#and also. insane. but. i was trying so hard to get a good CAP... by good i mean first class honours

[moonsidesong]

i think its kinda funny that ibis paint is regarded as the Broke Artist App or whatever (as opposed to more mainstream programs like csp or procreate) because its free and because of how popular it is with phone + finger artists while im jusg sitting here having used ibis for a cool eight years on purpose.

like i have an ipad and an apple pencil and all theyre very nice and i absolutely could move to a more powerful program i have the resources to do so but my change averse brain has decided they like it here a lot and im not leaving

[confusedsiewmai]

God, you know you have *serious* issues if a B grade for an assignment messes you up so badly u're launched into multiple crises at the same time.

The funny thing is: the assignment is a personal essay. But I hate having to put my experiences in neat little boxes because nothing in my life is like that. Every experience is permeated by this constant sense of threat of genuine death and ruin.

Did you know since I was at least 10, I was already taking note of all the 24-hour places, places with free showers, and libraries that I could feasibly walk to because I felt something so deeply wrong with me that it became natural that I will eventually be disowned? I wish I was less fucked up.

I have to keep telling that 10-year-old self that I'm not going to die. That a B grade doesn't spell the end of my entire life even if it feels that way. That I'm going to do fine.

[frudoo]

A non Zombie apocalypse 141 poly

They find another survivor looking for supplies and decide to make her their wife.

I went a lil crazy on this one ngl

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con but nothing sexual. Fem!Reader.

It was that colossal motherfucker you saw first—the one you almost wasted an arrow on because of that creepy skull mask he wore. The big bastard was raiding your shelter, a little storage room in what used to be a department store. Believe it or not, the mannequins you placed outside of your hideout were enough to deter the zombies away, so you had a pretty good thing going. That was before this dumb brute decided to ruin all your hard work and steal your canned goods.

     Your plan was to shoo him away and tell him to piss off, but he wasn’t having it. No, instead, he made you carry your own supplies back to his shelter, where there were three other men to feed. Fuck, you had enough food to last yourself about three months, but now, with these giant men who no doubt have massive appetites? You’re lucky if it’ll last a week. 

     You’re sitting on a raggedy couch between the pretty man with the ball cap and another with a stupid overgrown mohawk now, arms crossed with a foul look on your face. Across from you sits the fucker with the skull mask, and beside him in an ancient recliner is a bearded man wearing a weird hat. Every now and then you let out an annoyed huff, earning yourself a pointed stare from each of them.

     “Are ye gonna eat summat, or jus’ pout like a wee baby?” Mohawk Man asks you through a mouthful of lukewarm spaghetti hoops. 

     You flip him off without even looking at him, earning a few snickers from the other men. If you weren’t so pissed off at all of them, you might have allowed yourself a little smirk. In fact, you feel the beginning of one curling at the corner of your mouth, until Ball Cap™ pulls you into his lap and traps you there with his strong arms. You yelp and try to shimmy out of his grasp to no avail. You go to bite him, but the second your mouth opens, a spoonful of beans gets plopped inside.

     “Swallow,” Skull Guy commands, covering your mouth with one wide palm in case you decide to try and spit it out.

     You glare at him the entire time, but still obey his explicit order because you truly are hungry. You give up on trying to escape the pretty man’s grasp, letting your body go limp. It’s probably wise to save your energy, anyway.

     “Good bird,” he praises mockingly. “Now, since you’re through bein’ a brat, I’ll introduce everyone. 

     “M’Simon. Tha’ there,” he points at the one with the mutton chops, “is John, or Cap’n, dependin’ on his mood. Beside you’s Johnny, but we call him Soap. The one you’re sittin’ on is Kyle. We call him Gaz when he’s bein’ a dick, though.” 

     You nod like you’re paying attention, using his distraction as an opportunity to steal the can of beans from his hand. It’s a weird group, for sure, but aside from the fact that they’re thieving bastards, it might be nice to have more humans to help protect you from the hoards of the undead. It’s a step up from mannequins, anyway. Perhaps it also helps that they’re all insanely attractive.

     “Wha’ aboot ye, hen? Go’ a name?” Mohawk Man—or, Johnny, apparently—asks with a cheeky grin. 

     Before you get the chance to tell him your name, the one with the mutton chops, John, interrupts you. 

     “No matter, is it? We’ll call her our wife soon enough.”

     You nearly drop the can of beans when you process the words that just came out of his mouth, choking on the bite you just took. Kyle pats your back until your little coughing fit ceases, and Simon wipes the sticky residue from your mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. None of them, you observe, are as baffled by John’s statement as you are. It makes a weird feeling churn in your gut.

     “A-all… all of you?” You stammer nervously, then start again with a lilt of confusion in your voice. “Wife?!”

     “Yes, dove, all of us,” Kyle confirms, confiscating the can of beans from you and setting it on the ground. 

     “Aw, don’t look so scared, sweetheart,” John stands from his place in the old recliner, stepping in front of you and lifting your head up to look at him with his pointer finger hooked beneath your chin.

     “I take good care o’my men. We’ll take good care o’you, too.”

[mystiffox]

— the apple's falling from the tree

from Cross: The Star Sans by @overflowofcrows

star!cross makes me incredibly ill with the tragic found family vibes ... (lays on the floor)

also have some doodles too (slight spoilers on the fic's lore below! to explain some of my thoughts on clothes n stuff)

does Cross have a star necklace in the fic? no, probably not. did i show off about my thoughts on a star necklace to Simple anyway? yes, yes i did. anyway idc where u think the necklace is from (whether its a gift from dream or a remold of his broken heart necklace, who knows atp) now ONTO THE GANG (+ Error and Fresh)

to preface this: im mostly assuming for most of the lore beyond the crumbs given to me. so, i'd imagine that when the fight ended with the gang losing, Dream and Ink immediately jailed them up. they both seem keen on keeping the gang alive, so they probably would've tried to help them with anything to make sure of it- that is, if any of the gang would even accept it in the first place.

i'm making a small guess that if there were any wounds, they used what they had to take care of it, aka ripping out parts of their own clothing to use as makeshift bandages. dream might've gave them some supplies (out of pity.. or something) but whether that was not enough or not used, i won't know

even if it was enough, there's still the factor of inevitable outburst/breakdowns from any of the prisoners. i'd imagine it'd be so hard to calm any of them down because the gang were too used to being close together that using touch became the usual grounding method— so putting a barrier between them makes it infintely harder for everyone.

i think Nightmare doesn't use his jacket anymore. it probably feels like shit/too itchy and ragged to wear and reminds him of a past he wishes he could forget. (he must feel so helpless seeing all his boys suffer after taking care of them for so long... like a lost father trying his best and seeing how much he's failing at the same time.. man.)

Dust is almost always wrapped in a blanket, the hoodie completely zipped up as if he was trying to hide in it, keeping himself as small as possible (knowing his own breakdowns are the biggest And loudest)

Horror is probably yanked back to the memories of when he was back in his home au, quietly starving and losing all the progress he had with the gang.. trying to press himself against the barriers in hopes that maybe he can feel the others on the other side of it.. (one of his outbursts would be why he ripped off the sleeves of his jacket id assume)

Killer too.. unable to get to anyone and just. with his soul going haywire sometimes, having no available output that he's forced to ride it out on his own And in front of everyone.. yeah, you get the gist for those three

Error's a mess of threads- picks at his clothes and sews em back up, just to have a reason to move his hands. he's not too worried i'd say- it's a little reminiscent of the antivoid, and he's experienced insanity already (not to say it doesn't tug at his own soul-strings to see it happen to everyone else)

Fresh might be the "cleanest" out of everyone, with barely any visible tears, but i have a good feeling his body language is different. maybe the cap is now worn correctly. maybe he took off his jacket. he's tense. his guard is up. because a parasite would never want to be locked up in one place, right?

god.

God.

they make me so sick (message is mine btw)

[horrormogai]

How To Translate Your Posts!

[PT :: How to PT your posts]

I've noticed some people struggle to know when they should and shouldn't PT a post, so as someone with dyslexia who uses screen readers I am here to help! This will be a super basic guide, but I hope it helps!

───

When does a post need a post translation?

[PT :: When does a post need a post translation?]

Some good ways to know when a post needs a translation is the following ::

Excessive symbols with text

Examples :: 『 𖤐 ˚₊ 』 ❝ Slasherbun ❞ [PT :: Slasherbun]

( 💭) DARKMYTHIC ! [PT :: Darkmythic]

❛⠀⠀avatar of the web⠀｡ 𝜗𝜚 [PT :: avatar of the web]

These symbols can often break screen readers and also makes text difficult to read in general! A post translation is often necessary for this type of text. While a title with one emoji may be fine (ex :: Horgamplacomfic ⚓) titles with excessive emojis, symbols, as well as non-emoji symbols (𖤐, 𝜗𝜚, etc) need a post translation in order to be read properly by many screen readers!

All Caps

While this isn't the worst, it can often make it hard to read for screen readers and humans alike! Titles in all caps often get read one letter at a time rather than all one word, as it is read as an acronym by screen readers rather than as a word! So titling your labels like WEREBLUEHOURIC [PT :: Werebluehouric] is often bothersome for screen readers. So please, put a post translation under these!

Formatted Words

While I haven't had this issue, I've seen some say their screen readers have difficulty with some of the formatting people use on their posts! Things such as big titles, quotes, chat, etc seem to, for some reason, mess with screen readers. This may not always be the case, but for the moment please place a translation!

Typing quirks

I understand some people need these in order to feel comfortable speaking, however for things like coining a label it is absolutely necessary to translate your typing quirk. Screen readers cannot read this, and I understand it may be mildly upsetting to need to translate yourself for others, but those with screen readers and dyslexia will not be able to have access to your post. So please, translate your typing quirks.

Colored Text

From what I can tell, this doesn't necessarily mess with screen readers but boy howdy does it mess with dyslexic people. It is incredibly difficult to read colored text, it seems to make it infinitely worse on dyslexic people for some reasons I don't know, but I can confirm it definitely makes it harder on me. So please, please put a post translation on your colored text.

───

I think that's all I can think of for the moment. Thank you for reading, accessibility is so insanely important in this community so please try to do your part! - Mod ⭐

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Hi! I saw your alejandro NSFW alphabet and I was in love! Mind doing a John price NSFW alphabet if you are comfortable?

Absolutely comfortable with my favorite dilf omg 🥵 took me a while since I'm working on other requests and I'm sorry bout that but I hope you're still around here! also I'm so SORRY this is so LONG, couldn't help myself!!! Hope you enjoy even so 😭 To work:

TW: NSFW, SMUT. MINORS DNI!

John Price NSFW Alphabet

masterlist | ao3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

There will always be plenty of it, even if he's in a bad mood, even if he's really pissed at you: he'll always love praising his babydoll the most. After he's done with you and absolutely sure your thighs are sliding from the slick that's still down there and exhausted from intensely riding him, he'll hold you fondly against his bear chest and kindly brush his worn fingers through your hair, caressing that very soft spot in your scalp. Although you're in his office and it's kind of necessary for you to get ready and leave quickly before someone can come in and catch you fucking your captain, he'll take his time and offer you a drag of his cigar, and find it very adorable if you inhale wrong and cough; "Gotta let the smoke get to your lungs, love, inhale... that's right, good. Now let go... there you go." he'll say, while his fingertips brush deliciously calmly your bare back, contouring your spine; if you don't choke and is actually an avid smoker like himself, he'll be glad to share and will offer you cigarettes or cigars from his pack evertyime he feels like.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

You'd hardly say he has a favorite body part of yours, because he'll spare no efforts in worshiping it whole - every part of it. If he absolutely had to pick one particular thing, he'd probably say your thighs and legs. Before the two of you engaged in a official relationship, it wasn't often he could see them because you'd mostly wear those average cargo pants; the very first time you accepted to go out with the team and not so unintentionally decided to wear that damn tiny dress, your thighs started living rent free in your cap's mind. He had a hard time staring them all night long, craving it as the dress kept riding up your thighs while you danced - against other men. Almost like you were challenging him in finally coming to you after days of incessant innuendo and stares at work.

As for himself, he loves his hairy, perfumed and broad chest. He feels vivid like he doesn't in much time when you brush those small soft hands of yours across it, when you're with them all over him like you own him - particularly in those times you feel jelly when you see some other woman staring at him. Like stating he's your man. He loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Before the two of you made a commitment, he was very careful with it. By that time, you getting pregnant could be a very big problem for both of you - not only because you're considerably younger than him, but mostly because he is your boss. Your captain. That could come off the wrong way for his superiors, could hurt both of your reputations. He'd grab a twisted handful of your hair, his other hand digging tight on your waist as he digs, buries his cock deep within your swollen walls - your leg bent, resting over the desk and your cunt so exposed your clit rubs lightly on the wooden surface each time he thrusts - you're going insane. You came minutes ago and there he is still fucking you dumb, making you bite your own cheeks trying to keep your voice down, till suddenly contact's broken and he steps back, pumping his cock a few times only to release his spend on your beautiful thigh, with a muffled groan. "Bloody fuckin'- ah, doll, y' gonna kill me like that..."

Today's day with the two of you dating, nothing will get him more relaxed than forcing his seed inside you, watching his own cum drip through your folds once he pulls off - and he'll gladly tell you after, that he really hopes it catches this time.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's been watching you closely from your very first day of work. He'd never tell you or anyone else - and sometimes, he denies it to himself out of shame, that he intentionally recruited you on his team because of his crescent infatuation with your young, beautiful and strong self. It's not that you're not highly competent and good at your job, definitely not. But that wasn't his only reason to pick you, and he'll bury this secret with him - that he once in his life chose to be unprofessional, because he wanted you. But btw that didn't stop him from being tough and demanding with you, especially on your first days. heh

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's definitely very experienced, in every pure aspect of it. It was a part of the reason you grew interested on him with no time - he was experienced like none of these young guys you had before. Knows every right places, mature, caring. Bit old fashioned. It was all you wanted; It'll get on your nerves sometimes although, because you're not the only one to think that he's the hottest shit alive. Many woman fancy him, some older than you - which will get you really concerned sometimes. He'll reaffirm you whenever it's necessary, he's yours, have never been anyone's like he's yours.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It generally depends on his mood, but again if he had to absolutey state a favorite one: on your side or behind. Stressing day at work, comes home to find you waiting for him in bed - he'll love fucking you on your side, heavy panting on your ear as his hand squeezes your perfect sized breast - his hips moving ever so slowly as his hand brushes the skin of your belly down to your folds, where he'll comfortably make room for his fingers against your clit in slow, circular movements. "God I fuckin' need you today, hun..." - he'll grunt in your ear in his raspy voice.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not in the moment particularly, not when fucking you - but on all other times, he'll find room to be goofy and make you laugh at his terrible jokes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's hairy on all parts of his body, no thread. He's very clean and groomed, yes - he loves his beard and moustache, spends a hideous amount of money in lotions and perfume and combs it after every shower he takes, religiously. Wears a big beard for so long now he probably can't picture himself with a shaven face anymore.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Price is the perfect balance between rearranging your guts whenever you're a brat and he's got to teach you a lesson, and pulling multiple orgasms out of you by fucking you slow and passionately when he's affectionate. He'll have you on his lap, his arms wrapped around you, his hand supporting your back while he spares no efforts in trailing kisses from your breast to your neck, smelling your hair and letting out a low mewl to how amazing you feel. He'll be lazy, slow, move your hips ever so slow making you roll against him like you're dancing on his lap. "Mmm-" he'll moan, before taking your mouth in a passionate sloppy kiss again.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't need much of it anymore, so only in cases of much need - in mission and can't concentrate in anything else but work, some of you had to travel for any type of reason, he's really horny and you're sick - he'll do it. But as for before having you, he'd be embarassed to admit how many times he had masturbated to you in the shower.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Brat tamer, and it doesn't surprise anyone. He doms almost everytime. He absolutely loves it when you put up an attitude - not acting childish, no, when you stand up and defy him. He'll be the boss. He'll be proud of himself for marking you everywhere he possibly can, for owning you.

A bit of exhibitionism. He loves fucking you raw against his office desk or honestly anywhere else it's plausible in the headquarters; he loves it that he has to cover your mouth or else you'd be a loud moaning mess. It was hard restraining himself when someone knocked on the other side of the door, all curtains down and the slight sound of your mouth gagging on his cock. When you mentioned to stop, he forced your head hard till your nose met the hair in his groin, and oh only God knows how hard it was finding room for all that length in your throat.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

When I mean anywhere he can, I mean anywhere he can. He even would enjoy it if he had someone watching the two of you, but for the bare reason of: he's the one fucking you. He's making sure that this other person watching knows it, that you're his and only his. If anything, he wouldn't share, quite the opposite. But the idea that there's a dangerous possibility that someone catches the two of you arouse him; so, in his office, in the deposits, sometimes in the briefing room if it's late and empty.

Of course, that doesn't exclude the special place in his heart that his big, comfy bed has. He loves having you on his bed, cozy, warm, and very domestic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you being the badass youngster you are turns him on; not exactly when at mission, because at those times he keeps himself strictly professional and very concentrated. But in the backstage, he loves it when you defy him and when you brat around - that'll give him further reasons to punish you later.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Wouldn't do anything if he gets the slight sense that you don't want to, nothing to hurt you (not for real) and wouldn't share. Perhaps, he'd love to have someone seeing it but sharing is a huge no. Watcher can't touch or get closer, only watch, while he makes you cum.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Can't possibly say he has a preference, he adores both equally. He'll love burying your face deep in his groin till you feel that little ache on the back of your throat, and keep you there till you're out of air; he'll also love burying himself between your thighs, especially when you wrap them tight against his face and squeeze it - he could die on the warmth of your thighs and cunt.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

As mentioned before, it highly depends on his mood. When taming, when fucking you rough, punishing - he'll go fast and rough enough to get you out air while trying to restrain your voice; "Hell- hm, d'you like it now, are you gonna keep the attitude- hn- now? Hm?" he'll moan, pressing your whole body against the wall, fucking you standing.

If passionate, he'll take his time with you in a slow pace, slow movements more like a dance of his hips against yours in syntony. He'll hum pretty words in your ear and promise you the world; "M' gonna fuckin' marry you, hun... have this pretty little cunt everyday."

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Although he likes to have freedom and time to fuck you straight and get at least two delicious orgasms out of you, he's a very busy man and you're too a very busy woman, and quickies are simply very convenient for the both of you. I'd say quite often, giving the circumstances - which doesn't mean that he doesn't, at least twice a week, spares time to fuck you the way he likes.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's a bit old fashioned, but he's willing to experiment if it's nothing too eccentric. If you ask nicely, he'll try; if you're not familiar with it he'll also love teaching you a bit more of bdsm, since he's bit of an adept.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lots of stamina. Wouldn't go all night long because he simply doesn't have to, he's very experienced, good at what he does and he knows it. He knows what buttons to press to make you feel good; he lasts two good delicious long rounds, and that's enough to get you to heaven.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, a bit old fashioned; so I don't think he own many toys. He does own ropes he'll love to use on you, and as for the rest he'd rather use his own hands. He wouldn't refuse to use toys if asked though, probably wouldn't be too comfortable with using on himself, but would definitely use them on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he loves restraining you, girl. Days without seeing him? You won't touch, won't relieve yourself in any other way. You'll wait, patiently, agonizingly, like the good girl you are, for him to arrive. He'll let you climbing up the walls, craving him. If he's in mission, he'll send you pictures, videos - that'll make you want to scream for not being able to touch yourself while watching. When he comes back, IF he thinks you deserve it, he'll fuck you; if not, he'll make you beg. If you disobey him, get yourself ready for when he arrives. That'll be a fun ride.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not exactly loud, but very vocal. He grunts, says dirty things against your ear in a low, raspy whisper - will get moans out of you for he loves seeing his little girl squirming under him. Will encourage you not holding your voice back, and if you're in a dangerous spot and could possibly be seen, he'd shush you with a deep thrust - or by occupying your mouth with his fingers instead.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has a picture of you in his wallet and finds it the most absolutely romantic and cute thing ever. And he's right it is

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's definitely big, but that's not the best part of it, not what really caught you off: he's thick. Swollen, a little thicker in the middle and thins towards the tip - just enough to stretch you out entirely anytime he goes inside you. Full of blood pumping veins and surrounded by a fair amount of hair, arghhh I want it

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He though he was going back to his teenager years in those first months after meeting you. Hell, he'd be craving for you for the least things - he definitely felt young again. It's high, he's not compulsive but the bare sight of your body makes him think of the nastiest things - and that's been even before the two of you actually started that fling, that later one became the relationship you have now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

This is a very tired man we're talking about. After making sure you're okay, all good, clean, warm, cozy, not thirsty and feeling loved, he'll collapse on your bare breasts hugging you for dear life - don't you dream of waking up before him because you won't get to push him out of yourself, like - no way.

[celestialprincesse]

That Bodyguard Gaz thought is delicious! Would you eleborate?? The brain worms immediately went to the agent being this cute, cubby, little thing and is very unsuspecting but turns out to be actually very deadly when needed!

Hope you feel better!

Oh she is so cute and clever and fucking insane I love her In my mind I sort of imagined him with my oc Kitty/Houdini, but this could also be read as X reader🎀 Reader goes by codename Hecate and She/Her pronouns💕

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

At exactly 6:14AM, on Tuesday the 17th of October, Kyle Garrick is woken by his phone ringing. Incessantly. Again and again and again. "It's shit O'clock. What do you want?" He grumbles into his phone, sitting up on the edge of his bed with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Captain John Price's equally tired vice crackles down the line. "Laswell needs you. Says she's got someone that needs protection services. That's all she gave." "And she gave you this at 6AM? "It's 01:00 there. She's been busy. Meetup location with the charge is in your inbox."

With that, John hangs up, leaving Kyle to gather his bearings as he opens his eMail app, scrolling to the top of his newly reicived messages to find one with no subject, and no content aside from a street name and address, as well as a time that he assumes he should be there by. If it's from Laswell, and passed down through Price, he knows it's legit. Kate only ever gives him the important ones, either expensive or irreplacable. It doesn't take long for him to be ready, Union Jack cap pulled down over his brow, and a pistol in the inside pocket of his coat, just for good measure.

London is, as always, miserable. The pavements are slicked with rain and the sky is concrete grey, reflected in the cold glass of skyscrapers, towering into the sky like the scales of some rippling serpent. It's hard to spot someone when he's got no clue of their appearance or career. Why they need his protection. All he has is a name, a callsign too, for good measure. Hecate is what they call you. Goddess of witchcraft and magic. That, unfortunately, doesn't particularly narrow his search, not in a city with a whopping eight million people crowding it's pavements and flooding it's tube stations, sitting outside of cafe's or sheltering from the rain in the overhangs of shops.

Kyle, strangely enough, feels nervous. All of the guys have their things - their specialties - and VIP Protection is his. But it's been a long time since he was in charge of someone's life, trying to protect it, instead of taking it, and he suddenly feels incredibly unequipped. He'll be staying with the charge. John told him in a seperate message to bring a bag. At least enough for a few weeks as they settle in to their safehouse kindly provided by the CIA. They've splashed a fair amount of cash to get a place on this side of town, where the streets are clean and the crime rates are lower. His person must be important. He assumes, seeing as he wasn't on the receiving end of a photo or description, that they'll be seeking him out, so he dutifully takes his place outside the quiet café, paying for his coffee with cash. In the fifteen minutes he waits, (having arrived early) Kyle never once lets himself zone out or get lost in his thoughts.

What he doesn't expect to see is you. About as scary as a butterfly and quietly unassuming in jeans and an oversized hoodie, Kyle's curiosity is piqued. "You're Hecate?" He probes carefully, removing his hat to allow you a view of his face, as he does with many of his clients. He finds it stops them from being skittish with him. It's always easier to protect someone who trusts you. That's his philosophy, anyways. "Gaz Garrick?" You inquire back, wary until he slides his driver's license and tags across the table. "File's in my bag if you'd like to see that too." "This is enough. Thank you." He likes you immediately. He likes that you're careful without being outright flippant, guarded but not dismissive.

The waitress gives you an unpleasantly disdainful look, flashing you a tight lipped smile, unlike the flirty one she gave to your companion upon taking his order. "Just a regular builders for me please." Her tense smile is reciprocated as you order your tea, trying to keep the caffeine to a minimum today. You're already jittery.

Kyle opens the door of the black bulletproof SUV for you, watches the way you blink up at him with gooey soft doe eyes, and he struggles to push down the highly unprofessional thoughts that invade his head as he watches you hop up into the car before him, adjusting his cap to stop himself from openly ogling your ass. "You fancy putting the address in the SatNav?" Kyle coos at you, trying not to smother you. He can tell you're skittish. Probably not used to the idea of having someone with you, day in day out watching your every move.

Of course, Laswell would set you up somewhere like Richmond, somewhere quiet and safe. You're clearly someone important if Kate is handling your affairs personally - and his day rate has gone up substantially since joining the 141. The apartment is pleasant, soulless, but nice all things considered. Immediately upon entry, he takes notice of the added locks on the door - three of them, and the dead bolted fire escape. It's good, gives two exits incase one fails, but not so many that you could easily forget to lock the door on one of them and risk compromising your safety. There's a cluster of all sorts of technology strewn on the counter, like you'd set yourself up in a rush and not had time to get fully organised, he assumes you've not been here long.

The next morning you shuffle downstairs to find Kyle looking confused as he stares at the contents of your refrigerator, "You need something? I can swing by the shops if need be." "You have a safe in your fridge." He deadpans, looking down to you, still sporting some thin pyjama shorts and an old Marlboro tee. he can't help but wonder how you look so pretty without even trying. "Oh! Yeah ... that." You mumble, flushing profusely as you stare up at the soldier. "Funnily enough, people don't think to check the fridge. Burglars and whatnot." Kyle startles at your easy mention of being robbed, and the inference that you've potentially dealt with burglary enough to be familiar with the mindset of a potential home invader. "You get burgled a lot?" "Mm. Used to." You mumble as you root through the safe-fridge for a bottle of orange juice, pouring two glasses. Apple juice is Kyle's personal preference, or some sort of smoothie, but he takes the glass from you with a grateful smile. Best to just go along with you, keep you comfortable. Not to mention the warm smile you give him when your fingers brush around the glass has his insides growing warm.

After having met you, a woman so clearly formidable to be protected by Kate Laswell herself, to have earned the nickname of a goddess, Kyle not only finds himself far less nervous - he feels warmly optimistic. He feels, for the first time in far too long, genuine hope for connection.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Might or might not add to this at some point idk n e ways!!!💕

Badly written and not edited so sorray!!

[sserajeans]

you are in love | bonus 1. BHB, be honest bro! (written)

note: the convo happens when minyn r in the plane, so it's dialogue-focused with not much action involved

"so..."

"so what?"

"how are you and...?"

"minji..."

"i'm just checking on you! the aquatic games is enough on your plate, i'd rather talk about the fun stuff."

"fine fine. i've been having a lot of fun with her lately. like the past month has always just been practice, so the dates at the end of the week was stuff i could look forward to."

"that's so sweet why are you guys so sweet i feel sick to my stomach like no wo-"

"I KNOW!! dani's the sweetest... she really thought everything out. she makes me forget about morning practice the next day. she even brought breakfast in a little container one time when i was texting her about being especially hungry after practice."

"oh wow... you lucked out so hard... aren't you two supposed to be unlabeled too?"

"...yeah."

"she's so gonna step up her game when she asks."

"i can't think about it. she's way too good for me."

"what do you mean?"

"it's just... i can tell she's into it more than i am? and i feel like shit, being okay with just receiving all of it and not giving the same amount. and i'm scared that when she does ask me i still won't be in a place to truthfully say yes."

"well... let's not dive too deep, let's start with... maybe what's holding you back? from giving her that energy, i mean."

"well if you say it like that it just sounds like i've been treating her like ass. which i haven't! i really do try my best and everything, it's just.."

"just...?"

"i don't think my best for her is on the same level as her best for me."

"okay... well i think i'm beginning to see it. so let me rephrase, what's keeping you from reaching that level?"

"i... i don't really... know?"

"give it some time."

"wow you're really digging into the psychologist role huh?"

"doesn't it help you with mushing out your emotions or what?"

"...fine. let me think."

"sure."

"..."

"..."

"i think..."

"...you think?"

"i don't want to give her an insincere show of affection."

"so i'm guessing... you would rather be upfront with how much you feel and how you show it?"

"right, yeah."

"and?"

"and i guess there is something that holds me back from feeling that much for her."

"like?"

"i don't know? swim? that's all i can think about these days."

"well yeah, but you've been stressing over swim every season."

"that's true i guess, but also it's senior year. my performance this year determines whether i get to go to college as a national team member or not. anyways, give me more time to think?"

"sure."

"..."

"..."

"...this is hard."

"is it pham?"

"what?"

"is it pham? that's holding you back from feeling anything more."

"no? what? how did you even get to her?"

"in full honesty i didn't think much of it, but ever since that girl in class asked if you two were dating i was beginning to see dots i could connect."

"literally what dots. there are no dots to connect."

"call me insane-"

"you're insane."

"-but it made sense, okay? you liked her-"

"-in freshman year!"

"and i don't think she likes you and dani hanging out."

"what? that's stupid, what makes you think that?"

"well she says it's about her best friend hanging out with the group less, especially since it's senior year now and all."

"well yeah i'd get that but... she's never mentioned this when i went out with like leehan and the rest?"

"nah it's more of how you got a girl now."

"oh..."

"yeah."

"what if she just likes dani? it makes a lot more sense than this theory of yours where she likes her literal childhood best friend who she, by the way, more or less rejected 5 years ago."

"i don't know y/n, this past month has been weird. she's the reason you haven't died from the allergy attack and the reason you have your swim cap, you know that right?"

"what about the swim cap?"

"forced me to come with her and help you in person. at like the crack ass of night."

"okay but you were probably just binging something on the tv."

"my point exactly! she cut off my relaxing time."

"you're unbelievable."

"well yes, but anyways, my hunches on these are almost always right. remember when i told you i felt like you'd win gold for the 100m fly category in last year's regional event?"

"yeah."

"and you did win, didn't you?"

"i did."

"there you go. the only problem here is hanni is still fully convinced she's straight."

"and that i don't like her anymore? and that i'm literally going out with someone else?"

"yeah whatever, sure you don't."

"i'm being for real."

"if you're being for real... let me in your private account."

"...what."

"come on! you let wonyoung in it!"

"i was going through a crisis back in 10th when backyardigans were distant 'cause jiwoo was a brooding teenager! plus, i kicked her when i started going out with dani."

"be honest bro!"

"fine!"

masterlist. next.

taglist: @yyeonmis @lostamoeba @jisooftme @yoontoonwhs @awkwardtoafault @kvnii @lcv3lies @limbforalimb @spritin @kaypanaq @i06kkura @manooffline @kimsgayness @justme-idle @jenaissantex @mightymyo @sewiouslyz @txtbrainrot @li0ilthecxnt @captivq @paranoxic @sofakingwoso @daniellobers @pandafuriosa60 @haerinkisser @staryujinnie @wowowowcake @lesleepyyy @haechansbbg @rosiehrs @jiwoneiric @blue4hour

[loganswdc]

so....! yesterday's race was.... something....

firstly LET'S GO OSCAR !!!! HECK YEAH I'M SO PROUD OF HIM I CAN'T BELIEVE I GOT TO SEE HIM WIN HIS FIRST RACE !??!?!?! i do feel awful for lando ,, that entire situation created by mclaren was entirely unnecessary . their bullshit reason saying they needed to cover hamilton hence why lando got pitted first is so stupid -- it's like they realized they messed up and suddenly needed to come up with something to explain it .

it's especially frustrating because that entire mess that mclaren created only made it so that no matter what happened , fans would be mad: if lando won , people would be pissed that oscar didn't get his first win . oscar won , and now people are pissed that lando didn't win . and the entire win for oscar just doesn't feel the way it should: the energy surrounding his first win isn't as positive and exciting as it should be .

and that genuinely makes me so sad for oscar , because i know he's been waiting for this day . he's been waiting for his first win , and it's completely dampened and stomped on because of mclaren's awful strategy calls near the end . i was genuinely yelling at the screen when they pitted lando first , because what was that for ?? why pit him first ?? he did NOT need to cover hamilton , like there was genuinely no need for that . they were leagues away and lando was fast enough that he could have pitted second and still gotten p2 , or lando and oscar could have actually fought for p1 . and it wouldn't have had this bad , awkward energy around it like it does now .

mclaren seriously needs to get their shit together because they're only harming both of their drivers through these things . and them airing out dirty laundry (considering how they were saying "you need the team to win this championship" or how his race engineer mentioned the morning debriefs , etc. etc.) and trying to guilt trip lando over the radio is actually insane !!

it was honestly just a mess .

i also lowkey found it so funny how lewis was trying to break the tension in the cooldown room and lando was just NOT having it . bro was so mad , he threw his p2 cap on the floor and lewis just side-eyed him 😭 multi-21 all over again literally and lewis is in the middle of it , poor guy HAHA

now on to logan's race !! i felt so bad for him , i know he could have done well but unfortunately he had a really bad start and it all just went downhill from there :( the tyre strategy they had him on was... it actually pulled out of no man's land . i genuinely don't get what they were trying to go for there . it seriously sucks man , this weekend was almost his weekend and then it all went to hell 😭 his post-race interview broke me , too . the fact he looked like he was about to sob and said that start will haunt him ... please someone give him a HUG i need him to know we're so proud of him no matter what . shit start or not he did everything he could to fight for positions in that race :(

i was genuinely so confused about what their thought process was ,, and then the fact that logan had to pit for softs at the end because his hard tyres were destroyed... ugh . and we know logan is good at tyre management !! like that man gets a new set of tyres and he is gonna treat em REAL GOOD . so it just goes to show how much of a mess the tyre strategy was .

especially considering how on the radio alex was practically yelling at his engineer for being indecisive with the strategy , saying that the tyres are destroyed already and that they need to be more sure with what they want to do . williams seriously needs to start listening to both their drivers , honestly . it's incredible to me that this tyre fiasco happens SO often on race weekends . they need to get it fixed , and they need to fix it now.

also the fact we found out that alex's teammate is going to be revealed in two weeks... i am actually terrified !! i need either logan to stay with williams and they pull themselves together or he goes to another team that will treat him better .

overall this race was just . it was something . exciting for oscar , but still dampened by mclaren's mess ups and logan's race was doomed from the beginning , both because of his unfortunate start and tyre strat :/

hopefully next week will be better , for everyone , and the teams will get their shit together !!

and that concludes my weekly rant session , thank you very much for reading <3

[prncssie]

Hii pretty girl it's ☄️ againn~ (basically revealing my secret identity muahaha)

I'm sending an ask again because my hobie obsession is not going away anytime soon lol (and I feel like you understand me). One of the things that make him so yummy is his frame, you know what I mean? Like I know he's considered to be a little skinny scrawny stick bug person but have ppl actually looked at him in some frames?? His shoulder span is so wide. It looks so nice I swear, I always imagine rubbing his shoulders and back after a long day. He's also so freakishly tall I feel like he's so used to looking down at people. Personally if he were to look at me like that or lean down to hear me better I would probably fall in love right then and there. Plus this guys is so strong cause of his powers, we literally saw him hold up a bus with sheer arm power. You'd never realize it until you're trying to play fight him and you don't even stand a chance

Hoping to hear your thoughts on it as always 💘 have a wonderful day.

hi stinka! as leader of the hobie brown fan club, i would first and foremost like to say that hobie, is in fact, muscular. he may be just a silly little guy but he’s got some really lean muscles. like, hobie is BUILT beneath his clothes and you don’t notice until you touch him or see him nakey ( i would know ). i’ve never really thought about what his body looks like bc i love him so much. he could be ant sized and id make him an enclosure.

but but but!!!! i went on pinterest and this is like the best idea of what his body looks like in my head c: but obvi black

very lanky but built underneath. and you’d have no idea how strong he is — bc he’s not one to show off until — until he does something INSANE. like, i think the first time you realize he’s really fucking strong is when you’re complaining about something like so random like “my fridge is making this weird noise but i can’t pull it out and look :(((“

and he’s manhandling that shit with ease. he just pulls it right out and stands back there like it’s nothing. talking about “yeah it’s a bit dusty. probably needs a clean” as if he didn’t basically just pick it up and rearrange your whole kitchen.

but he’s so so so so so good with knowing his strength bc he never uses it on you, intentionally, unintentionally. it just doesn’t happen. it’s like his brain has this strength cap and he cannot do anymore than he already is. the only time he’s ever snatching you up fr is if you’re at risk of injury. like if you’re walking on the crosswalk and a car comes speeding and it doesn’t stop. it’ll feel like when you’re running a rope attached to you at full speed and it gives up. it’s so sudden you can’t say anything, much less react.

and he is big! not like width but horizontally. he takes up a lot of space. even his general aura takes up space. idk he’s just hobie. you know he walked in the room bc you just do. it’s also very hard to miss him when his head pokes up over the top of the crowd 💀.

don’t get me wrong though, he is a lanky little telephone pole. he just has some really subtle muscles that no one noticed until he’s pulling his limbs a certain way and they ripple and cause creases in his tight ass clothes.

[system-of-a-feather]

Man, I think it's really insane what I get to do for work right now and just genuinely that its both something I'm EXTREMELY good and a natural at in a way that is really just honestly undeniable to anyone looking and also just something that no one is even trying to deny.

For those not caught up, I was assisting in the re-opening of a youth mental health crisis center and we have recently soft opened for like two weeks ago with a cap limit of like 4 kids at a time and like the two weeks before opening, it was really apparent that the really unbothered and radical acceptance and just positive redirection skills I got from ALL the fucking therapy and processing and communication I've had to do to heal from trauma, DID, and just live a good life was SUPER essential to keeping the team from having a collective mental breakdown and falling apart

But now that we actually have kids, I'm honestly immediately getting a SUPER reputation as one of the best at building rapport, creating not only a safe but fun and motivating environment, and just really all together creating a space where kids are EXCITED to do things and are EXCITED to try things when they go back home (as we only do short term inpatient care)

And unironically all of the five kids that we've had so far have all actively communicated to my coworkers and peers that they really liked me, asking to have me in to support on CPS visits and just finding themselves specifically comfortable with sharing a lot of hard and vulnerable topics with me and just?

I'm really just being me. Like I'm really just engaging with people I would have engaged with in general online for free and curating a positive, hope providing, and kinda fun environment for people who are going through a long and hard but necessary journey has just always been just... kind of my thing?

And honestly I'm getting paid pretty well to just really be a supportive adult role model / support / aid for kids who are in crisis, had an attempt mere like VERY recently, and just help them regain a sense of stable and - if I can - uplift them to have something to look forward to while assisting the therapists in giving them skills to apply to help navigate returning home and man.

A lot of the time I leave work feeling like I just left a like... fun summer camp counseling day or hanging out with lil mentees and I really don't genuinely feel like this is real work? XD

It's so fucking insane and the fact that I genuinely think literally everyone at my work likes me? Like a lot? and even the boss that was a little toxic in early opening due to stress seems to really like me??? And I'm just like???

I'm an outstanding employee and yet I'm just out here straight VIBING man.

But like literally today, some of the other staff were just side eyeing (positively) since I was sitting in for the ACT and Meditation / Mindfulness therapy session to support since we only had one client and we were just like XD laughing and having a ball with the therapist and client despite ALSO talking about some really heavy personal topics and navigating some potentially triggering sitautions that the client themselves asked for me and the therapist to roleplay and discuss and its just?

Man like, job statisfaction 100 right now and its insane

Cause I was having an AWFUL Tuesday (refused to let it STAY awful cause I don't believe in forfeiting my day to be a "bad day" without a fight) and I was even telling my therapist, one of the things in the week I'm looking forward to is ACTUALLY going into work and part of me was like "Yeah yeah, tell yourself that, theres no way work is GENUINELY something you want to do"

But like? Genuinely? It absolutely was a great break and not even in the "something to distract myself" but just because its a structured environment where the whole task and game is to create a calm, stable, safe, supportive, and - where appropriate - fun environment.

And honestly, these kids really honestly sometimes really seem as though they've really just not had someone look at them in a while and be genuinely interested in who they are and what they are doing because like? Dude some of these kids are literally the coolest and most amazing kids around and in these two weeks alone I've been taught a lot of really awesome things during our downtimes.

It's honestly such an honor and a pleasure to be able to just sit in during a brief period of these kiddos life. Like damn.

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING part. 6

HELLO I'm here again with Bad Feeling. I LOVE Haymitch and writing this fic is becoming addicting, but I can't help but wonder if he is a little OOC. Remember, he doesn't do things without thinking, so he is not being completely reckless.

MASTERLIST

It's still night, everything is quiet.

You draw stars around his scars with your fingers, he is humming in pleasure in return. If you close your eyes you can pretend you are in District 12, in his victor's home, and in two hours you will go to work. Everything is fine, everything is normal, maybe just Holly freaking out because you are in bed with a forty year old man who is also your boss. That seems fun right now. 

You really don't want to think about the games. You want to be happy without thinking "for now".

«I like your scars.» You mumble, staring at his back. You clearly ended in his disgusting bed, and now you smell like a liquor store too. 

It was worth it, though. You thought he was a rough lover, selfish maybe, definitely grumpy. You were wrong, well, half wrong. He is rough and now you are sure you have bruises, but he is also kind and generous. And not at all grumpy, which surprised you the most. 

«So you are really insane.» He jokes.

«No, I mean I know they are bad and it was horrible, but...» You ramble, afraid you offended him, but he turns around to stop you. 

«Relax, sweetheart.» 

«I'm not very good at it.» You confess.

«Yeah? I guess I'll have to help you then.» He begins to bite and kiss and lap your neck and you can't help but giggle. 

«I have to go to my room!» You protest. Well, you protest, your body is more than ready for him. 

«Do you deny a man his property?»

You roll your eyes. He will never forget that not-so-prepared-speech. «Very funny. I take back everything, I'll see if Finnick Odair is a single man.»

His eyes darken and he squeezes you even more. «Go, then.»

«I can’t, your grip is too strong.» You explain. He pretends he doesn’t know, while he is pressing himself on you. He has a surprisingly fit body for an old alcoholic. 

«Yeah? You don’t like that?»

«Oh no, I really like that.» You tie your arms around his neck. «I like that you are strong, I like that you are rough, I even like when you show up a little tipsy.» You confess before you kiss him. His eyes soften, and you can tell he is done joking.

«Promise me something.»

«Anything you want.»

«Don't fuck it up. Don't be a hero, don't save someone because they look weaker than you.»

«I won't.»

«I'm serious.» He grips your arms so much it hurts. «Don't die in that arena.»

«I will try, I promise.» You want to light up the atmosphere, so you smile. Also because you just lied, you will try but it’s certain you will die, that is why you acted in the first place. «You know what I like the most? When you open the bottle and you hold the cap with your teeth.»

He looks at you in disbelief. «You are a very strange woman.»

But he looks hot when he does that. There is something about his gestures, how confident he is.

«Yeah but it goes to your advantage, so shut up and take a shower with me.»

«Yes ma'am.»

The real world crushes you hard, you don't want to go to the training, but in two days you will have to perform for the gamemakers, so you force yourself. You spend your day with Lora and Perla (which is a problem, since you seem more a group of friends than tributes and you really don’t want to arrive at the point where you don’t know how to kill them) then you go to the car to return to the penthouse.

You don't expect to be face to face with President Snow when the car arrives. 

«Please get in the car, Miss Pinecone.»

He knows your name. Well, of course he knows. 

He is terrifying. What is the worst is that he doesn’t look terrifying. With his white hair and long beard he looks like a granddad, not a President. A president that, you know, ordered to kill Haymitch’s family, sold victors and escorts to people he wanted to please, and regularly sends children to die every year in a reality show.

He is the big bad wolf in the fairytales.

The smell in the car is bad, and you just spent the night in a liquor bottle. It smells like something you don’t know, something sour. You just want fresh air, you want to get out of this car, you want Haymitch or Effie or your mama. As pathetic as it sounds, you want mama to rescue you. 

«Mr. President, nice to meet you.» You manage to say, not even bothered to hide that you are scared. He is already aware of it, he is probably enjoying the power he has over you.

«Miss Pinecone, I watched you on the television. You are a very proper girl, with good manners.» He looks pleased, is that a good sign? A bad sign? Is that a sign at all? 

«Thank you, Mr. President.» You whisper. You can't, just can't watch him in the eyes, so you focus yourself on the rose he has pinned on his white jacket.

«Can we please be sincere to each other?» He asks, and you only nod. You can’t even speak. «Good. I like you, Miss Pinecone. But I don’t like that you don’t want to do what you are supposed to do.»

«I… I beg your pardon?»

«You almost look like a Capitol girl. Very far from Katniss Everdeen, don’t you think?» 

Fuck you, I’m a woman from the District 12 and I’m proud of it. And Katniss Everdeen is a girl in a game bigger than her. You aren’t blind, you noticed signs all over the district since the last Hunger Games. That is why young men and women were picked and not teenagers instead this year, because even if teenagers can be the spark, adults have to keep going. «Thank you.»

«You are welcome. I think Miss Effie Trinket is to thank, don’t you?»

«Yes, Mr. President.» Not Effie. He couldn't, could he? She is from Capitol, she is a resident. One of his people. She is devoted to her country, she knows the Panem motto word by word. 

Then again, he sold her when she was younger.

«You don’t want to cause anything bad to Miss Trinket, right?» 

You shake your head, petrified. 

«And I’ve heard you share a deep connection with your mentor. We don’t want another tragedy upon him. Or your mother.» He saw you and Haymitch, you just get it from the look he gives you. And of course he knows you have a mother, he already probably knows her name and address.

You close your eyes for a moment, knowing you are screwed. «What do I have to do to keep them safe?»

«Just go when I call for you. Without telling Mr. Abernathy, we know he can be tempered. Do we have a deal, miss Pinecone?»

You nod, holding back the tears. Crying or screaming won't give you anything more, maybe he will be even pissed off. «Yes, Mr. President.»

He hands you the rose. «You are welcome, Daisy, and good luck in the games.»

When you are out of the car you run into the penthouse as fast as you can, tears begin to stream down to your face. You know there’s air in the room, but you can’t breathe. 

«Darling girl what happened?» Effie goes near to you, but you can barely hear or see her. 

«What's wrong with her?» Haymitch asks, worried, but this time Effie looks sure.

«That's a panic attack, a bad one.» She holds your hands. «Now look at me Daisy, look at me.»

You are trying, although your body is shaking too much and you can't calm down. Maybe that's not a panic attack, maybe that's a heart attack and you are dying.

«Hear my voice, follow me. Breathe in, breathe out.» She gestures to you on how to do that, and you desperately try until it slowly passes and you have control on your body again.

«She is with us again.» Effie states and calmly hugs you.

«I'm so sorry.»

«Nonsense. It happens to me too, after a while you know the signs and it becomes a little easier.» She caresses your hair. «What triggered it?»

«Nothing.» You force yourself to say, but you notice too late you still have the white rose in your hand. They look at each other, but remain silent, and Haymitch hugs you. 

The next day flows and this is the day you have to perform for the gamemakers. The gamemakers are weird men, they are all men, not a single woman present. The head gamemakers is new and his name is Plutarch, the last one, Seneca Crane, committed suicide after Katniss and Peeta’s win last year. 

Haymitch simply said "Make sure they remember you". 

You have no idea what to do. You are strong, so you better start there.

«District 12, Daisy Pinecone.» You present yourself and you watch them. They don't care, you are the last one. You wonder what Clark did. 

You have ten minutes. You notice they have ice skates and an ice location. This turns on the light bulb in your brain. If they placed it there it means it has something to do with the arena. And you know how to skate, Holly taught you during the rigid winter in the district. There was a lake, and she thought it was fun. Thanks, mom.

After the preparation, you begin to skate. At first you lift a very heavy globe and on skates it's impressive, but then you start to spin, and you spin, and you spin until you lift your leg and decapitate the mannequin you placed close to yourself with the skate blades. You knew they must have been a weapon, you took a chance. Ice skate’s blades are usually not that sharp, they must have been modified. 

You bow to them, a bright smile for the audience. You are good at it, being the pretty girl who does the right thing. «Thank you for your consideration.»

You feel pretty confident in the afternoon, when the team decides to watch the score together. President Snow didn't show up or called, so you can relax for the night. 

You are sure you have a seven. You deserved a solid seven. 

Clark doesn't even talk, you can't understand if he gave up or he is sure he has a massive score. "He doesn't talk because you are the enemy and he doesn't want you to know anything about his strategy", you think. That means he talks with Haymitch, and that gives you a thrill of jealousy. They talk about how Clark will survive, how he will win, and that implies that you die. 

And being selfish and juvenile as much as the kids you babysit for at home, you dress up in a little black cocktail dress that shows your legs and collarbones. You want those secrets. You want your mentor to be utterly seduced. You want him to work only for you. And he was known to be one of the most brilliant men in all of Panem, so he probably will know, but maybe, if you put enough sugar in your words, he will close an eye on that.

«You are so beautiful!» Portia states when she sees you.

«I thought I should be enjoying pretty dresses now that I can.» That is one of the reasons, actually. 

«You look lovely.» Effie adds. 

«Don't wear something like this for the interview.» That's the only thing Haymitch says. «We want you to be a princess.»

You can't help but pout, even if you know he can't comment. He commented before, though. 

You sit on the couch next to him and Portia, while Clark sits by Effie. You cross your legs.

Caesar Flickerman appears on the screen and you suddenly feel nervous, maybe that is why you put such an effort on the dress, because you wanted to keep your mind off the games. You always do that.

The tributes roll on the screen. The careers don't go below 8, Perla has a solid 9 and you smile because she is your ally, Lora has 8, which is very good. It’s fine to have such brave and good allies. And if you are going to get killed, you truly want one of them to win.

It's Clark's turn, everyone is thrilled. Well, apart from you, you don't really care. 

«From District 12 Clark Undersee, with a score of… 9!» 

Everyone applauds. Nine is a great score. «Congratulations.» You say, just to bury the hatchet. He doesn't even answer you. 

«And now our last tribute, from District 12 Daisy Pinecone with a score of… 10!»

Ten. You've got ten. You are so shocked you look at Haymitch to confirm it, and you see he is going to hug you. And then Portia and Effie.

«Ten is great, darling girl!»

«Katniss was just a score above!»

The arena has glass, or snow, or is at least winter themed, you think but then you watch Clark and decide to keep your mouth shut. 

After a while, in which the prim and proper Euphemia Trinket opened a bottle to celebrate, you yawn and you declare you go to sleep with a meaningful glare at your mentor. 

You can count two minutes before he opens your door. 

«What the hell were you thinking?» He snaps angrily but his wide hands are already on your body. 

«Did you like the dress?» You question with an innocent look. He crushes his lips on yours and in a moment you are against the door, not innocent at all. At least you are on your clean perfumed bed this time.

«What did you want?» He almost growls. He is not pleased, but at the same time he is. He just doesn't want you to play with his impulses. Not in front of the team.

«I was nervous about the scores.» You try to explain while he is attacking your neck. If he wants to incanalate his frustration this way you must be sure to make him frustrated every chance you'll have. «I thought of a distraction.»

«Little minx.» He doesn't buy it, and he is right. «Tell me the truth or I’ll go.»

«You wouldn't dare.» 

«Don’t test me, Daisy.» Ok, he calls you Daisy. It’s not right when he calls you Daisy. 

«Ok, I was jealous.» You admit, taking a step back. His eyes grow wide. 

«What? Jealous of who?» 

«Clark.» You hear silence, so you keep going. «He talks with you. About techniques and skills and you will give him sponsors, and he wants to kill me. He really wants to. The minute he will be in the arena he will find me and kill me.»

He chuckles, but he calms down. You sense he is not used to this level of patience. «I'm his mentor too, you know.»

«Yes and that makes me furious! I want you to be just mine.» He can tell you are half joking, so he doesn't get angry. 

«Possessive much?» He hugs you. You really, really like being in his arms, even if it tastes like whisky.  

«Am I your favourite?» You childishly ask.  

«Always. But truth be told he brings me alcohol.»

«I wore that dress. For you!» You gasp and caress his chest and you push him on the mattress. «I know something about the arena.» You whisper. 

«Tell me, sweetheart.»

«You have to promise you won't tell Clark.»

He rolls his eyes and hugs you tighter. «Do you trust me?» You nod. Not completely, but you don't trust anyone completely. «Do you think I would do anything to put you in danger?» You shake your head. «You just have to keep up as much as you can.»

He pinches your lower back. «And please stop this nonsense.»

«The arena has something to do with glass. I skated, there were ice skates. District 12 is full of snow, I might actually stand a chance.»

«I wouldn't indulge myself if you didn't. You will be out of that arena alive.» He takes your hair out of your face. His eyes meet yours in a non-said. It doesn't matter what you said, you can't confess everything to one another. He has his secrets and you have yours, and you don’t know who is going to listen, if the rooms have cameras. But the main reason is that you do that to protect each other. And Effie, Portia and the rest of the team. Not Clark, for your part.

«You indulge yourself because I'm irresistible.» You point out after a minute, your finger tracing a line through his chest. 

He rolls his eyes but a little smile appears on his face. «Humble.»

«Beautiful.» 

«Modest.»

«Stunning.»

«Can't argue with that.» And like that he shuts you up pressing his lips on yours.

[transforming]

Life Update + Commissions!

Hey y'all! So here's a life update because right now, it's fucking hell on earth:

I'm going through major financial instability in my life, and as a college student, it's really hitting hard. Parents are out of a job, and my college just implemented a salary earnings cap for student jobs, which honestly I think is stupid and cruel to low-income students like me. On top of that, where I live, students can't work part time jobs outside of university, which would make it even more (and already) extremely difficult for me to cover my living expenses, let alone tuition fees.

After talking to some of my friends in this community about what I could do to keep myself afloat (and try to keep paying for my studies), and after getting some advice on how to proceed, I have decided to open up writing commissions.

To start, here is how it's gonna work with me:

Firstly, send me a message. You could do it over here on Tumblr, that's fine, but I'd much prefer it if you could message me on Discord, since I'm more reachable there. This makes things a lot easier for us to talk through your ideas and delve deeper into them, really flesh them out, and figure things out before I start writing.

Do NOT send me commission requests through asks.

Second, make sure to properly read through my rules below. Pricing details are set out below (rule 4), so make sure to keep that in mind when you're sending a request and when we're in discussion.

The number of commissions I will take on at at time will depend on a number of factors:

balancing my writing with college assignments & priorities

my level of interest

my writing mood / mental health

I'll make sure to provide updates on when I'm open to them or not.

Okay, now that those are out of the way, here are the very important rules that need to be taken in consideration.

The Transforming Commission Rules:

1. I reserve the right to refuse writing commissions.

Beside the above-mentioned reasons for the number of commissions I'm willing to take; or regardless of the reason; or for no given reason, no means no. Flat out.

I may not like the idea. Maybe I'm busy with classes, life or other commissions. Or perhaps my mental health's taken a downwards spin and/or I'm just not in the mood to write at the moment.

Make no mistake, if you pester me and ask if I've reconsidered your idea, I will simply just block you, no questions asked. If you want to politely ask again if my classes/time/mood were the issue for my saying no, I'd be more than happy to talk things out.

Also, please keep in mind that besides writing stories and my college classes, I have a life too. If you message me about a commission and I don't respond immediately, I'm either just busy or asleep.

I'll make sure to reply to those that inquire, it might just take me a sec.

2. Be as creative as possible, but also use your common sense.

As a creative writing student, I'm gonna be hard on this: one-sentence commission requests that just say "Make me into a twink!" or "Turn me into a frat bro!" will more than likely get refused. That said, try to make your request a little more compelling for me.

Come up with a plot summary, throw some more tf's in there, maybe add a delicious plot twist that would subvert a part of your idea, . I can only write so many of one type of tf story - they're fun, but don't make me bored sick of writing any more of them.

Also, be conscientious and realistic about the length you want. I'm no literary god with unlimited time, and I definitely can't fit a heavily descriptive tf AND a good plot in just 1,000 words.

If you're feeling insane super generous, or more supportive to help me out, and want to commission longer pieces (more than 3,000 words), we can talk more about it when you make the request.

3. I have limits. Push them and our deal's off.

Some of these are without question:

Underage characters / tf's (you will immediately get blocked if you make such a request).

Feet

Violence / pain / rape / non-consensual acts

Homophobic tf's (refer to my repost of @idesofrevolution's post - they've explained it better than I ever could)

Chastity

Unrealistic sizes

Animal tf's

Celebrity tf's (more details below)

I'm primarily a male tf writer, so gender tf is fine, but a heavily female focused story is a nope from me.

Don't even think to ask, I simply will not write them.

As much as I used to include them in my previous stories (especially with TF College), I won't generally do celebrity tf's anymore (i.e. stuff like "Turn me into Henry Cavill!") There may be a lot of very sexy celebrities around, and as hot as it may be to become them, I've had my fair share of writing those stories to the point where I'm done with them. Writing up original characters are more my thing these days - I'm a creative writing major, after all.

There is, of course, some flexibility with this, so if you have an idea but aren't completely sure, you can always ask me. If the idea is compelling enough -- and the guy hot enough -- maybe I'll make an exception. That's much better than getting rejected.

4. Payment & Delivery.

See, as much as I'm struggling right now, I'm not inconsiderate either - I know I'm not the only writer going through shit. I also know people aren't gonna dish out money to completely cover my life and instantly get me out of this hellish rut.

That said, I charge $0.04/word (for my British friends, £0.03/word). That's $40 (£30) per 1,000 words, or $20 (£15) for 500 words.

Payment is via PayPal. In full, up front. I will not begin writing until I've been paid.

When it comes to format of delivery, I will send you a pdf of the final story, provided you give me an email to send the pdf to (unless you' message me on Discord, for which I can just send the pdf to you directly).

5. Use of Images & Posting on Public.

The final say on any images included in these commissions are up to you. You're completely welcome to bring your own images to for me to write around, but if you don't have any, I'm happy to try and find some I feel fit the particular story if you'd like me to.

Then again, I can't make any promises. If I can't find image(s) that fit, or you don't like the ones I provide, I won't climb every mountain or cross every stream to find something. These are writing commissions in the end, so keep that in mind.

I'll also give you the final word on posting these commissions here on Tumblr. If you specifically don't want me to post yours, please say so during the process. If you say nothing, I may end up posting some of them after they've been delivered.

If you're okay for me to post the commission, but would like to remain anonymous (as in not get tagged on the post), make sure to let me know that too. This is an easy one to forget, so I'll be reaching out to you on posting after I've delivered it.

- Drew the Transformer

P.S. Don't forget, you can also tip me over on ko-fi, if you can't or don't want to commission! Seriously, any support during this very difficult time is always welcome, but I'll also understand if you can't.

[archerinspace]

Marshall Lee and Prince Gumball

Based on these cards, I wanted to give my thoughts on them since there was not much Fionna and Cake lore around the time the book was published (2016) and I'm forever searching for more. They'll be under the cut since this will get long but some of these things never cease to amuse me.

Note: All cards will be written out in text as well so if you have a hard time reading them, you can read them in plain text.

Fionna and Cake Marshall Lee and Prince Gumball Ice Queen and Lord Monochromicorn

MARSHALL LEE Marshall is a teen vampire king with a tendency to be awesome with a capital A. This emo, gothy guy likes to chow down on the color red. Maybe because I made him up and he doesn't really exist, sometimes he can be a little sulky but deep down he seems to be a decent kid. He wears trendy gothy duds like there"s no tomorrow, has a primo electric guitar, doesn't take any baloney from anybody, and has the collective angst of being eighteen for, like, a million years in a row. Even though he's a super-independent homie, Marshall Lee still bows down and gives major props to the hippest super-chill chick who rules over the frozen tundra, the one and only Ice Queen! Not exactly a hipster, but I bet he wouldn't throw away a vintage vest, skinny jeans, Buddy Holly glasses, and a knitted cap if I stuffed 'em in his flutophone case. This kid's mellow yellow and generally a happy camper, but he's not exactly a people-pleaser by a long-shot. Hey you want some advice Marshy? If you wanna win over Fionna the Human like I think you do, then what better way than loosening her up with some Truth or Dare and then serenading her with cool rock ballads all about the Ice King's exploits?!

I don't have much to say on this one honestly though it is funny he's also aware of gothic attire. That isn't much of a surprise though considering how much he cares about Marceline.

I had to google what a flutophone is so I guess he's implying that Marshall is capable of more than one instrument which is really cool.

"mellow yellow" makes me think of something I'd hear on Sonny and Cher(my mom remembers alot of stuff from the 60s which makes most of what Simon talks about really funny sometimes) and after googling I was partially right. The phrase and song was popular in the 60s, a time Simon would have most likely heard it if he wasn't listening to Buddy Holly.

PRINCE GUMBALL The young ruler of the Candy Kingdom is the unfathomably lucky and undeserving object of the Ice Queen's affections. Despite being a mincing moron, Prince Gumball shall one day take his place as the Ice Queen's coruler(in name only) of the Ice Kingdom and as her brainless, groveling love slave. As previously mentioned, Gumball is temporarily distracted from appreciating the Ice Queen's perfectly chiseled features because he likes Fionna the Human, whos fabulous outfits, to be designed by me, probably have him fooled into thinking she's Got It Going On- when instead she fails miserably to know what IT IS and most assuredly Does Not Have It Going On Nowhere Nohow! Prince Gumball is notable for an inability to defend himself from being blasted against his own bedroom wall by the Ice Queen's awesome Slush Monster or encased in a giant icicle hanging from the ceiling. He also is known to have designed his own royal garb and to enjoy baking. I'll come up with some more good stuff later. That's just for starters!

MY FAVORITE GUY YEAH!

I should probably stop trying to make any sense of his insane ramblings but its really funny he's so mad at Gumball for both being in the way of him and Fionna and just considering him a moron when Prismo put all the fanfiction in his head. Prismo really wrote all this and the Ice King said 'wow this guy sucks hes such a moron' and proceeded to bully him in every fanfiction possible.

Gumball being a 'love slave' is majorly a projection of how he wants to marry a princess for the status of having a pretty wife but that begs the question if Ice Queen would equally be affectionate and just keep Gumball as a pretty artsy trophy husband. Its ironic he wanted Gumball to be a babygirl but then Simon gets babygirl'd in the year of 2023 by the larger fanbase.

I do feel validated in the fact I had a headcanon Gumball would knit, sew and even design his own clothing so I'll take that as a win. Reminder that he's had 'flirtations' with expressionist gummy sculpture and free-form candy-whistle jazz as mentioned on Fionna's card.

Something important(to me) to point out here is Gumball's card is drawn with him doing science related things while others have a cool pose or respective item(like Fionna and her sword) and Gumball's is the only card to not have some kind of 'cool' vibe, further proof of him bullying him. The wiki says this book has IK saying Gumball likes science but this card is the only real proof of that and no other mention of the previous facts from the card.

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 10

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

A/n meow meow credits to "every day" by david levithan, I am in the stages of insanity at this moment its 7 am and I haven't slept at all, not a single blink of sleep lord save me. P.s: this made me kinda sad this chapter <\3 if u want i recommend listening to "something between us" george romance 101

Day 6008

I go to the computer as soon as I wake up the next morning. But there’s no email from Hanni. I send her another apology. I send her more thanks for the day. Sometimes when you hit send, you can imagine the message going straight into the person’s heart. But other times, like this time, it feels like the words are merely falling into a well.

I head to the social-networking sites, searching for something more. I see that Austin and Hugo still list their relationship status as being together—a good sign. Jiwon’s page is locked to non-friends. So there’s proof of one thing I managed to save, and another where saving is possible.

I have to remind myself it’s not all bad.

Then there’s Haruto. The coverage of him continues. Reverend Poole is getting more testimony by the day, and the news sites are eating it up. Even the Onion is getting into the act, with the headline: WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO REVEREND POOLE: ‘THE DEVIL MADE ME EAT THE PLUM.’ If smart people are parodying it, that’s a sure sign that some less smart people are believing it.

But what can I do? Haruto wants his proof, but I’m not sure I have any to give. All I have is my word, and what kind of proof is that?

Today I’m a boy named Jeongwoo. He has diabetes, so I have a whole other layer of concerns on top of my usual ones. I’ve been diabetic a couple of times, and the first time was harrowing. Not because diabetes isn’t controllable, but because I had to rely on the body’s memories to tell me what to look out for, and how to manage it. I ended up pretending I wasn’t feeling well, just so my mother would stay at home and monitor my health with me. Now I feel I can handle it, but I am very attentive to what the body is telling me, much more so than I usually am.

Jeongwoo is full of idiosyncrasies that probably don’t seem all that idiosyncratic to him anymore. He’s a sports fanatic—he plays soccer on the JV squad, but his real love is baseball. His head is full of statistics, facts and figures extrapolated into thousands of different combinations and comparisons. In the meantime, his room is a shrine to the Beatles, and it appears that George is by far his favorite. It isn’t hard to figure out what he’s going to wear, because his entire wardrobe is blue jeans and different variations of the same button-down shirt. There are also more baseball caps than I can imagine anyone needing, but I figure he’s not allowed to wear those to school.

It’s a relief, in many ways, to be a guy who doesn’t mind riding the bus, who has friends waiting for him when he gets on, who doesn’t have to deal with anything more troubling than the fact that he ate breakfast and is still hungry.

It’s an ordinary day, and I try to lose myself in that.

But between third and fourth periods, I’m dragged right back. Because there, right in the hall, is Haruto watanabe.

At first I think I might be mistaken. There are plenty of kids who could look like Haruto. But then I see the way the other kids in the hall are reacting to him, as if he’s this walking joke. He’s trying to make it seem like he doesn’t notice the laughter, the snickers, the snarky comments. But he can’t hide how uncomfortable he is.

I think: He deserves this. He didn’t have to say a word. He could’ve just let it slide.

And I think: It’s my fault. I’m the one who did this to him.

I access Jeongwoo and find out that he and Haruto were good friends in elementary school, and are still friendly now. So it makes sense that when he passes by me, I say hello. And that he says hello back.

I sit with my friends at lunch. Some of the guys ask me about the game last night, and I answer vaguely, accessing the whole time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Haruto sit down at his own table, eating alone. I don’t remember him being friendless, just dull. But it looks as if he’s friendless now.

“I’m going to go talk to Haruto,” I tell my friends.

One of them groans. “Really? I’m so sick of him.”

“I hear he’s doing talk shows now,” another chimes in.

“You would think the devil would have more important things to do than take a Subaru for a joyride on a Saturday night.”

“Seriously.”

I pick up my tray before the conversation can go any further, and tell them I’ll see them later.

Haruto sees me coming over, but still seems surprised when I sit down with him.

“Do you mind?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “Not at all.”

I don’t know what I’m doing. I think of his last email—PROVE IT—and half expect those words to flash from his eyes, for there to be some challenge that I will have to meet. I am the proof. I am right in front of him. But he doesn’t know that.

“So how are you doing?” I ask, picking up a fry, trying to act like this is a normal lunchtime conversation between friends.

“Okay, I guess.” I get a sense that for all the attention people have been giving him, not many people have been asking him how he’s doing.

“So what’s new?”

He glances over my shoulder. “Your friends are looking at us.”

I turn around, and everyone from my old table suddenly looks anywhere but here.

“Whatever,” I say. “Don’t pay attention to them. To any of them.”

“I’m not. They don’t understand.”

“I understand. I mean, I understand that they don’t understand.”

“I know.”

“It must be pretty overwhelming, though, having everyone so interested. And all the blogs and stuff. And this reverend.”

I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But Haruto seems happy to talk. Jeongwoo is a good guy.

“Yeah, he really gets it. He knew people would give me grief. But he told me I had to be stronger. I mean, having people laugh is nothing compared to surviving a possession.”

Surviving a possession. I have never thought about what I do in those terms. I never thought my presence was something that anyone would have to survive.

Haruto sees me thinking. “What?” he asks.

“I’m just curious—what do you remember from that day?”

Now a wariness creeps into his expression.

“Why are you asking?”

“Curiosity, I guess. I’m not doubting you. Not at all. I just feel like, in all the things I’ve read and all the things people have said, I never really got to hear your side. It’s all been secondhand and thirdhand and probably seventh- or eighth-hand, so I figured I’d just come and ask you firsthand.”

I know I’m on dangerous ground here. I can’t make Jeongwoo too much of a confidant, because tomorrow will come and he might not remember anything that’s been said, and that might make Haruto suspicious. But at the same time, I want to know what he remembers.

Haruto wants to talk. I can see it. He knows he’s stepped off his own map. And while he won’t pull back, he also regrets it a little. I don’t think he ever meant for it to take over his life.

“It was a pretty normal day,” he tells me. “Nothing unusual. I was home with my parents. I did chores, that kind of thing. And then—I don’t know. Something must have happened. Because I made up this story about a school musical and borrowed their car for the night. I don’t remember the musical part—they told me that later. But there I was, driving around. And I had these … urges. Like I was being drawn somewhere.”

He pauses.

“Where?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. This is the weird part. There are a few hours there that are completely blank. I have this sense of not being in control of my body, but that’s it. I have flashes of a party, but I have no idea where, or who else was there. Then suddenly I’m being woken up by a policeman. And I haven’t drunk a sip. I haven’t done any drugs. They tested for that, you know.”

“What if you had a seizure?”

“Why would I borrow my parents’ car to have a seizure? No, there was something else in control. The reverend says I must have wrestled with the devil. Like Jacob. I must have known my body was being used for something evil, and I fought it. And then, when I won, the devil left me by the side of the road.”

He believes this. He genuinely believes this.

And I can’t tell him it’s not true. I can’t tell him what really happened. Because if I do, Jeongwoo will be in danger. I will be in danger.

“It didn’t have to be the devil,” I say.

Haruto becomes defensive. “I just know, okay? And I’m not the only one. There are lots of people out there who’ve experienced the same thing. I’ve chatted with a few of them. It’s scary how many things we have in common.”

“Are you afraid it will happen again?”

“No. I’m prepared this time. If the devil is anywhere near me, I’ll know what to do.”

I sit right there across from him and listen.

He doesn’t recognize me.

I am not the devil.

This thought is what echoes through my mind the rest of the day.

I am not the devil, but I could be.

Looking at it from afar, looking at it from a perspective like Haruto’s, I can see how scary it could be. Because what’s to stop me from doing harm? What punishment would there be if I took the pencil in my hand and gouged out the eye of the girl sitting next to me in chem class? Or worse. I could easily get away with the perfect crime. The body that committed the murder would inevitably get caught, but the murderer would go free. Why haven’t I thought of this before?

I have the potential to be the devil.

But then I think, Stop. I think, No. Because, really, does that make me any different from everyone else? Yes, I could get away with it, but certainly we all have the potential to commit the crime. We choose not to. Every single day, we choose not to. I am no different.

I am not the devil.

There is still no word from Hanni. Whether her silence is coming from her confusion or from a desire to be rid of me, I have no way of knowing.

I write to her and say, simply:

I have to see you again.

Yn

Day 6009

There’s still no word from her the next morning.

I get in the car and drive.

The car belongs to Kang taehyun. He should be in school. But I call the office pretending to be his father and say he has a doctor’s appointment.

It may last the entire day.

It’s a two-hour drive. I know I should spend it getting to know Kang taehyun, but he seems incidental to me right now. I used to inhabit lives like this all the time—testing the bare minimum I needed to know in order to get through the day. I got so good at it that I made it through a few days without accessing once. I’m sure these were very blank days for the bodies I was in, because they were extraordinarily blank days for me.

Most of the drive, I think about Hanni. How to get her back. How to keep in her good graces. How to make this work.

It’s the last part that’s the hardest.

When I get to her school, I park where Ahn yujin parked. The school day is already in full swing, so when I open the doors, I jump right into the fray. It’s between periods, and I have all of two minutes to find her.

I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know what period’s starting. I just push through the halls, looking for her. People brush by, tell me to watch where I’m going. I don’t care. There is everyone else, and there is her. I am only focused on her.

I let the universe tell me where to go. I rely purely on instinct, knowing that this kind of instinct comes from somewhere other than me, somewhere other than this body.

She is turning in to a classroom. But she stops. Looks up. Sees me.

I don’t know how to explain it. I am an island in the hall as people push around me. She is another island. I see her, and she knows exactly who I am. There is no way for her to know this. But she knows.

She walks away from the classroom, walks toward me. Another bell rings and the rest of the people drain out of the hall, leaving us alone together.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” I say.

“I thought you might come.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad.” She glances back at the classroom. “Although Lord knows you’re not good for my attendance record.”

“I’m not good for anybody’s attendance record.”

“What’s your name today?”

“Yn,” I tell her. “For you, it’s always Yn.”

She has a test next period that she can’t skip, so we stay on the school grounds. When we start to encounter other kids—kids without classes this period, kids also cutting—she grows a little more cautious.

“Is Minji in class?” I ask, to give her fear a name.

“Yeah. If she decided to go.”

We find an empty classroom and go inside. From all the Shakespearean paraphernalia hanging on the walls, I’m guessing we’re in an English classroom. Or drama.

We sit in the back row, out of sight of the window in the door.

“How did you know it was me?” I have to ask.

“The way you looked at me,” she says. “It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

This is what love does: It makes you want to rewrite the world. It makes you want to choose the characters, build the scenery, guide the plot. The person you love sits across from you, and you want to do everything in your power to make it possible, endlessly possible. And when it’s just the two of you, alone in a room, you can pretend that this is how it is, this is how it will be.

I take her hand and she doesn’t pull away. Is this because something between us has changed, or is it only because my body has changed? Is it easier for her to hold Kang taehyun’s hand?

The electricity in the air is muted. This is not going to lead to anything more than an honest conversation.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” I say again.

“I deserve part of the blame. I never should have called her.”

“What did she say? Afterward?”

“She kept calling you ‘that bitch.’ ”

“Charming.”

“I think she sensed it was a trap. I don’t know. She just knew something was off.”

“Which is probably why she passed the test.”

Hanni pulls away. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry.”

I wonder why it is that she’s strong enough to say no to me, but not strong enough to say no to her.

“What do you want to do?” I ask her.

She matches my glance perfectly. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to do whatever you feel is best for you.”

“That’s the wrong answer,” she tells me.

“Why is it the wrong answer?”

“Because it’s a lie.”

You are so close, I think. You are so close, and I can’t reach you.

“Let’s go back to my original question,” I say. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to throw everything away for something uncertain.”

“What about me is uncertain?”

She laughs. “Really? Do I have to explain it to you?”

“Besides that. You know you are the most important person I’ve ever had in my life. That’s certain.”

“In just two weeks. That’s uncertain.”

“You know more about me than anyone else does.”

“But I can’t say the same for you. Not yet.”

“You can’t deny that there’s something between us.”

“No. There is. When I saw you today—I didn’t know I’d been waiting for you until you were there. And then all of that waiting rushed through me in a second. That’s something … but I don’t know if it’s certainty.”

I know what I’m asking of you, I want to say. But I stop myself. Because I realize that would be another lie. And she’d call me on it.

She looks at the clock. “I have to get ready for my test. And you have another life to get back to.”

I can’t help myself. I ask, “Don’t you want to see me?”

She holds there for a moment. “I do. And I don’t. You would think it would make things easier, but it actually makes them harder.”

“So I shouldn’t just show up here?”

“Let’s stick to email for now. Okay?”

And just like that, the universe goes wrong. Just like that, all the enormity seems to shrink into a ball and float away from my reach.

I feel it, and she doesn’t.

Or I feel it, and she won’t.

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

I'm watching ep1 of The Brothers Sun

I love how the dude is baking cakes and watching Great British Bake off 😂 (killers have hobbies too)

Love how the Triad people are wearing sequins

Oh noooo the old guy is dead!

Oh no he isn't he's just in a coma

Ohhhh and he's the main dude's dad

Oooooooooooo his mom's the key to power?! Fuck yeah! Michelle Yeoh is amazing

Fast and furious energy with that fast car( is it the the main guy's brother?)

What a mood that he's actually an Uber driver😂

I hope those girls gave him a good tip since they got sick in his car

I have the same alarm tone😂😂

MICHELLE! (I wonder if the footage on the TV is of Michelle's panda that she adopted)

Wait

Is she a nurse? 😂

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww she's so proud of her baby🥺

My mom also makes me text her when I get to school 😂

Love how she's just like 'go get smart'🥺

Bruce is painfully relatable with his awkward thumbs up flirting

Bruce: *pulls crumbled up dollars from his pocket and pushes it towards the lady* How much education would this buy me?

Lady: 'there's 7 dollars here.'

Poor Bruce, he spent his tuition money on improv classes 😂

'Dude, I am not a criminal!' nah but your family is😂

The way he's trying to justify selling drugs is so funny yet relatable in how college is so freaking expensive

Love that the main guy is happily getting some pastries 😂

Oh no he's just led the bad guy's to his Mama's house 🥺

Is no one even home?😂 He looks like he's been preparing himself the whole flight over😂 Awkward

Awww, he's seeing all the pictures of his mom having fun with his brother 🥺

Oop now he's fighting

DUDE HAVE YOU NO RESPECT THAT'S HIS MAMA'S HOUSE?!

Me: *makes notes* get ✍️ electric ✍️ fly✍️swatter - Oooooooooooo ✍️and a pineapple ✍️

The way that he's pausing to smoke and give the guy a cigarette 😂

Ooof, that was yucky🫣👀( the dude literally pulled his hard through the knife)

I'd make a joke about how pepper spray is not really that effective when your house is broken into and there's a lot of violence that have taken place, but it's Michelle yo so she makes it an insanely deadly weapon

Michelle: 'Bruce' wrong son, don't worry Bruce is fine selling some drugs

Love that her first words to her eldest kid is 'who's this?'

He brought pastries, he's a good son😂

She insulted his beard 😂 and is making him clean up

Dude used the good knife to fight? Disrespectful 😂

Love how they're just cooking while a dead dude is there😂

'not soft, sensitive'😂

Michelle: 'he thinks his father is a gambler and you're an Antarctica working with penguins'

Brother: 'fuck'

DUDE YOUR MAMA MADE YOU FOOD YOU SHOULD EAT IT

Wait, I feel like the club is the same one Bruce is at😂

Bruce, you should've logged into the guy's network just for giggles 😂

Bruce is such a mood

Bruce, in a room of sketchy people who are probably killers: "Hello sir nice to meet you, I'm Bruce."

Oh May is totally a killer

And I kinda love her

Oooooo it is the same club!!!

Bruce: "WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY SOME DRUGS?! I'M NOT A COP!" Relatable

Ooooooooo Bruce is trying to sell his brother snow/pearl/nose candy/disco biscuit 😂

Oof, Charles got tasered

Poor Bruce is so confused 😂

Love that their grandmother carries a taser 😂

"I could prove it by killing all of you. Or you could just check my ID."😂

May is fangirling😂

Love that she's like: 'sometimes family's are fucked up'

Bruce: 'wait, dad's rich? And I'm driving for Lyft?!' what a mood

Poor Bruce is so scared 😂

Charles: "Bruce, do me a favor, don't tell Mom." :)

Bruce: 'WhAt?' :(

Boom shockaloca

Bruce: "We can't come in here looking like this! Mom's gonna freak!"

Charles, barely able to stand and covered in blood: "I found Bruce, he's safe"

Meanwhile, their mom is in the kitchen in an apron, shower cap and getting ready to cut up a body: "Charles go get changed. We gotta get rid of the body. Bruce, go to bed. You got a test tomorrow." She's got her priorities straight, that's for sure

The way the brothers looked at each other as their mom starts drilling into the bad guy😂

This show is a comedy truly