Hidden beneath every rung of the social ladders her mother has managed to climb, there are the ugly faux-pas’ slipping through the cracks of a former, more unsavoury life she can never run too far from. And her brother - well, she suspects he’s just an idiot, there are no two ways about it.

She knows that she needs to stop blaming her family, though. This time, it’s all her.

She can’t blame her father for the way she overthinks, the man who makes every decision in life with the littlest regard for how anyone else feels about it. She can’t blame her mother for the way she places such little value on herself, the woman who walks into every room like she owns it and refuses to let anyone make her think otherwise.

Except maybe she can.

If she had the nerve to talk to a therapist, they might disagree - might say her overthinking comes from her dad’s lack of communication skills, a part of her brain always filling in the gaps of a half-assed, other side of any conversation with him. Or they might say her insecurities come from her mom constantly putting Poppy down while telling her to be more sure of herself - stop slouching, Poppy, no one will take you seriously with the posture of a candy cane.

She’d love to know where her need to repress her feelings so deep that she becomes an impenetrable, cold, dark fortress comes from. The need to push and shove when someone tries to get too close, because God forbid anything is ever easy when it comes to her affections.

It would have made the past 4 days since Nico had walked into her apartment and kissed the life out of her a whole lot easier. 

4 days spent reminiscing, rethinking and regretting every single thing she had said and done since their lips parted, since he had put his heart on the line and she’d whacked it away, full swing, as if too desperate for the victory of a last-bat home run.

If she could time travel, she’d do the whole thing over.

-

“Don’t go on that date, Mohn.”

She had read the words on his lips before they registered through her ears, the sound of her blood rushing throughout her body occupying every sense for a brief moment.

What the hell is going on?

Nico had kissed her. He’d grabbed her, pulled her into him, and she’s pretty sure he had made her heart stop for a good second - there’s no other justifiable reason for the way it had been reverberating against her ribcage ever since. 

And then he stood before her, a desperate, pleading projection playing in his dark irises, lips still slick from where her own had just been, cheeks flushed, shoulders rising with subtle panting breaths, waiting for a response to a question she couldn’t even remember hearing.

“W-what?” She’d stuttered, blinking hard and shaking her head as if to rattle her brain into whatever semblance of cognisance she could muster.

Nico had kissed her, and then wanted to talk? As if she had the brain power left for any kind of discussion after that?

He seemed proud of the mess he had made of her, lips lifting at one side, drawing her gaze immediately to every movement they made, so focused on the memory of how pillowy-soft they had felt against hers that she didn’t notice him stepping a little closer, raising a large hand to tuck her hair behind her ear until she flinched at the contact.

“Sunday, Poppy,” he had uttered, unfazed by her skittishness, “Your date, don’t go.”

She had blinked again, completely overwhelmed on every front. She could still taste him on her tongue, he was so close she could smell his cologne, tunnel vision only seeing him in front of her and the hand that cupped the side of her face in her peripheral, her heartbeat echoing through her skull and every nerve, every slight hair on her body, standing as if trying to close the distance between his body and hers.

It was the sensory overload that made her go against all other instincts.

“I can’t.” Her voice had sounded like it hadn’t been used in weeks, croaky and unsure, her next words stammered, “I can’t not go, I mean. I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go, Poppy,”

“No, I do.” That had sounded a little surer, the fog in her brain slowly clearing only for something more tumultuous to pass through in it’s place. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Nico blinked once, then again, frustration clear in the furrow of his thick brows as he seemed to stew on his next words, desperate to say the right thing. There was a prolonged, tense beat, before he had asked, “Have you ever thought we could be more?”

“More?”

“More than friends.”

If her heart hadn’t stopped when he had kissed her, it must have stopped then.

His back straight, eyes looking directly into hers, a hopeful, inquisitive gleam shining from within them - he had never seemed so sure of something for as long as she had known him.

Poppy couldn’t stop the little voice in her head questioning, where the hell has this come from?

“Have you?” She had asked with a eyre of disbelief.

 Not once in the years she had known him had he ever made it seem like they could be more. There had always been an unspeakable, undeniable barrier between them. They were friends. They’d always been friends. Just friends.

Friends who spent most of their free, personal time together, friends who bought each other sentimental gifts they’d never get for anyone else, who shared intimate details about their lives and their pasts, and kissed each others heads like a goodbye ritual. Friends who broke each other’s hearts, seemingly beyond repair, without explanation.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I mean,” He had paused, breaking eye contact for a second as if wracking his brain for the right answer, sensing a teetering tension between the two of them. “Yeah. Yes. I have.”

She had narrowed her eyes at him, weighing up the possibility in her mind that she wouldn’t have liked any response he gave to her, every prospective answer causing a flood of doubt and uncertainty to crash in rushing, destructive waves through her mind. “Since when?” She’d asked, trying to level her bite.

If he’d ever thought they could be more, what the hell have they been doing all this time?

“Since I met you, I think,” he had shrugged.

Wrong answer, again.

“And you only bring it up when I have a date with someone else?”

She watched a series of antithetical emotions pass through his features, understanding, confusion, acceptance, denial, resilience, cowardice. He had seemed to find the small margins between all of them, when he had come back with, “It’s not because of your date, Poppy.”

“Then why?” She tilted her head as she continued to analyse him, again not sure what she was looking for, or what she wanted to find. That something tumultuous was already whirling within her, too late to be stopped, and Nico could seemingly see the warning signs.

“Why are you getting mad at me, right now?”

“I’m not mad,” she had denied, not even knowing if she was lying or not, “I’m confused. 2 weeks ago, we weren’t even talking, Nico-,”

“You said you forgave me for that.”

“I didn’t-.” She’d cut herself off before she could say something that would upset him, the conversation spiralling so far out of control from the momentary bliss he had provided only minutes ago - but she was too far up shit’s creek without a paddle, there was no turning back. She’d been wanting to have a proper conversation with Nico all week, what better time than the middle of the night on what was now his birthday? “That’s not exactly what I said.”

He had taken a step back, lips parting with an unreleased gasp, the once-hopeful glint in his eyes transforming into hurt. “You don’t forgive me?”

“I didn’t say that either,” she sighed, wanting answers, not to cause him anguish. “Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then tell me what the hell is wrong? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t understand where this has come from, Nico! You come in here and kiss me out of nowhere and tell me not to date other people and I’m just supposed to blindly follow along when I don’t get what the hell is happening with you!”

“I think me kissing you makes it pretty obvious what I want to happen, Mohn.” He had tried to ease the tension, his voice level and steady, stepping forward with his hands raised in an attempt to calm her, but she had taken a slight step back, clearly unaffected. 

“It doesn’t.” She’d stopped looking at him at that point, keeping an eye on his feet to watch his encroaching steps. “Nothing about you is obvious. You don’t tell me anything and all I can think about is what I did wrong.”

If he couldn’t see the tears pooling at her lashes, he had to have heard the break in her voice - a sure indicator that she was close to crying - but his steps had stopped, feet seemingly stuck to their place on the hardwood flooring of Poppy’s apartment, and she could feel her heart shatter knowing he wasn’t persisting again.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He tries to reassure her, but it’s no use.

Maybe she would have believed him if he’d held her while he said it, transferred the meaning through touch to her skin, gripping her with every word until she truly understood the weight of them.

“It had to have been something. You don’t just stop wanting to know a person for no reason, Nico, so what was it?” She made her way to her couch, perching on the edge of the seat with her knees pressed together, and looked over to where he remained standing.

She could feel her temper flaring again. 

How could he have the nerve to do this to her - to turn her world upside down in a matter of minutes - and not have the answers she needed to accept it?

“Poppy-,”

“I need to know. I can’t drop it and forget about it, and I’m sorry that I made it seem like I could, but if you want us to move on from this, if you want to come here and kiss me like that, and tell me you don’t want me seeing other people, I need to know what happened.”

“I-,” Nico sighed heavily, shoulders drooping, any confidence and bravado he had displayed after their kiss now a distant memory. “I don’t know.”

She had an immediate, striking thought, that maybe if she asked closed questions, he could give her an answer, and so, with misplaced courage, she asked, “Was it her?”

“What?”

“Your girlfriend. Did she ask you to stop talking to me?”

It was a thought that had been plaguing her for longer than she’d like to admit - unable to shake the idea that maybe Talia had seen one of the texts she had sent, had gone through Nico’s phone and seen any of their older messages, any photos he might have kept on his phone, maybe a memory had come up from snapchat, maybe someone had mentioned Poppy and her curiosity had been piqued. 

Poppy had always thought if she was dating someone, and they had a Poppy, she might feel some type of way about it. 

But her and Nico were just friends.

Nico rounded the couch, sitting on the cushion beside Poppy, their knees knocking as he reached into her lap and took her shaking hands in his.

“Do you really think I’d stop talking to you just because someone asked me to?” Their eyes had met again, sadness brewing in the dark coffee colour surrounding his dilated pupils, and a glassy film coating her own. “Poppy, I would never.”

“I don’t know what to think, Nico, because you won’t tell me.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense! I try wrapping my head around it, try coming up with some kind of explanation, but nothing I say is going to change what I did to you, Poppy.”

Her question before had gotten her an honest response, had elicited something real and undeniable within him - he’d never stop talking to her because someone asked him to. So it was his own decision, subconscious or not. Maybe she could help dig further, she thought.

“Why did you kiss me?” She asked after a beat.

“I,” Nico pondered over it before rushing his answer, a wave of emotion flashing across his face before his eyes locked on hers, ready to let her in. “Because I wanted to.”

That was a start - a simple question, a straightforward answer. 

“Was that the first time that you wanted to?”

“No.”

Poppy could feel some semblance of confidence coming back. Closed questions, concrete answers, she could keep this up.

“When was the last time you wanted to kiss me?”

She could have asked the first - she sure as hell wanted to know it, but if he’d thought of being more the entire time they’d known each other, there was a lingering possibility there were many times - and they would be there until sunrise if they started from the beginning.

“Finnegan’s.” 

“The bar?”

“We went there when we came back after we crashed out of the playoffs, do you remember?”

She remembered.

It had only been a couple of days before Nico had left for his summer back home in Switzerland.

Their loss in Carolina had been devastating, the boys came back broken and defeated, and all just wanted to drown their sorrows before they broke for their off-season. Poppy had been out with Nia and Kelsey and a few other friends at another bar when Jack had responded to her instagram story, saying they’d be at the Irish pub that was a staple within the team, and she should come over and join them.

She had made her way over pretty late, wanting to make sure her friends were okay without her, and arrived when most of the boys were completely shit-faced, past the point of tears and moping and deep into a mass state of hysteria and loud jubilation for the successes along the way.

She had found Nico in a booth in the far corner of the bar, head slumped over the back, eyes seemingly tracing the cracks in the ceiling until she crawled into the bench behind him, leaned over with her elbows resting on either side of his head, and took up his entire view. 

“What’cha doin’?” She’d asked, lips twisting at the sight of his dizzy eyes trying to correct themselves to focus on her. 

He’d quickly given up, pressing his eyes closed to shut out the risk of nausea taking over, the outer corners crinkling, the sides of his nose scrunching and his eyelashes fanning a shadow over his cheekbones - her own eyes were level with his lips, so he couldn’t really hide the way they curved at the quick glimpse of her.

“Suffering,” he had muttered, squinting one eye open to catch a brief, upside down glance of her. Nico was never this down after a few drinks. He was giggly, he was loud, he was touchy and clumsy - he was never the hide away in the corner sad type. “Wanna join me?”

“Always.” She affirmed, making her way around to his side of the booth and sliding in beside him until her bare thigh pressed against the somewhat scratchy linen of the pants he wore. 

“I’m probably not the best company tonight,” He remained in the same position, neck craning so the base of his head could rest atop the back of the seat, and his eyes closed - giving Poppy the perfect opportunity to properly look him over.

The few moments they’d had together, alone, over the past few weeks, he’d been pent up, stressed, overworked and on the brink of eruption, so this was the first time in a long time she’d managed to catch him without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Only, that weight wasn’t so easy to shift.

She saw it in the bags under his eyes, in the unkempt playoff beard he was yet to shave off, in the stuttered way his chest rose and fell with his attempts at deep, calming breaths. 

As she watched him, the corner of her lip tucked between her teeth in contemplation, she knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel better about this. He just had to feel it out, process it in his own way without her interference - but she wanted to be there, at least.

And as much as she wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he did the best he could, and led his team through one of their strongest seasons in recent franchise history, she wanted to provide him comfort in the quiet, too.

“I don’t mind.”

And so, with little trepidation, she placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and rested her head next to it, glancing up to see the push of a dimple forming on his cheek as his arm stretched around her and welcomed her into his warm embrace.

“You wanted to kiss me then?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Didn’t seem like the right time, though,” he followed up with an answer to a question she hadn’t even asked, yet. “I was leaving too soon and I didn’t want you to think I’d just kissed you because I was drunk and upset.”

Her eyes moved to his lips, a question for herself whirling around in her head. Would she have wanted him to kiss her then? What would have happened in the aftermath? Where would they be now? Would she have thought that? Would she have spent her summer stewing over what it meant, and how his lips had felt against hers?

Before she had much time to think it over, Nico continued, being spurred on by such a distinct memory that he was rolling towards the answer she had been waiting for, and she wasn’t going to stop him to try and decipher her own feelings.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I went home, thinking about wanting to kiss you, or not kissing you, and what it all would mean, and I kept trying to distract myself thinking I could just figure it all out when I came back here but then I met Talia, and I felt wrong for thinking about you when I had her.”

That had made sense. Nico was always a guy that would do the right thing. If he had a girlfriend, he wouldn’t think of the prospect of something with someone else, even if that someone was Poppy, and that something was a culmination of years of pent up feelings finally coming together to form something potentially wonderful.

She didn’t quite need or want to hear the rest. Didn’t want to hear how he’d gone looking for a distraction, and found just that. 

Nico was loyal, and for him to maintain that essence of himself, he had to ignore the possibility of Poppy. Some subconscious part within him saw her as a threat to the stability he had with the perfect girl from back home, and he boxed her away to make room for what could be with Talia.

It stung, but he was right. Neither of them could change what had already happened.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

She’d nodded after only a second, barely even thinking about it.

Jack’s words from New Years Eve rang through her, suck it up and move on.

Nico had his reasons, she had her answers. He wasn’t bored of her, wasn’t tired of her or annoyed by her. He’d been so caught up by his unspoken, untranslated feelings for her that he twisted himself into untangle-able knots that were only just starting to loosen up enough to be picked apart.

“Could you maybe say it?”

“Yeah, I could.” she had said through trembling lips, the hurt in his voice burrowing through her eardrums, lodging itself in her own throat, and dripping slowly but surely into the depths of her chest. “I will.” She had to be more sure, needing to erase any doubt she had planted within him. “I do.”

“You do?”

He still held her hands in his from when he had sat down, palms warm and slightly perspirant from his tight grip around her knuckles.

“I forgive you.”

His mouth twitched into a shaky smile, his eyes catching the soft light and twinkling with emotion, and she definitely wanted to kiss him, then.

She had wondered if this is what he felt when he’d kissed her before, this burning need. Her fingers twitched in his hold, her heart thudded in her chest, and her lips parted in anticipation, until she could finally slam the breaks on her torpedoing thoughts.

“It’s just a lot to process, and I don’t really know how I feel.”

She had wished she could take it back as soon as the words left her mouth, and Nico’s features had folded as he took them in. He broke eye contact almost immediately, head dropping to look down at their hands until he released hers back into her lap. 

“I get it.” He uttered, forcing a smile as he glanced back up at her, briefly. “I sprung this on you out of nowhere, I’m s-,”

“Please don’t apologise,” she interrupted before he could go there, knowing it would send her brain into overdrive if he let even the thought of regret fester between them, “I’m glad you did. I don’t want you to be sorry about it.”

Relief washed over the both of them in a warm, steady stream as he nodded, leaning into the back of the couch, legs spreading as an elongated sigh wracked through his torso. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and Poppy’s eyes flickered to the flex of his fingers, the strain of his wrist, the flash of protruding veins where his sleeve had pulled up with the stretch of his movements. 

His eyes closed, and she took him in just like she had that night in Finnegan’s bar.

She’d had an urge then, a desire even, to provide comfort - to share his burdens, make him forget the pain he had just endured, wash it all away with encouraging words, gentle touches. A shoulder to cry on, two ears to listen, and, albeit she didn’t entirely know it at the time, a whole heart that was his for the taking.

And take it, he did, held it all summer, bent it all sorts of ways out of shape up until New Years Eve, and it was still in his hands. Smushed, dented, squeezed to within an inch of his life, her heart was his.

It was up to her now to figure out what she wanted him to do with it. 

“I made a promise to my mom about the date, Nico, I have to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, seemingly resigned to the fact he had maybe been a little too lost in the moment to make such a crazy demand of her. 

“And I think maybe we both need a little time to properly think about what is happening here.”

“Time?” He practically shot up, alarm in his eyes.

“We’ve barely been apart all week, Nico, I think that might be why we’re both so,” she struggled for the right word - pent up, emotional, strung out, “Intense.”

She had known she was emotional, overthinking to the point of ruin, but maybe he was too. Maybe that’s what had led to the kiss, to the outburst of sentiment. They were both in the depths of a pressure cooker of emotions, and some space might do them good to gain a little clarity.

Maybe with a little more time to think on it, to consider what he was admitting to, have a little breathing room, and act more on something concrete than a fleeting in-the-moment feeling, he might change his mind. He deserved the opportunity to do so, she wouldn’t hold it against him.

“How much time do you think you would need?”

“I’m driving up to my parent’s house on Friday, so I would have been away for most of the weekend anyway, maybe we check back in on Monday and see where our heads are at?”

“4 days,” he muttered as if he’d just counted them in his head. “I can do that.”

“Yeah?” He had nodded in response, and there was something like hope that lingered between them, sharing small smiles and gazing through glassy eyes. “You’ll be so busy you won’t even get the chance to miss me.”

She believed it to be true - Nico had his family over, would be spending the latter end of the day with them, and had 2 big home games in a row to worry about. Poppy would be the last thing on his mind.

If she had blinked in the moment, she might have missed the way his observation slipped to her lips, lingered there for a brief second, and glanced back up to flicker between her eyes again. “Not possible.”

“Poppy, have you suffered some kind of brain injury I don’t know about?” Nia’s voice rings through the speaker of the phone pressed to her ear, already supposedly-styled hair fanned out around her as she lays staring at the ceiling, willing herself to get up and go before she’s late.

No matter how much she doesn’t want to go on this date, her mother will kill her if she hears anything other than a glowing review. On time, preened to perfection, polite and sociable. 

“Maybe I hit my head in my sleep at some point,” she thinks out loud, glancing back to the sharp edges of her bedside table and wondering if she could have thudded into it in the night.

Surely she would have a scar or a bruise.

“You must have,” Nia agrees, “That’s the only logical explanation why you’d ever consider telling the guy you’ve been hung up on since you first met him that you need time to think about how you feel,”

“Ni,” Poppy groans, “I called you for advice, not a lecture.”

“If you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, and you my friend, are a dumbass.”

“In my defence-,”

“Nope!” Poppy doesn’t know what Nia is doing on the other end, but she hears something clatter as if being slammed down on a table in protest, “There is no defence, you’re an idiot.”

“I didn’t know how I felt about it, Ni,” Poppy sighs, sitting up and catching sight of herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know why so much of her time tonight has been wasted trying to look so good when she doesn’t even want to. When she’d gone to visit her parents, her mother had practically given her a full blown rundown of the guy she was meeting.

Tucker Lyon, she can’t help to instinctively roll her eyes at just his name, works in investment grade finance for one of the Big 4 - she hadn’t cared enough to ask which one. His family are property people, her mom had said, and own enough Manhattan real estate to hold some serious power. Priscilla had met his mother years ago at some luncheon in the city, and apparently the two had been in cahoots since then to set their children up.

Poppy doesn’t want to be set up with some walking red flag, biting her tongue over a plate of food too small to satisfy her hunger while he mansplains stocks and shares to her.

She wants to be in whatever bar the guys are holed up in, tucked under Nico’s arm, side practically glued to his, sipping cocktails and celebrating him like he deserves to be celebrated.

But instead, she can admit, she has been a royal idiot.

“I still don’t know, it’s all come at me full force and I don’t understand my feelings.”

“Bullshit!” Nia scoffs, “You knew you were into him the second he first flashed those dimples your way.”

She isn’t entirely wrong.

Poppy had once harboured a slight crush on him. In the very early stages of their friendship. One small enough that when she realised it was completely one-sided - and she was being delusional to ever think his cute nickname for her and his insistence on spending time only with her was anything more than his attempt to make a friend - she could swallow it down until it was barely anything.

She trained her heart not to stutter when he approached her, told her brain to shut up when he flashed her one of those perfect, all consuming smiles, and could cross her arms to restrain her hands from wanting to hold his whenever they walked side by side.

She’d become so good at suppressing her feelings, she’d forgotten she had them.

She had forgotten all the times they had hung out alone over the years, never second guessing all the looks and the touches, the times he’d let her stay over if it got too late to go home alone, and the times he’d waltz into hers like he owned the place.

She’d forgotten when she had seen him with Talia, always claiming the feeling in her gut was one of loss and reminiscence, not envy and bitterness.

She’d forgotten when the Hughes brothers had helped her move a couple months ago, and Luke had questioned the amount of Nico he was helping to scatter throughout her apartment. Pictures on her bookshelf, pictures stuck to her fridge with souvenir magnets from Swiss gift shops, a couple hoodies, Devils branded shorts and big t-shirts of his he’d come across in the boxes. 

“I didn’t realise you and Cap were so close,” Luke had picked a frame out of one of the boxes, the picture of Nico and Poppy at the Halloween party inside, and waved it in her direction as she stood with her hands on her hips, figuring out if she wanted to alphabetise or colour code the books she was displaying. 

“Huh?” Poppy tilted her head towards the tall boy, watching as he shook his curls back into place and ran a hand through them. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat lugging her boxes upstairs, and now that everything was finally moved, Jack had gone to get them food, and Poppy and Luke were getting started on unpacking the easy stuff. She looked to the picture in hand, reaching over and taking it to get a closer look. “I guess we were, I don’t really know.” She wasn't a good enough actress to properly pull off the nonchalance she was aiming for.

“You don’t know?” Luke scoffed, rifling through other pictures in the box - all framed, mostly of her and Nico, some just the two of them, some of them in groups, but always side by side. Always grinning ear to ear. “You’ve got like a shrine in here, PJ,”

“It’s not a shrine,” she had argued, “You don’t keep pictures of your friends? Sounds kind of cold, if you ask me, Moosey.”

“I keep pictures on instagram and my phone like a normal person.” He chuckled.

“Generational gap, you kids are done for when the cloud goes down, you know. Physical media is forever.”

“You sound like my mom.” Luke jibed, and true to his nature, unable to stop himself before he inadvertently crossed a line, he asked with a weird wiggle of his eyebrows, “So, you wanna keep Nico forever, huh?”

“Shut up, Luke.” If Poppy had something soft enough, she would have thrown it at his head. The photo frame in hand seemed like overkill, and she didn’t want to hurt the kid, just make him stop. She didn’t much like talking about him, what they once had, what they once were. Even if he did have the wrong impression of what they were. It was upsetting, and she didn’t want to get upset - not in front of Luke. “You can keep those in the box.”

Luke had reached out for the frame in Poppy’s grasp, had watched as she hesitated giving it back, as she looked down and took in the huge smiles on her and Nico’s faces, and as she made the decision not to put this one back. Maybe she could phase it out, wait until she took a nicer, more meaningful picture with someone else before she replaced that one.

“I’ll keep this one out. I look cute.”

"Sure." His sarcasm was not entirely appreciated.

She had heard him chuckle to himself as she stood the frame on one of the shelves, placing it between a scented candle she had no intention of ever lighting and a small faux lavender plant. Not shrine-like at all.

She’d forgotten about any suppressed feelings until Nico kissed her.

Until he opened up Pandora’s box, releasing all her pent up emotions to roam freely, creating chaos and causing havoc through every corner of her entire existence. 

For the past 3 days, she’s thought about him with everything she has done. 

On Thursday afternoon, sat alone in her office, going over emails and wondering what he would be up to with his family. Was he happy, were they having fun, did he think about her for a second?

On Friday evening, driving alone on the long winding roads to her parent’s house and listening to the commentary for the game on the radio. Making it to the house in time for the 3rd period, and seeing the team celebrate. Was he well rested, excited for his family to watch him play at home, did he look up into the staff suite at the Rock and wish she was there cheering him on?

On Saturday, retreating to her childhood bedroom after another tense family dinner, snuggling up with the dogs on her bed as she watched the game. Was he beating himself up, had he gone straight home on his own after the loss, did he have the same urge to call her as much as she wanted to call him?

Did he, on any of those nights, lay awake thinking about that kiss?

About how right it had felt? How he had exerted his subtle dominance over her with such ease, large hands encompassing her face and holding her to his lips like his life depended on it?

Did he think about where it could have gone if she hadn’t shut him down? Where they could be if he’d made a move before?

She’s been thinking about it. Non-stop thinking about it.

Thinking about that kiss, and the possibility of others - the moment in the bar, all the other potential moments he had wanted to kiss her and hadn’t. The fact that maybe her feelings had never been one sided, and she’s wasted years pushing them down for nothing.

“Do you think I made a mistake not cancelling this date?” She asks her friend in a moment of vulnerability, her mind reeling with the possibility that she has already fucked up what could be.

“No.” Nia assures her, surprisingly. She’s been calling her an idiot all night, what does she mean, ‘no’? “I think he needs to sweat a little, let him think about you out tonight with another guy, and come tomorrow, his mind will be made up.”

“You don’t think we might be overestimating how much it bothers him?”

“Don’t make me call you a dumbass again, Pop.” Poppy can hear the rolling of her best friend’s eyes through the phone. “And send me a picture of your outfit before you leave.”

Nico

Nico has never been so physically uncomfortable in his life.

For a man who plays contact sport for a living - has played it for a good chunk of his existence, and has suffered countless knocks and injuries, slept in one too many uncomfortable positions in planes, buses, trains and even hotel beds, and who’s face has had more than enough encounters with the wrong end of a pair of skates - that is saying a lot.

But every inch of him, every fibre of his entire being, feels irritated in some way.

It’s a feeling like unforeseen static shocks passing over every surface of his skin. Like little bugs crawling all over him and he can’t swat them away. Like random strands of fine hairs that can’t be seen by the naked eye but God, can he feel them. He feels them everywhere.

From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, he feels something prickling, stinging, burning. 

Itchy.

Like a scratch he can’t reach in the very middle of his back.

And it’s not like he doesn’t know what it is.

He’s felt it ever since he left Poppy’s apartment in the early hours of Thursday morning. He had hardly slept, getting maybe 3 or 4 hours in before his alarm shrilled from where it charged on his nightstand. 

He has tried to use the same coping mechanisms that get him through his bouts of homesickness - where he closes his eyes and tries to provoke a memory for each sense.

He pictures the views from one of his many hikes, endless fields of green grass, crystal clear lakes, winding footpaths and mountains that stretch as far as the eye can see. He imagines gathering around a fondue table back in his favourite restaurant, and can smell the freshly baked bread, can taste the melt-in-the-mouth flavour once it’s been dipped in oozing, melted cheese. He can feel the softness of the freshly washed sheets back in his childhood bedroom and can hear the chorused chirps of the birds outside his window in the early mornings. 

It’s a technique that has helped ground him in the past, and he had thought that maybe if he applies the same logic, it will dull the ache in his fingertips that yearn to reach for his phone and text the girl who has asked him for space.

If he thinks hard enough, he can still taste the sweet but subtle vanilla of Poppy’s lip balm. He can smell the fresh-cotton essence of her laundry detergent, can hear the melodic sounds she had hummed into his lips, can feel the softness of her skin on the pads of his fingers, can see, clear as day, the dazed expression etched into her features like she had gotten caught up in the fantasy too.

If it wasn’t so easy for him to mentally transport himself back, he wouldn’t have been able to make it 4 days without seeing her. 

He had known it would be hard, but, thankfully, he thinks he got himself enough of a fix to make it to Monday.

He’d taken all he could with just one press of his lips to hers, had taken more of Poppy than he had ever dared to take before, and his subconscious was clinging onto it for dear life, hoping with everything in him she could decide to give him more.

4 days.

He has never known time to be so cruel. For it to drag out every minute like it was an hour.

If his life had a remote control, best believe he would be jamming the hell out of the fast forward button. 4x speed, skip to the next chapter, not wanting or needing to know what happened in the in-between.

He’s always thought himself to have patience - good things come to those who wait, after all - but this had become the ultimate test.

He had tried to immerse himself in whatever was going on each day, hoping they would pass quicker, less painfully, but it had been no use.

His birthday had passed by in a dizzying blur. He’d had a late morning skate, had come home to his family waiting for him, had gone to dinner with them, caught up over Italian food in one of his favourite spots by his apartment, and had driven his parents, his sister and her boyfriend back to their hotel with the promise of dedicating some time to them before the game on Friday.

Every single thing had reminded him of her.

Being at the Rock and wondering where in the building she might be, and if she was reminded of him with the littlest things. If she was thinking about him, what she was thinking about him. Seeing his family, imagining her place at the table as they all exchanged laughter and stories over pasta and wine. Thinking about what she might contribute to the conversation, how she would get along with his sister, how they’d gang up on him and poke fun, but she’d hold his hand under the table and squeeze to let him know it was all in good humour.

In the locker room after the win against the Blackhawks, trying his best to get involved in the celebrations but just wanting to call her, to hear that she had watched, and was proud of him and the team. And even after the loss against the Canucks, he wanted to hear the same. He wanted to go straight to her place, the passenger seat of his car painfully empty as he drove himself home in complete silence. 

And he had tried his best not to get too into his head about the whole space thing.

Poppy was right, after all. Things had gotten intense.

He had been intense - marching over to her place and kissing her out of nowhere. As right as it had felt, it was stupid. It was hotheaded and impulsive and it wasn’t considerate of her feelings.

But, God, he was so caught up on her he couldn’t help himself. He should have seen in the days they had spent together prior that they needed to speak more about everything before he threw himself at her like a neanderthal. 

He’d only considered what conclusion he had reached, and as much as his conversation with the guys on the plane gave him an idea of Poppy’s mindset, some words needed to be exchanged before he planted one straight on her. The whole thing could have gone so much better if he just knew how to communicate everything with her properly.

Even before the kiss. Before New Years, before Talia, before Summer - if he knew how to speak about his developing feelings for her, this whole mess could have been avoided.

He wouldn’t be sat alone in a bar, yet again, as his friends surround him, partaking in the celebrations that are supposed to revolve around him, wallowing in self pity.

He wouldn’t be thinking about Poppy, out in some fancy restaurant somewhere else in the city, with some stick-up-his-ass loser who doesn’t deserve a second of her time, and imagining her giving him one of those earth shattering smiles - the one where her the outside of her eyes crinkle in the corners, and every time he sees it he imagines the lines settling there as she ages, and it’s always a version of the two of them, old and grey, side by side, smiling together.

He imagines her taking him back to her apartment, curling up with him on the couch Nico helped her haul up the stairs after she had found it for crazy cheap off of some sketchy ad on Facebook marketplace. He sees her slowly replacing all those pictures she has of her and Nico with pictures of her and him, phasing him out of her space like she would eventually phase him out of his life.

He thinks about her taking him to her bedroom - the one he had yet to see in her new apartment, but imagines it’s just like her old one; way too many pillows and throws, a thick, plush duvet that looks like she’s climbing into a cloud, and a beat up stuffed toy her grandmother had given her when she was young. 

He doesn’t want to wish that Poppy is currently welcoming someone into her life that doesn’t suit her, but he can’t help himself.

He hopes this guy is late - and doesn’t even apologise for it. He hopes he orders off the menu for her, or criticises her choice of wine for not pairing with her choice of food like a complete snob. He hopes he’s awful to wait-staff. He hopes he’s type of guy who writes a suggestion on the tip line of his receipt instead of leaving a minimum of 20%. He hopes he chews with his mouth open, spits when he talks and scrapes his knife along the ceramic of his plate as he cuts his food, causing that toe curling sound that makes Poppy want to scream.

He hopes he doesn’t offer her his jacket, because she always refuses to take one out. He hopes he doesn’t think to give her a piggy back, because she always wears shoes out she knows she doesn’t want to walk in, but always wants to walk home if it’s nice out. He hopes he walks on the inside of the sidewalk, leaving her to the dangers of walking roadside, and walks too quick for her to keep up with little regard for how she likes to take her time on a night and stretch the evening out. 

He even hopes he smokes. Poppy hates smokers. And if, God forbid, they kiss, he’ll have smoker’s breath, and she won’t want to do it again. 

She won’t stand in front of him, eyes glazed over, lashes fluttering, brows furrowing, lips still pouting and fingers twitching to reach back out, yearning for more.

She won’t even kiss him back.

Not like she had kissed Nico. Not like she had clutched at his shirt like she wanted to hold him close to her forever. He wouldn’t get to hear that sweet, subdued sound she had made when his tongue had swiped tentatively at hers, or feel that slight pressure of when her lips had closed around it, sucking almost at the muscle before opening back up to allow for more of a taste.

No one else can get that.

No one else will savour it like Nico has, thinking about is for days on end, replaying the moment over and over until he has perfect recall of every small detail.

It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t shared much detail about this date, Nico thinks as he swirls the ice around his empty drink, sat right at the bar away from the sectioned-off area that Timo had rented out for the party.

If he knew more about it - about the who, about the where - he probably would be in a cab by now, knowing he was crossing a line but unable to do anything about it, his will outweighing any common courtesy just as it had a few nights ago. Or he would have spent the last few days in a google deep-dive, trying to figure out the kind of man her mother would approve of. Enough to set her up, at least - he doubts Priscilla Jensen entirely approves of anyone.

Nico finally makes eye contact with the bartender, and as she starts to make her way over, he feels like a divine intervention occurs - an arm falling onto the bar top beside his, a glimmer of metal flashing into his dark eyes - the reflection bouncing from a bracelet that is welded around the base of a slender hand.

“I’ll take another of these,” he lifts his glass when the bartender arrives, gesturing to the old fashioned he’d somehow landed on over beer tonight, “And whatever she’s having, please.”

 “Vodka diet coke, please,” a voice rings out from beside him, and once the bartender busies herself with the order, she asks, “Shouldn’t I be the one getting you a drink? I heard it’s your birthday,”

“Why should either of us pay when it’s going on a tab?” He chuckles, angling his body better to face her. 

“Ooh la-la, a tab,” Nia mocks, “Now I feel like I’m a part of an elite club!”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve never had your drinks put on someone else’s tab before.”

“Not the New Jersey Devils captain himself, it’s such an honour!” She raises a manicured hand and presses it to her chest, a playful smile etched into her features. 

“Did you come over here just to poke fun at me?” Nico asks, touching on the dynamic that has long been between the two of them. She mocks him, mostly all bark and no bite, he takes it on the chest, knowing she’s doing it from of her warped version of almost sibling-like love, and Poppy usually acts as the mostly-unnecessary mediator, dividing her attention between them both. 

“Of course I did,” she affirms, “You looked all mopey and miserable, how could I not?”

“How is me waiting for a drink ‘mopey’?”

“Uh, let me think,” she taps her finger to her chin, before lifting it to point at each feature she references, “The huge pout on your lips, your giant caterpillar eyebrows all slanted and frowny-,”

“Forget I asked,” he mutters, lifting his lips into a quick smile and thanking the girl behind the bar as she brings them their drinks. “Didn’t know you’d be out tonight,”

“I’ll be sure to send you an e-vite to my google calendar when I get home later.”

Nico’s throat tightens slightly at how similar Nia and Poppy are - always quick with a response, most of the time sarcastic, most of the time able to elicit a genuine laugh to rumble from the depths of his chest. “I see why you and Poppy are so close.”

“Hm,” she hums, making a show of checking her phone, “You barely made it two minutes, but it could be a new record.”

“A new record?”

“For how long you can go in conversation without mentioning her.”

“She’s your best friend, the one person we have in common, it’s normal for me to bring her up, Nia.” He reaches for his drink to take a gulp, hoping the ice might make his throat feel a little better.

He doesn’t even know why he’s denying his lack of willpower when it comes to Poppy - 2 minutes actually seems like quite the achievement when he thinks about how long he’s restrained himself from reaching out over the past 4 days. Nia approaching him like this has been the perfect excuse to think about her - to talk about her without feeling like he’s overstepping or assuming.

He could use this to his advantage.

“Is she a good kisser?”

Or not.

He chokes on his drink, thankful the liquid isn’t coming out of his nose with how much he hadn’t been expecting that question.

“She looks like she would be. I’ve always thought about it but there’s never been a right time to try it out. Maybe I should take a leaf outta your book and lay it on thick and fast when she least expects it.”

How he even thought he could gain advantage in this conversation is beyond belief. He’s out of his depth with Nia, as usual. She isn’t afraid to call him out - she never has been - and she’s the one person in the world Poppy would confide in. Of course she knows about the kiss.

“Is that what she said, I laid it on thick and fast,”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, lover boy.” She chuckles, picking up her cocktail and stepping away from him, “Thanks for the drink, Nico, try to enjoy the rest of your birthday party.”

“Wait!” He reaches out to stop her, not wanting to let a golden opportunity slip from his hands so easily. “You would have bought me a drink before, for my birthday?”

“I think you earn about 5 times my annual salary in a month, so probably not.”

“How about you answer a question for me?” He proposes, “As a gift.”

“I could,” she sighs, sitting down in the stool beside him, “But I heard you get touchy after gifts.”

He immediately regrets asking, but not enough to let her go. He’s come this far, and he has 4 days worth of questions he desperately needs answers to.

“Funny,” he gives a condescending smile, which clearly pleases her as she gives a genuine one back, lifting her spare hand to gesture for him to carry on. As if it’s that easy to narrow down all the things he wants to ask her.

One question. 

What did she say about the kiss? Did she like it? Would she do it again?

What did she say about him? About how she feels? About what she wants?

Where is she right now? What did she tell Nia about the date? About the who?

“The guy she’s out with,” he can’t even bring himself to say the D word, “Is he nice?”

The look she gives him is almost pitiful. In fact, there is no almost about it. She clearly thinks he’s pathetic, but it’s too late to retract the question now that it’s out there.

“I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t like the way his stomach turns at her answer.

He had wanted this, right? For him to be a gratuity-withholding, uncouth slob with bad breath. 

But the thought of her being out with someone that has the potential to hurt her, hurts him. His chest feels tight, his head feels muddled, and that everlasting itch returns to the tips of his fingers - the weight of his cellphone becoming that much heavier in his back pocket.

“I mean,” she carries on with a shrug and reaches for her own phone, “He was a no-show, so we’ll never actually know for sure.” She swipes at her phone until she brings up her message thread with Poppy, turning up the brightness to show Nico the picture she had asked her to send earlier. 

It’s a selfie taken in the overly tall mirror she had once made him pick up from Ikea, claiming it wouldn’t fit in her car and his was much bigger, and he doesn’t know why his first instinct is to scan the background just to confirm his earlier intuitions about her bedroom. Too many pillows, cloud-like duvet. He can’t see the stuffed toy, but he assumes it’s somewhere in there.

Poppy looks unbelievable. 

Her dress is short, like the one she had worn on New Years, fits snug around her waist and emphasises her curves in all the best ways. Her legs seem to go on for miles, adorned in knee high boots no doubt to provide some semblance of warmth. Her hair is pulled back, and she wears gold jewellery - rings, some small hoop earrings, and he’s only just able to stop his fingers reaching out to pinch at the screen because he can see the gemstone bracelet without the need to zoom in.

“Can’t be that nice if you’re standing up a girl that gorgeous, huh?” Nia asks, suggestively, leaning her chin into the palm of her spare hand as she looks up at Nico. “Some guys just don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

He figures he actually should be embarrassed about the relief that floods through him - washes over his entire demeanour, expression changing from defeated to victorious in a matter of mere seconds.

The crease that seems to have permanently formed between his brows smooths out, posture corrects itself, and his lips even almost turn up into a smile.

There’s a childish, territorial voice within him that wants to exclaim, Thank God! But he’s grateful that he’s able to mute it.

And, despite being privy to Nia’s games - despite knowing exactly what trap he is being lured into, what he’s about to fall for - he can’t help but suggest, “You should tell her to come out.” Because, despite knowing he had taken the bait, he can’t find it within himself to care. “I think I asked her one too many times to ask again.”

The one thing he had twisted himself into knots over since first hearing her utter the word date, hadn’t actually come to fruition.

There is no date. There is no uncouth slob.

There is Poppy, dressed as pretty as she is, practically waiting for someone to show her a good time. 

He can do that. He wants to do it - to be the someone that’s good to her.

“Oh, should I?” Nia asks, a knowing smirk causing her lips to twitch mischievously. She’s been playing him this whole time, and once again, he doesn’t care. “I don’t know, she seems resigned to spending the evening on her couch watching New Girl,” she sighs dramatically, clearly looking for incentive - once again, reminding him too much of the girl he longs for. “I don’t know if there’s much convincing to be done.”

“I’ll add you to the tab for the night.”

Rookie mistake, offering something up so quick.

“Is that all my efforts are worth to you, Nico, a few measly drinks?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m actually out with a client tonight,” she looks back somewhere toward the other side of the bar, Nico can’t even bring himself to follow her gaze. “Been trying to sign them to my agency for a while, and if I can fix this deal, I’m up for a promotion.”

“Nia,” he warns, not liking how long this story is becoming. Forget good things come to those who wait. He’s waited long enough. “What do you want?”

“They’re big Devils fans, I think a night with the team could really open them up to the benefits of working with me.”

“Bring them into our section.”

“And maybe some tickets, too.”

“Fine.”

Nia gives him a triumphant smile, “Great, I’ll let them know.” She salutes him as she stands back up, gathering her drink and phone between the fingers of one hand before backing away. “Nice doing business with you, Captain.”

“Aren’t you gonna text her?”

“Oh, Nico,” she jeers, using her free hand to grasp him by the chin. “Dear, sweet, naive Nico,” she gives his head a subtle shake before patting at his shoulder condescendingly, “She’s already on her way.”

If anyone asks, Nico isn’t admitting to keeping an eye on the door since Nia had made her way back over to her side of the bar, but he knows as soon as Poppy has arrived. He watches her make her way over to her friend, watches the two of them embrace and talk between themselves for a good minute. He watches and waits until her eyes meet his from across the crowded room, and it’s like everything else stops.

He’d somehow managed to immerse himself in the party spirit since he had found out she was coming, fitting back into the group, toasting along with them, engaging in conversations with his teammates, his mood vastly improved in comparison to earlier in the night - of which he’s sure Timo is relieved after his short-lived exile from Nico’s good graces — but everything fades to black when he sees her lips curve upwards from afar.

Someone is talking beside him - hopefully not to him, he thinks, he doesn’t remember being mid-discussion with anyone - but it’s just drowned out mumbling right now, and all he can do is tilt his head toward the doors that lead to the bathrooms, and wait for her to respond. When she nods and separates herself from Nia, he excuses himself from the group, edging out of their section and following her path, losing her a little in the thick crowd of people - the bar still packed from where they had played the Giants game earlier.

When he gets through the doors, he’s thankful no one else is lingering back there - no rowdy queue for the bathroom, no staff, no one but him and the girl who seems to be holding his heart like a hot potato, not knowing the best way to carry it without getting burned.

“Hi.” It’s a weak starter for a heavy conversation, but if he’s honest with himself, she’s taken his breath away.

The picture from before hadn’t done her justice. She’s a little worn into her look for the evening now, hair not so neat, skin a little shiny, lipstick faded - but this is exactly how he likes her, especially when he takes in the way her eyes gleam and her cheeks puff out with her smile.

He makes a conscious effort not to let his eyes drift directly to the smile - to her lips, which even the thought of them elicits such a vivid memory.

“Surprise!” she sings quietly, arms outstretched and hands shaking theatrically.

He steps toward her with his hands behind his back, fingers clasped together until he’s confident that his knuckles turn white, fighting the urge to curl his arm around her waist and pull her into him, needing to be closer. He watches intently as her eyes flick down to where his hands should be.

She backs into the wall behind her, not to escape his approach, but more to prepare herself for it - like she’s settling in and embracing it.

She isn’t running. She isn’t pushing.

She’s waiting.

“I’ve missed you.” Nico wastes no time in telling her the truth - telling her what she’s refused to believe every other time he’s said it, but he can tell with the tilting of her head and the rounding of her eyes that understanding has settled within her. She has no comeback, no it’s only been a few days, and he thinks she must have felt the drag of them in the same way.

“I’ve missed you, too.” 

Whatever anxiety has rooted itself deep inside him for the past 4 days dissipates almost immediately. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He admits, without shame or reluctance. After Poppy had helped him overcome whatever had been censoring him before, there is no point now in holding back or beating around the bush. “You look so good, Mohn.”

A rush of confidence allows for him to close the gap, standing right before her as she leans against the wall, neck craning ever so slightly to look up at him. He still won’t touch, hands laying against the stone at either side of her hips, not daring yet to let even a sliver of his finger graze at her flesh.

“You look good, too.” She breathes, eyes glancing down to do an appreciative once over of his outfit, and he doesn’t miss the glint of pride cross through her eyes when she catches the glimpse of the gold that peaks out from the neck of his sweatshirt. 

“I’m sorry about your date.”

“Are you?” Her lips twist into a knowing smile. It’s an example of one of her many traits that he loves - she can detect his bullshit a mile off.

“Mmhm,” he nods, “I’m sorry a world exists where any man is stupid enough to stand you up, Poppy.”

“I’m the stupid one,” she argues, and he misses her gaze as soon as she takes it away, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment. “I should have listened to you and cancelled in the first place.”

“I was stupid to ask that.”

“Maybe we’re both stupid.”

“Definitely.” He probably shouldn’t be agreeing to her calling herself stupid, but it comes out before he can think too much on it. They’ve both wasted too much time. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” She asks, and a slight movement between them catches his eye, her fingers twisting together as if she’s withholding her touch, too.

“It’s better now.” He smiles fondly as she rolls her eyes. 

“How are your family?”

“They’re good.” He doesn’t want to go into too much detail about how shamefully miserable he has been over the past few days - doesn’t want to tell her how his mom had called him out on his lack of contribution to conversations, and he’d managed to pin it on the stress of the season. She still raises a brow at his insufficient answer, and he expands before she can tell him off. “Everyone but Luca made it out, my sister had to go back already for work, but my parents booked a trip to Halifax to visit the Phillips’, I lived with them when I played up there, they have a few friends to visit in Canada but they’ll drop back to see me again before they fly home.”

He feels the tickle of soft fingertips at the inside of his arm, slowly grazing down as he speaks, and as he watches Poppy, he thinks she must not realise she’s doing it - letting intuition take over as she’s distracted by the conversation. He lets her take the lead on initiating any touching, and it takes all the restraint he has left not to barge through the door she’s attempting to slowly eke open. She’s the only person in the world who could make him audibly hear the metaphorical creaking.

“Did they get to watch you win?”

He doesn’t even know why he finds himself grinning at the question, but the tone in which she asks it bears a hint of pride. She had watched the game on Friday.

“My dad was pretty much in the stands in full gear, everything but the pads and skates, and my mom was repping Foundation merch, she’s run off across the border with my beanie.” He likes the way her face lights up.

“I’ll get you another.” She raises her other hand to card her fingers through his hair, and, for once, he’s thankful not to be wearing any sort of hat. The soft scratch of her nails is soothing, and he just about manages to stop himself leaning into her touch and purring like a cat.

That would be embarrassing.

He feels outnumbered, both of her hands on him, and it feels unfair not to be touching her - so when his thumb extends itself on the wall just beside her hip and strokes at the soft fabric of her dress until it’s softly digging in, he watches intently for any hesitation before he lays a palm flat against her side.

It feels like things are progressing both torturously slow and overwhelmingly fast at the same time. His heart feels like it’s slamming into either side of his ribcage, and like nothing else occupies his chest, the sound of it echoing as if banging on the walls of a deep, empty cavern.

“Did I already tell you how much I missed you?” He honestly can’t remember, but he’ll tell her again if he needs to.

The hand that had run through his hair rests now on the side of his head, her thumb swiping softly at his cheek as she cups the side of his face, and before he can even make sense of what is happening, he’s being pulled forward. 

He bends to her advances with quick reflexes to avoid clashing, and their noses bump just before their lips meet.

Her chest rolls forward until it presses into his, and both his hands grab at her sides to pull her flush against him, legs tangling, hips pushing together, bodies touching everywhere possible all the way up to their mouths. 

He gives her all the control otherwise, allows her to determine the pace, responding to her every move and every touch with fervour and heat. She pulls at him, one hand grasping at his sweatshirt and the other cradling the side of his neck, and he quickly lifts one to stifle the blow to her head as she collides back with the wall, barely noticing the pain where his knuckles meet the stone.

Their tongues press together at the same time, and Nico doesn’t even realise his lack of patience got the better of him until their battle for dominance kicks off between their lips.

He can taste the same vanilla lip balm, can smell her signature coconut scent, can hear soft, subtle moans, can only see the back of his eyelids, not daring to open them, just wanting to feel. And he can feel everything. 

He feels the softness of her hair beneath the hand that is protecting her head from the discomfort of resting against the hard surface behind her, can feel the skirt of her dress bunching up in his grip, can feel her touch, fingertips dancing at the the base of his skull, thumb pressing into his jaw, her other hand making that same grabby gesture at the thick fabric covering his torso, squished between his heart and her chest, and he thinks he can feel the thump of her own heart on the other side.

He can feel her thigh pressed between his, the friction causing a heat to build deep in the pit of his stomach, swirling and whirling down, down, down until it culminates into the hard press of his hips into hers, and a rushed gasp combined with a guttural groan causes their lips to part.

They take deep breaths in unison, their chests bumping with every inhale, and he tries otherwise not to move.

He opens his eyes to find hers still closed, scrunched shut, even, and he tries not to be selfish - ignores the need to get a good look at her, to have this version of her ingrained to his memory too - and attempts to coax her back to him.

“Poppy,” he sounds just about as breathless as he feels. “Are you good?”

She hums in response, a subtle nod given, but he needs to hear her say it, and he tells her as much with a quick squeeze to her hip. Her eyes flutter open, gleaming and bright, framed by thick lashes and crinkling slightly at the outer corners as her lips turn up into a mischievous grin. “Better now.”

His chest feels like it’s about to burst open, like there’s a bear within him that is going to break out and pull her into its clutches, dragging her back safe to her home in his heart.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, because he has to - he doesn’t care if it’s rude to leave his own birthday party, doesn’t care that he’s been the most ungrateful person in the world all night.

He’ll make it up to Timo, get him something big the next birthday of his that rolls around. Throw him a party. Or he’ll take care of the tab the next time they’re out. Maybe even let him have the window seat the next time they’re on the same plane home. 

Except, he won’t be doing any of that. He’ll be taking the reins on booking flights and putting Timo straight into economy, smack-bang in the middle of a row surrounded by a family of 5, screaming kids, arguing parents, the back of his seat being kicked the whole 8 hours to Zurich.

Because, just as Poppy’s swollen lips part to accept his advances - as her chin lifts, about to drop with a big affirmative nod, and he’s about to get everything he’s wanted the past 4 days and beyond - the doors to the back swing open, and his 6 foot teammate stumbles through, arms outstretched as he notices the two of them practically intertwined.

“Here you are!” He exclaims, voice booming in comparison to the soft breathy tones he and Poppy had been previously speaking in. “Poppy, you made it!”

“Hi Timo,” Nico feels her retreat, feels her legs brush past his and back to her own space, her hand on his chest now the only part of her that touches him, and he follows her lead, taking his hands back and trying not to clench his jaw or his fists as she converses with the man who was once his friend. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright, should be back on the ice in a couple weeks.” Timo had suffered an injury in one of their games at the back end of December, and hasn’t been fit to travel, and Nico finds an unspeakably bitter part of himself wishing it was something to do with Timo’s legs that were injured so he couldn’t have interrupted their moment. “Glad you’re here, this one has been miserable all night.”

He can’t be this oblivious, Nico thinks. Why is he still here? Why isn’t he retreating back to the bar and leaving the two of them to whatever he had clearly barged in on.

And when Nico looks back to his teammate, his long time friend, he sees the oh-so-evident glint of mischief and disobedience in his grey-blue eyes.

He is getting his own back.

Nico knows he was petulant to blame Timo for Poppy not being invited, knows there was nothing he could have done to change her going out on a date, or them not speaking for months while he was with Talia.

He doesn’t need him to enact his revenge to see he was wrong to ignore his texts, or to mope around at the party he had put so much effort into. 

He tries to give him a pleading look to stop whatever he is trying to do, but it’s no use.

“The guys will want to see you, Poppy, Jack’s beating himself up about his shoulder, could use a friendly face.”

“Oh,” Poppy casts a glance back to Nico, and he gives her a nod, implying that she go see to her friend. “I’ll go find him.” 

He can wait. He’s waited 4 days. He’s waited years, in fact.

And, after that kiss, he knows he won’t have to wait much longer. 

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nico mutters in their shared native language once he’s watched Poppy disappear through the doors to the bar, with a quick glance back and an apologetic smile before they closed. 

“Just saving my brooding captain from being arrested for public indecency,” Timo shrugs with a shit-eating grin as he passes Nico and heads toward the bathrooms further down the hall. “You’re welcome!” He calls back in English, raising his hands and giving a patronising thumbs up.

Nico runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and wishing it was Poppy’s in its place.

It’s just an hour, maybe two, in the presence of his friends. Drinks, music, everyone in a good mood for the most part. It’s hardly like he’s walking out into a press conference after a 5 game losing streak and about to have all the blame placed upon his shoulders. 

It’s a party. 

Poppy’s here.

He can do this.

He can wait.

Next Chapter

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw or if I forgot you I'm a muppet tbh)

[twoa-plus]

part 3 of turning everyone in gravity falls into Creatures !!

(part 1) (part 2)

manly dan is a flannel shirt sasquatch. i don’t even have to explain this one

since gideon is a kitsune my bestie suggested a kappa for bud to stick with the “little bastards from japanese folklore” theme and i think it works :D also did u guys know that according to The Lore the soul is stored in the ass. there’s like a whole organ for it it’s called the shirikodama which literally means “small anus ball” i am not lying look it up. go tell ur friends this and speculate on how whoever came up with this did so it is guaranteed to be an entertaining conversation

couldn’t find any cute pig creatures so i just gave him more whimsy and covered him in glitter. is the glitter part of his skin or did mabel dump it on him? the world may never know

this one is actually non-canon to the au’s lore BUT im having fun so whatever :D time baby is an ouroboros bc cycles or whatever. also he has a little clock to play with :3

priscilla is a harpy bc of the vibes (terraria harpies i will never forgive u). also apparently “harpy” is also used as a derogatory term for like ?? a gold digger ?? which is hilarious given the context here

free pizza guy. my to-do list of characters comes from tt comments and someone actually said this guy. he has like 2 character traits and neither of them are helpful in figuring out what he would be so he’s a free space to me. get sidehill gougered

PYRONICA !!! i don’t even know what to call the aesthetic i ended up on but hopefully it suits her ?? also apparently she’s the personification of bill’s blue fire so i gave her some blue :3

preston northwest. stupid loser. anyways he’s a blue dragon - they’re lawful evil, very territorial, follow rigid social hierarchies, etc etc, so i think it fits :D also now i kinda wanna see him & stan fight

abuelita is a naga !!! wanted to do smth a little unexpected with her :) they have an association with death/the afterlife which i thought was funny for the “no… he is not there” line, and are often depicted as guardians - usually this is of treasure or rivers but i think we can extend it to soos :D petition to have more good snake creatures snakes are Silly and i Like Them

made gompers a jersey devil :) it’s not the same kind of depiction as the one in lost legends but i thought it was a fun reference regardless, and it fits with the goat thing

slowed down a bit with progress on this thing but i have like 34 of these now i’m too deep i gotta do all of them. whenever i get around to part 4 i’ll link it here (assuming i remember lol)

[dailydemonspotlight]

Jersey Devil - Day 64

Race: Wilder

Alignment: Dark-Neutral

JULY THE FOURTH WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER RAHHH 🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🦅🦅🔥, 2024

Happy Fourth of July, everybody! The day we get to celebrate imperialism and colonialism! In celebration of this day of fireworks and an utter lack of sleep, why not have an American demon of the day? Today, we're taking a close look at another cryptid, and another one near and dear to my heart- a creature so bizarre that it makes anybody's possible sightings of it feel like fairy tales, and a cryptid that truly embodies the idea of cryptozoology just being modern mythology. Today's Demon of the Day is none other than the Jersey Devil!

A lot has been said about this bizarre creature, a cryptid so esoteric yet infamous that even finding a common consensus on how it looks is difficult- most descriptions depict it as a bipedal creature with hooves and bat-wings, most commonly with a goat or horse's head, but most of the time it's seen as a 'you know it when you see it' kind of deal. This bizarre appearance adds on to just how strange the Jersey Devil is in-and-of-itself, however, and in order to get into that, we need to explore its folklore.

And how strange that folklore is. As the most common backstory goes, the Jersey Devil originated as the child of one "Mrs. Leeds," a woman who was distraught about having so many children. Having given birth to twelve, she cried before her thirteenth, "Let it be the devil!" Just as it was conceived, her thirteenth child came out not as a human, but instead a small, inhuman demon who promptly spread its wings and flew out of the hospital. Since then, several stories have circulated about the devil, whether it be sightings, raidings, or attacks from it in the dead of night. Even today, in spite of this myth originating in 1909, and the supposed birth of the devil being during 1735, belief in this cryptid is still prevalent throughout New Jersey.

Something that stuck out to me, however, is the prevalence of the number 13. In a lot of western culture, 13 is considered an unlucky number- there's a reason that Friday the 13th is seen as an unlucky day, after all, and it's commonly believed that it all originates from, what else, but Christianity. As a commonly cited tale goes, the reasoning for the association with 13 and bad luck has to do with the last supper in the Bible, wherein Judas was the thirteenth to arrive at the dinner table, and this was also the case in Norse mythology, wherein Loki is the thirteenth guest to arrive at the banquets of the Æsir. This, alongside the fact that the Jersey Devil was the thirteenth child of Mrs. Leeds, gives light to the idea that it was born of, quite literally, the devil's luck.

Now then, in SMT, there're not many appearances of the Jersey Devil, but the few we have do give it a nice look. While its appearance is the same as usual for most depictions of the Devil, I feel like the odd, almost horror-like artstyle used by the artist makes it look just as surreal as it should be for such a strange story. It's a shame that it's so uncommon in the series, only appearing in Soul Hackers!

Have a good fourth of July everyone, and remember, keep your burgers safe, or else the Jersey Devil might come down and swoop them up!

[bonesart]

My pieces for Dimension Disability, a zine I organized for this year’s @d20zinejam

Imagine the respite of being able to sigh in relief and not be charged for the breath. To weep with joy and know that your tears cost you nothing.

When Elaine Lee created the world of Starstruck she asked us to imagine a world where humanity has achieved faster than light spaceflight space travel, invented cybernetic consciousness, and found sapient alien species, but is still ruled by a crypto-fascist hyper-capitalist corporate plutocracy. It’s really not all that hard to imagine really.

For people like me, who live with disabilities in a nation that neglects to give us free healthcare, or even universal insurance, Gunnie’s opening vignette rang a little too true. We know what it’s like to hate our bodies for how costly they are, to be haunted by the debts they accrue.

I’m not paraplegic, and I’m fortunate enough to have been raised in a household that never went uninsured. But I find myself resonating with Gunnie far more than any other disabled D20 character. He is emblematic of many of the truisms of the Disability Rights Movement: Anyone can become disabled at any time, and it is one of the only minority identities that you can gain at any point in your life. One second Gunnie was able bodied, one second he was not. His life was forever changed by an accident. None of us are immune from these catastrophes.

But he also lives in a world of medical miracles. If it weren’t for the cost of his cybernetic body, if it weren’t for the systems that imposed his debts upon him, would we still consider him disabled? Personally, yes. I think a life that requires accommodation is a disabled life. But I also recognize that the medical model of disability is flawed. There are many social forces that disable Gunnie, that disable me. If the two of us didn’t live in capitalist hell worlds, we’d be able to do many things we currently are not. Not to mention the culpability of capitalism in creating dangerous situations that lead to naive navigators being ejected into space without protective gear, or medical systems that leave chronic pain undiagnosed and untreated for over a decade (eh-hem). Gunnie’s story tells us that disability rights won’t be achieved until we shrug off the repressive systems that demand that profits come before people. But it also tells us that we need to be willing and able to care for each other and accommodate many needs even after we ritually sacrifice the execs of Eli Lilly to the Night Yorb, condemn Bezos to a life of sharing a bunk bed with Bazathrax and the Jersey Devil, and nail Elon Musk to a giant metal X before demolishing it with a classic Operation Slippery Puppet.

And Gunnie’s story tells me one more thing. There is joy to be found in a disabled life. Maria Town, president of the American Association of People with Disabilities, once said, “Everyone will become disabled if they are lucky enough…Disability is not necessarily a sign of weakness or a sign of a lack of competence. It is instead a sign of survival and resilience and strength.” There are things Gunnie only does because of his experiences with disability, only because he lives in a disabled body. He counts cards, he ejects his torso from his legs in a wild gambit to get to the ship in time, he longs to free the universe of debt. I think if nothing else, my disabilities have given me determination - to fight invisible oppression, to advocate for my disabled siblings, to make it another day because fuck you migraine, fuck you OCD, you aren’t my mom- and compassion - to love everyone even, the people with minds I don’t understand, to find community with those very different from me, to help where I can.

This has been a long rambling rant (maybe my roommates’ suspicions I have AuDHD and not just the ‘tism have merit), but I hope to leave readers with the inspiration to persevere and to research and fight for disability rights. In the United States, a growing fascist movement seeks to rob us of our rights and it is suspected that the Americans with Disabilities Act is the next target. Non-Americans should also be wary of increasing encroachment of capitalism into your medical system. We all deserve an All Debts Cleared moment. Fight the good fight; the ball is not rolling up, WE ARE THE BALL!

[ID: A digital painting of Gunnie, shown from the shoulders up in profile. He is a bald, Black man with a gold and bronze cybernetic body, and a gold and bronze ring around his forehead. He is smiling, covering his mouth with one hand in disbelief, and crying out of his visible eye. A screen on his neck reads "c-0" in small green analog text. Behind him is a star-scape of indigo and magenta. Above his head, a blue panel bordered by green reads "All Debts Cleared" in green, analog, capitalized text.]

[kyistell]

This was just a random idea I had. In my brain Central Jersey is the Jersey that shows the most, problem is is since CJ is so...let's go with disconnected, with the rest of the country he gets overwhelmed, and sure North could just switch in and South could do the same if they all wanted to scare the others with a southern accent that has the slang of the California coast, but watching a place that doesn't exist (it totally does btw) is way funnier.

Besides, by now all the other states that aren't the OG13 think that New Jersey has brown-looks red in certain light-eyes and it would scare the devil out of 'em if they see the red eyes that North actually has (and considering it's HIS body, it is far to tempting).

Also is it obvious that I love the idea that it's the Jersey's and not just Jersey, like I live here, if it's one singular state then I'm from Pennsylvania (I may have been born there but I sure as heaven ain't from there). Jersey would be three different states if we wanted to be associated with the rest of the country more than we already are, that and we may not agree on things but we don't HATE each other, we leave that for the rest of the country (plus let's be real, central wouldn't exist and then what would north and south argue about?)

Anyway as a proud Centralian looking at the news of the rest of the country is overwhelming, I just want to go skating, to the arcade, and continue lovin our favorite Devil, and down the shore when it's nice (and no, down don't mean literally down, though normally we are going down).

[steal-this-idea]

Finally got around to watching the second season of Yellowjackets. I'm still processing it but I do hope in the end there's not really a supernatural element to it: there doesn't have to be for the story to end satisfyingly.

Shauna's line seems like the throw-away of the very next victim of a standard supernatural horror film (the Darkness being them; that it's inside them because they're fucked up people who did fucked up things) but it'd be nice, I think, for that to be the overall truth and the seeming supernatural stuff actually having mundane explanations that wouldn't be seen (or knowable) to kids still in high school strung out on starvation. It's like how religion started (probably): a series of coincidences that proved useful to survival getting meaning imparted upon them

I would love for the "symbol" to just be some mundane cave marker or whatever that the girls gave a higher meaning to. Weird shit happens all the time, but that doesn't mean it has to be supernatural in origin.

These girls all have horrifying levels of PTSD (and mental illness apparently). If people can return from war all fucked up from their experiences, why can't the (why did no real town in New Jersey volunteer to be associated with this show) Wiyasocki Yellowjackets girls' soccer team also be that.

I don't know. It would just feel like a cop-out to make it have actual supernatural elements instead of just implied ones which, under more rational circumstances, would naturally be interpreted more mundanely

I think of Tolkien complaining in one of his letters about a BBC broadcast mischaracterizing his work, referring to Willowman as an ally of Mordor. His exact quote being, "Cannot people imagine things hostile to men and hobbits who prey on them without being in league with the Devil!"

Alright, I'm done talking out my ass now

[transfemininomenon]

Please tell us about your top 5 cryptids

5. Bigfoot - listen he's nowhere near my favorite cryptid, but you simply GOTTA have him somewhere on your top five you know? he's the OG cryptid to so many people, the go to when most people think about or explain cryptids. he may not be the coolest or most interesting to me, but to cryptozoology as a whole he's incredibly important & i will stand by him forever. once saw a bigfoot documentary at age 9 and was convinced that he was going to find and kill me in suburban new jersey

4. the flatwoods monster - LOVE her design, she's the epitome of "this almost certainly was just a barn owl" that's so very prevalent in cryptid/alien sightings, love her cozy dress, i have a shirt of her & we're dating she's my girlfriend

3. jersey devil - as a born & raised native new jerseyian for all 29 years ive been alive my boy is bound to be on this list. combine a lot of great elements - associated with the Woods, especially the pine barrens which already are SO neat & creepy, great design, fun religious based origin story that also features fun revolutionary war origins, overall a stellar cryptid

2. mothman - the man. the moth. the legend. an ass that won't quit. mothman has haunted my dreams and waking hours for years, ever since i watched a documentary on him at far too young an age much like with bigfoot. much like the jersey devil mothman also benefits from Setting - the set up of him being spotted near a former WWII munitions plant and chasing people driving in a car is simply phenomenal, and i adore that the town he was supposedly spot in has fully embraced him as a local icon

1. nessie/tianchi lake monster - i generally specifically list nessie as she is my first true love, but tianchi lake monster is a very similar vibe & i would hate to exclude them. there's simply something about Lake Monsters that offer a certain Romance to them - the mystique, the allure, the hidden beauty of something mysterious yet alluring lurking beneath the water. there's something to me that is simply incredibly beautiful and magical about them to me and i will forever find them transcendental

[empyrean-demise]

⌛️❔

⏳ - How long have you known about this kin?

[Plain Text: Hourglass Emoji - How long have you known about this kin? /End ID]

For a few months! I got my first "sign"/ realisation sometime near Christmas, and Aven was properly confirmed close to New Year's Day. Thunder Manifestation kintype was pretty old, at least 5 months I think? And thylacine hearttype was kind of there the entire time but I haven't had any words to describe it until recently. Pari hearttype was also pretty old, being slightly younger than the Thunder Manifestation kintype. Jersey Devil kintype was a few months ago, but they're similar to the thylacine hearttype where I instinctively knew but didn't have the word for it. I'm still kinsidering the COCOON protagonist's species.

❔ - How did you figure out you kinned this character?

[Plain Text: Question Mark Emoji - How did you figure out you kinned this character? /End ID]

(Using Aven for this one)

Funny story, I actually haven't realised that I was him until a few weeks after I got obsessed with Worldless. Basically I was chilling, watching Worldless videos where I suddenly got this "Wait this feels familiar" feeling whenever I saw Aven, before realising that it was because I was recognising Canon! Aven as being somewhat like me...

And then I was kind of freaking out because "What do you mean I'm this character?! I don't even get kinmems nor do i associate with everything about Canon! Aven!!" Before I realise that I was a Non-Canon Aven...

It was really funny though!!

[soccerdailyuk]

Man Utd's Andre Onana explains why he snubbed No.1 shirt despite David de Gea exit

Man Utd's Andre Onana explains why he snubbed No.1 shirt despite David de Gea exit Andre Onana, the new goalkeeper for Manchester United, has a strong emotional attachment to the number 24 shirt, which is why he decided not to replace David de Gea as the club's No.1.  Despite joining the team for a significant fee of £47.2 million, Onana has chosen not to wear the iconic shirt number that was previously associated with De Gea, who left the club after an impressive 12-year tenure. Onana's signing came shortly after De Gea's departure, and he will be taking over as the first-choice goalkeeper under the management of Erik ten Hag, who previously worked with him at Ajax.  However, fans were left puzzled during his unveiling when he didn't opt for the anticipated No.1 jersey. Citing his birthday, April 2, as the reason why, Onana told club media: "I just like that number. It's my birthday, my date of birth. For me it's great, it's beautiful." Andre Onana has a sentimental attachment to the number 24 shirt, which he also wore during his time at Ajax and Inter Milan, where he earned a reputation as one of the finest goalkeepers globally, known for his exceptional ball skills.  When asked about his decision to retain the number 24 shirt at Manchester United, Onana explained that this particular number has brought him a lot of success in the past, and he hopes that this success will continue with him wearing it in his new club.  "I like this shirt because this shirt, this number we have done a lot and I hope it will continue." "It's not like everyone has the opportunity to play at United," Onana added. "For me, if you're at this big club then you're already one of the best in the world, so you just have to demonstrate that next month when the competition starts and I think I deserve it, I deserve a lot of things and I'm very happy for what we have done. "The clean sheets were not only by myself: of course my team-mates, the defenders and the strikers, because the first defender would be my strikers. Also my goalkeeper coach. We work every day to keep the clean sheet at the weekend so, for me, it's great." Asked why United signed him, Ten Hag heaped praise on Onana's quality on and off the pitch. "We're happy, of course," the Red Devils boss declared. "I think with his physical presence and also with his personality, he is so keen on winning. He's so, so eager to win trophies and he will help the team and he will help the squad to get to higher levels." After joining Manchester United and joining his new teammates during their pre-season tour in the United States, Andre Onana is expected to be part of the squad that faces Wrexham, a League Two newcomer, on Wednesday.  However, due to the likelihood of a more youthful Red Devils side taking on Wrexham, it is anticipated that Onana will probably make his debut a day later in a match against the prestigious Spanish club, Real Madrid.  This will be an exciting opportunity for the talented goalkeeper to showcase his skills and make his first appearance for his new team. Man Utd's Andre Onana explains why he snubbed No.1 shirt despite David de Gea exit Read the full article

[iwritemush]

hi i hope youre well! is it ok if i request a platonic matchup for tfp? :D

i'm pudgy and a little bit on the shorter side, but also very strong!! >:-) i am very unsure of my gender rn but usually i do like to present myself in a feminine way and i use all pronouns!!

i would describe myself as optimistic, cheerful, simple-minded and pretty silly! i do like to have fun and explore cool places, and despite being very shy and awkward around new people, i want to socialize and make new friends!! usually im rather quiet and prefer to listen and observe. im not very good at talking because it makes me nervous so i appreciate when people are ok with that and dont expect me to engage in conversation :^] buuut i can get really talkative when talking about my interests, so i appreciate when people do listen!

i am a big people pleaser and the thought of someone disliking me makes me very sad, so i sometimes get into uncomfy situations just because i cant say no. also i really dont like when people yell at me! it scares me a lot. im very sensitive and cry easily, but it's also very easy for me to laugh x) i laugh at every silly little thing

i really like cute and happy things but i love scary things too >:) horror movies are my favorite and im really interested in dark and supernatural cases!! funny thing is im very skittish and get scared easily. im also kinda stupid and naive oops

i like to draw, paint, sew (i make plushies!!), play the piano, collect pretty shiny things and give them to my friends as gifts! i am a very curious person, and when i find something cool (like a leaf, rock, sea shell, etc) i pick it up right away!! i also like to (gently!!) pick up tiny bugs and caterpillars and show them to others, cause i love insects a lot :-) i try my best to be always kind and polite to everyone, including all the cool creatures of this planet! i rarely get angry or show dislike to anyone and most of the time i go by the "treat everyone nicely because u dont know what they went through" thing

sorry this is so long x[ but thank you for reading all of this and i hope u have a wonderful day/night!!

🌻 <- flower for u !!!

First off I must say you seem so cute and sweet! Ahh! I just wanna hug you!(i also love my flower now-thank you!$

I feel like I’ve had the sweetest anons and asks lately, you all seem so nice and I just love making these for you guys!

And don’t worry if it was too long! Honestly, I didn’t even need to think while reading I just immediately thought of who would be your guardian:))

You will be so annoyed bc I will not be shutting up

But,,,,,,,

ARCEE

Your personalities are so clashing I love it

At first probably has a love hate relationship with your personality, like there’s something so nice about you but??? You should be in fear right now-also she doesn’t really wanna babysit

After a while probably really starts liking your personality, like?? Something about you just makes things feel more at ease

She becomes over protective real quick tho lmao

Due to the fact that she has lost so many people she was close with, she is very scared for you too meet the same faith

If (hot) spider lady even comes near you she will be facing a new type of pain

You guys probably gonna have an arc(this is an anime now) about how she has to learn that you are not weak and she doesn’t need to be THAT protective

She knows you like cute things so she probably will associate cute things with you

Doesn’t understand the appeal of creepy things really-Lowkey scares her when you like REALLY scary

Like sis??? Why are you interested in this??

If your interested in true crimes you can talk about them together and if it’s one of those unsolved cases you can try and figure who did it

If your into like creepy fantasy creatures PLEASE tell her they are not real, she doesn’t know that much about earth! You might bring up the jersey devil and she will wonder why people even live there.

If yoy get skittish with anything she’s quick to tell you that your okay

Like the smallest thing-creepy noise while your on the drive? She will try and comfort you(though her guard will go up with the surrounding as well)

Even if it’s a big thing like your stuck in an energon mine, she will tell you that she will try her best to keep you safe

Always ask questions about the random things you picked up, really likes it when you get interested and talk more about whatever the ugly lil bug is in your hands

I beg you to draw and show her everything

Draw her

Now

Do it

Okay but she loves your art! She’s not very artistic herself, so she is interested in your artist ability

“Idk what happened to that drawing-it just disappeared” - you probably after she took one of your drawing so she can keep it and think about you when your not there

You guys gotta both work on your emotions

She wants you to show your anger, she can work on showing her softer side

Really tries to teach you not to care about what others think of you

Ignoring the fact that if anyone said anything negative about you she would drop kick them

It’s double standards okay???

I love you guys sm

She usually isn’t that into music but she likes when you play, though it isn’t that often where the both of you are near a piano

Get a recording for her-k??

You being naive KILLS her internally

Like Jesus keep your guard up please

She never becomes THAT mad when you’re naive but she mig scold you or refuse to take you out some where

She just wants to keep you safe

Okay so sorry if it’s not much soriidkf I tried

Also before you go ! 🌹 here!

You seem very rad and I hope you liked this and had a fantastic day!

[zenzaaaaaaaaaaaa]

4, 7, 20?

4. Mythical creature i think/believe is real

jersey devil. i remember absolutely nothing about them and i have never been to jersey, but i am absolutely convinced that if anywhere was going to have a nasty little guy whose job was to look awful and fuck things up, it would be in jersey. in a bizarre twist, i'm not very spiritual or into the real life supernatural, i just like em weird in my fiction.

7. what animal do you look forward to seeing when visiting an aquarium

dear god its been far too long since i've been to an aquarium. i love me some jellyfish because they always have them in the coolest exhibits and are also brainless fucks (affectionate). i also like looking at stuff like lionfish and other associated little guys, where you take a fish base and then fuck around in the character creation a bit too much until it looks like an anime character. touch pools are fun to look at and enjoy the joy of others, but I cannot use them due to the Textures.

20. Favorite disney princess movie

Tangled. I watched that fucking movie every night for a month straight and recited the entire script from memory, including the songs, on one car trip that was surely not agonizing for everyone else in the car. Mulan is a close second because i love the horrors of war and gender fuckery, and Moana is also up there at the top because the ending makes me feel like my sternum has been cracked like a raw egg.

thank you kindly for providing enrichment to your local tumblr account

[baronessblixen]

Doing a random rewatch and saw The Jersey Devil after so long. Firstly baby Mulder and Scully :') Secondly do you think Scully ever saw her friends after s1? Aside from Ellen whose son she was godmother for, there was the cellist and also possibly a friend's wedding she mentioned in Eve? My personal view is that her friends like her family thought she had died after Duane Barry took her and struggled to understand her life when she returned especially when Missy was killed in her apartment. 1/2

2/2 Furthermore, aside from trauma of what happened to her when abducted and her sister's death, I think the inability to share details on her life and the risk to any associates, put a wedge in maintaining or rebuilding those friendships. I know some people think of Scully as a loner of sorts aside from family but I think, while she was a bit introverted and not a social butterfly, she had sets of friends and was social enough but the XF changed her and not just her love of Mulder.

For a while @enigmaticxbee wrote Scully having a friend after season one and reading that really brought home to me how alienating their work was. I don't mean that as criticism. It's obvious that Scully loves her work. I think while things like her abduction and all the things she experienced surely didn't help in maintaining the relationships, ultimately it was a choice too.

That said I wish she could have had at least one friend. Though I think she considered the LGM her friends, too. Later she had Monica. A friendship I wish they had spent more time on, especially in the revival (I refuse to accept revival Monica being a traitor).

Mostly it probably comes down to CC caring more about cases and mytharc than Mulder and Scully's emotional lives.

[symphonicspecter]

Which mythical creatures/cryptids are your favorite(s)? Feel free to expand upon your answer of you want!

Me thinking about monsters: fuck yeah fuck yeah fuck yeah

Okay so in no particular order

Mothman my beloved. Theres a few of you following me that know one of the reasons he’s a fave but I’m not disclosing that publically. I think as a cryptid he’s very neat because there is an event associated with his sightings!

And while Mothman is most famous for showing up around Point Pleasant before the Silver Bridge collapse, there have been sightings of a similar creature by different names in Mexico and southern US before a swine flu outbreak, and I don’t remember the location but somewhere else before an earthquake. Would be neat if they’re related, like this creature that tries to warn people of disaster. Although of course from the skeptical side it’s probably been misidentifed birds and coincidences. But it’s fun to think about!

Also the typical design of this vaguely bug-bird-human blob that’s pitch black with big eyes is really cute. It’s also just fun to see all the different ways people draw him. And he’s a little bit of a meme which is fun. Fun fact the first time I read about Mothman was in 4th grade and the book had a creepy drawing of him staring through someone’s window, so some nights I was afraid that if I opened the curtains I’d see him staring at me. .

I like the Jersey Devil too, theres a lot of cool designs of him. Like yesss gross demon horse man lets gooo. I also think it’s really interesting how some of the “sightings” are not actually of the creature but of hoofprints and disembodied voices. Somewhere in New Jersey a beast is tap dancing on roofs at night and I think that’s great. .

Fresno Nightcrawlers! They’re fucking pants. They’re just so funny to me. Just these weird little baggy pants lookin guys walking around in people’s yards at night. .

The Chupacabra is another fave of mine and has been for a while. I personally like doglike interpretations better than the alien ones. Spiky vampire dog is such a neat idea. Horrible for your livestock though. Maybe if Chupacabra is real we could tame it 🤔

.

For non-cryptid creatures:

Dragons!! In case it’s not obvious when I have a dragonsona. I’ve loved dragons since I was little. I ALWAYS was the “why do they have to slay the dragon why can’t they befriend the dragon” kid. I had lots of books of dragons as a kid, from story collections to novels to drawing guides to history and famous dragons collections. And I would read them again and again.

Im not quite sure what drew me to dragons versus other mythical creatures at first. Except that they’re very cool and there’s lots if different kinds. Dragons are really cool because they show up in myths all over the world! So there’s lots of stories and lore.

I love how dragons are so popular and varied that there’s lots of designs for them too, and they still continue to be popular creatures, even a fairly common sona!

I think another thing I’ve liked about dragons over the years is the experience of drawing them. Because there’s not just one dragon design, I used to draw dragons a lot to practice different types of animal bodies and colors. And I didn’t feel as pressured for accuracy as I did drawing animals and people.

.

Slenderman. One of the most modern monsters in terms of creation time. I think it’s VERY cool that he’s borne from the Internet, so the spread of his popularity and trends in the myth are recorded. Like, this is a myth that you can find the origin of and view it yourself (I don’t know if the site is still up actually, but I’ve seen screenshots so I know there’s at least that). I really think Slenderman was done dirty by popular media. He deserves a better movie and to be known for more than just bad incidents. I love the wide range of takes though. I know I keep saying that but I really do think it’s neat how people interpret creatures differently. Slenderman is cool in that some people make him scary, others make him funny, or sympathetic. And while typically he’s made scary, or at least spooky, there’s different ways he’s scary. Some people like him as a violent killer, others like him as a psychological predator. It’s really neat that no two Slendermen scare the same way.

Also he’s just a neat looking monster. 10/10 would get a gangly hug

.

Cerberus/hellhounds. They’re scary looking but they’re just puppies! Good boys and good girls! Houndoom is one of my favorite pokemon too (it’s inspired by hellhounds)

.

On one hand, manticores are not one of the first creatures that come to mind, BUT whenever I see one I always think oh !!! How cool!!! They have a very cool design! While it’s never said explicitly in The Divine Comedy that Geryon is a manticore, his design is clearly based on one. I love that “the beast of fraud” has “the face of an honest man” but when you look beyond that it’s a monstrous body, it’s a symbol of deception! .

W*nd*gos are incredibly controversial bc of their origin and the usual design for them is inaccurate, but I’m using that as a reference point here. The actual myth of these creatures I’m not as much a fan of. However, the “big black furry beast with a skull head” is one of my fave designs. I’ve seen some proposals for calling this design pucca after the black shapeshifting creature instead! Tbh I think we need a new name entirely since this type of monster seems detached from other myths. It’s just a very neat design that I wish we could call something else!

.

Okay ummm that’s it with naming I think. But I like all sorts of weird creatures! I like animalistic looking ones more than humanoid or abstract. Ive probably said it many times before but I love monsters that are actually sweet or friendly.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

ALICE COOPER's Band Returns To Live Stage For First Time In A Year And A Half (Video)

Alice Cooper and his solo band played their first concert in a year and a half last night at Ovation Hall at Ocean Casino Resort in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

The band's setlist was as follows:

01. Feed My Frankenstein 02. No More Mr. Nice Guy 03. Bed Of Nails 04. Rock & Roll (THE VELVET UNDERGROUND cover) (live premiere) 05. Fallen In Love 06. Go Man Go (live premiere) 07. Under My Wheels 08. He's Back (The Man Behind the Mask) 09. Social Debris (live premiere) 10. I'm Eighteen 11. Poison 12. Billion Dollar Babies 13. Guitar Solo (Nita Strauss) 14. Roses On White Lace 15. My Stars 16. Devil's Food 17. Black Widow Jam 18. Steven 19. Dead Babies 20. I Love The Dead 21. Escape 22. Teenage Frankenstein

Encore:

23. School's Out

Fan-filmed video footage of the concert can be seen below.

Prior to last night's show, Cooper told Ultimate Classic Rock about returning to the road: "Everyone's trying to remember where everything is, all the little moves. It's really just getting your wings back. I think everyone’s just happy to get back on stage — it's almost to the point of being giddy. It's just about getting back on the boards and feeling comfortable with the show, and then all of a sudden you go, 'Oh yeah, I remember what we did there,' or 'I've always wanted to change that. Let's change that now. I guarantee by the second show it's gonna be back to what it was, and then I can start to think about, 'Okay, now what...'"

Cooper will be joined by original KISS guitarist Ace Frehley for most of the remainder of the tour, which will run through October 23 in Atlanta, Georgia.

Cooper, a Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame inductee, usually spends up to six months a year on the road, bringing his iconic brand of rock psycho-drama to fans both old and new, enjoying it as much as the audience does. Known as the architect of shock rock, Cooper (in both the original Alice Cooper band and as a solo artist) has rattled the cages and undermined the authority of generations of guardians of the status quo, continuing to surprise fans and exude danger at every turn, like a great horror movie. Alice Cooper concerts remain a "not-to-be-missed" attraction.

Cooper's universally acclaimed new album "Detroit Stories" is out now via earMUSIC. The record is a celebration of the sound and spirit of the golden era of Detroit rock, and debuted on the Billboard album sales chart at No. 1 upon release in February.

The Associated Press called "Detroit Stories" "a masterpiece of classic rock, soul and R&B in homage to the city that produced him," while Entertainment Weekly proclaimed the release "a love letter from Cooper to his city, and one that encourages a deep dive into his own back catalog and that of his peers." Variety deemed the album "a delicious tip of the hat to '70s classics such as 'Killer' and 'School's Out' without sounding like a throwback." Rolling Stone enthused, "That spirit of rock & roll abandon still exists in Cooper's music half a century later, and his inherent showmanship is why people still fill theaters to see his guillotine act. It's also why his records are still fun to listen to: You never know where he's headed."

"We've always had fun touring together and it should be a heavy rock show with Ace and a great way to get everyone back to live concerts again," says Cooper. "It should be a great night of virtuoso guitars!"

[nightswithkookmin]

Hello. Thank you for all your all post and analysis. I LOVE LOVE your mind. I'm new to BTS and all the skinship was confusing to me. I blame heavily edited YT videos and my own definition of what a committed relationship should look like. I have 2 small questions. 1) How can anyone resist Park Jimin? Once you Jimin you can't Jimout is real... 2) Do you see any of the other members being a temptation to JK or JM this far along in their relationship?

Woke is what you are. And you are right about most shippers making a big deal out of skinship. It can be confusing especially if you have no idea the difference between conventional shipping and alternative shipping.

Honestly, it's cute and I don't see anything wrong with that as long as that is not the basis for determining if two people are in fact LGBTQ plus and in a relationship with eachother.

Any member being a temptation? As in Jikook being attracted to any other member besides eachother?

I-

Sorry. That was a good one. Lol.

No but seriously, all the boys are handsome and attractive and have qualities that are equally legitimate and attractive. So I guess in that regard, any of them can be a temptation to Jikook?

I mean they are human...

But for anyone within the group to be deemed a threat or temptation to either of Jikook they must possess not just looks but qualities that are absent in either of Jikook that results in an emotional need that Jikook may want to look else where for the fulfillment of such said need because the other couldn't meet them.

They must be fulfilling a need that either of Jikook cannot and have not been fulfilling in each other.

I haven't seen Jimin or JK express the least sexual interest or romantic interest in any of member besides each other in that regard.

I've not seen them demand emotional fulfillment from the other members the way they demand emotional and physical fulfillment from each other either.

Whatever needs they have, they fulfill it for eachother and where the other person falls short I see them negotiating and bargaining until those needs are met.

What I mean is, Jimin wants JK to be the one to meet all his emotional, sexual needs and he often negotiates with JK till JK fulfills them. Jk does this too. Isn't that what I said had been going on between them? Jikook asserting themselves against each other?

Jk not wanting to hide their relationship, Jimin wanting the Kumbaya of the group, yadda yadda yadda?

They don't allow the others to fulfill their needs nor do they use others to fulfill their needs. Nor do I think the others can fulfill their needs. Especially when the others for the sake of the longevity of their careers would rather they hide their relationship when hiding is the last thing JK wants?

No one in the group is a temptation for JK. No one. LMHO.

They are eachother's romantic and sexual awakening as I've said several times and that I feel is sacred to them too- especially JK who is a hopeless romantic.

Jimin has said he wants the person he falls in love with to be the only one for the rest of his life- I think that's the bell that sold JK. Lol

Jimin has said his ideal partner is a cross between JK and RM- RM because of his intelligence and ability to have deeper conversations about a broader range of topics I believe.

But funny enough, RM is the one member JM has expressed the least romantic interest in. I mean did you see his face when RM bit off food and placed it back in its box? This is the same dude that ate a cake JK blew his nose on- nasty ass but only for JK. Bless him.

Then I've seen JK drool over Tae's body? I'm not talking about the new Jersey VLive where he was touching Tae's chest and biceps. No, no, no, no- this is worse.

Remember that wet photoshoot they did? Dude leggit yeeted JM out of the way so he could have a better view of Tae's wet back emerging from the pool with his wet shirt clinging to his chiseled back- if I remember correctly. It's in Taekook sexual tension edits find it.

Plus he also seem to have a fetish for RM's thighs? Chileeee. These boys are weird as fuck. Lmho.

While others may see all these and yell gay, cheater and other slurs born out of nothing but insecurity, I've been around boys enough to know it's typical of men.

We are being exposed to the intimate inner workings of male masculinity and masculine behaviors and interactions in a way most people just aren't privy to in their day to day encounters and that can be a bit confusing for most people.

Truth is men do admire each other's bodies a lot especially aspects of the male body they want to have in order to appear equally masculine and attractive.

Masculinity is the sum of traits that make men feel like a man- having a dick is not enough apparently. No shade to dicks. But men want to look a certain way, speak a certain way and appear a certain way.

JK is a man too, wants to be seen as a manly man as RM has said. So of course he is going to admire other features in other men.

But how are we going to joke about JK packing and bench pressing after Jimin admired another idol with hyperbolic masculine traits and then fail to see how Jin's broad shoulders, RM's thighs or Tae's biceps would be features JK would equally want to have too because those features are deemed attractive in typical masculine men? Something he wants to be seen as?

As a queer person I find men and this whole masculinity business exhausting. But as a girl, I admit we do it too. Big boobs, snatched waist, phat ass while being skinny- can't relate but I want it if it will get people off my back. Naa, just kidding. Y'all fat phobic bunch can kiss my ass.

Seriously though, imagine being told you are a lesbian and attracted to a girl simply because you find another's girl's nails as fab. To men that's what it is.

Women express their femininity through their looks, the hair, makeup, nails, bags, heels etc. Men do the same with their six packs, chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, Gucci belts and others too.

I think it's bizzare to associate a person's expressions of femininity or masculinity with their sexuality. It's really weird.

My point is, as strange as these things JK does may seem, they are also very typical behaviors of the Male species.

And so to me when JK is doing all that I'm not going damn he wants to jump Jin's bones, I'm thinking wow so that's a quality he wants to have too- good for Jin.

That's not to say when JK is clutching his groin region while watching JM dance that he wants to have lean muscles like Jimin too. Lol

Jikook admire eachother. But I find they admire eachother's work ethics, talents and skills rather than their expressions of masculinity. Jimin's masculinity is not exactly something JK admires or want to be nor does JM want to be JK or appear as masculine as JK.

Often if you find them checking eachother out it's because they want to jump eachother's bones. In my opinion. Bless them.

In the their earlier dynamics, before 2016, I find that was the phase they were exploring and experimenting with their sexuality in my opinion and so the lines looked a little blurry- for both of them: Jimin with his dark eyeliner, hypersexualized persona and come hither look. JK with his hyperactive alertness to judgement magnifying his inner inhibitions thus making him appear most times passive to others' sexualization of him *cough cough- if you know you know* which I feel he sometimes lowkey enjoyed and at times partook in or initiated- definition of Stock Holmes. Lmho.

Pre 2016 was wild. BTS back in the day were wild and dangerous- sneaky hormonal teenagers. Bless them. But they have since outgrown that phase and any substantive relationship post their teenage era has been formed and solidified.

Thus any sexual entanglement can and will have serious consequences on the groups dynamics so I honestly don't think they even let their minds wander there to be honest.

That being said, again they are human. But I really don't think or see them as attracted to anyone within the group besides eachother- not emotionally, not physically.

Jimin I believe is JK's ideal man and partner and I don't see anyone similar to him in any way that can be tempting for JK. There's only one Park Jimin.

Jk is equally Jimin's ideal type. I just think he thinks there's more room for improvement there and JK seems bent on doing whatever it takes to be that person for Jimin.

As for Park Jimin, we don sold our souls to an androgynous she devil. Not that I'm in a hurry to free myself. *Wink, wink.

Signed,

GOLDY