#anyway these are so ugly music shows are so humbling

[hoshingi]

HOSHI ✯ 241017 Love, Money, Fame

[temptaetions]

cinnamon sugar 🌙 k.sm (m)

a/n: the photo above is from seungmin's instagram. i don't own the media, but i sure was blessed to see it. anyway, i think this is my first post with like...actual smut in it. please forgive me, because it is so shitty, i'm so bad at writing it. anyway, uhm, enjoy! my anon ask is now on, if you'd like to send any requests in!

synopsis: her lips taste sweet, like cinnamon sugar...she's such a treat.

genre: best friends to lovers | idiots in love | x fem!reader | smut | fluff | angst

pairing(s): best friend!kim seungmin x virgin!reader

word count: 6k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warning(s): swearing, mutual pining, a lot of emotional turmoil from both parties, horribly written smut [between k.sm x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, soft d/s themes, (slight) overuse of pet names (angel, sweetheart) oral (f. receiving), paragraphs of praise, so much kissing, some grinding, the lightest amount of nipple play. riding/missionary, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, they stare into each others eyes and hold hands while fucking oh my god]. this is slightly self indulgent but the guilt i feel after writing it, and so badly at that, is overwhelming.

what to listen to: gaze - sweetback | eat it - megan thee stallion | agora hills - doja cat | real love - mary j. blige | whatta man - salt-n-pepa & en vogue

message from: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:32pm] i’m coming to pick u up, i want a cinnabon.

message to: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:33pm] ur paying 🤑

"can i get aux?" you say as you slide into seungmin's car. the leather of the passenger seat was cool to the touch, a sign that nobody had sat in your self-assigned seat. "hello to you too, best friend. how was my day? oh, it was lovely! it's so nice to see you, too!" "oh, shut up, min. you don't give a shit if i ask those questions or not." you chuckle, snatching his aux cable out of the center console. "you know me so well, fuck. i hate small talk. just merge souls with me." you and seungmin had been best friends for over ten years. he knew you inside and out - from your scalp to the bottom of your feet (including the scar from his razor scooter slamming into your ankle at age sixteen.)

you shared a lot of interests, but none as intense as your love of music and cinnamon rolls. he was always at your dance recitals. your biggest fan, really. he cheered, but never showed you more praise than necessary.

"i need you to stay humble, it helps me tolerate you." he murmured into your hair after one recital last year. you just shook your head in amusement, holding it high as you let him march you to his car for dinner.

"oh, i updated our playlist! i have a few new things on here." you said excitedly as you scrolled through the playlists on your homepage. you shared this love language – you had dozens of collaborative playlists with user ksm922, and you giggled at the ugly photos of the two of you he often used for the covers.

"sure." he shrugs, using his pinky to turn the volume dial up. your eyes trail on his slender fingers as they return to the wheel, but you shake it off just as quickly. pressing play, you let the smooth r&b sounds fill the car.

"oh, this is nice. what is this?" seungmin nods his head along to it, and you glance at the screen. "gaze by sweetback. it played on my sade station, and the vibes are just so kim seungmin, yanno?" you close your eyes and fake being a disc-jockey, his hand coming to pinch your arm lightly, a chuckle playing on his lips. "stop that, you'd be a horrible deejay."

"are you sure this isn't about sex? geez, bub, act like you get some." he teases, and you swat his arm. "i do get some!" "oh yeah? from who?" his eyes are trained on the road as he bullies you about your sex life (or lack thereof), allowing you a moment to stare at his ringed fingers. oh, the way they gripped the wheel, they could so easily grip your neck–

shut up, y/n.

"your mom." you huff, crossing your arms with a pout. you hated this conversation, and you often avoided it with him. yes, seungmin was your best friend, but you never wanted to talk about your sex life with him. he had experiences…and you heard from so many people how good it was.

with him, to be specific.

"what are we, thirteen? you wish my mother would breathe in your direction, you fucking virgin." he scoffs, and you force a snicker out. you glance at your phone, a smirk threatening to escape as it started. "oh, this one is good. turn it up!" he obliged, not even giving the screen a second look.

you settle in your seat as megan thee stallion's voice blares through the speakers, muffling a soft laugh behind your hand. seungmin hated the idea of you being a sexual being, and you often used it to bother him. you liked seeing him get red in the face, and squirm. it doesn't mean you understood it, but it was hilarious.

legs shakin', hit it 'til the bed breaking…bed springing, talk to it…

seungmin's mouth is agape, his cheeks firetruck red…

i don't want just one nut, daddy, i need the whole tree, ah…

…before his nimble fingers press skip. 

"are you serious, y/n? in my christian minecraft server?" his eyes are still fixed on the road, his knuckles turning white from his hold on the steering wheel. weird.

"it's megan! i love her, she's the hot girl coach. you don't want me to be a virgin forever, do you?" you joke, and he scrunches his nose. "since when do you listen to music about getting your…ugh, whatever. don't ever bring up sex appeal, you repulse me." you laugh loudly, your hand going to pinch his cheek softly. "you're so cute when you get flustered, min. here, i'll play pretty boy by the neighbourhood in your honor."

he can't stop thinking about it. it's been four hours since you played the song in the car, and it's still stuck in his head. well, what he did hear.

you, inherently, did not come across as a sexual being. you didn't, and that wasn't seungmin being just a platonic, nice friend – you genuinely did not care to be the core of anyone's sexual desire. you wore oversized shirts and loose jeans, the occasional dress paired with black pantyhose and boots. "gotta hide my ankles, minnie. that's how they getcha." but thinking about you…listening to that song? your hips winding down on some other man like he's seen you do on stage? hell, some other man's face when he's right here?

it made him sick.

and you were so beautifully unaware as you swirled your fork in your cinnamon roll, bringing the tines to your lips and sucking the icing clean off them. not a second lick or adjustment, just straight off. he felt his cheeks heat as his cock twitched in his pants, and he almost missed you waving your fingers in his face. "yo, you good? you seem distracted." you have a bit of icing on your lip, and he subconsciously reaches over to wipe it off. your eyes are wide as he does so, and he doesn't know why he can't move his thumb from your lip. he doesn't know why everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and he just watches as you instinctively suck your lip between your teeth at the loss of contact.

you're so pretty, fuck, you're so pretty.

"i'm good. do you want to go?" he's surprised to hear his own voice, and you nod absently. he was acting weird, he knew he was, but he feels like there's a fog in his brain that he can't shake. maybe it was the way he'd memorized every curve of your body, from watching your fluid dances. maybe it was the way that you smiled so innocently, you were so innocent. your eyes big and pure, your heart full, your mind…naïve.

he didn't understand the sudden urge to ruin you, but he knew he had to get over it, and fast.

"fuck." he groans, and your head whips around to look at him. "you okay?"

he nods quickly, his hand landing on the small of your back to guide you to the car faster. "min, if you have to shit, you can just say that." "ugh, shut up. you always say the most unhinged shit. no wonder you can't get laid." he rolls his eyes, and you just laugh. "trust me, it's not for lack of opportunity." you let him open the door for you, and you wink at him playfully, his fingers flicking your forehead before shutting the door. it was true, multiple of your friends had offered to…deflower you. hyunjin, on your dance team. minho, on your production team. felix, your choreographer. even their friends in the music department had offered, and you simply smiled, shaking your head at them. "i just like to flirt, your dick is your problem."

but much like seungmin, they had all seen the way you moved. how easily you sunk to your knees, how smooth your gyrations were, the way you looked like you enjoyed it. you felt good knowing people were attracted to you, but it never compared to what you believed was seungmin's innocent gaze.

it was weird to want more from him, and it pained you, slightly. he was cute, your best friend. cute, experienced, and he knew you. he knew you so well, what could go wrong? he could reject you, that's what.

you're in your own head when you realize the car has been moving, and rather fast, at that. "min, seriously. are you shitting your pants?" you roll your eyes, and he brings the car to a screeching halt. "bro, your brakes." you cringe, covering your ears as he pulls into his driveway.

"are you going to kill me? no way, jisung always said i'd go out this way. please, tell my mother i love her and make sure i get the best spot in heaven." you feign terror as you unbuckle your seatbelt, not noticing the way seungmin can't even look at you. you feel how hard he slams his door, and you give his car a pitiful look as you slide out, following him to his apartment. he lived on the first floor, what a privilege.

he doesn't look at you as he walks into the apartment, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. "y/n, i have a question."

"oh? mr. attitude has a question, does he?" you smile sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest, the cowhide leather of the letterman you stole from him in high school rough against your skin. "alright, let's hear it." "why are you still a virgin?" okay, not what you were expecting. don't let it fluster you. you don't really notice his hardened expression as you try to answer. "well…it's just not on my list of priorities. i'll get fucked when i get fucked, you know?"

you shrug, not thinking much of your answer as he steps closer. "hm, i don't buy it."

raising an eyebrow, you shake your head, unbuttoning the jacket. "you're acting so weird, seungmin. if you wanna fuck me, just say that."

you sound surprisingly confident, and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you slide the jacket off, draping it over the couch. you gather your hair forward, spinning to speak to him again. "did you still want to watch the mov-" you're cut off by his lips pressing against yours, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. you can't move, your hands frozen as he works you carefully, lips burning against your own. his movements feel desperate, and you let your body take over as you kiss him back, a soft sigh escaping his lips as your tongue slips between them. the kiss is hungry, his hands are digging into you so deeply you're sure you'll bruise. 

he stops. his fingers let go of your hips, and he pulls away, your lips chasing after his as he does. your lip gloss is glittering on his face, before he covers his eyes. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i have no idea what came over me, i…i'm sorry, please, let me take you home."

you can't speak, your mind still swirling with endorphins. your best friend of ten years just made the biggest move on you, and without a word, you managed to fumble it. no way. absolutely not.

"sorry for what? i'm not understanding." you suddenly feel very vulnerable, your skin littering with goosebumps at the sudden change in the air. "i'm perfectly fine with…whatever you were doing."

seungmin peers back at you through dark eyes. "no, y/n. we can't." he swipes his keys off the table, and you huff. "and why can't we, seungmin? what is so bad about kissing me?" his eyes are wide as you ramble, and it's all word vomit. you can't seem to stop it, but he's drinking every word.

"what is it? am i a bad kisser? is it because i'm a virgin? i don't think it's very fair that you can openly admit to being other girls' firsts but you can't even do that for me. you haven't even offered. i'm not saying you fucking have to, because you're my best friend and you always will be. but holy fuck, seungmin, i'm trying to get some. you said i should, so why not be the one i get it from?" 

you're out of breath, and seungmin just shakes his head as he takes one, two steps back in front of you. "you think i don't want to be your first? you think i don't want you all to myself, to ruin you for anyone else? you think i don't want to fuck you stupid, until all you know is my name? are you hearing yourself right now?"

"you're certainly not acting like it. it doesn't have to mean shit, seungmin. it's just sex." you roll your eyes, leaning on the couch. "it's not just sex, y/n. this is a huge step for you, for us. our friendship is on the line, and i don't want to do something you might regret later." you shake your head, and he hates when you get stubborn like this, you won't listen to reason. "still not seeing the issue here. i lose my virginity and gain some experience for the next guy, you get your dick wet. we go to bed, and we act like it didn't happen in the morning. you take me home, we listen to our playlists on the way there, and we go about our days."

he flings his keys onto the floor, his hands reaching to hold your face. he tucks a few strands behind your ears, fingers lovingly caressing your pierced lobes before he looks you dead in the eyes. "y/n, if i give you what you want tonight, there is no chance in hell you're going to fuck someone else."

you stare back at him silently, your eyes darting to his lips before your tongue peeks out to wet your own. it's not the worst thing in the world, being with seungmin. it could be good…and not just the sex. he knows you, you know him…his lips felt like they were made for you. they always had, since your drunken kiss on christmas eve.

"you say that like it's a threat." you challenge, and he bites back a smile, nodding his head. his hand has traveled to your hip, his other still holding your face when his nose touches yours, his breath hitting your lips. "if you want me to stop at any point, just let me know. understand, sweetheart?"

you nod, leaning forward to connect your lips. he pulls back, shaking his head. "i need to hear you say you understand."

"jeez, seungmin, i understand. i get it, can we please move this along?" you're not the least bit embarrassed as you whine against him, and he lets you kiss him. your lips are eager, your hands carding through his hair as he licks into your mouth. the kiss is all teeth and tongue, a soft moan interrupting it as he gives your clothed breast a gentle squeeze, his thumb working over your pebbled nipple. "min, i…" "what, tell me what you want, sweetheart." his lips trail down your jaw, nipping along your exposed neck carefully. your whines are like heaven to him, "n-need you.." "aw, you need me? need me where?" he's loving this, the way you squirm under his lips, under his nimble fingers. you push your chest into him involuntarily, "h-here. please?"

you grab his wrist, a wave of confidence taking over as you guide his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants. his fingers are cool against your clothed heat, a soft wet patch forming on the fabric. his eyes are wide as he instinctively lets his hand run over the spot, watching as you flinch, lip caught between your teeth. he presses hard against you, a gasp falling from your mouth. "i haven't even touched you, and look at how wet you are for me. a little pathetic, hm?" "'m’ yours, minnie. always, always been yours." you don’t mean that, he thinks. he's letting you grind against his hand, his gaze transfixed on your face. your brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut as you used his hand to get yourself to the edge. his cock twitches at the little pants falling from your lips, when he decides he's had enough. you nearly cry at the loss of contact, his hand escaping the confines of your plush thighs. "minnie-" "if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my face. let's go, sweetheart." he tugs you towards his bedroom, your legs weak as you try not to stumble behind him. "bed. on your back."

he's pulling his sweater over his head, and you nearly coo at his messy hair in your fucked out state. he feels a flush coat his cheeks as you lay there, waiting for him to tug your pants off. hooking his fingers in your waistband, you lift your hips to make it easier, and he slides your underwear and sweatpants off in one go. you suddenly feel shy, closing your legs. 

"ah, ah. it's just me, sweetheart. do you want to stop?" his hands move to your knees, the cool metal of his rings sending a soft shock to your spine. "no, i'm…okay. i'm just nervous." "it's okay, angel. i got you, don't worry." he presses a kiss to your forehead, nose…lips. he lingers there a bit, but doesn't let it deepen as he runs his hands down your legs. his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling them apart for him to settle between. you're soaking, the heat of his stare making anxiety bubble in your stomach. "fuck, you're going to be the death of me." his lips press soft, chaste kisses along your inner thigh, nipping carefully as you mewl. "minnie, please..i..please…" you end in a whimper, and who is he to deny you when you beg so nicely? he buries his nose in your pussy, bumping your clit as he lets his tongue drag through your folds, collecting your sweet, sweet arousal on his face. your hand flies to his hair as his lips suck on your clit, thighs threatening to close around his head. he doesn't care, he'd die a happy man right there between your legs.

"f-fuck, seungmin, ah! right there, holy f-fuh.." you're shaking around his head, bucking your hips into his face as gently as you can muster. he loves it, but he can't tell you that as he drowns in the scent of you, the obscene sounds of his tongue against you paired with your pretty whimpers ensuring he'd probably cum in his pants. "oh, b-baby i'm gonna.."

his hand reaches for yours, interlacing your trembling fingers with his, his other hand massaging your thigh in encouragement. he can barely bring himself to talk, a soft moan of his against your clit sending you over the edge, a soft cry of his name echoing in the room. "that's it, good job angel. you did so well for me, hm?" he's still lapping at you, not wanting to miss a single shiver or whimper from your body. "s'always that good? min?" he peers up at you from his spot between your legs, your lips parted as you blink, a tear rolling down the side of your face. he moves up to wipe it away, but you take his hand in yours, kissing his palm softly. "you okay? we can stop." he presses his forehead against yours, not able to process your cute gesture without wanting to bawl. you nod, a lazy smile crossing your lips as you reach to kiss him. "m'all good, minnie. do you…want me to help you?"

you can feel his clothed cock pressing against your leg, practically begging to be set free, and you teasingly buck up against it. he inhales sharply, shaking his head, "i want tonight to be about you. i want to make sure you feel good, okay? are you sure you want to continue?" "yeah, m'all yours." you sigh against his lips, a chaste kiss from you to him. "can i take this off, sweetheart?" he yanks lightly on your shirt, and you nod. you help him tug it over your head, your fingers reaching backwards to unclasp your bra. he feels like all the air is sucked out of the room as you lay beneath him, for him, in all your glory. every curve he's imagined just as gorgeous. "you're staring, it's making me shy." your soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "no, no, fuck, you're gorgeous. look at you, oh my god, i.." he trails off, his hands resting on your tummy. "you just went down on me, and you're short-circuiting over my tits, kim?" your teasing is not helping his brain, but the attitude brings him back to reality. "you know that's not all it is, stop it." he rolls his eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. it's soothing, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. he dips his head between your breasts, trailing open mouthed kisses all over your chest and stomach. "you're so beautiful. i'm literally the luckiest person in the entire universe." he's mumbling to himself mostly, but you feel soft tears prick at your eyes. his lips latch around one of your nipples, a gasp from you making him pull off with a pop. "can i…are you sure you want this, y/n? i really, really don't want you to regret this."

you grab his face in your hands, your thumbs lightly padding over his cheeks. "i want you, entirely. in this life, in the next life. okay? i got you, don't worry." you echo his words back to him, and he bites his lip, a hint of something in his eyes as he pulls back to unbuckle his pants. kicking them off quickly, you wait until he straightens to take a peek. 

the rumors were true. he's thick, his tip a soft mauve. your mouth is watering at the sight, when a snap of his fingers catches your attention. "eyes up here, sweetheart. i want you to look at me, can you do that?"

you nod, a shy smile on your lips as he goes to spread your knees again. "no, wait, minnie…" he feels his heart skip a beat at your voice, eyes flickering to yours in concern. "i…can i be on top? i read that…it can be better that way." you swallow thickly, and he feels the tips of ears burn but a smile grazes his features. "you studied for sex?"

any awkwardness is gone. you scoff, a light smack landing on his arm. "forgive me for wanting to be in control."

"you want to be in control? okay. fine, but you won't last long." he shrugs, sliding onto the bed behind you, eyes taking in the curve of your ass before you turn. "lay back, asswipe." "watch the attitude, or i'm shutting this shit down." he says, eyes serious as you feel your cheeks heat. you watch as he gets comfortable on his pillows, and you crawl over to him, your hands brushing against his sides as you straddle him. "we can go as slow as you want, okay?" his words are reassuring as his hands reach for your thighs, and you nod.

you take a deep breath, lightly letting your cunt drag along his length, his tip bumping your clit. you shiver, a buzz going up your legs as he takes your hips in his hands, manually guiding you over his cock. "did you read about this too?"

"shut up." you roll your eyes, his hands holding you in place. he looks…so convincing like this. like everything will go back to normal after this, like everything will be the same. he'll still be your best friend, and you'll still be desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with him. it's overwhelming, and you just bite your lip, shaking your head. "you're staring." "your dick is twitching, but i'm not saying shit." scoffing, you take him in your hand gently, lining him up with your aching center. you sink down slowly, the tip barely swiping your entrance when you grimace, a hiss escaping your lips as you screw your eyes shut. "i know, angel. here, let me help you." seungmin pulls you closer, his back against his headboard, careful not to pull out. you watch as his hand snakes between the two of you, his thumb softly circling your clit, your eyes threatening to close. "eyes open." you oblige, feeling a gush of arousal at his command, and you have no room to feel embarrassed when he begins to shallowly fuck into you, matching the pace of his thumb. your eyes are glossy as you move your hands to hold onto the headboard, your chest flush to his face. he kisses your shoulder, your soft whimpers music to his ears. 

"deeper? or stay like this?" he asks, voice shaking slightly, the warmth of your pussy almost staggering. it's humiliating how worked up you have him, but you need to stay humble. it helps him tolerate you. "d-deeper, is okay."

his arms wrap around your waist tightly, slowly pulling you down further, a whine escaping your throat as your hands move to his shoulders, your eyes meeting his. he's trying not to cum from the way your pretty cunt swallowed him so perfectly, taking him so well. made for him, just him. "m'so full, minnie." you clench around him, and it takes all his willpower not to finish. he's not far, he's practically seeing stars…but the way you're looking at him, you're so pretty, so ready to cry over his cock. he needs to drag this out as long as he can.

"y-you can move, if you want. p-please, want to feel you." you're pleading, he knows. he swallows, confidence wavering as he nods, slowly thrusting up into you, the squelch immediately catching his attention, eyes tearing from yours. he watches the way you take him, your body begging to be ruined by him. he moves a little faster, your mind beginning to blur as he falls into a rhythm. 

your nails are digging into his shoulders, your lip caught between your teeth as his hips rock against yours. his eyes flicker back to your face, and you manage a quick wink. he feels his cheeks burn beet red as he looks away. he feels like such a fucking virgin, when he is the one that's your first, not the other way around. pretty girl on his lap and he can't even look at you.

he wishes you had been his first, too, and he wishes you would have asked him sooner. you're so smart, you're so gorgeous, your lips taste like cinnamon sugar. fuck, he loves you. you're his best friend, you feel so good around him and you know him so well. he loves you, so fucking much.

his hips come to a slow, your moan drawing out as he drags his cock against your walls at an agonizing pace. "'still want to be in control, angel?" his lips press to your clavicle, and you nod against his neck. "will you tell me if it's good?"

he pulls you back, hand coming up to caress your face. "how could it not be, when it's you?"

you don't say a word, allowing his lips to meet yours in a chaste kiss. he slumps a bit, and you maneuver so his back is almost flat on the bed, and you try not to moan as the movement makes his cock hit you just right. "whenever you're ready, just use me how you want to." you feel a flutter in your stomach, giving an experimental roll of your hips, your hands flat on his side. raising your hips, your thighs tremble as you start a rhythm, bouncing on him carefully. he's watching you, the way you move so fluidly, like you're dancing. like you're enjoying him, using him, making his brain feel useless. he can't speak, just drinking in this picture of you he's never going to get to see again after tonight, taking in your throaty moans.

"m-minnie?" your eyes are low, your hands moving to his chest, pushing your breasts together. fuck, you are art. "y-yeah?" 

he can't even focus as you whimper, clamping around him like a vice, moving slightly faster. "m'close, i can't..i.." you're still looking at him, and he can't. he can't take it, using his strength to flip you on your back. he interlaces your fingers, pinning your hands above you as he roughly fucks into you, sharp cries falling from your lips.

his head dips, lips dragging along your jaw as he whispers in your ear. "this is where you belong. under me, begging for me. got it?"

you feel chills cover your body as you nod, "y-yes, god, yes." "good girl." he's so unsure of himself, he's so afraid he'll scare off your high but he needs to know. "did you mean what you said earlier?" he's speaking through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the gloss in your eyes.

"hmm?" your brows furrow, your bitten lips slightly agape as his thrusts become sloppy, and he just shakes his head, opting to kiss you instead. hoping it'll help the knot in his stomach go away, hoping it will help you forget he asked. you can't help but pant into his mouth, feeling him smile against your lips. "you can let go, sweetheart. you did so well for me, yeah? i got you." you don't register how tightly you squeeze his fingers, or how deeply you're kissing him as you feel the white hot sensation rip through you. he's drunk off you, and you can feel him spurting inside you, his cum trickling out of you as his thrusts come to a slow, slow, stop.

but he doesn't, his lips don't. he can't stop kissing you, he doesn't want to talk. he doesn't want to tell you how you made him feel, how he can never see you the same again. he doesn't want to watch you walk out of his apartment tonight and possibly never be able to talk you again. he doesn't want to ever, ever hear about you doing this with some other guy, but he made his bed. 

your thighs are trembling around him, and you tug your fingers out of his grasp, pulling as far away from his mouth as you physically can. he pouts, chasing after them, only stopping when your eyes blink slowly at him.

"you alright?" his voice is soft, almost scared. you nod, swallowing thickly as you look away, tears forming in your eyes. "ah, talk to me, y/n. it's okay." "i meant it. what i said, earlier. i…don't know why i said it, i never planned on saying it. i'm sorry if it's going to make things awkward." you feel a tear escape, your hand quickly pawing it away. "awkward? with you? it’s not possible." he murmurs, and you glance at him, but he's staring at the pillows above your head.

"but you don't feel the same way." you say, almost as if you're trying not to hurt your feelings by letting your own words reject you, instead of him. he shifts, and you realize he's still inside you. he props himself up on his elbows, hands holding his head up as he peers at you. "you think i don't?"

"i know you don't." you laugh coldly, and he smiles. "yeah, miss sex expert? you know everything? did you read that, too?"

"ugh, stop. i'm never telling you anything again." you're becoming increasingly aware of your nudity, and seungmin can feel the hot flame of shame creeping up his back. he shakes his head, hating the way his blushing cheeks burn so bright. "i want you to tell me everything, forever. i love knowing you, i love trusting you. i'm glad you trusted me with this."

you can't look at him. his hand moves to make you look at him, fingers lightly squeezing your jaw. "and i meant what i said, too. you can't fuck anyone else. only i can see you like this, okay?"

his eyes are searching your face, watching you attempt to nod. "and…" he sighs, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "and i love you. i love your smile, and how you laugh when you play sex songs in the car. i love when we split cinnamon rolls, because you always try to take the bigger piece as if i won't just let you have it. i love when you say my name because it rolls so nicely off your tongue. i love how you move so effortlessly, and how you remember every little thing about anyone, ever. i love that you're funny, and you're so passionate. i love that you're so smart, far too smart to think that i wouldn't sell my soul to live an eternity by your side." his voice is trembling, and your eyes are wide and full of tears, full of adoration, of love for the stupid boy hovering above you.

"i love you, please. please say you're mine." his tears spill, and your lips part, a soft sob escaping as you pull him close, the cool metal of his necklace dragging against your damp skin. "i'm yours, always. i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours. i love you." you mumble against his lips, your tears mixing with his on your cheeks.

"thank fuck, i was about to end it all thinking about you doing that fucking trick on someone else." he mutters, and you snort as he buries his face. "that wasn't in the article, funnily enough. it just felt like the right thing to do. think if i pierced my clit, it'd feel better for you?" you ponder aloud, and he nips at your skin.

"don't even start, i haven't even pulled out." he groans, and you laugh loudly. "you're so pretty." he pouts, and rolls his eyes as they start filling with tears, your hand quickly wiping the ones that spilled. "is this going to happen every time? i kind of hate it."

"god, i hope so. i love seeing you like this for me." you tease, and he scrunches his nose. "shut up. stay humble, it's the only way i tolerate you." he nuzzles his nose back into your neck, and you let him stay there, carding your fingers through his hair.

"y/n?"

"yes, seungmin?" "i'm yours, you know that?"

"mmm, i do now. just mine?" "just yours. always." he nods as he pulls himself off you, placing a kiss on your temple, before brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. "someone has to fuck the attitude out of you, and i'm so glad it's gonna be me." you feel your skin heat at his words, and you smack him lightly. he gives a playful thrust, making you gasp before slowly pulling out. "you're off the hook for now, my angel. let's get you cleaned up." he doesn't stop kissing your face in the shower, or when he's shampooing your hair. he doesn't stop kissing your shoulders as he towels you dry, or your tummy when he works lotion into your skin. he can't keep his hands off you, even when you say you need to put clothes on. he can't get enough of the burn of your skin against his, and moves as fast as a human possibly can stripping the sheets off his bed and replacing them. 

he can't stop, and he won't stop kissing you, splitting cinnamon rolls with you, or singing sex songs in the car. he can't stop, and he won't stop, supporting you at your recitals and fucking you stupid as a reward. he can't stop, and he won't stop filling your cup until it's overflowing, making you laugh until you cry, and dragging moans of his name from your throat.

he can't stop, and he will never stop, loving you.

temptaetions © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day Day 41: Feel Good by Gibbz ft. Russ Liquid

I'm having trouble writing because I'm having trouble deciding what's worth saying. What is there to say that hasn't been said already. I'm but one monkey with a typewriter, cut me some slack.

I've been thinking about taste, and recommendations, and what the music we like says about us. I've been thinking about arrogance, and cruelty, and a little bit about No True Scotsman fallacies, too. I just. I don't know. What is "good" music and why are so many people fans of "bad" music.

I don't think bad music even exists, at least not really. I think music like any medium has so many competing and often contradictory delivery methods, goals, audiences, and interpretations that a categorical verdict like that is, frankly, Quixotic. I think about things like Throbbing Gristle and Clown Core, like Taylor Swift and Imagine Dragons, like Jungkook and 21 Savage and JVKE and Drake and AJR and all of the people who would say you're not listening to "real music" or "good music". There's a pity that's normalized with the superiority of your music tastes.

On the other hand, the more you learn and deeper you dive into anything, the more repetition you hear. The more you see things as hackneyed or trite. You've seen it before, heard it before, etc. You learn when someone was stolen from, when an artist is just rehashing something or taking from an entire genre/subculture that they weren't part of. Wider eyes see the ugly truths right?

I don't know. It's tough. I wonder if there's an answer that's satisfactory.

I saw Gibbz live, actually. Back in... 2017? I was seeing... I think A SIlent Film? With my good friend Katie. This was back when she would suggest we go see a band and I would just say yes. I think Gibbz opened. I don't remember. Shout Out Rock and Roll Hotel, I miss that venue.

Gibbz wasn't what I was expecting. A little smooth, a little mischievous. Like a wink between good friends. Electronic but soulful. A Silent Film was more classic, traditional rock. Gibbz was one guy at the front with a synth and a crooner's deathgrip on the microphone.

I went up and spoke to him after his set. It was a small venue, he was an opening artist, I just told him I loved his stuff and I really loved I Really Love You (which is still my favorite Gibbz song, for the record). He was kind. He said thanks, and how it was humbling to be playing live. It was a nice interaction.

I think, given the time and money to do so, I want to get back to doing this. Just going to shows blind, of artists I've never heard of, in genre's I've never imagined.

What does all this have to do with taste. I meander, I know. I'll bring it back.

I think I have pretty basic, milquetoast tastes. I like pretty average music. I have a passing interest in things with more obscurity- I like melodic forms of metal, I keep a finger on the pulse of industrial for Lauren. I'm finding myself drawn more to house, classical, and jazz. I like Math Rock.

But cards on the table, my favorite type of music with a bullet is Hot Pop Girlies Having Fun (tm). The Sabrina Carpenters. The Dua Lipas. My second favorite type of music is apparently Men Being Sad (the Hoziers of the world). I don't think that's ever going to change. And I'm trying to be more ok with that. I'm trying to stop letting audience or surveilance or observation change what I like and what I enjoy. I'm trying to unlearn shame.

I don't know. I just want to listen to something I love. You know?

I've stopped sharing music with a lot of people in my life (I'm aware of the irony of having that rumination on this kind of post, thanks). There's like 3 people I share music with IRL and I basically only listen to music with headphones these days. I want to make music one day but I'm struggling to see what the point is. I gotta remember the effusive joy that comes from creation, but I also need to remember, somehow, some way, that sharing music is good, actually.

Anyways, enjoy this song. I hope you feel how this song feels, at least to me. Chill, soulful, grateful to be alive, and above all, I hope that you feel good.

You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.

[icedfae]

(—) ★ spotted!! DEXTER O’MALLEY on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 29 year old looks like JOE KEERY, but i don’t really see it. while  the SINGER is known for being PERCEPTIVE my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be SELF SACRIFICING i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song LUCK by AMERICAN AUTHORS  {he/him / cismale}

i’m sorry father, i know i let you down

basics

Name: Dexter Ignatius O’Malley Age:  Twenty-Nine DOB: October 6, 1993 Gender: Cismale  Occupation: Singer/Songwriter ( career/vc claims: blackbear, chri$tian gate$ ) Parents: Kenneth and Hillary O’Malley Siblings: Christian O’Malley (elder brother/label owner), Keira O’Malley (Actress)

i’m sorry for how i up and left this town

biography

Dexter’s father, Kenneth, was always the sort of dreamer, wanted to make a life for himself in music. He even moved out to LA as a starry eyed young adult to make it happen. The problem was, it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Eventually, he gave up on his dreams and never really spoke about it.

Kenny O’Malley eventually made his life work. He met and married a wonderful woman and eventually had three kids. While his eldest was a much more practical man, staying humble throughout his entire life, the other two were entirely different scenarios. His middle child, the only daughter, wanted nothing more than to be on the silver screen and ran away to LA just as her old man had done years before that. Dexter, however, didn’t want to rock the boat anymore than she already had. Much like his father, music was his passion and he had a knack for it. Between a pretty face and the ability to write music, Dexter managed to get himself a meeting with a record label at fifteen years old.

His father, angered by the fact that he was able to live out the dreams they both shared instead of being grateful for his son’s ambitions coming to fruition, gave him an ultimatum. Give up music or get out of his house. So Dexter packed his things and moved in with his older sister.

At first, Dexter was able to focus on his budding career and not have to deal with the feeling of rejection from his father. He wasn’t going to be a wash up like him, that should have been enough but the jealousy that Kenny had fully destroyed Dexter’s confidence. It took a top 100 hit to start to rebuild it.

Unfortunately, that also made Dexter grow a bit of an ego. It was hard to deny how much pleasure he got from being adored by fans, made him an ugly person. Luckily for him, his sister didn’t let that last longer.

The persona of ‘aspiring to be like a Greek God’ morphed from being his truth to once again an act, a performance just as he would do at any show.

Nowadays, Dexter can be found still trying to be the life of the party. After nearly fifteen years in the business, he knows how to navigate staying relevant and keeps his personal life, well, personal. Too many blown up friendships and relationships -- including his ex-fiancee, to count and Dexter slowly became tired of losing people. He just needed to remember how to shut his damn mouth sometimes.

please just listen, ‘cause i don’t ask for much

things to note

He still tries to call his family every Sunday evening. Most of the time his mother answers, his brother will speak to him but his father never wants anything to do with him. That he ‘made his choice’. It still feels like a stab every time it happens. He continues to try anyways.

100% was an asshole in his teens and early twenties. His sister knocked some sense into him and now he only acts that way if the situation calls for it. It’s easier to not be hurt if people don’t want to necessarily be around you all the time.

If someone breaks down those walls he puts up, Dexter is one of the most genuinely kind people you will even encounter. He will sacrifice himself every single time if that’s what it takes to make someone he loves happy.

Lately, he’s been focusing less on releasing his own music and producing others. He knows he had a fortunate career and wants to help someone out with theirs.

i am my own man, i make my own luck

[hgsummerofcode]

OH NO I forgot to post the update! So I made two “major” (kind of) changes to ghost dating sim the past couple of weeks.

First is this:

Before, I directly animated willow in a static way with godot’s built-in animation player node. Now, Willow will float towards a point in space using lerp, and the point is what’s animated. This feels more natural and allows willow to float behind the player when they’re moving, like in the gif above.

I did remove the shadows because it would take a lot of effort to make them work properly and I think it looks fine without it. It gets the point across anyway. Maybe once everything else is built out I’ll re-implement shadows, but honestly it’s a low priority.

The other change, and the one that I’m most proud of, is this:

I redesigned the dialogue box and got rid of the ugly rectangle version. I also added a space for names. I’m thinking about adding a little bubble tail that points to the character speaking as well, kind of like in Sonic Advance? Idk I don’t want to mess with it too much, but I’ll see how it looks at least. Then I made this animation that flips through any number of choices! This was a pain in the ass, but I *really* like how it turned out. Finally, I greyed out the character that isn’t actively speaking and the choices that aren’t selected. In my humble onion, I think this looks really good.

Next up (in rough order of priority):

Player walkaround sprite

Sounds and music

Tilesets, ghost sprites, and portraits for the 4 rooms.

Redo porch area to show the greenhouse and garage. Also make tiles for the area beyond the gate.

Menu and inventory system

Move Willow in front of/behind the player based on inputs. Maybe also randomly switching when standing still?

Dialogue box tails/pointers

Write the dialogue

Shadows

My to-do list never seems to get smaller, huh? I wonder if I can have this MVP/demo done by the end of the year? I just got a job and I’m also taking classes starting on the 30th, but… I’ll try! That will be my goal.

[imgonnapanic]

Third gym squad with a theater kid s/o:

Kuroo Tetsurou

Tbh, he knew what he was signing up for when he started dating you.

He’s just not used to it, because he doesn’t have many extroverted friends who aren’t annoying pieces of-

I can envision you both going on the hub to watch pirated musicals. Hamilton, Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, you name it.

He loooves your singing voice, even if it’s your nervous purposely bad one.

You love the musicals that include allll the good stuff (trauma, death, tragedy, etc.)

Or the iconic ones. You can’t forget about those.

So you’re less-than-thrilled when your school chooses “Honk! The Musical” for this years play.

It’s a spin off of the ugly duckling that no one has heard of.

And when you come up to Kuroo sulking about this boring play you’re emotionally obliged to do, he can’t help but laugh a little.

But his laughter stops when he sees your eyes down at your shoes.

And then he shuts the fuck up because you’re actually upset.

After assuring that you will still be Broadway material even if you’re dressed up as a goose, you feel a little better.

In the two weeks leading up to auditions, Kuroo is starting to get caught humming “A Poultry Tale” at practice.

I mean, his Spotify feed went from Kendrick Lamar to Legally Blonde within one month of dating you, so cut the guy a break.

The day of auditions, you’re a bundle of nerves as you go over the dumb song again and again.

And Kuroo is like “calm down babe you’re gonna do great.”

That sure did a ton.

“Shut up Heather”

...

“Sorry Heather”

He’s also a bundle of nerves at practice, though. He just couldn’t let you see it.

By now, all of the Nekoma team knows you’re auditioning today, and the minute he walks in he just holds up a hand.

“They’re auditioning as we speak”

He’s not surprised when you get the lead.

He looks like the cat who ate the canary he’s a little amused when he figures out the lead is named “Ugly” but by now he has learned to keep it on the inside.

Your schedule is now jam packed, but that’s okay, because Nationals are also coming up for Kuroo and needs to put in some extra hours at the gym anyways.

You better believe two months later Kuroo is making his entire team buy a ticket.

Kuroo didn’t even get to see you on opening night because of dress rehearsals, but that’s okay.

He cleared his entire schedule that day and now has time to wallow in his own excitement and buy you some flowers.

He’s there with the squad team at 6PM sharp, dressed up, and trying to keep his dignity.

When you first walk on stage, the team snickers a little bit at your costume, but Kuroo was completely enraptured by your singing voice, your blocking, your makeup, everything.

This was much better than the demo CD that they had given you.

Afterwards, he gives you your flowers and is glued to your side for the rest of the night, babbling about how proud he was of you, and how talented you are, Nekoma team be damned.

Tsukishima Kei

Tsukki-poo already had a soft spot for the arts before he met you.

Not that he would tell anyone, ever.

When you started dating him though, it gave him an excuse to share his favorite soundtracks.

“you can hit that note, you know.”

*cue the arguing about how you aren’t Barbara Streisand*

When you two are walking through the hallway with him and you see the poster reading “Auditions for Karasuno High School’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ are open!” You start freaking out.

You love that movie! And Kei tolerates it!

Kei honestly thought you would be Ariel/Prince Eric when he first heard you singing “Part of Your World”

Like, you have the voice of a fucking lark. The directors have to be batshit crazy not to cast you.

In his humble opinion.

So he’s a bit taken aback when you get the role of Flounder, but he’s very proud anyways. Especially after you explain that there’s musical numbers that you’re in that aren’t in the movie.

He just hates your director for no reason now.

Practicing your lines with him in your free time becomes almost inevitable because you both have nothing else better to do.

And he can see how into it you are.

And let me just say that you are killing it.

Seriously. You have no problem getting into character, and Kei doesn’t say this much but-

It’s fucking adorable, okay? He has little goth moths in his stomach.

And he can’t wait to see the show, because then he can show you off.

That doesn’t mean he likes the other first years prying at your progress.

Hinata’s incessant questioning about theater anatomy and the memorization of your lines gets really annoying.

Even for someone with a normal temper like you-

“Yes it’s called the right wing. NOT wing spiker. Yes they’re off book. Now will you shut your trap already?”

Dress Rehearsals come, and you’re spinning around his room, face morphing from complete concentration to happy, go-lucky Flounder.

You, Kei, and Yamaguchi (your little third wheel-) all know the soundtrack pretty much up and down, left and right, backwards and inside out.

He still shivers remembering the time you just walked into his house not registering that Flounder’s makeup looks kind of scary up close-

All of his pride was sacrificed that day. All of it.

On the morning of opening night, Kei was walking you to the school, pretending to be bitchy about it being on a Saturday.

“C’mon, what am I supposed to do all day?”

As luck would have it, he’s stuck sitting next to one Hinata Shoyo. Lovely.

So he sat down next to him, and ignored him the whole show. I mean, it worked, he shut up after thirty seconds.

After the show, Kei has to wait a bit for you to take your makeup off, but when you come running out, he can’t hold back a tiny grin.

“That was good. I’m proud of you.”

And then he took you to dinner because singing makes a bad bleep hungry 😌

Bokuto Kotarou

Listen, you’re loud, Bokuto’s loud-

So basically you two are on a mission to not annoy Akaashi for as long as you can before inevitably getting yelled at for your affection and love and shit.

Now, both of you would love for this to be possible.

But the Frozen soundtrack makes it too difficult.

Especially when you can edit the lyrics just to piss off Konoha.

“Turn away and slAm the door *on Konoha”

“The wind is howling like the storm inside *of Konoha”

The possibilities are endless, really.

The game changer is when you two are belting out the song where Elsa and Anna are arguing.

And you accidentally hit the “I-i-I CANNNNT”

Akaashi is like for the love of GOD just audition for the play.

He quickly realizes that his suggestion was not a good idea.

Since guess what the musical is.

You’re auditioning as a joke, okay? You love Frozen, but this is a Fukurōdani Academy level play.

You didn’t expect to land the role of Olaf.

Your director sat you down and bluntly told you that he thought that you had the charisma and energy to be Olaf, but he knew that you were auditioning for a joke.

He needed you to be committed.

And hell yeah, you were gonna be committed.

At first, Bokuto was super proud of you! His s/o as a lead role? So impressive!

You even taught Bokuto your choreography for “In Summer”

He only retained half of it, but eh.

He’s a volleyball player. He tried.

As rehearsal times became longer and longer, Bokuto was a little upset at himself because he didn’t realize how committed you were until it hit him in the face.

Akaashi is there to get him out of his funk when you aren’t, though.

“They feel the same way when you need to be in the gym longer. It’s just a part of having a passion. Just utilize your time with them wisely.”

This bitch knows full well Bokuto doesn’t do ‘wise’ though, so he also sets to him a little more.

Dress rehearsals start, and Bokuto is always waiting for you to come out of the auditorium to ride the bus home.

You’re just bubbling over with stories about the magic of being on stage.

The lights, the microphones, the costumes, just talking about it makes you nostalgic already.

On opening night, Bokuto and Akaashi are there in the front row, going through the program.

“There’s y/n!!!!”

And you can’t see him because of the blinding spotlight, but you can hear Bokuto cheering for you after you finish “In Summer”

Afterwards he gives you a big hug, and you guys go home and watch Frozen.

Akaashi Keiji

When you start dating Akaashi in your second year at Fukurōdani, you’ve been on stage for the last ten years of your life.

Singing, acting, dancing, you love it all.

You’re even considering making it your career.

Akaashi doesn’t know much about theater at all, but he makes sure to do his research since it’s such a big part of your life.

The company you take acting classes with is having their winter show soon, and you couldn’t be happier when you figure out it’s ‘Into the Woods.’

Akaashi makes the mistake of asking the plot of the story.

“So basically there are these two infertile bakers with dead parents and there’s this witch that’s old and wrinkly and she comes to their house because fifty years ago the bakers dad stole her veggies and took the magic beans that made her look old and wrinkly-“

(A/n: this isn’t even half the plot)

He decides he’ll figure it out when he sees the play.

Akaashi knows that it’s a difficult one, though.

Sondheim doesn’t fuck around.

So you shouldn’t be beating yourself up about cracking on some of the high notes and screaming into your pillow.

He feels like an idiot every time you ask him to give you constructive criticism.

He doesn’t know what to say. “That was good” is obviously not what you want to hear.

When the date of your audition rolls around, he has early morning practice.

So he sends you a text saying how far you’ve come already and he’ll be proud even if you end up being a tree and break a leg (he’s very proud of that part. Theater lingo with Akaashi 101)

He’s very pleased to hear through your extremely fast and animated chattering that you killed it.

You were going to be Jack from “Jack and the Beanstalk.”

He’s still not sure how that correlates with infertile bakers, but he’ll go with it.

You also have a notoriously hard solo, “Giants in the sky.”

Akaashi is very impressed.

All you two do is practice that song, until Akaashi is half sure he could sing the song if he really gave an effort.

(He tries seriously one time. He can’t sing. To save his life. Sorry Keiji and RIP y/n’s ears.)

“Maybe you’re just not a soprano?”

“I’ll leave the limelight to you.”

Rehearsals always leave you drained. There are so many dance numbers in the play that you have to go over.

And songs, oh god, the songs are pieces of work.

But you wouldn’t trade it for the world, so Keiji stays close, and is endlessly supportive.

You sent him a picture of your Jack costume, and Keiji is like that is kind of adorable ngl-

He walks into the auditorium you’re performing in, and even he’s nervous to be in there. It’s huge.

But when you walk on the stage, and start belting, all the breath leaves his lungs.

Oh. Ohhhhhhh. He understands the plot now.

[oosizins]

Genre: angst,fluff Words: 1.952 Warning: bullies, swearing words and violence and a little kiss

AN: So this is a request by @seroonie

I hope you like it sweetie

Bichy Bich Club

All start when they were younger Jeno was a little boy who loved take care of himself everyone thought he was selfish until he went help a little girl named Y/n, who was bullied by some random person. Fom that everything start to turn into something else, and that until now they had grown up, the little selfish kid turn into a men who is now in highschool, part of the soccer team he have good grades, rich and everywhere he is going everyone is staring at him. The little girl had grown even pretier that before but no one was able to see it but Jeno and his friends. She was really silent and didn't want everyone to look at her like they are looking at Jeno. She also have good grades and if you're searching for her she is at the table next to the window watching her friends doing sports or just studying.

But like in all the stories they are antagonists and there it was a girl named Chloe really popular too, by a chance (or not ) she got close to Jeno, they start hanging out together and he even introduce her to his friends, here they are:

Renjun the older of theme all, he was cold from the outside but when you get to know him he was as warm as the cacao that you drink in a cold winter, Haechan he was always teasing everyone and even the teachers were weak but he's the sunshine of you're group. Jaemin everyone's favorite, he was kind, heart warming and sociable when they were younger jeno and he were always fighting but they learn how to live around each other and they discovered how they likeed each other. Jaemin was here for everyone who need love and support and finally Y/n the only girl that was really close to them all she was shy and talk only to the boys so imagine the face that Chloe made when she knew that Jeno had another girl in his life. But she anyways took the place of all the girls dreams and became Jeno's girlfriend. And from this situation they're history are starting

Hey Y/n we are here said Haechan while shaking his hand over his head.

Ye I'm not that blind Chan I just need to go somewhere. you mumble back

Ok we are going to wait for you in the library Renjun shout and you and you friends separate to your respective place, actually, you were going to the bathroom, it was now an habit that at 13h Chloe and her friends were here in the toilet waiting for you and if you miss one of there reunion it's the end, they gonna make fun of you in front of the whole highschool or you gonna be bitten up

So you got our history home work? Asked Chloe without even looking at you

No I didn't get the time you replied

Ow and why did you didn't get the time? You were hanging out with someone? A no I forgot that beside Jeno and his pets you don't have any one her friend commented

So what are we going to do with you? Hm? Maybe hurt you? Like slap you're ugly face? Or no maybe hurt you're friends? The second said

No! Hurt me but not my friends you begged I don't care if you slap me... but don't you dare do something to my friends. You suddenly had a wired felling inside of you like if you're blood start boiling and anger filled your eyes.

Ow so we want to play the superhero? Chloe ironically asked

No but if you dare touch one of there hair all the high school will know what did you did with Kai

Ow I see you gain in confidence, but why would they trust you when you have the courage to talk only to MY boyfriend and his friends?

Do you really love "you're" boyfriend? That is the question everyone beside you him and you're two dogs know that you don't like him for who he is but for his-

That is none of your business bich- She cut you off and you saw his hand fly and slap you're cheek Don't you dare talk to me like that again or you'll regret

What you are gonna do if I talk to you like that?

She grab your hair and smack it against the sink

That what I'm gonna do stupid, don't you're parents thought you how to respectfully talk to people or they don't like you too?....

And they're gone

That isn't actually the worst they've done, you're just gonna have an bruise and maybe a red cheek but that's ok .... Right?

Hay what happened? Asked Renjun a little panicked to see you with a black eye And you saw Jeno take out his water bottle to place it gently against you're cheek bone

You felt you're heart race and you're cheek heat up by the fact that he was looking at you and his hand patting you. He was so gentle even if he have strong arms long legs kick bullies booties he was so careful and sweet, he always had the habit to make you fall for him in a way

I got stuck in the bathroom and I hurt myself against the door you said silently and you heard Jamin replying

Y/ n it's actually the 5 time it happened maybe we'll go with you next time?

In the girls bathroom? Noooo I'm not going with you, they're all gossiping about how jeno is strong, beautiful and everything else! joked haechan

No but we can stay on the bench in front to wait and if after 10 minutes you're not out we go break the doors explained Jaemin

No it's ok guys I'm ok don't worry you thank them.

No you're not that courageous or brave that you want to be, you don't fight back you don't want to get into troubles like all those popular protagonist in the series.

After the classes you saw Chloe talking to a new guy he seemed to be uninterested in what she was saying and you laugh

What is funny Y/n ? Asked Jeno

Just you're girlfriend trying to catch that guys attention you laughed out

Oh I hope it's a joke you're not like the boys right? He groaned

But why out of all the girls did you choose her? She isn't even kind? And she look like a fish

Yes but she love me and I love her she is really nice she even get to know you and she is beautiful I don't know why you think she is ugly jeno said

Ye she is pretty with all that paint on her face and she is kind with those popular guys you mumble to yourself

Y/n I'm telling you that I like her can you just respect my opinion

And I want you to be happy and with that you're gonna be everything but happy, she's a whore and when are you gonna get it? You were screaming

You know what don't come to me I'm not letting anyone talking about my girlfriend like that and usually people understand but you don't seem to. And he walk away

No-jeno I... I'm sorry...you started to cry out but he didn't heard and you get inside the bus alone with no one to talk to or to lean on while listening to music but all you were able to do is cry cuz knowing Jeno for that long you know that he wouldn't let you come close to him so you were crying, you have lost you're best friend.

//:✨a week have passed✨://

As you knew jeno didn't let you come closer to him so you were talking to the boys,Chloe said that if she see you with Jeno she will beet The boys so you didn't try to talk to him neither, Haechan said that Chloe hook up with one of the newbie of the highschool and you were again thinking about Jeno...

Jeno was blind he thought that this girl liked him for who he was but no it's just that he is famous, his rich, he is sportif and handsome.

Like every other day you were walking down the strets to to you're house it's was dark and only the little lights were showing you the way across the little park. You get out of the park and you saw what you didn't want to see. Jeno walking alone, you did as you havn't seen him but he took you're hand and that makes you look at him in confution

Sorry Y/n.... I'm dumb we shouldn't have had a fight about her. he said and put you in his arms

No...hmpf.- Jeno let me go- you were trying to go out but his arms were too strong

It's killing me that you want to go out now when before the simple fact that I touch you're shoulder makes you blush he said and you were kinda surprised by how he new

Jeno what are you talking about let me go out what is someone see us like that, they.. they would think that you are...- you tried to explain

I don't care about the others I care about you! He shout out and you were again speechless

But me I have to care about them cuz if Chloe see us like that she gonna beet us up me and that boys you mumble and you felt tears dropping

What?! You are telling me that only now?! My Lord I'm so wrong come here he said and drag you by you're arms, So you are saying that all the scars the bruise and everything else it's because of this bich?

How are you talking about you're girlfriend? You asked a little bit shocked.

It's been a week sins she isn't my girlfriend. Cuz during this time when we were fighting I finally figured how.... How I love you Y/n that is unbelievable but I figured out that I was always watching you or asking where you were or how you were and everytime someone was talking about you I was smiling like a dumb crap in love. He looked at you and you were still inerpreting what he said and you were happy to know that he loved you

Are you confessing? You joked

Of course yes how can I not, you're the girl of my dreams and I want you to be my ... My girlfriend he confess while scratching the back of his neck

Can- I .. can I kiss you? You mumble while playing with your fingers.

He looked a little bit surprised but didn't refuse and took you're chin in his finger and close the distance between your two lips.

And after that day Chloe got in (garde a vue) and everyone left her cuz what she did was discussed

Y/n was finally getting more comfortable around people and lived a happy life with our dear Jeno who took extremely care about her, Renjun, Jaemin and Haechan were so happy that they finally confess to each other, they wanted to do like a little wedding (but they didn't cuz it was to childish in Jeno's opinion and Jaemin was sad but that's ok)

But now the most important is that everyone know that popularity is not being rich, being highly educated or perfect, it's being kind, humble and real.

[something2relax2]

:) :(

[olimpias]

THE JUGGLERS OF VENICE - A SHORT STORY BY ELIZA ORMANDY

words: 2k

warnings: death and i can’t be too explicit here, otherwise it would spoil some things, but ill say this: it’ll be very, very disturbing

general taglist: @stuff-lucie-wrote @buster-keaton @bookphobe @write-gallagher

tjov taglist: @withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus

persons of the mystery

Geronimo - a young Venetian gentleman 

Erasmo - his friend, the Marquese di Giglia

the old woman - a ticket seller

the man with the Gnaga - a fire-eater

Gaspare - a woodcarver

Floriana - the daughter of Erasmo’s cousin

When autumn arrives and the days begin to be shorter and darker than before, it happens every October that the jugglers come, in their colourful little wagons and their funny fringed costumes, to lure the already rather dusty population of Venice out of their incipient winter torpor and to tell them about foreign lands and people. Here, in the city of the arts, these vagabonds are quite highly regarded and, even though the Venetian way of life cannot exactly be described as colourless, they are seen as a welcome distraction in view of the approaching winter. There are a lot of rumours about the jugglers and a few years ago a child disappeared there whom I even knew (she was the daughter of a distant cousin of my friend Erasmo, the Marquese di Giglia), but even after an extensive search little Floriana could not be found and so her disappearance was explained that she must have fallen into a nearby canal and the jugglers were not further associated with it.

And so it happened that on the very day that the curious folk came to Venice, I was staying at Erasmo’s' palazzo and we passed the time excellently at his expense. "Listen, Geronimo," he said, when we had just emptied our second bottle of wine, "don't you remember that the jugglers are to come to town today?" "How right you are, Erasmo!" exclaimed I. "Let us leave at once, for it will soon be dark!" Briskly we got up, threw on our masks and cloaks and set off.

Never before had I seen the jugglers with my own eyes. Their reputation undoubtedly preceded them and it was said that they were godless, unbridled creatures who knew how to make others laugh but remained as cold as ice themselves. They had set up their quarters near a small square on the outskirts of the city. As dusk had already fallen, most of the visitors had left, and the cold wind was getting into our limbs, so that we wrapped ourselves even more tightly in our coats, but there was a wonderful glow from the little stalls and the most pleasurable music was playing, which made us soon forget all the dark stories about the jugglers.

A stooped old woman stood in front of the stalls selling tickets. She wore a blue and gold half mask, a large tricorn with a cock's feather and her lips were painted a rather quaint red. "Come in, come in!" she cried in a croaky voice. "Two tickets for the young gentlemen? Here you are, here you are, always come in, just don't hesitate! Let us whisk you away into another world! But be warned: no one who goes in comes out as he was!" At this she burst into cackling laughter and Erasmo grabbed my arm in fright.

We left the strange old woman behind and looked at the various stalls. There was the most artificial candy that could even move, daintily built little houses with tiny figures in them, there was a tent where a fortune teller was supposed to be and of course the jugglers, fire-eaters, acrobats and girls with apple-red cheeks offering candied fruit. Every now and then a stately white horse was brought in, with a feathered headdress and a lady in red on its back, wearing a red mask and a red veil.

Suddenly, from behind the stalls, a puppet with a large key in its back appeared and performed a wild dance before our eyes. It threw itself into the air, hit the ground, jumped up again, spun in circles, flailed its arms and shook itself before falling lifeless to the ground. Then a man dressed in black and red and wearing a Gnaga mask leapt into the circle that had formed around the doll and shouted, "Good evening, dear friends! What you have just seen here was one of the dolls of the famous Gaspare, known as the best woodcarver who ever set foot in Italy!" With these words he beckoned a small man of slight stature, dressed all in white, even his face was painted white, but his lips were ghastly red. Gaspare bowed awkwardly and grinned as if possessed. Hesitantly everyone applauded and he spoke in a squeaky voice: "I suppose if the gentlemen would like to take a look at my humble tent, I can show them some more of these amazing puppets."

Everyone entered the tent and Gaspare spread his arms. The walls were covered all over with dolls of all kinds, big, small, men, women, children and mythical creatures, but they all had one thing in common: their ugly, almost devilish laughter, which made me think of Gaspare himself.

But another, smaller area of the tent was separated by a cloth. "What might be behind this, Geronimo?" said Erasmo quietly to me, but Gaspare, who must have heard us, moved around and stared at us. "In this part are the particularly valuable dolls, those that are only brought out on special occasions." All the while he squinted his eyes. I felt uncomfortable in the face of this madman and wanted to urge Erasmo to leave, but Gaspare approached us again. "Would the young gentleman agree if I took his portrait?" he asked with another hypocritical grin, stroking Erasmo's cheek with his pale, bony finger. It is true, Erasmo is significantly more handsome than me and not infrequently I, who looks quite normal and unassuming, have envied him his thick, dark hair, which is entirely without a wig, and his noble, light brown skin, not to mention his flawless features, which immediately make everyone suspect his aristocratic origins. "Well, why not?" he replied politely, even managing a smile, which I give him credit for, knowing how much he hates it when other people touch him. "Don't do that!", I whispered in his ear. "Something is not right here!" But he squeezed my hand tenderly and followed the old man to a moth-eaten velvet armchair where Gaspare told him to settle down. Then he took out some paper and began to draw magically fine lines on it with ink, which joined together to form a face with incredible speed. It was unmistakably Erasmo's, albeit strangely distorted, with huge eyes, a tiny nose and a small, pointed mouth. When he had finished, Erasmo reached out to take the drawing, but the old man snatched it away. "I still need it," he cawed. "You can have it - later. That is, if you still need them then." With these words he slipped through the curtain into the hidden section and came out again a short time later, but without the drawing. "I have work to do now. Out, out!" He suddenly seemed very upset and really shooed us out of the tent.

When we got outside, it was dark and I noticed that we were the only visitors left. "Let's go," I said, pulling Erasmo with me. He allowed it, although reluctantly. The old woman laughed as we passed her.

We hadn't gone far when Erasmo stopped abruptly. "Let's go back!" he said, and I saw in his dark eyes the dangerous mixture of adventurousness and folly that was well known to me. Ever since we were children, I had tried to stop him from doing something stupid, but usually without success. This time was no exception. He looked at me pleadingly and I gave in. "All right," I said with a sigh. "But what do you intend to do anyway?" "I want to get my drawing," he replied, but I knew very well that he was merely using this pretext to get into the hidden area of Gaspare's tent.

So we crept back, under the cover of night. Fortunately, we were both dressed in dark clothes, so we didn't have to be afraid of any passers-by. We arrived at the stalls, but there was no one to be seen. The lights were no longer shining and the cheerful music had stopped. When everything looked so deserted and uninviting, I felt a bit queasy, but I took heart and followed Erasmo, who was walking carefully but purposefully towards Gaspares' tent. He too was nowhere to be seen, neither inside nor outside the tent. We peeked behind the curtain that divided the room into two halves. At first glance we saw nothing unusual. To our right was a workbench with some tools and a candle on it. It was burning. Opposite was a chest and before I could hold it back Erasmo had already opened it. I stepped closer.There were dolls in the chest too, but these ones looked different, more alive in a frightening way. Their eyes seemed to look straight into my heart and their red mouths seemed as if they wanted to say to me: "Listen, Geronimo, what are you doing here? You have meddled in something evil, you can believe us!" I suddenly became so scared that my throat tightened and I turned to Erasmo to ask him to get out of here once and for all, but he had stepped to the other side of the small room and was looking thoughtfully at a cloaked figure leaning in the corner. It reached about to his waist and was strangely slumped. "What do you think this is?" he asked, and even in the dim light of the single candle I could see his eyes shining with excitement.

Slowly he lifted the cloth, but when he saw what was hidden underneath, he stumbled back, startled. "Just look," he whispered with fear in his voice. I walked over and was also struck with fright. The doll looked exactly like little Floriana! Her light brown frizzy hair was twisted up into two elaborate curls, her wide brown eyes stared up at us trustingly and even her cute rosy mouth looked as if it might start talking at any moment.While we were still standing there, barely able to contain ourselves, the curtain was pulled aside behind us. We wheeled around. There stood Gaspare, trembling and gasping. He staggered towards us, yet it was not It was not his sudden appearance or his indistinct muttering that frightened me, but his face, in which the bright madness glowed.I believed he was about to attack us and for a moment I thought my number was up, but he paid us little heed. "Did the young gentlemen discover my masterpiece, eh?" he asked in a trembling voice. "I knew they would come back. You only have to take a look at their inquisitive noses!" He knelt down in front of the doll and clasped it with both arms. "My dearest Floriana," he whispered. "Just look!" He palmed her. "It's her hair and her clothes!" He opened her mouth. "And her teeth!" He jumped up, the doll in his arms. "Never will she grow up, never! She will always be my little daughter. And you," with these words he came up to Erasmo, "you will be my son, and I will delight in your beauty as I make you and Floriana dance, just for me!" His ghastly laughter shook the tent walls. Then at last I awoke from my rigidity of terror, seized Erasmo's arm, and, dragging him behind me, ran as fast as I could out of the tent and past the stalls, not stopping until we had reached the canal on which Erasmo's palazzo is situated. There we leaned against the parapet, breathing heavily. "Poor, poor Floriana," sobbed Erasmo. "And my poor, poor cousin!" I wanted to say something comforting, but I couldn't think of anything.

The next day we heard that the jugglers had left, much earlier than usual, and they were never heard of again, either in Venice or in all Italy. Erasmo and I quietly agreed that we would take that terrible experience to our graves. It is probably better that way, even if I am pained by the grieving face of his cousin who comes to visit now and then. I can only hope and pray that the jugglers have given up their terrible ways, but I cannot imagine it. Surely they will travel around for all eternity until perhaps someone comes along who has enough courage to put a stop to them. But that someone will not be me, that is certain. 

[deans-haunted-baby]

The Last Rites

*So, many fans including myself were unhappy with Adam Milligan and Michael’s exits out of Supernatural. This is my fix-it or at least my interpretation of what happened after 15x19 and 15x20. Enjoy!*

Summery: Chuck now human is a bitter bin collector and part-time serial killer stalking his latest victim. Little does he know that the dynamic human vessel/archangel duo Michael and Adam have been stalking him.  

"Damn that Sam and Dean and that little brat for making me human! But I'll get the last laugh," he says as he makes his rounds and choosing his latest victim. Plotting all the terrible things he plans on doing to the Winchesters. “I’ll get them all for this!”

As Chuck follows this person out to their car in the middle of the night, knife in hand. All off a sudden he hears wings flapping and turns around in horror. His eyes bug out when he sees a figure standing before him in the shadows.

"W-who's there?"  

Michael/Adam step out of the darkness wearing a "surprise-bitch" look on their face: "Hello...father" by the darkness of his ton Chuck knows his son hadn't forgotten the last time they saw each other. By that lakeside where he'd killed him for helping the Winchesters.

"No i-its impossible... You're dead I killed you. You should be in the Empty."

Michael hesitantly shakes his head. "Not anymore."

"How?"

"Let's just say I made bail thanks to my nephew and Castiel as they needed my assistance in Heaven's rehabilitation. And I humbly obliged."

"Castiel? He's alive too?! And you're working for them?! Why? That little brat took my power!" Chuck screams in anguish. "NO you both should be suffering in the Empty for all eternity!"

Michael/Adam looks at his hands flexing them into fists. Recalling the last second he drew breath being smited by his father. Regretting his decision to ever forsake his duty for humanity for his father. And his anger burns like acid.

"After what you did to me the last time we spoke...all I've cherished was this moment," the archangel Prince darkly replies. Adam's soul quietly astral-projected is in the background roots on his buddy. "Jack and Castiel offered me a chance to atone myself for wrongly choosing you over that which I’ve swore an oath to protect. That I could leave the Empty and reclaim my throne in Heaven if I stayed on Earth and helped the Winchesters clean up your mess."  

Chuck glares "So you're their bitchboy now? Ha, pathetic." He chortled in his throat. "I always knew you were weak, Michael. Being in that cage all those years with Sam and Dean's forgotten little bro has made you soft."

Michael's cheeks throb angrily. But he maintains his restraint. "Oh I'm not doing this for them," he reveals; stepping a little closer to his father. Shoulders squared. "Being stuck on Earth is also my punishment. But I've accepted it...I deserve my fate...just as you deserve yours right now."

Chuck then scrutinizes his son suspiciously. Looking from the archangel's fists to the face of his vessel Adam.

"What so you're like an archangel superhero now?" He can't contain a laugh. "Wow those Winchesters must be really desperate to resort to sending you here instead of facing me themselves."

Michael shook his head. "As I've already stated...I'm not here for them, he says. "The one called Dean, my original sword, has already fallen in battle and has inherited his place in my nephew's paradise. And his brother Sam sought out his other brother Adam, my chosen vessel. They've been working together ever since."

"And that's when Jack sent you."

“Yes."

"Dammit!,” Chuck swears this wasn't suppose to happen. If he killed a Winchester in his story the other brother left alive was suppose to take his own life in grief. No this couldn't be happening. They changed his ending AGAIN. "THIS WASN'T THE ENDING I PLANNED! I DIDN'T WRITE THIS!"

Michael cocks his head sideways; basking in his father's frustration. It was music to his ears. Then he's serious; raising his hand and forwarding his palm in a power-up.

"Your reign if tyranny is over father. You will not be scribing another's fate ever again. Not while I'm around."

At that Chuck's face is ghostly white. "Wait, what are you doing?" He puts up his hands submissively. "I'm human now, you can't just smite me. I'm part of the humanity that I created for you to protect!"

"Oh you don't have any rights here," growls the archangel sternly. "You gave up those privileges when you chose to use your newfound humanity to blindly murder others. Your arrogance and hatred for mankind was your own undoing. And now your death shall be your punishment, father."

Chuck trembling now resorts to begging for his son's mercy. "Michael, wait son we can talk about this." He showcases a nervous smile. "We can still make this right."

"No we can't." Michael scoffs. "The centuries of my allegiance to you have also perished. And I've wanted nothing more than to watch you beg forgiveness as you draw your last breath."

"Wait please show your father mercy, my son! Please!"

"Like the mercy you demonstrated to me that day by the lake shore?"

Chuck nodded still keeping his hands up. Okay so Michael was still pissed about that. "Fine you're right that was a mistake. I should've never hurt you like that. I was wrong and I see that now."

Michael's expression is smug, giving a mild throat chuckle. Then his cold expression shifts into anguish. "I hate myself for ever believing in you and turning my back on humanity. I will never be able to forgive myself for making that choice. For allowing you, Lucifer and my devotion to you to manipulate me from doing what was right."

"This doesn't have to get ugly Michael, we can still talk this out." Chuck begs. “Come on, what do ya say?”

"No we're done talking father." Michael's eyes glow like silvery blue light.

Chuck back peddles "Wait j-just give me another chance. I can prove to you I'll change I will."

Michael chuckles darkly, "Like the chance you were about to give that civilian you were following just now? Or the others you’ve murdered since?"

He eyes the knife in his father's hand. Suddenly Chuck realizes this and impulsively drops it onto the pavement.

"No, this isn’t what it looks like. I-I wasn't going to hurt anyone else. I swear!"

"You'll never learn will you father," Michael shrugs apathetically. "It's a shame. You were given a gift by your own flesh and blood and you've squandered it."  

"WAIT MICHAEL, PLEASE LET'S JUST TALK ABOUT THIS!"

No, no the archangel Prince was done talking. He'd said all he needed to say and with that throws Chuck's own last words to him right back in the short man's face.

"SAVE IT!" smiting him instantly on the spot. Blasting his father in a blinding light, erasing him from existence. When the dust settles Michael eases his tense shoulders releasing a sharp intake of breath.

Adam's projected soul then takes it upon himself to console his friend. Who is clearly bitter about destroying his own father even if he was an evil bastard.

"You did the right thing you know," the pre-med student/hunter in training reassures him. "Your dad would've killed that person if you hadn't intervened."

But Michael doesn't want to hear it. "I didn't do this for that person. I did it out of my own volition. I wanted my father to pay for what he'd done to me and my broken vow."

"It still doesn't change the fact that you saved someone tonight, Michael,” Adam insists. “And you proved that you can be better than Chuck ever was."

Michael frowns lowering his gaze to the ground melancholically.

"Or maybe I've just demonstrated that I am no better than him. I betrayed my sworn oath," the archangel squeezes his fist tightly. Putting all his anger into that hand. "And for that transgression alone I shall never be redeemed."

Adam recognizing the sadness in Michael's expression, throws his celestial pal a genuine smile, kneading his shoulder. "There's always redemption for all of us," he says gently. "I believe my brothers were capable of that, even if they never cared about me. Knowing you and even getting to know Sam has taught me so much more about myself, my family and what I'm meant to do with my life."

"What like being a hero?"

"Yah and it's kinda cool I get to kick some ass with an archangel."

"So, you want to honor your family. Despite what fate they'd left you to."

Adam shook his head. "Sam and Dean were far from perfect. I don't think I'll ever fully forgive them for what happened," he reveals. "BUT I think it changed me for the better. I got to become friends with Heavens MVP and I care about their cause now. They wanted to protect the world from evil and that's what I want to do. It's not about honoring the Winchester's legacy I want to do some good in this world. And you know what...I think you do too."

The archangel smiled to himself. "Well I did get some amusement out of watching my father squirm," He says lightly then adds. "Alright kid, you win. We shall continue our eternal quest for justice."

"Good, but we can continue that quest another night," the pre-med checks his wristwatch. "I gotta get some rest I have classes in the morning."

Michael scrutinized Adam. "You do know that you no longer require rest now that I've possessed this vessel or has that notion escaped you?"

“Oh yah I forgot," Adam laughs. "I guess I won't be needing sleep anytime soon then. Let's go home anyway I want to check out the bunker some more. Find any hidden passages or something."

"As you wish. I imagine your canine companion is also getting famished without us around to feed it."

A light bulb went off in his head. Right Sam and Dean's dog Miracle was in his care now. He loved that scruffy mutt even if he did drool a lot. Time to get home.  

"Miracle, okay we gotta get home stat!"

And with that Michael flew back to the bunker.

[dreamingsushi]

Douluo Continent - Episode 6

So tonight is just going to be a full me focused night. I'm sitting on my couch, I just gave myself a good night time face care, going extra for it. Because I deserve the love. I'm super ready for that next episode. I'm actually enjoying right now the ending credits of episode 5. Because I really like it. I believe Chinese drama OSTs are so underrated. Like, they are good. Sometimes the intro is a little too long, but... they good. I mean, they are good as music I would listen to while driving or cleaning. Or just to work out. Or just for fun. Plus they are perfect for KTV. And KTV is just my everything, I even bought one since we can't go KTV anymore ): And there we start!

Tang San manages to make an opening for Xiao Wu and the Great Master, but he used lots of his Spirit power and he can't summon it anymore. Xiao Wu wants to give a beating to that ugly. Tang San also wants to fight back, but the Great Master uses his second Spirit Technique to make everyone unconscious and make them leave. But then Xiao Chenyu still tries to threaten them so it angers Yu Xiaogang so he gives him a beating then they leave. And Wang Sheng hits ugly Xiao Chenyu with a sword. I hope it leaves a scar.

Tang San takes Xiao Wu and Yu Xiao Gang to his hometown.

Oh. Wang Sheng killed Xiao Chen. Then someone comes to ask who killed him. And Liu Long says it's Tang San and Xiao Wu. That person is under the city master and he orders to follow Tang San and Xiao Wu because everyone who was on site when Xiao Chenyu died would pay the price. Wang Sheng, I kind of dislike you now... Like I get it. But I still really dislike you.

Tang San and the others arrive at Tang San's place but his father hasn't been living there for a while already. The Great Master asks Tang San to show him his spirit. It's not dead, but it has been deeply injured by the lightning. It might never heal again. But there's still a way and that would be to get the second Spirit Ring. But he has just got his first one, so the chances he would succeed are really low. Moreover, it would be difficult in such a short time to find a Spirit Ring suitable to his condition.

Suddenly his father's back? He tells them to leave as fast as possible and informs them that Xiao Chenyu is dead. So they need to leave. Tang San wants to make Xiao Wu and Yu Xiao Gang leave first. And take all the responsability on his shoulder. And... like... I enjoy good characters. But Tang San is a little bit too... into the hero syndrome for me. His logic just doesn't make sense to me, it's too... pushy. Obviously, he can't pesuade her to leave without him so they decide to join forces and give them a lesson so they won't bother them again.

Yu Xiao Gang doesn't leave first and stays behind to talk with Tang San's dad. He feels his face is familiar. Then he recognizes him and asks him wasn't he dead a long time ago? I mean, Tang San's dad is rather the mysterious guy, and he definitely has a heavy past. The guy's Spirit is a hammer like Tang San's second Spirit. Then he got a perfectly suitable second Spirit Ring for Tang San. It was a gift left to him from his mother. She even had chosen the first one for him, but Tang San's dad says the one Yu Xiao Gang found for him was even better. He will help him once again, but Yu Xiao Gang can't reveal anything from Tang San dad's past.

Tang San tries to convince the chief of the village to tie them and hand them over so they will cut ties with the village. And he does. The bad people come in, ready to get them and kill them. Meanwhile Tang San's dad entrust his son to Yu Xiao Gang. Who happens to be from a quite a pretigious family. But he doesn't want to die, so he's going to leave. And then he changes his mind and comes back for them. He awakens the creature for Tang San.

The plant grows and gets rid of all the bad people, it doesn't seem to be affected by the lightning. Well not much. Tang San needs to go back out to distract the lightning master because his Spirit makes him look like a vegetal so the big one won't bother him. They manage to neutralize him! Yeah! Then Tang San can try to absorb his second Spirit. He cuts the plant and grabs it, which brings him much pain. He almost died too, he Yu Xiao Gang didn't come to rescue, the plant would have killed him. Xiao Wu comes in and uses her Spirit trying to help him. Tang San finally wakes up. Which makes him the fastest Spirit Master in acquiring a second Spirit Ring. Now they are all curious to see what his second Spirit Technique is and fight to be the guinea pigs. To save the Great Master, they will try on him, but...

END OF EPISODE! Yep. It's always like... they always cut AFTER cliffhangers, so it's just... Actually it's like they make a cut for an ad break. But it's the end of the episode. Anyways. I was rather impressed with Xiao Zhan's acting while he was unconscious and trying to wake up. It was pretty convincing to me and I usually am not a fan of his pain/scared acting, so this was rather great. He's growing as an actor, that's for sure and it makes me really happy. And also, I knew I knew Yu Xiao Gang from somewhere. I mean the actor, Calvin Chen. And that would be because I was really into Aaron Yan at some point in my life. And they are from the same boy band, Farenheit. Like, I would never has thought I'd meet one of them in such a drama. Don't get me wrong, it's a pleasure. But a surprise. Anyways. That's going to be it for me tonight, your humble me is getting tired and needs to go get some sleepy time.

See you Sunday for episode 7, tomorrow is K-drama night with my friends and we have some basketball anime to watch so I won't have time for that after work! Good night!

[khiphop-discussions]

about aomg: personality / your opinion about them thanks!

Loco: Just chill (until he gets drunk). He minds his own business and stays out of trouble. He doesn’t really have any negative traits but he seems like he’s really bad at talking to women he likes (lol watch some clips of him and Hwasa speaking. I think it was on “I Live Alone” or something? It was really awkward). He’s been around A LONG time and still hasn’t caused any drama. He won season 1 of SMTM so that’s a long time to keep your head out of trouble (at least for a rapper). Not the biggest fan of his music but I REALLY like the stuff he does with Gray. Him and Gray are literally a dream team. CoRay is what Jay/Sik-K could be if they made a unit lol.

Gray: REALLY handsome obviously so let’s just get that out of the way now. He’s really talented as well. He can do all types of styles of music. He’s actually more of a geek than he lets on tbh. Everybody thinks he’s dreamy but he’s always telling cheesy jokes and his friends seem to have at least a handful of stories of him doing embarrassing things lol. I feel like he tries to put on a cool image but that’s not actually really him if you were to meet him in real life. Another thing about him is he seems really generous, he produces for many rappers who are WAY less famous than him and almost definitely won’t make him enough money to truly be “worth it”. But he still does it anyway cause he’s really passionate about music, seems to be happy for other musicians to succeed, and is just a really cool down to Earth dude despite his good looks and success. Over all I really like Gray as a person based on what I’ve seen. As a producer, he’s definitely top-tier. Jay Park: He’s really generous as well. I can definitely see why him and Gray ended up working together so closely. Jay is one of those people who can be one extreme or the other but at the same exact time so it’s kind off weird (me and Jay actually have this trait in common and that’s why it’s so obvious to me). Like he can be really grounded and down to Earth but then also be way too high on himself at the same time. It’s really weird lol. Honestly, I think Jay is a good dude underneath it all but sometimes everything going on around him can put him in weird positions and cause him to act in a way that he probably isn’t proud of after the dust settles. I think it would do him good to actually listen to some of the criticisms he gets (obviously not all cause people on the internet talk a lot of shit but some of it is actually correct). Confidence is good but sometimes it’s okay to listen when people are telling you that something about your music or personality is off. I like his R&B stuff more than his rap stuff (which I’ve said like a billion and one times already lol).

Simon D: He’s REALLY freaking funny! He’s calmed down a lot over the years. I think it’s partially because of that point in time where he was dealing with depression and stuff. That usually humbles you quite a bit and causes you to mellow out somewhat after you come out of it. That said, I actually can’t get much of an opinion abouthis personality tbh. I don’t know if it’s because of lack of exposure or if it’s because a lot of his humor is him actually trying to avoid showing the more serious and/or different sides of his personality. I’m also not a huge fan of his music but he’s definitely a good rapper. His voice is really nice.

DJ Pumpkin: I actually don’t know much about him but from the little I’ve seen of him, he seems funny too. He’s co-ceo after Simon stepped down.  Ugly Duck: He’s a good rapper. I know he DJs as well but unfortunately I never actually got to see him DJ (he was actually DJing at the club like 100 feet down the street from the one I was at. Me and my friend were standing on the same street waiting for the light to change so we could cross and we were standing behind him until he entered the club lol. We didn’t say anything cause he had earphones in. So we just left him alone lol. I made a whole post about this night and all the things that happened if you’re interested. It was pretty eventful lol).

Hep: I know almost nothing about him. Is he the one who had a baby or was that DJ pumpkin? Maybe it was DJ Wegun?!?!?! IDK lol DJ Wegun: Don’t know much about him.  Chloe Devita: I literally know nothing about her except that she just signed.

ELO: GREAT music. I love the 8 Femmes EP, Other than that, I don’t even know how he looks. I can’t recall ever seeing his face. I definitely don’t know his personality either. Sogumm: I think this means “salt” in Korean. Interesting name. I like the song she did with BigOne called “Sunshine”. Hoody: Really nice voice. I think she’s one of the best R&B singers in Korea. “Adios” is one of my personal favorite Korean songs right now. She’s pretty. From what I’ve seen, her personality is really reserved and quiet.

Punchnello: AMAZING rapper. It’s weird though because I don’t feel like I’ve ever seen much of his personality even though he’s been on SMTM two times already and won one season. He seems REALLY focused though. I know he likes cats a lot.  Junior Chef: Literally one of the BEST DJs in Korea. He’s definitely my favorite so far. I’ve seen a lot of great DJs when in Korea but one thing I noticed is that a lot of them don’t have great song choices and can’t read the crowd all that well. A lot of them seems like they choose song that they like that aren’t actually that popular or able to be danced to easily. However, they can definitely work the boards and mix songs well. Junior Chef was literally the TOTAL package though. He knows what songs will get the crowd excited, he knows what order to play them in for best effect, and he can dj well. There would be times where I was literally just thinking “OMG get this DJ off the stage and bring Junior Chef up already. We know he’s here!” I’d always be a little bummed out when Junior Chef set was over. He’s one of the few members of AOMG I’ve  been in the same room with for an extended amount of time and yet I know literally NOTHING about his personality compared to others. LOL that’s kinda funny and ironic af.

Code Kunst: Honestly, I can really name any songs of his that I’m a fan of. He seems pretty funny though. And I like his cats. Lee Hi: I’ve never listened to her music to be honest. I still maintain that her and One would make a really cute couple. Woo Wonjae: GREAT rapper. He can be funny sometimes. Overall, his personality is quiet and reserved. Don’t really listen to his music but I’ve seen enough of him on SMTM to know kinda his personality + that he’s really good at rapping.

Cha Cha Malone: I think he’s more associated wiht H1gher now (maybe his AOMG contract expired or something and so he just fully switched to H1gher? IDK how that worked out) but I still somewhat associate him with being an AOMG artist. I think he’s SUPER talented with music. He’s more versatile than I originally thought. As a person, he’s alright. Don’t think he’s a terrible guy or anything. He can probably be cool if you met him in person and got to know him. He also seems like he can be down to Earth. He has a lot of playboy/fuckboy ways though. (That can likely be said about anyone on this list tbh. So I can’t really make it too big of a deal for him. I know for sure it can be said about Simon D a few years back). He also seems like he can be kind of hot headed but I can understand considering how much shit people have given him since he’s been in Korea + the nature of the music/entertainment industry. I’d probably be going off on people too lol

[parkminijiminie]

Seeing Jimin's log from April 2018 made me realise again what a year he had, as an individual and professionally. It was perhaps one of his hardest but also one in which he grew a lot. It was filled with very low lows and some very high highs and barely times in between.

The first few months of the year he struggled with self-acceptance and self-realization. "Who am I? What do I do this for? Where am I going?" seem to have been heavily on his mind. Then he found strength and new understanding of himself and came to a better place.

The comeback happened, Fake love and the album were a huge success and everything was clicking into place.

And then he made a small mistake, he forgot his best friend's name on a stupid board and the fandom reared its ugly head and bit hard on his vulnerable sides. Accusations, hate, death threats for weeks. A situation so bad that legal actions had to be taken and search bars were cleaned for days on end.

How must he have felt? What did he think? He had just found his meaning again in his chosen life by being together with us. Did he feel disappointed in us? Did he feel doubts? I only hope he knew then how many of us loved and defended him, that we cherish him.

I guess he moved on from that, too. Did he have any choice, anyway? Life moves on and you live and learn. I hope he wasn't too hurt, though I know I would be and he probably was, as well. He's human, after all.

The next ablum and comeback came and went with resounding success, BTS travelled, they reconnected as friends and band mates. Amazing things happened and Bangtan flew higher.

In the midst of this, another hit and once again on Jimin.

A careless wardrobe choice, ugly political interests and media scrutiny led to a lot of slander and defamation, blame. Caught in a political crossfire, Jimin's name was dragged through the mud and with it Bangtan's as well. One of the worst times the fandom had seen and yet again Jimin suffered the brunt of it.

I hope he didn't blame himself too much. I hope he knew we love and support him. I hope he saw how Japanese ARMYs persevered and fought back..

In the end, that came and went, too and time passed, giving space to new and better things. To more shows, to their first studium tour and journeys to new and exciting places.

To cheers and ads all over the world for the angel's day, to injuries and mocking, to love and hate, to awards, to work and more work..

...

What and year did Jimin have. It was turbulent and unstable, dynamic and not always in the best way. It presented him with a lot of challenges that he took one by one and hopefully overcame to become a better, happier, more wholesome version of himself.

Knowing all of this, "Promise" has an even more special meaning to me, now. It is the culmination of all he went through the past year, of his journey to self-acceptance and a better place with his own self. It is a healing, reflective song, meant to sooth and inspire. It is Jimin's essence in a music piece.

It a gift to us but it is mainly a gift to himself.

I'm glad the world is seeing more and more how extraordinary he is, as a person and as an artist. He shines brighter than ever now, tops every brand ranking, breaks records with his work, trends everywhere and it is rightfully so. He deserves it all.

Jimin, who loves all of us, who never leaves a stage's corner unvisited, who writes sweet messages to ARMY in the middle of the night. Jimin who always gives his best in everything, who is amazing, brilliant, yet humble, sweet, supportive. Who never blew on anyone's candle to make his own shine brighter, who only brings joy and light to those around him and to us, eventhough we'll probably never deserve him.

Jimin who is the most beautiful person I know of, from the outside, yes, but most importantly - from the inside.

[eldritchsurveys]

794🎂

Did the best moment of your life happen at summer camp? >> You ever get to that point where you just resign yourself to taking surveys you’ve already taken? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve taken 75% of the surveys I run into but it’s not like there’s a great influx of new surveys to take, so what’s a motherfucker to do but just make repeat performances... Anyway, some really great moments have happened to me at summer camp; I’m pretty nostalgic about the camps I’ve gone to at Easton Mountain. They were great experiences, even with the bullshit that sometimes happened.

Do you get tired of fakebook? lol >> I’m just tired of facebook in general -- how ubiquitous it is, how much data it collects and what it does with said data, everything about Mark Zuckerberg, etc. How random people behave on facebook is of much less concern to me than the above.

Are you a poser on facebook or are you real? >> I don’t really use facebook. I have one for the purposes of establishing lines of contact, and that’s it.

Are you a people pleaser? >> I wouldn’t say that.

Do you get irritated a lot? >> Not a lot, no. Irritation is a pretty obvious red flag for me -- if I feel irritated it’s probably because I’ve let some important need of mine go unfulfilled, like hunger or sleep or emotional processing. Or I’ve fallen into a depressive episode.

What's something you've realized about yourself lately? >> Eh, nothing really stands out as particularly revelatory.

Do you know a lot of idiots? >> I don’t know any idiots.

Do you want a puppy or a kitty? >> No.

Do you hate that some people are stuck-up? >> No, because that’s not really been my experience with people.

Would you rather be poor and humble or rich and snooty? >> See, the thing about this is... I’ve only been poor. And for one, I don’t think being poor means I’m automatically humble, I think it means that I have to look at life and at other people in a different way than I would if I wasn’t in this position. It means I have to acknowledge my socioeconomic dependence, which means treating people like objects or means to an end is significantly more disadvantageous to me than it would be to a rich person. It means I have to budget my indulgences, and can’t just be capricious and lavish with my spending, and I can’t just throw money at a problem to make it go away. I don’t know what it would be like to be rich -- I don’t know how having those advantages would change me as a person, and I don’t know what unseen disadvantages would arise. I know who I am now, and despite the hardships of being below the poverty line as an individual (and only a little less so as a member of a household), I more-or-less like how I am. I see no reason to complicate things.

Do you know any humble rich people? >> I don’t know any actually rich people at all. I know upper middle class folks because Sparrow is related to them, but while they do seem to lack class consciousness a lot of the time, they still mostly live in a reality I can halfway comprehend.

Do you hate the millennial stereotype? >> Not really. It doesn’t affect me. But I don’t encourage people to spout that nonsense, either.

Do you think everyone should have a right to live, and by that I mean live a comfortable life? >> The problem with this is that, as a human being who is invested in lessening suffering for all living creatures, I feel as though people should have this right. Unfortunately, as a human being who is equipped with the ability to think about things critically and logically, I think that it makes no practical sense. What I do think is that social systems can absolutely stand to be more supportive to all peoples, and we should absolutely work towards that. We should always seek ways to ease suffering. But we should also expect that even our striving has the possibility of creating suffering, and weigh that against the good we believe we’re doing. It’s just a constant process, I think. Trying to be more conscientious and more humane humans than the humans that came before us.

Does your religion or spirituality teach you to love your enemies? >> I don’t have any of those things.

Do you love your enemies? >> I don’t have any enemies, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t love them if I did. Otherwise, why would they be enemies in the first place then?

Do you struggle to love your enemies? >> ---

Are you bothered by things that have been done to you in the past? >> Yeah, that’s kind of what being post-traumatic is.

Do you hate bullying? >> I mean, I don’t think it’s great.

Do you get bullied frequently? >> No.

Do you often wish you could go to sleep and not wake up until something good happens? >> I’ve wished that before.

How many people do you know who are suicidal? >> I don’t know how many people I know are suicidal. I’m not really... keeping track, you dig. Also, not everyone who is suicidal talks about being suicidal.

Do you read advice columns? >> I read Ask Polly sometimes, I think she has a lot of thoughtful and compassionate and passionate things to say.

Have you ever used a dating site? >> Yeah.

Do you want a fairy godmother? >> No.

Do you enjoy watching talent shows? >> Not especially. America’s Got Talent has had a few episodes that interested me, but I don’t watch it regularly.

Which cartoon character would you want to play you in a movie? >> ---

What is something you do not understand? >> Oh, you know. Calculus and stuff.

Do you know anyone who is spoiled? >> I don’t think so.

Do you think cars are ugly? >> All cars??? Of course not. There are some styles that I do find unattractive, but there are also styles I find very attractive. ...This makes me sound like I’m attracted to cars. I will neither confirm nor deny that assessment. :p

What is your favorite musical? >> Phantom of the Opera.

Have you made a lot of huge mistakes? >> Oh, yeah, definitely.

Are you ok? >> I suppose you could say that.

Do you ever feel God's presence? >> Nope.

Do you believe in angels? >> I had an Inworlder when I was younger that I interpreted as angelic. There was also an angel I knew a few years ago, which was a complicated situation I’m not sure I’m equipped to explain right now. I miss Tobias, he wrote me such wonderful things... :’(

What is your favorite magazine? >> I don’t have one.

What color hair did your favorite Barbie doll have? >> ---

Who were you rooting for in the very first season of American Idol? >> ---

Do you believe in miracles? >> I don’t find the concept useful.

Have you ever been to a tea shop? >> I’ve been to Teavana.

If there were a tea shop in your city, would you go to it? >> Sure. I love tea.

Do you still have your Christmas decorations up? >> Nope.

How many pairs of jeggings do you own? >> Zero.

Do you have any memories that are painful? >> Of course.

Do you learn from your mistakes and move on, or do you do the same things over and over again? >> Sometimes the former, sometimes the latter.

Do you make a habit of taking risks and stepping outside of your comfort zone? >> No, I don’t make a habit of it. Then again, my comfort zone is really small. Like, really. So many activities involve me being outside my comfort zone by default, which means I have less mental energy for purposefully choosing to do things that are outside of my comfort zone. I think this kind of thing is more suited for people whose comfort zone is a lot larger than mine -- who don’t regard basic things like “using the phone” or “being in a crowd” as being outside of their comfort zone.

Is your life boring? >> It can be. But frankly, I prefer this to the alternative.

What is your favorite thing to follow on tumblr? >> I don’t know how to answer that.

What are your favorite Pinterest boards? >> I don’t use Pinterest.

Is your Pinterest profile cluttered? >> ---

Do you wish you owned more board games? >> No, I don’t play board games. Sparrow likes them, but we also have no one to play with. We have three board games and at least one of them is still in the packaging.

Do you wish you had visitors more often? >> Not at all. I’m perfectly happy not having other people milling around my apartment.

Do you hate the economy? >> No.

Do you hate our culture? >> No. These are way too vague to be answerable by me in any real capacity.

Do you live in the USA? >> Yes.

What accent do you like best? >> There is no accent I like best. I like most accents just because I love the many different ways people speak.

Is there a guy you wish you hadn't let slip away? >> No.

What are some things you would like to do this summer? >> Just... go somewhere. I would like to be able to go somewhere. That’s really it, the bar is so low these days.

What are some things you love about spring? >> I think I love everything about spring. The warmth, the increased sunshine, the way the air smells when it rains, the explosion of greenery and colour, the feeling of finally being able to breathe, the fact that the air doesn’t immediately suck all the moisture out of my skin...

Are you feeling optimistic today? >> No. Optimistic about what? Isn’t that something you feel about something specific, not just... randomly?

When was the last time you did something that made you feel stupid? >> I don’t remember.

Do you hate social classes and inequality? >> I mean, it’s not great to deal with.

Is they're anything that you're questioning if you're allergic to? >> No.

Do you believe everyone should be treated with respect when you first meet them? >> Sure. I at least try to treat people with basic respect until it becomes clear that they’re 100% not interested in giving the same in return.

Do you hate that nobody cares? >> Nobody cares about what?

What websites shut down that you miss? >> Xanga, certainly.

What were your favorite websites when you were a teenager? >> Xanga, various band websites, Chimerical Publications (an old David Duchovny fansite).

What was the best class you took in high school? >> ---

Are you happy? >> Mildly.

Would you ever enroll in a college class just for fun? >> I would if it were possible to do so. That always sounded like a fun thing to do -- just take a class to get all the lectures and materials, without having to take the tests and stuff.

Do you feel free to be yourself? >> Well, sure. It’d be real fucked up if I felt like I had to be a different person all the time.

Do you stand up for yourself when needed? >> Yes. Sometimes a little more than necessary, but I’m just so used to having to fight for my existence. Or at least feeling that way.

[archiefm]

         ... claws my way up from hell once more and vomits onto the dash.... hello. its nora. i used to write rory bergstrom, but if u were here before that u might remember me as greta or alma putnam or..... som1 else.... an endless carousel of trash children..... this is finn, who i actually wrote for an early version of this rp abt 5yrs back now...... grits teeth..... so forgive me if im rusty i havent written him in a long time but seein honey boy gave me a lotta finn muse n im keen to get Back On The Horse yeehaww...

DYLAN O’BRIEN / CIS-MALE — don’t look now, but is that finn o’callaghan i see? the 25 year old criminology and forensic studies student is in their graduate year of study year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be judicious, adroit, morose and cynical, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he will make a name for themselves living off-campus. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her )

shakes my tin can a humble pinterest, ma’am....

finn has a bio pasted at the bottom (n written in like.... 2015.... gross) but it’s long  so if u don’t wanna read it here’s the sparknotes summary..... anyway this was written years ago n a lot of it seems really cliche and lame now but..... we accept the trash we think we deserve

grumpy, ugly sweater wearing, tech-savvy grandpa

very dry sense of humour and embraces nihilism. 

if ron swanson and april ludgate had a baby it would be finn

he was raised in derry, just south of dublin.

from a big family. elder sister called sinead. he also has a younger sister (aoife), a younger brother (colm), and a collie named lassie because his father lovs cliches (finn hates cliches but loves his dog). 

his father was a pub landlord and his mother worked at the market sellin fruit n veg when they met but got a job as a medical receptionist when she had kids cos it meant she cld be there with them in the day and work nights.

his parents met when they were p young and fiesty and rushed into marriage cos they were catholic n just wanted to have sex. his family were literally dirt-poor, but they had a lot of love i guess

hmmmmm his relationship w his father wasn’t the best cos i can’t write character who have healthy relationships w their parents throws up a peace sign. yh, had a pretty emotionally distant, alcoholic violent father n so gets a lot of his bad habits i.e. drinking as a coping mechanism and poor anger management from him BUT anyway

as a kid he was never very motivated in class, he always had a nervous itch to be off somewhere doing something else. struggled under government austerity bcso there just wasn’t the resources to support low income families where the kids had learning difficulties n needed support. fuck the tories am i right 

his mum suggested he try sports to help w his restless energy but he was never any good at football so he took up boxing and tap dance instead. he took to tap dancing like a fish to fuckin water. as adhd n found this as a really good way to use his excess energy in a creative way

had a few run ins with the police in his early teens for spray painting and graffiti, but he straightened himself out n now actually considering becoming a detective inspector??? cops are pigs.

he had a youtube channel where he posted videos of him tapdancing and breakdancing as a kid, basically would be a tiktok boy nowadays, n had like... a small fanbase in his early teens. attended several open auditions unsuccessfully, until he was finally cast in billy eliot when he was fifteen.

during billy eliot he began dating an italian dancer called nina. they became dance partners soon after and toured across the republic with various different shows (inc riverdance lol the classic irish stereotype). their relationship was p toxic tbh, they were both very hot tempered people and just used to argue and fight all the time.

he went semi-pro at tap dancing, and nina couldn’t stand being second best so she moved back to italy with her family. ignored his texts, phone calls, etc, eventually he was driven to the point where he used his savings to buy a plane ticket, showed up at her house and she was like wtf?? freaked out and filed a restraining order accusing him of stalking.

he was fined for harassment and then returned home to derry, but after the incident with nina he quit dancing for good and finished his leaving cert before heading to university in the US to get as far away from nina and his past life as poss. and basically since he quit dancing to study forensics (death kink. finn cant get enough of that morgue. just walks around sayin beat u) he’s become a massive grump and jsut doesn’t see the good in people any more.

u’ll find finn in an old man bar drinking whiskey bc he is in fact an old man at heart or sat on his roof smoking a joint, drawing wolves and lions and skeletons and shit, playing call of duty or getting blazed or at the corner of the room in a house party ignoring everyone and scrolling through twitter. is a massive e-boy. always up-to-date on memes and internet slang. has reddit as an app on his phone

not very good at communication. rather than solve his issues by talking, he’d prefer to just solve them through fighting or running away from his problems hence why he has come halfway across the world to get away from an issue which probs cld have been solved w a few apology emails.

takes a lot to phase him, but when his beserk button gets pressed he can become a bit pugnacious like an angry lil rottweiler. in his undergrad he was in a few fist fights but doesn’t really do tht any more as he doesn’t condone violence.

 in the previous version of this rp he was hospitalised like 5 times. pls, give my son a break. stop tryin to kill him. he literaly got a bottle smashed over his head and bled out all over his favourite angora rug that was the only light of his life

works at the campus coffee shop n always whines about how he’s a slave to capitalism. always smells of coffee

lives off campus with an elderly woman named Marianne, and basically gets reduced rent bcos he makes her dinner / keeps her company. they have a great bond

fan of karl marx. v big on socialism

insomniac with chronic nosebleeds

cynical about everything. too much of a fight club character 4 his own good n has his head up tyler durden’s sphincter

always confused or annoyed

statistics

basic information

full name: finnegan seamus o'callaghan nickname(s): finn age: 25 astrological sign: aries hometown: derry, ireland occupation: phd student / former street entertainer fatal flaw: cynicism positives: self-reliant, street smart, relaxed, intelligent, spontaneous, brave, independent, reliable, trustworthy, loyal. negatives: hostile, impulsive, stubborn, brooding, pugnacious, untrusting, cynical, enigmatic, reserved.

physical

colouring: medium hair colour: dark brown, almost black eye colour: brown height: 5’9” weight: 69kg build: tall, athletic voice: subtle irish accent, low, smooth. dominant hand: left scar(s): one on the left side of his ribs from a knife wound that he doesn’t remember getting cos he was drunk distinguishing marks: freckles, tattoo of a wolf howling at a moon allergies: pollen and the full spectrum of human emotion alcohol tolerance: high drunken behaviour: he becomes friendlier, far more conversational than when sober, flirtier, and generally more self-confident.

psychological

dreams/goals: self-fulfilment, travel the globe, experience life in its most alive and technicoloured version, make documentary films, help the vulnerable in society, grow as a human being.

skills: jack-of-all-trades, very fast runner, good at thieving things, talented tap dancer, good in crisis situations, dab-hand at mechanics, musically-intelligent, can throw a mean right hook and very capable of defending himself, can roll a cigarette, memorises quotes and passages of literature with ease, can light a match with his teeth.

likes: the smell of the earth after rain, poetry, cigarettes, shakespeare, whiskey, tattoos, travelling, ac/dc, deep conversations, leather jackets, open spaces, the smell of petrol, early noughties ‘emo phase’ anthems.

dislikes:  the government, parties, rules, donald trump, children, apple products, weddings, people in general, small talk, dependency, loneliness, pop music, public transport, justin timberlake, uncertainty.fears: fear itself, drowning alignment: true neutral mbti: istp – “while their mechanical tendencies can make them appear simple at a glance, istps are actually quite enigmatic. friendly but very private, calm but suddenly spontaneous, extremely curious but unable to stay focused on formal studies, istp personalities can be a challenge to predict, even by their friends and loved ones. istps can seem very loyal and steady for a while, but they tend to build up a store of impulsive energy that explodes without warning, taking their interests in bold new directions.” (via 16personalities.com)

full bio (lame as fuck written years ago..... pleathe...)

tw homophobia

born in quigley’s pub on the backstreets of sunny dublin, young finnegan o'callaghan was thrown kicking and screaming into the rowdy suburbs of irish drinking culture. the son of a landlord and a fishwife, he never had much in the way of earnings, but there was never a dull moment in his lively estate, where asbo’s thrived, but community spirit conquered. at school, finn was pegged as lazy and unmotivated, though truly his dyslexia made it hard for the boy to learn in the same environment of his peers and only made him more closed-off in class. struggling with anger management, finn moved from school to school, unable to fit the cookie-cutter mould that school enforced on him, though whilst academic studies were of little interest to the boy, he soon found his true passions lay in recreational activities. immersed into the joys of sport from as young as four, finn was an ardent munster fan and anticipated nothing more than the day he could finally fit into his brother’s old pair of rugby boots.

his calling finally came unexpectedly, not in the form of rugger, but through dance. to learn to express himself in a non-academic way, he began tap dancing, finding therapy in the beat of his soles against the cracked kitchen tiles (much to his mother’s disgrace). it wasn’t a conscious choice, finn just realised one day that dance was something that made him feel. a king of the streets, finn made his fortune on those cobbled pavements – dancing and drawing to earn his keep. by default, finn became a street artist, each penny he earned from his chalk drawings saved in a jam jar towards buying his first pair of tap shoes. though many of his less-than-amiable neighbours called him a nancy and a gaybo, finn refused to quit at his somewhat ‘unconventional’ hobby, for the young scrapper found energy, life, and released anger through the rhythm of tap. soon he branched out into street dance, hip hop, break dancing, lyrical, his days spent smacking his scuffed feet against the broken patio into the night.

when he was thirteen he took up boxing, and as expected, his newfound ‘macho’ pastime conflicted with his dancing. the boxers called him ‘soft’; the dancers called him ‘inelegant’. he felt like two different people; having to choose between interests was like being handed a knife and asked to which half of himself he wished to cut away. he couldn’t afford professional training in dance, with most schools based in england and limited scholarships available. instead, he made the street his studio, racking up a small fanbase on youtube. when he was fifteen he made his debut in billy eliot at the olympia theatre in dublin. enter nina de souza, talented, beautiful and italian; ballet dancer, operatic singer, genius whiz kid, and spoiled brat. she was selfish, conceited, hell bent on getting her own way, and every director’s nightmare. finn fell for her like a house of cards. he’d always had a soft spot for girls who meant trouble. and so their hellish courtship began.

by the time they were seventeen, the two young swans had danced in every playhouse across the republic. they were known in theatres across the country for their tempestuous personalities, their raging arguments with one another, their tendency to drop out of shows altogether without any notice, yet the money kept rolling in and the audiences continued to grow. for three years, their families continued to put up with their hysterical fights followed by passionate reconciliations. he was too possessive, and she was too wild. their carcrash of a relationship finally came to a catastrophic halt when nina broke off the whole affair and returned to italy with her family. for months finn tried to contact her, yet his phone calls, texts, facebook messages were always ignored, until finally he was driven to drastic measures and used his savings to get a plane to her home town. when finn turned up uninvited at nina’s house she freaked out – and rightly so – she contacted her agent, accused him of stalking her, and had a restraining order placed against him. finn was arrested, held in a station overnight, and charged with harassment before he was allowed to return to dublin.

after the incident with nina, finn lost the fight in his eyes. he became far more hostile, far less likely to retaliate with his own fists, and picked fights not for the thrill of feeling his own fists pummel another into a wall, but for the sensation of his own brittle bones cracking. he dropped his tap shoes in a dumpster, stopped talking to his friends, followed his father’s advice and went back to school to complete his leaving certificate. a few short months later, and finn was packing his bags, saying his bittersweet goodbyes, and travelling half-way across the globe to be as far away as possible from his past self, his mess of a life, and most of all nina. it seemed somehow ironic that the boy who had been cautioned by the garda so much during his youth for spray painting, busking without a liscence, and raucous parties would become the grumpy, aloof overseas student studying a degree in criminology; that his once reckless spirit could be crushed so easily. 

of all things that finn could be called, straightforward would never be one of them. ever since his first days in atticus, the boy was pegged as hostile, hot-headed, cynical, rude. he seemed to spend more time in his thoughts than engaging in conversation. like a ticking time-bomb, finn’s anger was of the calm kind, liable to explode without a moment’s noticed. his unpredictable personality make him something of an enigma to those who aren’t amiable with the lad, though hostile as he may appear, he harvests a good heart. loyalty lies at the centre of his affections, and whilst his friends are few in number, he makes a lifelong partner. somewhere within finn, there’s still some fight left, but mostly he has recognised that his hedonistic lifestyle did little to leave him fulfilled – mostly, it just emptied him out – and over his three years at university has resigned himself to a nihilistic predicament.

        if u wanna plot with me pls pls pls im me or like this post!! i am always game for plots i love em so excited to write with you all here r some ideas

study buddies. finn is now a phd student so has to start takin shit seriously. he gon be in the library every day doing that independent study. if he had ppl who were also regular library goers n they get each other coffees to save time.... tht wld be sweet

ppl who love techno dj sets and going super hard on the weekends!!! fuck yea

friends with benefits. exes on bad terms. ppl he tried to date but couldnt because he’s always emotionally hung up on someone else. spicy hook up plots

ppl he met touring?? maybe ppl who were also in the entertainment industry..... anyone got a character who is ex circus hit me up

does anyone else study criminology / forensics / criminal psych / law? phd students sometimes lecture so he cld be an assistant lecturer / tutor if ur character is in a younger year

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

finn goes to the skatepark and all the young boys there think he’s a gradnpa which he is! 

[artificialqueens]

How Far I'll Go - Chapter 1 (Nina West/Monet X Change) - Meggie, Mia Ugly

A/N: Nina West gets the redemptive musical love story he deserves.

Chapter 1 - chase anything that glitters

The finale is over, and Nina West is drinking alone.

Well not - alone alone. Clearly.  He’s in a bar that’s packed to standing room only with queens from all the seasons, as well as the World of Wonder and VH1 employees that managed to get tickets. The after-party and the after-after-party have been going strong for hours, and Nina has been bubbly and humble and as charming as he possibly can be after spending this long in a corset. (He has a bit of a meltdown when he meets Latrice but that was a long time coming.  Like ten literal years in the making.)

But eventually the day catches up with him, and the constant smile starts to crack like a windshield, and Nina finds himself sitting at the bar alone.  Which is okay. He’s exhausted, and the arches of his feet ache, and if he has to answer one more question about Branjie he might clench his teeth so hard he cracks a molar.

So he may not be alone alone, but he’s alone in a way he can feel (in his hands,  his ribs, his heart).

Even then, he’s not alone for long.

“Hey there, Miss Congeniality.” Monet X Change slides up to him at the bar, looking like he was dipped in honey. “Werk. Congratulations girl.”

“Thank you.” Nina would ordinarily be beyond intimidated to meet the latest AllStars winner, a dream of his ever since Monet was crowned. But tonight, after the finale and the hours of making small-talk, Nina’s feeling so much that there’s no room beneath his skin for anything else. His whole body is vibrating. “You look fantastic.”

“You too.  Giving me paper doll realness, honey. And I am living for this colour.” Monet’s smile is a bit soft around the edges, and there’s a glass of champagne in his hand. He sings a line from that Janelle Monae song Nina loves: “Pink like the holes in your heart… So how you feeling?”

“Good,” Nina says, even though that word does not come close to the truth of it. “Great. It’s been such an honour -”

“Listen to you, all congenial.  Miss me with those sound-bites, girl. How you really feeling?”

“Nina - we’re taking off,” A’Keria interrupts before Nina can answer, hand resting gently on Nina’s shoulder.  Slightly behind him stands Vanjie, arms crossed protectively around himself. He’s smiling at Nina, but it doesn’t quite match his eyes.

“Gotta get my beauty sleep,” Vanjie mutters. “Plus I ain’t see no trade in here - present company excepted, course.”

He comes forward to kiss Nina on both cheeks. “Tell your girl not to go home with no serial killers.”

Vanjie nods toward the far corner of of the crowded bar, and he and A’Keria walk off to where Silky is waiting for them by the doors. When Nina follows the direction of Vanjie’s nod, he sees Brooke with a cocktail in his hand, close-talking with a lumberjack-looking hipster that Nina doesn’t recognize.

Shit. Poor Vanjie.

It’s one thing to be cool with each other, to be friends. It’s another thing entirely to watch Brooke move on.

Nina winces out a smile. His heart aches for Vanessa. His heart aches for absolutely no other reason.

When Nina turns back to Monet, the other queen is watching him closely, eyebrow raised.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“What? Oh! Them? Yeah, too bad it didn’t work out. They were basically adorable and the fans -”

“Nah, nah, not that.” Monet finishes his champagne. “What’s your deal with, uh  - tall, blonde and emotionally constipated over there?  You and Brooke weren’t ever -”

“God, no. No. Not like - that.” People that look like me don’t end up with people that look like him, he hears a voice in the back of his mind whisper.  He hates that voice, paper soft and sinister. He’s heard it before, thought he’d kicked it to the curb and left it behind after his college days, but it followed along in his shadow. (Sometimes Nina feels like no matter how far he’s come, there are stories that travel with him.) “We like - once.”

“Once? Once what? I fucking knew it by the way.”

“Just kissed. Messed around. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Monet snags two new glasses of champagne from a passing server.  He puts one down in front of Nina, and drains half of the other in one swallow. “I see you, girl. You might be pretty in pink but those shoulders don’t lie. All slumped over.”

Deny, deny, deny.  That was Nina’s first rule. The whole Brooke thing was years ago, anyway, and that particular wound has long scarred over. Maybe there was a moment on that first day of Drag Race where Nina thought that this was some sort of sign (he does that sometimes, forgets that this is real life and not a romantic comedy or Disney film) but - it’s in the past.  

“We’re friends,” Nina says simply.

“Great,” Monet says in a tone that clearly states he doesn’t believe a word Nina is saying. “Well then. Tequila?”

They end up shutting down the bar. That’s not something Nina does often - or, like, ever. When he’s at the club he is at work, he is fundraising, or shaking hands and making connections, or getting petitions signed, forcing all the trendy apolitical gays  to give a damn about something.

He is not sitting with queens in sunshine-yellow dresses, ignoring the rest of the world while getting slowly wasted on tequila and laughing so hard his makeup runs.

Monet is fucking funny. Nina knew he was funny, loved him on both seasons, but it’s different up close. When Monet starts reading the queens in the room Maya Angelou-style, Nina almost falls off his stool.

At some point Brooke and whoever he’s going home with come to say goodbye (Brooke wraps his arms around Nina, says “I love you, love you, love you,” three times against his jaw). Nina can smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, the whisky on his mouth.

“Love you too,” Nina says, only a little bit worried.

As Brooke drags his skinny lumberjack away, Nina hears him slur something that sounds like “gotta find Vanjie before we leave.” That’s going to be a long and fruitless search, but Nina leaves him to it.  He watches the pair go (pretends that he isn’t).

It may be an old scar, but old scars still ache from time to time. This one does. Smarts. Worms its way into Nina’s heart like tendrils, squeezes tight, compresses. He knows it’s platonic love he and Brooke share, but there was a time, before Vanjie but during Drag Race when maybe for a minute he thought— Stop.

If Vanessa Vanjie Matteo wasn’t good enough for Brooke, then the rest of the world hasn’t got a hope in hell.

“What are you doing after this, Nina West?”

All thoughts of Brooke aside (still rolling just under the surface), Nina likes the way Monet says his first and last name together. He likes that kitty-cat wig with the finger waves that Monet is wearing, looking like Clara Bow in some black and white film. He likes a lot of things right now, but unlike Brooke, Nina is drunk.

“What am I doing? Back to Columbus for a bit.  Hosting a finale party and then… and then.  Then the tour! Yes, that.”

“Did you just forget about your own tour?” Monet laughs, low and delighted. “Girl, you’re in trouble.”

“So much trouble,” Nina confides, reaching out to put a hand on Monet’s arm. “Just - scads of it.”

“‘Scads?’” Monet laughs again, “You age one-hundred years every time you drink?”

“Every time!”

Monet shakes his head, rolling his eyes a bit (but not in a mean way. In kind of a charming way. Nina likes a lot of things right now.)

“I didn’t mean after the show is over.  I meant - like tonight.  What are you doing after this?”

“Oh.” Nina blinks. This can’t be - “Oh.”

“You want to get out of here?” Monet is watching him with dark-lidded eyes, no laughter on his face any more. His lips part, and Nina stares at his purple lipstick and thinks yes and then a beat later please. Because he is a gentleman.

“I’m drunk,” Nina says in the spirit of full disclosure.

“You think I’ve got some miracle liver? Me too. I’m fine with it if you are.”

“Okay.” If they’re both drunk it’s fine. As long as they - talk about it first. It’s fine. “Um. Okay.” Nina realizes he hasn’t moved his hand off of Monet’s arm. Now that he notices, it’s all he can think about.

How does someone do this? Should they leave at the same time? Separate times? The lights in the bar are coming on, and the last few stragglers are starting to go. Most of the girls from Season 11 have already left, God knows how long ago.  Nina didn’t even notice.

“I’m in room 1518,” Monet thankfully interrupts Nina’s panic. “You should come by.” He moves his arm out from underneath Nina’s fingertips, and Nina instantly misses the warmth of his skin. Monet grabs his clutch, weaves out of the bar without a backwards glance, and Nina takes a few moments to jump headfirst back into that panic spiral.

He hasn’t done something like this in - a very long time. He isn’t really a casual sex kind of person. He won’t say no to it, obviously, but - it’s been awhile.

He’s been busy.  

Come on, girl, he tells himself, just act like people proposition you in bars everyday. Just act like this is a totally normal thing that you do, because you are a normal person.

Nina waits and panics for another ten minutes, before he gets up from his stool like a normal person would. He casually, elegantly (not at all unsteady on his heels) leaves the bar.  Normally. He takes the elevator alone, in silence, to the fifteenth floor.

His knock on room 1518 is so hesitant that it’s basically inaudible. No one hears it and he’s forced to knock again.  He waits in the brightly lit hallway, feeling like a football player in pink, until the door opens.

Monet’s holding a makeup wipe, and his face is shining, paint off. He’s changed out of his dress, taken off his padding. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Nina immediately feels like an idiot.

“Oh,” Monet says, “You’re still in - all that.”

Shit. Fuck. “I - yes. Sorry. I should have -”

“No, I -” Monet takes a step closer.  “Told you I was living for that colour.”

Then he puts his hands on either side of Nina’s face and kisses him.

It’s a good kiss. Warm and tasting a bit like mint (Monet must have brushed his teeth). Monet’s lips are soft and gentle, grasping Nina’s own as if he doesn’t mind the taste of tequila and anxiety.  He doesn’t make any attempt to deepen things - keeps the kiss sweet, keeps his hands on Nina’s face.  His hands are warm too.

“You wanna come in?” Monet asks when he pulls back, and Nina has forgotten how to make words happen.  So he just nods. Lets Monet pull him forward gently, close the door behind him.

They start kissing again right away, just standing there in the middle of the room. Nina loses himself a bit in it, closes his eyes and lets the tequila do the thinking for him. He sucks Monet’s tongue into his mouth and Monet lets out a soft gasp that - yeah, that’ll work. Now that tongues are involved, the kissing gets harder, nothing tentative about it. Teeth pull on Nina’s lower lip, the edge of his jaw, tease their way down his neck. It’s good. It feels good, and he has to bite his mouth shut to stop himself from saying as much out loud.

Monet pulls away suddenly, and Nina just stares at him. He wobbles slightly, and steps out of his heels before he falls down.

“You’re probably still all - strapped in, hey?” Monet’s eyes are a bit unfocused, moving over Nina’s face. “Do you want to change? Take your paint off? I should have asked.”

Nina feels like an idiot again. Why the hell didn’t he go to his room first?

“Thanks. I’ll just -” He gestures to the bathroom, and Monet gives him a look.

“I’ve seen it all, girl. Let me get your zipper for you.”

Nina’s lips sting and his heart is racing. Getting out of drag in front of someone kind of kills the mystery. Not that Nina feels his body is any great piece of artwork to be slowly revealed but it’s not really a sexy process. Maybe it’s different when you look like Aquaria or Yvie or something but - Nina’s album is called “Drag is Magic” for a reason.

Despite all of this (blame the tequila just - always, for everything) he turns around.

Moves his wig to the side so that Monet can slide the zipper of his dress down his spine. It makes goosebumps break out all over Nina’s arms, and the dress falls to the floor. When Nina turns back around to pick it up, Monet is still standing there, a bit closer than before. They look at each other.  Monet reaches forward to take off each of Nina’s massive crystal earrings, putting them carefully on the nightstand.

Nina just - stands there. Stands there as Monet unhooks his cincher, rolls his hip-pads down his legs, takes his tights along with them. Stands there as Monet drops to his knees in front of Nina, gently pulling down his underwear.

The dress was loose enough the Nina didn’t need to tape anything or do much of a tuck, and he’s fucking grateful for that. Still, as he glances down at himself, he sees a body covered with angry red lines, places where shapewear dug into his skin, all the illusion of his silhouette stripped away.

“You’re so hot,” Monet murmurs and Nina cannot hear that sort of thing right now, is totally not ready for it.

“Thanks?” he says and Monet breathes a laugh against his thigh before dragging his tongue across Nina’s hip.

“This okay?”

Nina nods, can’t speak. He’s harder than he thought he could be after the amount he had to drink, and Monet’s hands (tracing up his thighs, moving between his legs) are so warm, and strong, and soft. When Monet bends forward and sucks him into his mouth, Nina gasps, back arching as he tries not to come immediately.  Everything is impossibly tight and wet, and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to remain upright. He puts an unsteady hand on Monet’s shoulder, and Monet reaches up, moves Nina’s hand to the back of his head. There’s stubble under Nina’s fingertips, and the soft sounds of Monet swallowing around him fill the room (along with Nina’s own frantic breathing).

“You taste fucking amazing,” Monet murmurs, dragging his tongue up the length of him and moaning.  “Christ, I - bed, the bed, please -”

Nina stumbles backwards, falling onto the scratchy hotel comforter in a graceless sprawl. Monet is pulling off his shirt one-handed and then quickly climbing on top of him. His hand is on Nina’s cock and he’s grinding his hips into Nina’s thigh, and he’s kissing him again, hard and deep, like he’s starving. Nina can’t remember being with anyone who wanted to kiss him this much. It’s intoxicating, makes him feel something - he can’t put a label to it but it takes up too much room inside his chest.

“Can you just -” Monet bites out against Nina’s lips, and Nina pushes his hand past the waistband of Monet’s sweats, finds his cock hard and wet against his palm. Monet makes such a delicious noise at the first stroke of Nina’s hand that Nina can’t be blamed for the sounds he makes in response.

It goes like this for awhile, the two of them fucking each other’s fists and breathing into each other’s mouths. It’s quiet in the room except for cut-off moans and huffs of breath, and Nina lets his body take the lead in this, lets himself move and feel without thinking about it (tequila is a godsend).

When Monet comes it is nearly silent, just a stutter in his breath and a few sharp jerks of his hips and Nina’s hand is suddenly wet and trembling.  It’s the hottest thing that’s happened to him in - in a long time - and he buries his face in Monet’s neck, goes somewhere else for an orgasm (“okay - okay - Oh fuck -”) that lasts longer than he expects it to, almost on the edge of too much.

Breathe.

In. Out.

“Fuck me up, Nina West,” Monet says against his neck, with a low gorgeous sigh. Nina lies back against the pillows, and realizes that Monet’s mouth is smeared with pink lipstick.  It makes him huff out a tipsy laugh, which makes Monet smile with his eyes closed.

“Did you know you’re still in your wig?”

Oh my fucking God.

Nina is - still IN HIS WIG. His fucking bubblegum pink wig.  He doesn’t know how to react to this knowledge, so he makes a mortifying sound that might be a laugh and might be a cough and might be someone choking.

It’s okay (he thinks) because Monet laughs too, covering his face with his hands, hiding that gorgeous smile. When Monet’s recovered himself, he leans over and starts to take the pins out of Nina’s hair, and Nina blushes for God knows what reason.  As the wig slides off his head, Monet kisses him right above the pulse point in his jaw.

Things get foggy after that. The room is spinning slightly, and Nina isn’t sure whether that’s exhaustion or alcohol or the absolutely boneless and beautiful feeling that follows excellent sex. He thinks he hears fireworks going off outside, but when he cranes his head towards the window, expecting a shower of fiery glitter, the sky is dark.

Nina closes his eyes for a moment, thirty seconds tops. When he opens them again the sky has gone from black to misty blue, and Monet’s mouth is between his legs.

“Oh my God, you’re -”

Nina stays awake just long enough to come down Monet’s throat and then suck the taste off Monet’s tongue as they make out messily afterwards. At some point Monet loses the rest of his clothing, and the silk of his skin against Nina’s is utterly unfair - how could anyone possibly  live through this? How do people ever get out of bed if Monet is in bed with them?  The pressure of Monet’s mouth is something criminal;  Nina feels like he could kiss him for hours. Maybe he already has been; time is all messed up in this hotel room, unravelled like bad knitting (just ask Nina’s gran, she’ll tell you about it).

He falls back asleep with Monet’s face pressed against his collarbone, murmuring nonsense to his skin.  Nina tells himself in five minutes he’ll get up, gather his clothing, and go. It’s not dawn yet, five minutes won’t hurt.

“Yousmellnice.” Monet’s words are slurred together and soft, mouth damp on Nina’s skin, and Nina only closes his eyes for five minutes.

*

He wakes with a pounding headache and a sense of regret that he’s pretty sure is caused by more than just the copious amounts of tequila he drank last night. And this bed… Is not his own, he’s pretty sure, at least not the hotel bed he’s been in for the last two nights while they got ready for the finale and the reunion and-

Oh.

An arm wraps around his waist, tightens around his midsection, pulls him close. Beside him, Monet sighs.

Monet.

Shit. Fuck. Jesus. God.

The night returns to him in flashes: Monet’s hands soft on his stomach, back, and thighs; Monet’s lips ghosting over his own, teeth against his lip and hip and-

Nina squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up in his own bed, in his own room, even back in Columbus surrounded by dogs and not a man would be preferable at this exact moment because this cannot have happened.

Casual sex with random trade in bars is okay. It’s - different - like he said before, and it’s been awhile. But he feels things too deeply, gets too attached - for it to be the norm. One kiss and he’s ready to tattoo their names on his goddamn wrist. (Hyperbolically speaking. Mostly. Except for that one time. But it was college and he was much younger, and thank God it had just been Sharpie.)

But this is… This is less than good. Monet is a Ru girl. A winner. A fellow Miss Congeniality, and one of Nina’s favorites and this… This is bad. (Potentially.) Probably. He’s almost sure. So he was feeling some kind of way about Brooke because of something that happened a gazillion years ago (and wasn’t going to turn into anything anyway, Nina, Jesus) and Monet had been there, golden yellow and luscious in those finger waves and that slit so high it should have been against the law, and he’d… Taken advantage of the situation. Too much tequila, not enough common sense. Isn’t that how every bad decision starts?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and expels it in a long, measured stream through his pursed lips because his heart is speeding up, and it won’t be long before he starts spiraling again.

And another. In. Out.

Another. In. Out.

“Hey.”

Nina’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of Monet’s voice and he coughs a little. Very cool. Very how you want your Drag Race-winning hook up to see you first thing in the morning. He prays he had the sense to take all his makeup off before… Whatever.

“Hello,” Nina says cautiously, like the situation isn’t real, ceases to exist if they just don’t acknowledge it. He grips the sheet tightly to his chest.

Monet chuckles, low and deep, sends rumbles through the mattress. Then he turns over and presses his glasses to his face, peering at the clock on the nightstand.

“Shit, girl,” he mutters, sliding the spectacles over his nose. “It’s noon. We already missed breakfast.”

Then Monet is out of bed, perfect ass on full display in front of Nina - and even bleary-eyed and hungover he can appreciate that - but he closes his eyes tightly. (He still sneaks two or five more peeks while Monet gets dressed, if he’s being honest.) It’s not going to happen again - can’t happen again - and he wants to remember it. Only so he can fully regret it later. He went to Catholic school after all. He’s very used to metaphorical self-flagellation. Yeah. It’s very that.

Monet steps into the bathroom, and Nina takes the opportunity to fully assess his clothing situation. He’d come in drag, which meant he has to leave in drag, which is not… Ideal. Because a hotel at noon on a Tuesday afternoon is going to be far more bustling than a hotel at five on a Tuesday morning, and he looks a lot different as Andrew in a dress than he does as Nina in full drag.

He drags a hand across his face and his palm comes away streaked with black. Fantastic. All this and he’d managed to sleep in his makeup.

So. He figures this is the bed he’s made and now he has to lie in it. If his room weren’t all the way down on the fifth floor, he’d just take the stairs. He’s far more likely to run into people on the elevator than on the stairs.

“You wanna grab lunch?” Monet asks him, toothbrush in hand, working back and forth across his impeccable teeth, white foam at the corner of his perfect mouth.

Everything about Monet is perfect. Which is half of why Nina can’t figure out (or believe) last night. It just doesn’t - work that way for him.

People like Monet (and Brooke, that nasty little voice in the back of his head reminds him) can have anyone they want. So why did Monet choose you, Nina West? Why Nina West? Fifth-runner up, pushing 40, pudgy, soft-spoken. He could have left with anyone last night and yet here you are. When does the other shoe drop?

“Look, I don’t know where you went just now,” Monet says after rinsing his mouth. “But no pressure. I just figure we both gotta eat and I know a place.” He shrugs.

If this had been - something other than what it had been - Nina would think this was a date. But it wasn’t. Because it was… Whatever it had been. He’s still not really sure of that. The tequila’s still making everything a little fuzzy. It’s not a date. Monet’s tone is too casual, too easy.

And people like him don’t date people like you.

“Um, sure,” he says before he can stop himself. Because he meant to say no. He was going to say no. Why didn’t he say no? Because he wanted to say yes, damn it. “But I should probably…” He gestures between the pile of pink on the floor and his face.

“Right!” Monet laughs, and Nina thinks he almost hears a hint of nerves in it. Like maybe this is awkward for him too. “Yeah, probably not the best idea to go out in day drag and last night’s makeup. Not the most comfortable…” Monet runs a hand over his bald head and sighs.

Oh, it’s awkward. Lovely. “Well.” Nina’s sitting up, still clutching the sheet to his chest, waiting, but for what he isn’t sure. It’s not like Monet hasn’t seen him intimately, so why is he acting like a fourteen-year-old undressing in gym class for the first time?

“I think I’m going to shower.” Monet points over his shoulder to the bathroom. “What room are you in? I’ll just come down and meet you.”

Nina nods, grateful. “Five-oh-nine.”

“Great.” Monet smiles and it looks genuine. The light reaches his eyes, his shoulders relax a little. “I’ll, um… Thirty minutes?”

“Sure.”

Then Monet waves a little and disappears into the bathroom, and Nina bolts out of bed and pulls on that damn pink dress faster than he thought possible. He grabs his wig in one hand and his heels in the other and takes off out the door. The whole thing probably takes less than a minute, and his dress isn’t zipped; but honestly he couldn’t care less. All he wants to do is get in the shower and scrub his body raw of the regret and shame and scent of tequila coming from his pores.

Monet’s room isn’t too far from the elevator - thankfully - and Nina jabs the button approximately eight times, even though he knows it won’t help anything. It makes him feel better.

The doors finally slide open and Nina wants to die. Prays for a chasm to open where the tiny slit between elevator and wall is so he can just step into it and bid his painful existence farewell. Because lined up along the back of the elevator, is the entire cast of the Dream Girls: Vanjie, A’Keria and Silky.  Fan-fucking-tastic.

Vanjie’s texting frantically on his phone but his mouth gapes open as Nina steps into the elevator. The doors slide closed with a soft whoosh and Nina faces forward instantly, does his best impression of someone that doesn’t exist.

“Hello there, Miss Nina!” Silky is much too loud, and much too cheerful for the throbbing in Nina’s head. “Ain’t you looking well-rested this morning?”

Nina gives him a small, awkward salute over his shoulder, but can’t make himself turn around. Maybe the cable will snap, that would be okay. Death, at this point, would be a welcome distraction from the heat in Nina’s cheeks and embarrassment roiling in his stomach. Or maybe that’s the tequila again. Yeah, that’s the motto. Blame the tequila - for everything.

“We were going to lunch,” Vanjie says gently, “if you want to come.”

“You can shower first, we’ll wait,” Silky continues, “Gotta get that stank off you. We’ve all been there, walking back down to the room after getting some trade in the hotel—”

“Silk,” Vanjie hisses under his breath.

Nina just shakes his head and tries to focus on the numbers ticking by. “No, thanks,” he says as the numbers land on five and the doors slide open. “I think I’ll just order in.”

He’s out of the doors and feeling like he’s over the worst of it, when Silky’s parting comment hits him right between the shoulder blades.

“You walking funny, Miss Nina?” Silky whistles after him. “Must have got that good D.”

And that’s when Nina decides that he absolutely, positively cannot go to lunch with Monet. It can’t be done. Can’t happen. Cannot continue.

Whatever happened between them last night was fueled by alcohol and angst and they have to leave it there in the hotel. He makes his mind up definitively as he scrubs at his face under the shower spray.

If they’re going to work together (which Nina very much hopes they will because Monet is amazing - might be one of the funniest people Nina’s ever met, actually, as well as a brilliant musician and - and anyway that’s enough) they have to forget about last night.

So he will. And that starts with not going to lunch.

When Monet knocks on his door and calls his name, Nina doesn’t answer. It isn’t the most mature way to handle the situation, but he isn’t feeling incredibly mature in that moment. So he remains silent for the entire five minutes that Monet stands at his door (heart beating like a snare drum in his throat,  shame burning across his cheekbones.)

Later, when he steps out in the hall to collect his room service (because he does have to eat, Monet wasn’t wrong), Nina finds his jewelry atop his neatly folded shape wear just outside his door. Monet’s phone number is printed neatly on a square of hotel stationery, speared through one of his earrings so it can’t get lost.

And maybe, Nina thinks later as he enters the digits into his phone illustrated with the yellow-heart emoji (so what if he’s sentimental?), he wishes he had been just a little more mature.

Or a little more brave.

He blames the tequila.