#background was originally a day sky but i fucked up so night it is

[ofdarklands]

23 - Sirin & Alkonost

The Sirin is usually portrayed wearing a crown or with a nimbus, with the body of an owl. Her voice is dangerous; men who heard her will forget everything on earth, follow her, and ultimately die. People would attempt to save themselves from her by shooting cannons, ringing bells and making other loud noises to scare the bird off. Sometimes the Sirin was seen as a metaphor for God's word going into the soul of a man, and sometimes as a metaphor of heretics tempting the weak.

The name of the Alkonost comes from the Greek demigoddess Alcyone, who was transformed by the gods into a kingfisher. Many Slavic folktales speak of the unforgettably powerful and seductive music that resonates from her mouth. In fact, it is said that when people hear these sounds, they are unable to feel happiness in the same way ever again. She lays her eggs on a beach, and then rolls them into the sea. When they hatch, a thunderstorm sets in and the sea becomes so rough that it becomes impossible to traverse.

The Alkonost and the Sirin are two sides of the same coin. Both are beautiful women with the bodies of birds and both have magical voices of unimaginable beauty. The Alkonost guards good fortune by day and the Sirin by night, and they live together in either the underworld or the island of Buyan. According to folk tales, at the morning of the Apple Feast of the Saviour day, the Sirin flies into the apple orchard and cries sadly. In the afternoon, the Alkonost flies to this place too, beginning to rejoice and laugh. The Alkonost brushes dew from her wings, granting healing powers to all fruits on the tree she is sitting on.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - One

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

This is my first original fic after The Pilot and his Girl and it will be a very different read (just in case you're totally traumatised by The Pilot...😬)

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery. The plan is to post one chapter every Sunday night so hold me to that schedule when my procrastination kicks in!

Warnings won't be very serious, just lots of fluff, lots of food, some mention of drugs because you know some of these Pedro boys are just like that.

Series Master List

@harriedandharassed tagging you in this because you said you wanted to read anything new ❤❤❤

The drawback of being a baker is that your working day starts when others are still tucked in bed with hours left to sleep. Or just coming home from a party. But you don’t mind all that much, there’s a certain tranquil peace to being awake and working in the bakery while the rest of the world sleeps. 

In the warmer months you prop open the back door so that you can hear the birds starting to sing as the sky slowly grows lighter outside, today is just one of those mornings. 

The early morning radio show is on low in the background as you prepare the day. Yesterday's loaves have proofed overnight in the cold storage and are ready for the oven, the pie doughs taken out and softening while you prepare the cookie doughs. 

People don’t often knock on the bakery's back door before you open for the day, but it happens, so when you suddenly hear someone shuffle and knock, you’re not surprised. Wiping your hands on your apron you turn the corner into the small back room. A man is leaning on the door frame, but not the sexy, romance novel leaning. No, this man is leaning in a ‘lean-or-fall-over’ kinda way. His eyes are covered by large black sunglasses that he pulls down as you spot him, a tired but cheeky smirk on his face. 

“Hey, baker girl,” he grins, his voice gravelly like he’s chain smoked all night, “got any sna- oh whoops!” he giggles madly as he loses his balance and tumbles sideways, catching the other door frame before he grabs onto your arms and almost manages to stand up straight. 

“You might need coffee, not snacks,” you say, holding onto him to stop him from falling face forward into your apron.  

“I’m fine,” he grins, pushing himself upright again but still holding on to the door frame, “I just came from this party, were you there?,” he asks, giving you another over the glasses look, this time clearly checking you out as his eyes drag up and down your form, lingering on your pink crocs. 

“Actually, I would’ve remembered if you were there, love the crocs,” he chuckles. 

“What’s wrong with my crocs?” you ask, slightly offended, “They’re great for people like me, you know, people who actually work on Thursdays.” 

“No, no, I mean it, I love your crocs!” the man says, wide eyed and shoving his glasses up in his wild curls, “I have like ten crocs, one pair is pink too.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, giving you a confused look, “Wait, it’s Thursday?” 

“Yeah, five am, Thursday morning,” you say, wondering how to get rid of this disheveled man so that you can get back to the cookie dough. 

“Fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….” the man groans, bending double and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I’m so fucked…I thought it was Wednesday.” 

He stands up again and you can’t help but feel sorry for him, he looks devastated. 

“I was meant to fly out to San Antonio yesterday and take my nice to Six Flags for her birthday, and I fucking missed it!” 

He slumps against the door frame and thumps the back of his head against it repeatedly, moaning, “I’m such a fuck up, I’m such a fuck up.” 

“Hey, take it easy, I’m sure it’ll be fine, just apologize and take her another day,” you say, putting your hand on the man’s arm to stop him from giving himself a concussion in your bakery, “I’m sure she’ll understand.” 

“You think?” he says, “I’m not the best at remembering birthdays, I may have missed a few in the past.” 

“Well, then she’ll be mad at you, but all you can do is apologize right? And try to make it up to her as best you can.” 

“Yeah…yeah…maybe you’re right, thanks baker girl.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you notice the smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes, “How about those snacks? I’m fucking starving.” 

You can’t help but laugh, the man’s a mess but somehow adorable at the same time with his wild hair and stained t-shirt. 

“Sure, I’ll get you something, what do you like?”

“Do you have sausage rolls?” he asks, following you into the kitchen, “I fucking love sausage rolls.”

“What, like those things they made on the Great British Bake Off?” you reply, opening your walk in fridge to survey the snack options. 

“Yeah, I did this movie once, in England, and there was a bakery next to my apartment and whenever I got back from a party, early morning, I’d knock on their back door and they’d sell me these fat sausage rolls, fresh from the oven, fucking amazing.” 

“Sorry, no sausage rolls in this bakery,” you say, “but my cookies will be done soon, if you can wait.” 

You turn back to the man and realize he’s wandering around the kitchen, sticking his nose in your bowls, sniffing loudly. 

“Hey, don’t stick your finger in that,” you say, “Health and Safety are going to have my license if they catch you.”

“Sorry, I’ve just got the munchies, I’ve been high for like, two days,” he says, waving his arms around, “this place is torture for a high pers-OH! Do you know what I love?”

“No,” you sigh, exasperated, “I don’t know what you love.”  

He completely misses your tone as he spins in a circle around the kitchen and you realize that he’s wearing what looks like very expensive pajama pants and no shoes, just socks.

“I love those…what do you call them, like…millionaire’s something?” 

“Millionaire's shortbread?” you ask and he spins around to you with a big grin. 

“Yes! Those! With like the chocolate and the peanut butter and they’re like the best Reese’s ever, only even more fucking amazing. Can you make those?”  “I don’t know, maybe,” you begin and the man actually falls to his knees, shuffling over the floor to you. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’m dying here, beautiful baker girl, make me happy!”

“Are you asking me to bake for you or proposing?” you laugh, this man is too ridiculous as he grins up at you. 

“If you make them for me, I won’t marry you, but there are many other things I can do,” he says, pulling down his dark sunglasses from his head and winking at you from over the edge, his cheeky grin making it impossible to scowl at him. 

“Fine, I’ll make them for you, just get up from my floor, please,” you say, reaching for his hand. He takes yours with a bright smile, kissing the back of it, before he stumbles to his feet and follows you over to your big workbench.

“I’m Dieter, by the way. Can I sit here?” he asks, pointing to the stool that stands next to the bench. 

“Nice to meet you Dieter,” you say, “sure, go ahead, it’s got wheels on it though so be careful.” 

“Awesome,” Dieter says and sits down, immediately speeding across the floor with a kick of his socked feet. He stops himself from crashing into the fridge door by grabbing on to the handle before he shoots off again, rolling all the way over to the open back door. 

“Don’t fall out through the door please,” you call after him and you hear him giggle, a second later he comes spinning into the kitchen again. 

“This thing is awesome, I need to buy one for my house.” 

“Happy you’re enjoying yourself,” you laugh and walk to where yesterday’s bakes are stacked on trays. You’d made a layer of shortbread yesterday, you were planning on making lemon bars but Millionaire’s shortbread will work too. As you bring it over to your work station Dieter rolls past you and stops by the bench.  “Can I help?” he asks, looking up at you, his sunglasses back in his messy hair. He’s kinda cute when you think about it, gorgeous brown eyes, and the smile he’s giving you is open and curious with an adorable dimple. 

“Yeah, sure, you can be in charge of peanuts,” you say, walking over to the dry storage, “They need to be bashed into chunks with a rolling pin, something tells me that’s something you can probably handle.” 

“That sounds fun, please, direct me,” he says, kicking himself over to the storage cupboard on the stool. 

“Oops, sorry,” he giggles, grabbing hold of your hips to stop himself from crashing into the storage door, “I kicked too hard that time.” 

“Go easy there, Dieter,” you laugh as he untangles himself from the stool and stands up. You get on your tiptoes to grab the peanuts and suddenly realize he’s still holding on to your hips, standing close behind you. You swear you feel his nose brush the side of your head, a quick inhale from him, and then he steps back, letting go. 

“Peanuts?” he says, leaning past you and reaching up to grab the bag sitting just out of your reach. His arm brushes over yours and he’s suddenly very close again, his citrusy after shave, mingling with the heady sweet smoke of weed, fills your senses. 

“Uhh…y-yeah,” you stutter, “thanks. And the dark chocolate if you can reach it.” 

“Sure, this one?” he asks, grabbing the bag of Valrhona from the shelf. This time his chest is pressed against your back, you really should move out of his way, but he’s right behind you, almost pinning you in place, as he has to stretch to his full length to reach. And you find that you don’t mind at all, he’s warm and solid behind you, and this is more action than you’ve had in months. 

“That’s the one, thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. 

Dieter brings it down to your level and you take it from him, expecting him to step back and give you room to go back to the work bench. But instead he stays right behind you, and this time you really do feel him bend down and brush his nose over your cheek, down to where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“You smell delicious, like a cookie,” he mumbles and your heart literally skips a beat. 

“Th-thanks,” you splutter and when Dieter steps back, letting you move, you avoid his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. 

“S-so the…umm…rolling pin is on that shelf there,” you say, pointing down to your right, “and there’s a measuring cup too, just…umm…just get a cup of peanuts, and put them in a plastic bag and bash away. Just wash your hands first.” 

“Ok, I can do that,” he says with a grin and he walks behind you to the sink in the corner while you measure out the peanut butter into a sauce pan. 

Dieter gets to work on the peanuts with great enthusiasm until you tell him they’re broken up enough. 

“Just leave them there, you can come here and stir the peanut butter while I get the caramel ready,” you instruct him and he ambles over in just his socks. 

“What happened to your shoes? If you don’t mind me asking,” you point at his stripey, multicolored socks. 

“I’m not sure,” Dieter glances down at his feet, “I had shoes when I left home, I’m sure of it, but after that it gets a bit hazy.” 

“You’ve really been partying since Tuesday?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yeah, it was a good party so we just kinda kept going,” he grins, “there was a huge pool and we all went in. Actually, maybe that’s where I lost my shoes?” 

“Maybe, you could go back and look for them?” 

“And miss out on baking with a pretty baker girl? Never!” he chuckles and you’re not totally sure he’s being serious or not, but the grin he gives you makes you hope he is. 

“I think this is melted,” he says, draggin the spoon through the silky smooth peanut butter, showing you the bowl. 

“Yeah, that looks done. Just pass me that tray of shortbread and I’ll pour the caramel on top.” 

“Can I lick the bowl?” he asks, looking over your shoulder as you let the thick golden liquid pool on top of the shortbread. 

“I’m pretty good at scraping, there’s usually nothing left to lick,” you say, dragging the spatula around the edge. 

“Can’t you be a bit sloppy, just for me?” Dieter grins, standing entirely too close, “It smells so good, I wanna taste it.” 

This time he’s definitely flirting, the salacious smile on his face while he winks at you, makes you both roll your eyes and squash down butterflies on the inside. 

“Fine, I’ll leave some for you,” you smile, looking back at the shortbread again and scraping out caramel, leaving the last of it on the spatula. Putting the bowl to the side, you hold out the spatula for him. But instead of taking it, he grabs hold of your hand, and licks the caramel off the spatula with a long swipe of his tongue. His eyes don’t leave yours and the whole thing is so over the top you burst out laughing. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, tone it down maybe?” you snort, as he abruptly stops licking, letting go of your hand. 

“What?” he blushes, “I saw it in this movie, it looked sexy.” 

“Yeah, in a porno maybe!” you say, handing him the spatula, and only the spatula.

He takes it with a sheepish look, “Sorry, that usually works.” 

“Not in this bakery, I have to work with that spatula when you’re gone, I can’t have it being used as a porno prop, Dieter.” You grab a new spatula from the holder on the counter and start smoothing out the caramel. 

“You do smell good though,” Dieter says, still looking sheepish, “that wasn’t just a line.” 

“Thanks,” you shoot him a quick smile, working over the caramel, “you smell good too, underneath all that weed funk.” 

At this he grabs the front of his t-shirt and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose, “Yeah, it’s kinda obvious, huh.” 

“Can’t believe you partied for forty-eight hours, I’d be dead on my feet,” you say, mixing the peanut butter into the caramel layer, sprinkling in some of the crushed peanuts, “Do you want coffee or something while we wait for this to set?” 

“Fuck yes, coffee sounds amazing!” Dieter exclaims, dropping the spatula from his mouth, “And this stuff is amazing too, I’d eat a bowl of just this.” 

“You’d die of a sugar rush if you did,” you laugh, sliding the tray into the large fridge and setting a timer on your phone, “C’mon, the coffee machine is out front.” 

One of the advantages of being the sole owner of the bakery was that you got to decide what to skimp on, and what to splurge on. And the espresso machine was something you’d really splurged on. For a shop that mainly sold take out baked goods, it was way over the top, but it meant you always had great coffee on hand for your early mornings. The machine was already up and running, humming quietly as you started preparing two shots. 

“How do you take it, Dieter?” you ask and he winks at you.  “Anyway you wanna give it to me, baker girl,” he grins and when you sigh loudly, he laughs and holds up his hands in defense. “C’mon! I had to! You set it up perfectly!” 

“How do you take your coffee?” you emphasis and glare at him, but your smile is breaking through and he gives you a playful poke as he comes up and stands next to the machine. 

“Extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have ‘em.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” you smirk, “A guy who loves Millionaire’s Shortbread, of course he wants extra everything. I bet you’re lining up outside your local Starbucks the morning they start selling Pumpkin Spice.” 

“I would never drink Starbucks!” he protests, “Fucking vile coffee and the worst of corporate America. But you can’t beat a good pumpkin spice if you’ve got quality coffee.” 

“I’ve only got great coffee here, but no syrup, you want a latte? Double shot espresso?” 

“Please,” he says, leaning against the counter next to the espresso machine as he looks over the front of your little shop, crossing his arms. You can’t help the glance up at his arms, the t-shirt hanging on for dear life as it clings to his biceps and broad shoulders. The many rings on his fingers look tiny on his large hands as he grips the outside of his arms, and you’re temporarily distracted by them, and his close proximity. 

The hiss of the machine pulls you back to reality, coffee sputtering out of the spouts into the cup. You glance back up at Dieter and find him watching you with a crooked smile, a dimple in his cheek. 

“What?” you say, looking back at the machine and begin to steam the milk. 

“You really are beautiful,” he says, almost matter of factly, “especially when you zone out.” 

“It’s early, and I’ve been up since two am, but thanks, I guess,” you reply, handing him the latte and pointing to the sugar bowl on the counter next to the till. 

“I wasn’t trying to make a move or anything,” he says, sounding slightly hurt, “I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, immediately regretting your tone, “I’m just not used to compliments I guess, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I should’ve just said thanks,” you look over at him and give him a smile, “Thanks Dieter.” 

“You’re welcome,” he replies, smiling back. 

You knock out the used coffee grounds and fill it up again to make your own coffee. Dieter reaches over and grabs four sugar cubes and drops them in the latte, stirring while he watches you work. He’s watching you closely again and it makes your cheeks heat up. He’s got a strange energy of childish mayhem and intense magnetism, chaos that’s either going to make you laugh until your sides hurt or fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week. And you’re not sure which one you want. 

Your coffee done, you add a splash of milk and lean against the counter opposite Dieter, taking a careful sip. He’s wrapped both his large hands around the thick glass and is delicately licking the foam, drawing a pattern in it with his tongue. You watch him for a few seconds until he notices you and gives you a sheepish grin. 

“What?” he asks, copying your tone from earlier. 

“You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, immediately regretting your filterless mouth. 

But he gives you a disarming smile, “Gorgeous. Gorgeous baker girl that smells like cookies and caramel and chocolate.” 

“You’re just high,” you can’t help but scoff at him, but he just shakes his head. 

“No, not at all.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you, the silence stretching between you until you think something will have to snap and it’s probably going to be you. 

The phone saves you, the timer going off just as you don’t think you can stand another second of his chocolate brown eyes looking at you like you’re the snack he’s been asking for. 

“Thecaramelisset,” you rush out, breaking eye contact and hurrying back into the kitchen as if another second in the fridge would ruin the whole thing. Dieter comes in behind you at a slower pace, still drinking his coffee. 

You pull out the tray and set it down on the workbench before turning on the burner under a saucepan of water, setting up a water bath. 

“I’m just gonna melt this chocolate, and then I’ll spread it on top, it’ll set pretty quickly. And then it’s done.” You work quickly, too flustered to look at him and he hoovers just to your side, watching your movements. 

The chocolate melts fast, you only need a thin layer, and then you pour it over the caramel. You scrape the bowl clean but leave a generous amount of chocolate on the spatula, giving it to Dieter. 

“Don’t burn your mouth, it’s still warm”, you say when he takes it. He doesn’t grab your hand this time, but his fingertips brushes over yours as he nods, and it sends a sharp little jolt through you. 

You turn back to the almost finished shortbread but can’t help glancing over at him. His pink tongue comes out and licks the chocolate, this time it’s not over the top, nothing provocative about it, he’s not even looking at you. But you swear you can feel every stroke of his tongue on your own skin, burning hot and wet.

You swallow and tear your eyes away, blindly reaching for the crushed peanuts, taking a handful and scattering it across the chocolate. The Millionaire’s Shortbread is done and you slide the tray back into the fridge, it only needs a few minutes. Dieter remains by the counter, finishing off the chocolate on the spatula as you start to clean up the kitchen and bring out the cookie dough that still needs to be taken care of. You see Dieters eyes widen as he sees the first scoop of dough land on the baking tray. 

“Is that chocolate chip,” he almost whispers reverently, spatula forgotten, as he slowly comes over to stare down into the bowl. 

“You want to try it? It’s double chocolate chip with browned butter.” 

He makes a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head back before he looks at you and nods, “Please, it smells so good.” 

You grab a tasting spoon, giving him a generous scoop and watch with a smile as he puts it in his mouth. His eyes close of their own volition as he moans, far too enticingly, around the spoon. 

“Oh my god…” he sighs, slowly chewing the dough, “This is like heaven, better than sex, better than fucking coke.” 

“Knock yourself out,” you chuckle, “it’s not healthy but it’s sure as hell better for you than coke.” 

“And sex?” he asks with a wink, still rolling the dough around his mouth. 

“They’re probably on par, but this is tastier than cum.” 

Dieter nearly chokes, coughing loudly as you giggle. Between repeated attempts at clearing his throat he points his finger at you accusingly, trying to grin between his coughing.

“You’re…” he coughs again, “You’re a dirty baker girl!” he finally manages, grinning widely as you go back to scooping dough, still giggling. 

“I can’t believe I said that, but you did serve it up perfectly.” 

“I did, but I never thought your mind was that filthy, I’m appalled” he laughs, placing a hand on his chest in a mock gesture of shock. “Better than cum huh? You have a lot of experience in that department?” 

Now he’s winking again, poking to get more details out of you. So instead you take another tasting spoon, scoop up more dough and put it straight into his mouth to shut him up. It works, he grins around the spoon and smacks his lips at the taste. 

“So fucking good, definitely better than cum,” he smirks, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you wanna taste it?” 

“I’m good, I’ve already tasted the dough many times,” you reply, careful to specify that you’re talking about dough. 

“Maybe not like this though,” Dieter says, suddenly bending down and pressing his lips against yours. It almost makes you jump, his soft lips against yours, his aftershave, it all envelops you in an instance. He’s not touching you anywhere else, just your lips, and you can’t taste him, his mouth is still closed. Maybe you should push him off, the thought flits through your mind for a split second. But you want to taste him, taste the cookie dough you know is delicious, mingled with him, so you part your lips, your tongue coming out. 

Dieter lets a quiet groan slip out as he part his lips, letting you in, opening his mouth and tilting his head to come closer. You hear the spoon clatter to the floor as his hand comes up and cups your cheek, his big hand reaching behind your neck, another stifled groan from him. He tastes of sugar, coffee and chocolate, all flavors mingling into something enticing that pulls you closer.

There’s nothing delicate about this kiss now, you lick into his mouth, and he offers you all the space you want, holding you close and moaning softly as your tongues tangle.

“Touch my hair,” he mumbles, breathing into your mouth, “I want to feel your hands in my hair.” 

“They’re all sticky, Dieter,” you protest but you feel him shake his head, his lips brushing over yours. 

“I don’t care, touch me, hold me, I want to smell like you when I leave,” his tongue slips between your lips, and you run your hands through his hair. You can feel it sticking, tugging at his wild locks but he just groans, his hands holding you tighter and, encouraged, you let your own hands run across his body, eliciting another loud groan from him. 

Tension is building between the two of you, he is growing hard against your belly, unmistakably turned on and doing nothing to hide it. You can feel heat radiating from your own core, so scorching he must feel it too through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. If this doesn’t stop soon he’ll have you bent over the workbench in a minute, and Health and Safety would definitely have something to say about that. 

With a groan and tremendous effort, you put your hands on his chest and push him away. His lips chase yours for a few seconds, eyes closed, a protest coming from him, before he looks down at you with a sigh. 

“You taste even better than you smell,” he says, not letting go of your cheek, his other hand still around your waist. 

“The cookie dough goes really well with the coffee,” you reply, your mouth quirking up in a smile and he matches it, a dopey look on his face. 

“Amazing,” he breathes, "you're amazing, baker girl.” 

His adoration makes you tremble, you feel the heat in your cheeks, and he sees it, leaning into your lips. He stops and looks at you for a beat, to ask for your permission, and when you don’t pull away he presses a soft kiss to your warm mouth, so different from the hasty, heated kiss you just shared. This one lasts only for a few seconds, gentle, before he pulls back, his hand slowly trailing along your check. 

“I should probably call for my ride,” he says softly, “it’ll take a while to get here.” 

“Ok,” you nod, “the shortbread should be done too.” 

“Ok,” he replies, but he doesn’t make a move to leave and you can’t seem to take your eyes off him. 

“I really should…” he sighs, tracing his fingertips over your cheek again, “call that ride.” 

“Go, do that, I’ll cut the shortbread, we can have some while we wait for your ride.” You lightly put your hand on his warm chest and push him away, smiling, but you really want to bunch your hand in the soft t-shirt and pull him closer. 

“Ok,” he says, louder this time, as if making up his mind. He shoves his hand in his pocket, miraculously finding his phone intact as you bring the tray out of the fridge. 

The whole thing has set into layers, so you take a sharp knife and start cutting rectangles, slipping them up and onto the tray that goes in your display case, some go into a take away box, two you put on a separate plate and then look around for Dieter, spotting his broad back out by the back door. Just as you come over to him he ends his call, turning around to you with a smile. 

“My ride will be here in about twenty minutes,” he says, following you to the doorstep and sitting down. You sink down next to him, maybe a little bit closer than necessary, but he’s wide and takes up almost the whole door frame. Your cookie dough is still waiting for you, you’ll be playing catch up with your baking for the rest of the morning, but it’ll be worth it. This chaotic, disheveled man has made your morning a lot more exciting than usual and you’re a little bit sad to see him go. 

“Here, what you came for,” you say, holding out the plate, and Dieter takes one of the Millionaire’s Shortbread. 

“I can’t believe you made these just for me,” he grins and bites into it. You watch his face, this is your favorite part of baking, watching people when they taste the finished thing. And Dieter doesn’t disappoint, he groans, loudly, grabbing onto your arm and leaning his forehead against your shoulder, his whole body reacting to the flavors in his mouth as he chews. 

“I Iive here now,” he moans, “I’m giving up my career, I’m going to live in your bakery and pay you to feed me for the rest of my life.” He lifts his head up and takes another big bite of the shortbread, groaning again as he looks at you, his eyebrows pulled together, big brown eyes pleading. “How is this so good?” he moans, his tongue coming out to catch an errant peanut crumb, “you’ve got to taste this.” 

He holds up the last bite of the shortbread to you, and you open your mouth, letting him place it between your lips. You feel his fingers brush over them as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to swipe over your bottom lip. 

“It’s really good, I’m pretty happy with this,” you say, trying to not chew with your mouth open as Dieter looks at you, his eyes on your lips.

“Do you want another one?” you ask, holding up the plate and Dieter nods fervently and groans again as he takes a bite. 

“I can’t decide, this or sex, which is better,” he chuckles, and you nod. You know the cake is good, but you can’t help but wonder if sex with Dieter might not be even better. 

You sit side by side in the early morning sunshine, eating the cakes. Dieter soon finishes his second one and cracks the lid on the take away box you’ve given him, sneaking a third one with a childish grin that makes you happy to see. 

“Seriously, I live here now, I’m moving in tomorrow,” he mumbles, moaning between bites, leaning on you, his head on your shoulder. 

“You do that Dieter, I might even let you lick the bowl once in a while,” you say, patting his messy hair. 

“Lick the bowl or lick your bowl, baker girl?” he giggles and you give him a light smack, shaking your head. 

“Enough with the porn jokes,” you scold him, no menace to your words, he can hear the smile in your voice and giggles again. 

“Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, “Nothing weird, I promise, I’m just really tired suddenly.” 

“Ok, sure, but your ride should be here soon.” 

“Yeah, I just wanna relax my eyes for a while….” Dieter yawns and slips down the stairs to sit on the last step, hooking his arm around your hips and putting his head on your lap. The warm weight of him on your legs is actually comforting, his arm a steady hold behind you. Without thinking about it you start carding your fingers through his hair, adding to the sticky mess, making it stand on end, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It takes him minutes to fall asleep, a low rumbling snore coming from him. 

You keep stroking his head for a few more minutes before you carefully lift his head up and slip out from under him, letting his arm be his pillow. You need to go back to baking, your first customers will be arriving soon and you haven’t even put the cookies in the oven, you want them fresh and warm when the early morning commuters arrive. 

Back in the kitchen you quickly scoop the rest of the dough on the trays and get them in the oven and start stocking the display case out front with what’s already done. You’re just sliding the last croissants into the tray when the opening hour strikes and you flip the sign on the front door. You’ve been listening out back for a car to pull up but you haven’t heard anything and once the morning rush starts, you’re swamped and a couple of hours pass before you even realize. When it finally calms down you wipe down the counter and clean your hands before checking out by the back door. It’s still open, but Dieter is gone, as is the take away box, not a trace of your chaotic, magnetic early morning visitor. 

Hours later, as you’re about to close up for the day, a delivery van pulls up in front of the shop. A man in a uniform jumps out and comes rushing in with a box and an extravagant bouquet of flowers with a vase.  “Delivery for you, miss,” he says, handing you a device to sign your name on, and then the flowers and the box. 

“Thanks,” you say but the man is already halfway out the door. 

The flowers fill the small shop with their scent, and you place them on the counter, next to the till, stopping to stick your nose into the white lilac and breathing deeply before getting the shop closed up.

You flip the sign and take the box into the kitchen, the back door is still open to let the warm spring air in. Sinking down on the stairs where you sat with Dieter just this morning, you open the box. It contains another box and inside that, a note. But there’s also a mouth watering, rich, smell of pastry and meat coming from the box. Intrigued, you open the lid, only to find a thermal container inside, like a small version of the ones used to keep delivery pizza warm. Inside are six fat, delicious looking sausages rolls. Your stomach gives a hungry grumble and you immediately grab one, laughing as you remember Dieter’s first request this morning; sausage rolls, like the ones he bought in England after party nights. 

The sausage roll really is as delicious as it looks and you grab a second one before you pick up the note that came with them. 

It's a double folded piece of paper, so thick it almost looks like part of a canvas. On the inside a note is scribbled in a looped, flowing handwriting. 

“Next time I’m asking you on a date, baker girl /D” 

Part Two

If you want to make Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread, here's the recipe I used.

[lowkeyrobin]

hello! i absolutely love your writing and i was wondering if you could do something with mcyts, especially slimecicle and foolish (if you can’t think of anything for them don’t feel pressured! i don’t mind), and anyone else you want to write for x a reader that has a career in musical theatre? maybe something about them seeing shows reader is in and just overall hyping them up? feel free to ignore this, it’s just a little thought i had! have a good day 🫶

oooo yeah sure!! ; idk much ab musical theater but I tried lmao ; also added tommy bc I had leftover ideas + I was mostly only focused on charlie and foolish lol

MCYT ; musical theater

includes ; tommyinnit, slimecicle, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

"mean girls musical?? the fuck"

"my show is better, L"

he's secretly your biggest fan let's be honest

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

he'll sit off somewhere you won't see him after the first night so he can just stare at you without you noticing, since you like to tease him about it afterward

taking pictures of you then posting them during the show like hyping you up and talking about the plot

there's one of you singing and looking up toward the sky and he posted a tweet w a pic that says "me praying to god" and it dramatically left the mcyt circle 💀

he'll go and watch the source material before show dates just to see what you're performing and he'll talk about the plot with you

"why the hell are you walking down the yellow brick road?? THERES AN EVIL WIZARD, GO THE OTHER WAY???"

he shuts up immediately when you're practicing vocals at home just to listen to you

sometimes he'll buy extra tickets last minute to get you guys some more money LMAO

he definitely helped with prop making idc

at least painting the backgrounds and set things

your biggest supporter istg

always hyping you up

helps you improv act within the character to get used to the character themselves to not make them another version of you

he can sing too, so yk damn well he's helping you sing/getting into another character to help you rehearse the singing parts at home

shows up to every show to cheer you and your colleagues on

he's all smiles and like in a trance watching you on stage

like literal stars in his eyes

after every show he gives you the biggest hug and literally bombards you with compliments

he's secretly taking pictures and recording the whole way through, he doesn't care about those rules /j

attempts to try on your outfit/s at home if you get to take them with you as well

he can literally pull off anything wtf

it's like that video of mckenna grace and aryan simhadri where they're both wearing red dresses and they both killed it like?? okay, power couple who??

he's always posting shit ab you online as well, pictures videos, just talking about how cool you are etc

you two do theater karaoke every once in a while on stream and its the funniest thing

FOOLISH GAMERS

"how do you sing like that??"

"magic"

also tries on your outfits 💀

if you're in newsies... it's over

he seems like the biggest newsies fan for some reason LMAO

he's always hyping you up before rehearsals/shows and showing off his support for you ❤️

he is mesmerized by your performance, hearts and stars in his eyes the whole time

you almost went on stage w his snapback on because you were messing around with your friends backstage 💀

the second you got a part in the mean girls musical, he was jumping up and down

he'd probably never seen the musical but 100% watched the original movie 9477391 times

you show off your theater singing to him every once in a while and he's just like 🤨😨

he gives the biggest hugs after a performance

"Oh my God that was awesome!!"

if there's any merch, yk damn well he's buying it

he'll watch your performances on stream as well 😭 just to show you off

your contact name is probably "Broadway star"

you have to make Broadway Baby jokes after that (broadway baby was abby lee millers dog back in the day, only dance moms haters would get it 😔🙏)

[murdrdocs]

OKAY im glad you dont find it silly bc i have more modern earth things peter would have fun with!!

he looooves wireless headphones (over ear, obviously) because when hes dancing he always loses his balance when he got his arm wrapped in a wire. he can twirl freely now.

he does, however, hate it when you show him the footloose remake. he spends the whole time complaining.

i think he has a lot of fun with animals (bc of a certain best buddy he had back in the sky) and fucking LOVES funny animal videos and sends them to you all the time. also, he likely spends a lot of his time volunteering and rehabilitation facilities, especially those with rescued baby raccoons.

he would probably love a spielberg and scorsese marathon, two of the most famous directors from the time he left earth, to catch him up on their recent work. he really likes jurassic park but feels really bad for all the dinosaurs. also, ian malcom looks like a guy he met on sakaar once? and i think he’s just in awe of the fact that you can watch whatever movie you want and listen to whatever song whenever you want at any time of day. which is why the ORIGINAL footloose is somehow always playing in the background on the tv.

he doesn’t like a lot of popular music from nowadays, but he WILL listen to the deep cuts like a hipster. (don’t call him that, he doesn’t know what it means.) i could see him being really into psych rock and some blues rock from today. take him to lollapalooza, please. he’ll have the time of his life.

and lastly this isn’t exclusive to modern day but he obviously didn’t really get the chance to enjoy them as a child, he would fucking LOVE amusement parks. ride all the rides, play all the games to win you all the prizes. (he’s suspiciously impeccable at the shooting ones)

this is all so so accurate like i don't even have anything to add??

except, the amusement park thing is 100% true. no matter how big the ride is, he's on it (fury 325 im looking @ u). he has his hands up, "woo"ing like his life depends on it, and he invests in a fast pass because he's super impatient and hates waiting in the long lines. the carnies hate him because the games are obviously rigged, but peter still manages to win ? and he doesn't even know that they're rigged, he's just winning them back to back, betting he could do so whenever you try to tell him that they games are impossible to win. (he only wants a kiss and a slice of pizza, btw)

also, quill is always down for a movie night. for the first few months back on earth, he alternates between listening to music and watching movies. once he's caught up on his old favorites, he literally just rewatches them. he almost flat-out refuses to go to theaters and see new releases, unless it's from one of the older greats or possibly the newer ones (he likes some christopher nolan films, but he can't get into wes anderson). also the jurassic park bit is rlly getting me because he gets to the newer ones, and just pauses the tv whenever owen grady comes up because peter swears he's his long lost twin or doppleganger. and you're just playing with him, gaslighting him just a bit ("no, owen grady is hotter than you. you guys don't look alike at all").

he's also the type to see strays and bring them home, leaving you both to call around and figure something out. but he can't just leave them there. he'd rather have a barn for a house than have strays out there alone.

he would be so confused and a little offended if you called him a hipster, because he literally just doesn't ?? know ?? what you mean ?? at first he thinks you're calling him a hippie and that's way off. all he knows is that when you say "hipster", your voice has a teasing tone and you have a little smile that tells him it's not an amazing comparison.

completely random but peter has no concept of money. when he was a kid, $5 was like heaven to him, but he's dealt with so many intergalactic monetary conversions that dollars mean nothing to him. so when he's shopping for a pair of overear headphones, and he stumbles upon the pricy sony or apple ones, he's just like "that's a reasonable price, right?". until you remind him of how much money he has in his bank account so he's fine with a cheaper pair from amazon.

which, speaking of, peter becomes addicted to amazon for a moment. having all of that at the tap of his finger is overwhelming, and he's a mini-hoarder for a few weeks until you change the amazon password and refuse to tell him.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Seven (Part 2)

I don’t realise that I’m tipsy until the cold breeze hits me, as as I drag my phone out of the waistband of my skirt again, the glow of the screen jerks around in front of my eyes. I open up my messenger app and tap out a message with great effort.

I got the goods.

I attach Michelle’s phone number. He types back a minute later. 

Thamk yuo 

Yuo’re wlecmoe. Nice attempt at spelling some really challenging words there, Jude. Good job.

Haha funny gril

*funny gilr

Fuck **girl

Oh my God, you’re pissed. 

Yes !

I watch the typing dots appear and disappear for a minute or two before he appears to give up trying, and my phone comes to life in my palm with a phone call. I bring it to my ear. “Hello?” In the background is the sound of thumping techno music, rustling noises and then the swish of something heavy before his voice emerges from the chaos. “Yes.” He announces. “I’m drunk. Sorry about that, my thumbs won’t text what I want them to text.” He’s got this loose, childish, silly tone to his voice that makes me smile, as it’s a rare privilege to hear him like this. 

“You out?”

“I am.”

“Where are you?”

“Uh… Katen… Kater Blau?”

“Are you asking me?”

He laughs. “No, I can’t remember how to say it. I’m somewhere. I’m outside some club.” The music is muffled now, but the sounds of a busy city have replaced it, swirling around him, weaving its distinct melody with the sound of his voice. 

“Is it a Halloween party?”

“I wish. Nobody celebrates Halloween in Germany. I’m just out. Tuesday night partying, baby. Oh! You’re at Shane’s house.”

“That’s right.” I settle onto the steps, first flicking a tiny snail off the stone. “Here I am. I’ve been drinking tequila.”

“Bleagh.” He exclaims. “Tequila makes me puke.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Even the smell.” He makes another gagging sound and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Stop making that noise or I’ll start puking, you sicko.”

He lets out a loose, easy laugh. “So what’s your costume?”

“I’m a cat.”

“Ah.”

“Very original, I know.”

“A cat.”

“Meow.” I say flatly.

“So… what are you wearing?”

I cough out an outraged laugh. “That’s a bit of an inappropriate question. You’re hardly flirting with me.” As soon as I’ve said it I wish I hadn’t. In my head it was funny, but as soon as it hits the air I curse myself for ever thinking it ever would be. These are the only kinds of jokes that are never funny with him.

An awkward laugh. “Well I dunno. I was wondering what you were wearing, like, costume-wise, that’s all” My face heats up. “Um, like just these stupid cat ears I made and a cheap leather skirt and a corset I stole from a girl I used to know.”

“Cool, cool, cool.”

“Cool.” I wince with the phone against my ear, hearing only a rustle of fabric and a gentle sniff as he continues to say nothing at all. 

“This is nice, Evie. It’s cool to call you again.” He says eventually, voice a bit hoarse. Goosebumps travel up and down my arms and legs, but it’s surely thanks to the wind.

“I know.” 

“Like, you haven’t been far from my mind this last year.” 

I take a slow, shaky breath, suddenly feeling like I’m on another planet, alone on Shane’s front doorstep while the party thumps on on the other side of the wall. “Right.” I say, but only a raspy whisper escapes me. 

“I’m only saying this because I’m drunk.” He clarifies. “I obviously wouldn’t dare say it otherwise.”

“Oh.”

“You know how I was in Japan last spring? On the day that we went to see mount Fuji it was so foggy, too foggy to see a thing, and we were so bummed out, but the next morning before we got the train to Kyoto I got up early, like, when the sun was rising, and from the window of my hotel room I could see it, and it was right there, clear and blue, and the sky was red behind it and all I could think of how much I wished that you could see it too. Like, that I wasn’t alone just looking at it. I knew that you’d understand how perfect it was.”

I pause. The sharp autumnal breeze licks over my skin and fallen leaves rustle across the garden. “Jude.” I say softly. “You know that-”

There’s a sudden, loud crackling noise over the line and then a new voice is speaking to me. “Hallo?”

I blink. “Um, hello?”

“Bist du das, Astrid?” 

“No – um, nicht? Ich bin Evie.” I cringe. 

“Evie! Evie Kilbride.” This new voice is the cheerful, infectiously jolly sort of voice that renders the smile that crawls up my face irresistible. “Yes, and who is this?” 

“I’m Jonas.” He announces. “I have heard a lot about you.” and I can hear Jude groan in the background. 

“Exclusively good things, I hope.” 

“Yes of course, only very good things. Are you partying tonight?”

“Yes! It’s Halloween, Jonas.”

“Ah I see! Do you have a costume?”

“I’m a cat.”

“A sexy cat?”

I laugh, listening to Jude’s distant protests. “Jonas, please, give me my phone.” he pleads.

“You’re too drunk.” Jonas insists. “You’re at risk or saying something stupid. I’ll speak to her. Is it okay if I speak with you, Evie Kilbride?”

“Absolutely, but fair warning, I might be too drunk too.”

“You sound wonderful, my dear. I hope my friend didn’t disturb you.”

“Of course not. We were just chatting nonsense. Are you having a fun night?”

“Oh yes, we are. When are you coming to Berlin? When do I get to finally meet you?”

“Hmm… Maybe soon-ish.”

“I’ve been looking forward to it. You’re famous in our house.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I’ve looked at so many photographs on-” There’s the sound of a struggle, rustles and swipes and then Jude is back again. “I’m sorry, Evie.” He breathes. “We should probably hang up now before he says anything insane.”

“Okay.” I say, and in the background Jonas yells “Send us a picture of your costume, Evie Kilbride!”

“Don’t send me a picture.” He says. “Or do, if you want to… I, uh, never mind. I can imagine without a photograph… or – Christ, sorry. Nothing I’m saying sounds right at the moment. I’m going to go.”

“Alright, see you.” I say. “Enjoy the Katzer Blau.”

“Yep.” He says, and then the line goes dead just as Jonas starts to loudly sing my name.

The next morning, as I rise with an aching head and a mouth that feels like it’s been rinsed with sand, I reach for my phone on my bedside table. He has texted me, one coherent, sober message underneath the barrage of his drunken misspellings. 

I’m sorry if I said anything weird to you last night. I remember we talked but I don’t remember what about. I was very drunk. Forgive me. Hope we’re good. 

x J

Beginning // Prev // Next

[sothasil]

Hi! You're one of my favorite artists ever, and I would love to do some studies of your art! What are some of your favorite pieces that you've done, and how do you pick your colors? There's a lot more questions that I could ask, but figured you wouldn't appreciate an entire list of questions XD

Hello and thank you, I am honored! Feel free to send me all and any questions! I'll answer these two, starting by:

How do you pick your colors?

As I change art style with pretty much every illustration project of significance, this varies a lot. Here are, from most to least common, ways I pick my colors.

Eyeballing it. Unfortunately my most common... What I will do a lot digitally is lay down a color background, and flats of a few colors, then manually adjust each until they look good together by selecting by color and using adjustements. I then paint over it all.

Using a limited palette, eyeballed. Same as before, but this time I force myself to only use a few colors. It helps me, as constraints do.

Using a reference, eyeballed. This happens a lot when I mimick an art style. My medieval drawings for example, are often done by looking at images of actual medieval art to get an idea of what colors to use to look medieval.

Using an existing image, pipetted. Rarely, often as a challenge or if I'm super stuck, I'll just take a pic with colors I like and pipet from it. This website automates this if you want a good easy starting point!

These can be combined around. I'll post examples now, explaining how they use each.

This is a sketch for a drawing I ended up doing way different. This is the first method - I used a flat layer for the characteres and three colors for the sky to test out atmosphere. This is how I plan out most full paintings, just trying to nail down a mood I have in my head. I fiddle around until I like it or, like in this case, fully give up and iterate further. Here, the composition was to be redone too as I did not like the body language. I was going for "bright hot sunny day under a weather that feels wrong".

For this comic, I combined a very limited palette and a photo ref to pipet from. I was looking for the stark cold/warm contrast of a mid-season bright night by a fireside. I took a google image photo of a campfire at night that was already edited. The photo itself looks unnatural but conveyed what I wanted. It's still on the file itself! From it, I pipetted a few colors I found "summed up" the palette and did all with them.

While my own habits make me prefer painting as you would in traditional methods, with directly picking the right colors, I will often digitally alter with overlays and layer blending modes some colors and gradients, etc, to alter a drawing to fix it's color palette. The following is a quite egregious example, because I first drew the character in flats before putting him in a full scene. Here is a before/after summed up.

The shadow is a layer, the bright yellow light zones also, and the orange "transitions" of light zones on the skin a third. There's also an overlay over the full character to blend him in. I do this by...making a full flat color of a layer, fucking around until a blending mode does what I want, and adjusting hue/brightness/saturation and opacity until it looks good.

Another WIP where I was struggling with the overall palette. I was going for late 60s psychedelic. You can see in the top right the original color. I thought it looked too...new, so I added a yellow layer on top, and fiddled with it. Final choice was the following setting. I then put it with my sketch and color blockout in a folder and painted over it.

For this sort of adjustement, the "Color Balance" modifier in CSP, Photoshop, and others is also a godsend - but one I often use for fine tuning a finished piece.

This being said, there's some rough rules to coloring which are...born from studying color theory and doing studies. I am guilty of doing very little studies...so I'll just sum up the basics of the color theory rules I use.

For "default" shading, I use a color that is darker, more saturated and with a slight hue diff. This is my "don't shade with black".

Using a shadow that's cooler will make the light look warm.

Vice versa.

There's a bunch of stuff to remember in how colors relate to each other and pipetting images who's atmosphere you think is interesting really is the best way to learn... It's learning how to black-blue/gold-yellow dress in your own art for the lack of a better word...But the basics will be:

Don't trust numerical values, but look at your colors in context. A same hue, brightness, saturation can look so much different. This is how Rakkan's beard looks whiteish here despite being a light very grey brown.

All this but...colour is such a wide topic, I can't really say a lot but can also type for hours... if you have precise questions about a piece in particular I can explain :') I hope this wasn't too vague and was instructive!

Speaking of particular pieces, answering your question last under the cut:

What are some of your favorite pieces that you've done?

In no particular order, illustration only.

Including this in another poast bc staff's new post editor limits the amounts of pics I can put in response to asks. Insert colorful language here...

Frankly twas hard to pick I am rarely fond of what I draw

[rancidtae]

ARCADIA’S LULLABY | CHAPTER 3

Genre: Mafia AU. Vigilante AU. Sci-fi (AI). Warnings: Graphic violence, Strong language Pairing: exo & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah/Kang Rina) - Kim Minseok/Original Female Character - Zhang Yixing/Original Female Character Word count: 7k+ chapter summary: the rain pours relentlessly, but a different storm is just starting. Jiah meets Jongin at a birthday party, it's all harmless fun and magnetic sparks until it isn't, and he calls her the wrong name.

masterlist meet the characters

You wanna disappear in a crowd Just a stranger in a room Wanna change your colors just for the night With no word of it following you home

081222 - 5:43 pm

Things are quiet.

The story is still at the center of the news and online discussions. People have dissected every detail of Lee Chungjae's life to the point that he took down all his posts. In every sense of the word, he's the country's most hated man.

And candidate Lee's reassuring smile when reporters bring up the subject has started to crack.

But nothing else happens.

She's on edge. Let the storm hit already, for fuck's sake. 

Yixing finds her restlessness hilarious and texts her a screenshot of the weather app this morning. 90% chance of rain for the next three days.

It looks like Kuraokami answered your prayers.

In the midst of it all, he's been refusing to blend to the background of her mind, exploiting the fact that she's weak when it comes to a good meal. Most days he shows up to her door with takeout, and just yesterday he came with ingredients and made her eat her words about carbonara being the most overrated approach to noodle based recipes.

He’d laugh at her if he could see her now, standing outside the chronicle's building, struggling to get her buzzing phone from the inside of her bag.

A part of her hopes it's the blocked number from before.

But there's a name on the screen, and it puts a frown on her face.

“What do you want.” 

A chuckle spills through the line. “Resentment is a terrible thing, you know? It does the heart no good.”

“How would you know? You don't have one."

“I heard you paid someone a visit last night. I wanted to hear it from you.”

She scoffs up at the sky through her see-through umbrella.

"You want me to say I’m... what? Shaking in my boots? So you can rub one out to the sound of it?”

“Language, sunshine. Let’s keep things civil.”

“I tried to be civil, didn’t I? I even gave you a heads-up for old times’ sake, but then you decided to make things personal. So now I’m thinking that next time, I'll just let it blow in your face, make it surprise.” 

“Ah, there we go again with that. Why do you insist on calling it personal?”

“Why don’t you suck my dick, Namjoon?”

She hates that she can hear his poisonous smile, over so confident and collected.

“You walked into that room yourself. How is it fair to blame me for the consequences of your actions?”

He enjoyed it, he’s enjoying it even now, she knows. He denied any involvement in her encounter with a certain pair of recently debuted syndicate members, but hist hands were all over that stunt.

A blow like that, the same night she showed up to let him know she had info on his candidate’s son, and he expects her to believe destiny is just funny like that.

No fucking way.

Things may or may not have escalated to shattered wine glass and a deep burgundy stain on Jin's favorite artwork hanging on the wall.

“Can you get to the point? Some of us can’t afford to spend the day scheming, I have things to do.” she says, impatience seeping into her tone.

It's starting to rain, so her hair will start looking crazy in about three minutes.

“I was hoping you were bluffing.”

She laughs in a way that makes an older woman give her a nasty look.

“My hopes weren’t for us.”

Ah.

There it is. As grim as it is, it’s like a weight taken off her chest.

Her surroundings come back into focus. The narrow street. The stream of people walking past her, trying to get out of the rain as soon as possible. A girl brushing her shoulder, recording herself speaking in a foreign language. A taxi driver fighting with a delivery guy. A German shepherd with a yellow raincoat and little rubber boots, its nose against the side of a phone booth. 

“I see.” 

“Just now?” he has the gall to sigh, disappointed. “I thought you knew when you went to Yoongi looking for a 22. I guess you're not that good at seeing things beforehand anymore, not even when you start them.”

If she had to describe it, she’d say it’s a lot like a game of hide and seek with the kids from her street. Terrifying and exciting at the same time.

“Come to the hotel,” he suddenly says, much to her surprise “Stay here until things settle down.”

And if she had to sum Kim Namjoon up, this would be it. No one but him could give an invitation and a threat at the same time with such ease. Come, or else.

“No. I think I'll stay outside, see what comes out of it.”

Another deep sigh.

“I see. Have it your way, then. You have your fun, make sure to enjoy it.”

She hits the red button and finds that the cute dog with the rubber boots nowhere to be seen, as if it vanished off the street with its human. 

At least 13 different people stop her before reaching Kim Kibum's office. Even though her name wasn't credited, her co-workers know what it means when she disappears for weeks, and the kind of stories she chases. The vultures in her department rolling their eyes at the sight of her kind of give it away.

“I thought I told you to work from home until further notice,” he says as she locks the door behind her.

“What? I deliver the story of probably the year, and you don’t want to see my face anymore?”

"Don’t. I’ve had a long day” he huffs, pulling the blinds down. His office looks less cluttered than she remembers. Has it been that long since she clocked in? “You know there’s a reason why I asked you to lay low for a while.”

She drops her body on one of the chairs in front of his desk and grabs a heavy, fancy pen.

“Did you see? Lee Chungjae is living his best life in France pretending to care about free education. He’s out there taking pics with Rihanna.”

Her boss leans over, snatches the pen from her hands, and points it at her like a sword.

“And? What do you expect? That they lock him up as soon as the story comes out? We do our thing, the rest is up to the world. We’re a newspaper, not the league of justice.”

Earlier today she told Haneul something similar, just to calm him down. Now she knows how he felt.

“It’s been a week already.”

“No, it’s barely been a week” he corrects her, moving a storage box under his desk and stretching his waist like he just can’t wait for retirement. “You know how this is, Jiah.”

Yeah, she knows. Shitty. Working your ass off, dealing with red tape and censorship, putting everything on a plate only for the world to move on, people not give a shit, and those who are supposed to do something turn a blind eye and fill their pockets.

“Why is your stuff inside a box?" Even the fake Basquiat is missing, so she knows it's serious. "Are you quitting?”

“I’m moving to a new office,” he says, pausing before adding "Jongsuk quit today.”

The news hits her like an ice bucket.

“He turned in his resignation letter earlier."

"Fuck." she breathes. "Oh. Fuck."

"Talk about freedom of the press, huh?” he laughs bitterly, tapping his temple, shaking his head, his eyes turning red.

In terms of bad news, this is the kind that makes you very aware of the last meal you had.

The Chronicle’s had the same chief editor for nearly twelve years. It’s one of the country’s most respected newspapers, and Jung Jongsuk was a big part of the reason why. The idea of someone with enough power moving the right strings to get the man, the myth, the fucking legend fired just as means of revenge sets a chill down her spine.

It’s a petty but very clear act of revenge. A shame, considering he was damn good at his job and how much he cared about his staff.

She sucks on her teeth “What’s he gonna do?”

“No idea. He showed up earlier today and left as soon as he gave a speech. They want me to step in immediately. Can you believe it?”

She's out of words. Half wanting to congratulate him despite the sad circumstances of his promotion, half wondering what that means for her. He suddenly squints.

“You look terrible. Finals?”

“Done, I’m a free woman”

She's can't stop thinking about Chief Editor Jongsuk, how he was always like the cool stepdad that didn’t have to be too nice or too mean to get your respect, how he gave her a chance when she was just a freshman.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep or, I don’t know... drinking your face off with your friends?”

Her hand slips inside her backpack. “Well, if you'd answered my calls, I would be doing one of those.”

She puts a small, puny handgun on the desk, and slides it in his direction.

“Are you—” he locks the door before lowering his voice to a hiss “Have you lost your mind? How did you get through security?”

“You said we need to be careful and this is what being careful looks like, take it.” she says, sliding it closer to him. It barely brushes the side of his keyboard.

“Are you crazy? Do not— ” he opens a drawer and pushes it inside like it burns to the touch, slamming it shut and leaning his body away, pressing one hand to his forehead. “Jiah, this is illegal”

“I’m the best investigative journalist you have, flirting with the illegal here and there is one of the many reasons why.” 

“This isn’t flirting with the illegal, for god's sake, this is raw dogging it, Jiah. This is an office. We’re a–”

“Im Haneul is about to get into witness protection, that’s why I’m giving you something to protect yourself with. Thank you, Jiah. You’re welcome, boss.”

He bites his lip, looking at the drawer with resentment before setting his eyes on her, dead serious.

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Did something happen?”

“It’s always better to be prepared. You know what they say about peace and quiet.”

“I don’t,” he deadpans “Is that some kind of gang lingo?”

She frowns. “Just what has Minho been telling you? I should pay him a little visit—”

“You’re not going anywhere near my staff.”

“Your staff? I’m your staff. He’s a sports reporter, you can walk into a bar anywhere in Itaewon and find a dozen replacements.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, not denying it. “Did. Something. Happen.”

“I heard something. From a good source.”

“A good source.”

“Yeah, sometimes those are what we call confidential. So—” he fixes her with a look that makes her fear that his eyeballs will pop out of their sockets. “Fine, it was Kim Namjoon.”

He blinks at her. Throws his hands in the air and plops down on his seat.

“That's hilarious. If this doesn’t work for you, you can always pursue comedy. Now get the hell out of my office, I have to move my stuff to the other side of the floor.”

She stands up stretching her arms, giving him a once over and opening her mouth. He lifts a hand.

“I don't want to hear it. Go take a bath, get drunk, do drugs, get laid. You’re an undergrad student, not Chelsea Manning. Live a little.”

“Actually, I prefer Lisbeth Salander."

"Get out."

081222 - 06:55 pm

Something about the bleach fumes welcoming the moment she enters Lady’s Room is just– homely, and Wendy's threatening glare makes up for the stern mother figure she didn’t have growing up. 

“Don’t even think about it, boots off.”

She toes off her muddy boots, struggling not to spill anything on the heavy takeout bags, making her way to the back.

“How come he gets to keep them on?”

Taemin looks insane with a black cape covering his body and his hair all foiled up, Seulgi's hovering over him with the cutest concentrated frown. He wiggles is feet at her.

“Clean shoes privilege. Plus, I'm way cuter than you.”

She snaps a picture of him for future use while he's distracted explaining how he read somewhere that hair takes bleach better when you're stress-free, and that the end of his last semester is just the perfect moment.

“And of course you believed that, because it makes total sense”

“No, it’s true,” Seulgi says. “It’s also better when you’re in a good mood. That’s why I don’t like to take people fresh out of a bad breakup, the chemicals get all messed up.”

“Oh, he doesn’t need to worry about that,” she says off-handedly.

Taemin doesn’t like her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wendy answers before she can, flipping through receipts on the reception area. “It means that you need a relationship to go through a breakup. That’s usually how it works”

“I'll have you know that I have secondhand PTSD from you guys. I’m like one ride home with an angry couple away from giving up on monogamy.” 

“So, blue?”

“Silver.” He shows her a picture of a male idol with gray hair, wet styled. He's worried that if he goes too light it'll wash out his complexion.

She inspects his face in the floor to ceiling mirror “Nonsense, you’d look good in anything, buttercup.”

He smiles, always a slut for some validation. "You're coming to Sana’s party, right?”

She groans, plopping down on the chair next to him.

“Jiah, come on, it’s the last party of the semester. The last party before I graduate.”

She’s not swayed by his abuse of the last something before I graduate card. “I’m out of social battery, I'll kill the vibe.”

“We’ll pregame at my place and you’ll be good to go.”

“I can’t be bothered to go home and get changed.”

“Oh! You left the strappy shirt, you know? the one you didn’t know you were wearing backwards, and that leather skirt at my place, I threw them in the washing machine just for an occasion like this.”

“I’m seriously not feeling the vibe today.”

“Who cares, you attract people when you’re sulking.” he shrugs “Plus that’s the skirt you were wearing when you pulled that Romanian guy. We get free bottles every time you have your leg meat out.”

Seulgi slaps the side of his neck with her glove-covered hand. “Don’t pimp her out.”

“And this is why I suggested a ladies-only policy.”

“Interesting that you assume you fall in that category, but go on.” Taemin says, Jiah gasps in fabricated indignation. “And isn’t that reverse sexism?”

“It’s not like men are rushing to get in.”

Irene emerges from the office, walking past them with her all work and no fucking around face on, all her focus taken by her tablet.

“Oh, actually, we had a guy customer a few days ago and he was very happy with our services,” Seulgi says. Taemin and Jiah let out synchronized snorts.

Irene looks at them, going through the pile of papers Wendy handed her. “Grow up, you two."

Seulgi catches on, making a noise of disgust.

“So what did he want? A massage?”

Irene flips a page, scanning its contents. The warning is sharper this time. “Taemin.”

“He wanted a full-on transformation, so we went with silver,” Seulgi says, ignoring the quip, poking at his bleach covered hair with the pointy edge of her brush “It looked pretty good on him. It suited his personality.”

Taemin coos "Is that a crush I smell?"

Seulgi shrugs. "I'm just saying he fit the look, he was easy to talk to. Funny too. Asked a lot of questions about the salon, said a childhood friend of his co-owns one.”

"Huh, sounds boring to me." Taemin shrugs, not impressed. Seulgi and Jiah share a knowing look. He's platonically possessive to a fault, and being the only guy in their group only makes it worse.

Jiah smirks, spinning on the chair. "Sounds like your replacement to me."

He sticks his tongue at her “I was going to introduce you to someone tonight, traitor.”

Irene and Wendy sigh in relief, finally finding whatever it was they were looking for, high five-ing.

“I’m heartbroken.” She yawns. “I wasn’t planning on going anyway”

“You should go.“ Irene says, coming to stand behind her chair, playing with her hair. "You sure need it."

“What is it with people treating me like I’m some boring bitch lately?”

“Have you considered that you’ve been a boring bitch lately? We barely see you, you were supposed to help us look for a new place” Wendy complains, plopping on the other chair next to Taemin’s, spinning. "And you missed the anniversary party"

Nothing for her to do but take the shots. Seulgi steps in for her, an angel.

"Cut her some slack, she brought food. You know that’s sorry in her language."

"Alright, yeah.” Wendy agrees way too easily "And for the record, there's nothing wrong with being boring, Yeri can always use a boring figure in her life"

“I’m not going to a party to be on Yeri Sitting Duty.”

Taemin squints at her, walking to the washing station under Seulgi's orders, cape swooshing dramatically behind him. “But you’re coming, right?”

To be fair, she does feel bad about ghosting them for weeks.

“I swear to god, you better not ditch me for one of your Instagram famous friends."

He doesn't get a chance to reply, his calls for help fill the salon and Seulgi giggles like a sweet summer child discovering the joys of waterboarding. Irene's pleased to the point of pulling her phone out to record the scene, chortling.

081222 - 11:25 pm

One would assume that the only child of the owner of a massive Japanese architecture firm, who also happens to own several clubs in the city, can afford to throw a party with decent alcohol.

Her annoyance should be directed at Taemin for talking her into coming and proceeding to do exactly what she asked him not to.

He’s nowhere to be seen, and Party Yeri is at her peak, hands thrown in the air, dancing between a bunch of freshman girls with their phones out, the red light beams bouncing off her glittery top. 

“Not a dancer, or just not in the mood?” a voice interrupts.

She felt his presence before he approached her table. Some people are just hard to ignore, and with his simple silky shirt with a few buttons undone, pushed-back hair, and a flirty strand hanging on his forehead, he has a crowd of curious women and men alike following him with hungry eyes everywhere he goes.

“The second one.”

He smiles just like someone who's used to seeing others react to his looks.

Her first impression of him was jealousy for having better lips than her. She was too busy listening to Mina talk about her internship in Spain to pay too much attention to Taemin introducing the guy. Sitting at levels of handsomeness that don't require a personality, the man bored her without uttering a word.

But he's not hard to look at.

“So, how come we haven’t met before?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Taemin says your presence is an exclusive experience." she sips her drink, he thinks it's funny. "Jiah, right?”

“And you’re Jongin, one of the dancing friends.” 

A guy approaches Yeri’s group, disgustingly scanning each girl like he’s trying to figure out who has the lowest standards. 

“Not a big fan of us?”

She considers her answer, watching the girls shrug him off before he can get too comfortable.

“I've learned to coexist with you people. It comes with the Taemin package.”

His little laugh is surprisingly childish for his masculine looks. The way he keeps looking at her face like he can't spare any bit of attention to their surroundings makes her feel like a bug under a microscope lens.

“Here's my theory, I think he might’ve been keeping you to himself for a bit there. But I’ve heard so many things about you that I kind of feel like I know you already."

Jiah doesn't know what to say to that, but holds his warm gaze and indulges in the view for a bit. Caramel skin, glowy under the strobe lights, painted red like a forbidden object of desire, or a character of a Japanese movie, waiting for his lover at a love hotel.

Handsome indeed. Nice jaw, soft nose, slightly arched eyebrows. 

“Good things, I hope.”

“Interesting things.” He says with a crooked grin. She cocks an eyebrow, but he beats her to it. “So, journalism. What’s that like?”

She gives him the generic answer she keeps for occasions like this; lots of reading, being on the phone, doing more with less. No one is ever satisfied. Neither the readers nor the editors nor yourself.

Ok. So maybe she assumed a lot of things. He's surprisingly great company, really easy to talk to. He owns a dance studio and teaches from time to time. Some of his students have made it to entertainment companies, and he tries not to seem cocky, but it's clear he's extremely proud of them. He’s very nonchalant about covering various styles, though he’s more interested in R&B these days. 

“Your day-to-day sounds like a lot of sitting behind a desk,” he comments. Being someone that works with his body, the idea must haunt him.

“Oh, god, no– I always feel like I’ll throw myself from the window if I spend too much time at the office. I’m on the investigation team, so I’m almost always out on the streets, harassing bureaucrats and stuff.” 

“That sounds... fun.”

“Riveting,” she promises. “It’s not bad, really. You go through the boring stuff and then when you get a good story, you remember why you do it, and… it’s a good feeling.”

“You know, usually when someone mentions journalism I think of people with thinning hair and marriage issues.” 

“Are you calling me old?”

“No. I was trying to say that you just took down a stereotype for me.” he pauses, pouting and looking up like he’s considering something “But you do give off an old soul vibe, sitting on your own, sulking like you’re here against your own will, ready to decimate anyone who dares come near you.”

She blinks at him, he’s holding back a smile, she can tell. Waiting for her reaction.

“Wow, so you’re just gonna call me a hag like that?”

He looks mildly surprised, worried, and amused all at the same time. “That’s not–”

“And if I look that scary, how come you’re here at my table?”

“Because you’re very attractive. It balances out the scary.”

She hums into her glass.

“And I’m very charming, I knew you’d be harmless.”

“Right.” He’s not entirely wrong. She’s always suspicious of extremely charming people, and the alarms are going off in her head.

“This is me hitting on you, off the record.” he continues, undeterred. She snorts. "And I say that because, as I’m sure you know, Taemin is possessive.”

She lifts and shakes a finger like an aunt at church when the pastor hits a mark. “Like a kid who doesn’t share his toys.”

Which reminds her, where’s that silver-haired menace?

“We’ll just have to ease him into it.”

“Uh-huh. This is flattering and all, I guess, but I’m married so–”

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t get jealous” he shrugs, very serious about it. Which is unexpected, no one has ever reacted to the I'm married line like that. “I’m not gonna try to compete with your career.”

She's speechless, but in a good way, laughing at the audacity and shaking her head.

But then, just for a moment, he disappears.

There’s a quick, almost untraceable absence, even his smile falters.

Then he snaps back.

“Hey, you wanna get out for a bit? Get some fresh air? Looks like your friend’s gonna be busy for a while.”

Yeri was off her radar for a bit there, and now she’s got her arm threaded with the birthday girl herself. They’re moving away from the crowd, talking into each other's ears like they haven’t debriefed in months, probably headed to the bathroom.

Now that he mentions it, fresh air sounds nice. 

“Promise I’m all out of lines,” he adds.

It’s humid out on the street, but less stuffy and noisy. She pulls out a brand new pack of cigarettes and they get fire from a girl hanging around with her friends next to a motorcycle. Her kohl-stained eyes scan Jongin greedily while he leans over, hands cupping the flame.

She suddenly turns to look at her, right when Jongin leans back and thanks her, and winks.

If Jongin notices, he’s unbothered, much more concerned with moving around her to stand on the side of the street, wordlessly making them switch spots. The gentleman move is soon eclipsed by a sudden coughing fit.

It's so bad she feels kind of horrible about finding it amusing. He really just fucked up his smooth streak after one drag.

She offers to grab him a drink, but he shakes his head, grabbing her arm before she walks away. He swallows hard one, two, or three times, wiping the corners of his eyes.

"You good?"

"No." he rasps. “These are the kind that my grandfather used to smoke.”

“You could’ve said no.” she counters, patting his back. They’re strong, she didn’t warn him because she showed him the package.

“I was a victim of peer pressure.” he jokes after clearing his throat. “I was doing well, wasn’t I?”

“It’s ok. Choking on smoke like a high schooler makes you human.” she offers him as consolation. The coughing fit messed up his hair. he looks younger now, less of a threat. Maybe it’s just the fresh air, the relief of getting out of the crowd, and the nicotine easing her up. 

He asks if she smokes often, sounding like he doesn’t want to intrude, but a part of him will judge her if she says yes. Truthfully, she hasn’t in months, but it always hits a spot after a while, and people assume she’s too into it. 

“Work's stressing you out?”

“That’s what work is supposed to do, isn’t it?” 

He winces.

“Not to a level where you have to smoke like a war general.”

She grins at him sideways, the man who introduced her to this particular brand would have a few things to say about that sentence.

“I can deal with the stress, I only smoke when I get frustrated.”

“And does that happen often?”

“I don’t know? I guess. My boss says I’m too much of a control freak. He's a jerk, but sometimes it feels like he knows me better than I know myself.”

“Not great at teamwork, then?” he probes.

“No, I mean-- I’m not, but it’s not that.” she pauses. He’s waiting for her to elaborate. “I just wish I could do more sometimes, and not just document things from the sidelines. Does that make sense?”

“It absolutely does.” he assures. “I think I know what you mean.”

“I tried it, recently” she goes on, and she doesn’t know why she’s opening up to this guy. She’s not trying to turn him into her therapist, and she’s not even sure she wants to take him home at all. There’s too much going on in her mind at the moment, she wouldn’t be fully present anyway. It'd be a waste.

“And how did that go?”

“It was alright at the beginning. I've been helping someone– a friend who was gonna do something he'd regret. Actually, I'm not sure we're actually friends, but he's a great guy in a shitty situation.” she rambles, taking one last drag. “But then things went south in the worst way possible. It didn't even have anything to do with him, just personal baggage and terrible timing. I guess I had it coming.” 

He nods, deep in thought, letting a comfortable silence fall between them, just watching people walk past, going in and out of the club. She presses the butt against the sole of her boots, and tosses it in the trash.

“If it’s any help, I’m sure your friend is grateful. You did well helping him.” he says, and she remembers Yixing saying something similar. “And whatever happened, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

She shrugs. “It is what it is, right? Onwards and upwards.” 

He grins, pointing a finger at her. "That’s totally something my father would say.”

“So you ran out of lines and now you’re back to calling me old?”

“I only said that because I didn’t want to come off too strong, but if you insist.” He’s back on charming again, hands in the air like she’s just giving him no choice. The switch between kind to charming gives her whiplash.

A waste, really. A month ago she might’ve taken him home, let him make her coffee in the morning.

“I’m not insisting, I just asked you a question.”

He waves her off. “Bet you 5000 won I can kiss you without using my lips.”

It’s stupid. But he looks like the epitome of determination. Kohl girl behind him keeps looking at them over her shoulder, and without the meaningless rumble of the crowd to distract her, his voice turns out to be quite lovely.

So she tilts her chin at him, giving him the green light.

He takes two purposeful steps. She calls his bluff, refusing to back up against the wall. He gets close enough that he has to bend his head down to keep eye contact, and in a surprisingly smooth move, he places a short, harmless peck right on her lips. 

Then he backs up with a single step and pulls out a bill from his pocket.

“A great investment if you ask me.” he says.

She laughs despite herself. Not in the coy, flirted up way, but a full, honest, belly laugh.

The silver-haired menace himself emerges from the shadows with a cowboy hat on his head, thumbs hooked on his jeans. He’s glaring, a scowl on his lipstick-stained lips, focusing on the way Jiah bends over, hand on her tummy and all.

“What are you doing with my best friend? I’m asking both of you, by the way.” he demands.

“Where did you get that?” she asks him, fully recovered, flicking the hat.

Taemin grabs the bill from Jongin’s hand before he can put it away. Jongin raises his eyebrows at him, anticipating complaints for his actions, daring him even.

“Not that I don’t respect the hustle, but I think you’re underselling yourself, sweetie." he says, turning to Jongin like a parental figure setting limits. "A peck from our Jiah is easily worth 10000 won. Pay up.”

“Deal,” Jongin shrugs, reaching for his back pocket again, pulling out several bills, winking at her. "How many can I get for--"

“Alright, we get it, she gets it,” Taemin interrupts, putting an arm around his shoulders, and rubbing his chest distractedly. “I thought you were on Yeri Sitting Duty tonight.”

Jiah licks her thumb and wipes the lipstick marks on his jaw, much to Jongin's endless amusement

“She’s a big girl. You got some on your teeth, you harlot."

"Finally. I keep telling you girls, you baby her too much" he complains, licking his front teeth. "Someday you'll have to set her free, let her make some mistakes of her own. They build character, you know?"

"How wise of you." Jongin says. "Was that the logic behind this new look?"

"Some mistakes don't." Taemin continues, looking at her with crazy eyes, pointing at Jongin. "Some mistakes make your best friend uncomfortable and are off limits."

Jiah and Jongin look at each other. "You introduced us."

"Yes, and? I never said get chummy and explore each other's bodies, did I?"

“Nice tattoo, by the way.” She tells Jongin. She caught a glimpse when he got closer and thought it looked familiar. Then Taemin unknowingly moved the fabric on his chest out of the way and she got confirmation. “It’s the helm of awe, isn't it?”

Jongin mouth falls open, genuine shock taking over his features. Not many people know about runes or recognize them. Taemin tilts his head to the side, eyeing her curiously, suspiciously.

“How do you know that? I thought it was a snowflake.”

“I knew a girl who had one on the back of her neck. Hers was red though. Looked great when she put her hair up.”

Taemin releases Jongin from his clutches with an unconvinced hmph, taking off his hat and putting it on her head. Jongin quietly fixes his shirt.

"Oh. Oh. I think I saw Minho inside. You wanna piss him off?"

Well, that’s great. That’s just great. Super cool.

Jongin takes a look at her face and blurts out the question. "Who's that?"

"Her ex. She broke his heart, he started rumors that she's with the Yakuza." Jongin blinks in surprise, and Taemin looks like he wants to elaborate further. She stops him.

“What’s that grown man doing here?”

“You know he likes to hang around the youngsters and make people guess his age. So, you in?”

“Leave me out of it.” 

"Hear me out. I was thinking you and Jongin could walk around, right? Let him see you together, put on a little show. You know how his ears get red and his eyes bulge out when he's angry?” he's trying to contain his laugh, looking maniac. “I’ll buy you dinner, both of you. I’m serious.”

That’s her cue for a bathroom break. She puts the cowboy hat on Jongin’s head, not deterred by the way his eyes follow her on her way inside.

A sigh escapes her lips as the cold water runs over her hands. She smiles at a group of girls walking out of the door, their giggles reminding her of the task at hand—finding Yeri and making sure she's not too drunk to make semi-rational decisions.

Maybe she’ll try to talk her into ditching this place. Yixing's uncle's spot is not too far from here.

The possibility of running into her ex kind of makes her want to bolt. Not out of lingering feelings, she just doesn’t have the energy for that interaction. He has a way with sucking the like out of her.

There's only so much she can take of things beyond her control.

The bathroom door clicks. Something shifts in the air. The unsettling feeling of realizing she's not alone. She glances up at the mirror and catches a glimpse of him in the reflection.

Reacting on instinct, her hand snatches the decorative vase from the sink and hurls it at him. The man covers his face, not before grabbing her forearm and slamming her against the sink.

She puts her palms up to avoid hitting the mirror face first. It happens at once, suddenly he's grabbing her bag, and the next second the chain strap is pulling around her neck.

Her body bends back. His knee's pressed against her lower back. Either she’ll pass out or he’ll snap her in half.

She's not about to go down in a public bathroom. She pushes her shaky fingers under the chain, attempting to relieve some of the pressure.

Her vision' blurring, she's running out of oxygen and ideas. Tears well up. The muffled music starts fading.

There's a distant slam, a loud thump.

And thank fuck, release.

She catches her weight on the sink, gasps for air, almost crashes against the mirror again. She turns on wobbly legs and faces two bodies intertwined and struggling on the floor.

Her attacker’s dressed in all black, mask included, buzzcut, well built. The second man has his thighs wrapped around his head, snarling as he keeps him overpowered. A blue-grey silk shirt clings to his broad shoulders, thin black lines mark the skin on his chest.

The helm of awe.

He knocks the guy out with his thighs which... ok, impressive. With heaving breaths, his eyes land on her.

She runs. He grabs her arm before she can get through the door, and bends over when her knee finds his crotch.

Slamming the door behind her, she slaps her hands against the wall for support, still a bit dizzy, heart racing.

"Wait! Rina– please wait–"

Everything shuts down—her legs, the party, the whole city stops. She drops the plans of putting as much distance as possible between them, turns around and stomps in his direction.

Four letters, one word, a slap to the face.

“What did you just call me?” she demands, her face inches away from his. She doesn't recognize her own voice. He's pawing at his neck, pulling a chain for her to see, like that's gonna do something. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I know them. I know Yixing. You’re in danger, I’m here to help you." he sounds pained, trying to calm her down. She has no sympathy for him.

Hanging from the chain, a silver band morphs into two bony hands that hold a mint-colored ball. A ring, worn as a necklace. She recognizes it at once. She won that ring at some fair in Busan. Someone at school started a rumor that she joined the occult. Kyungsoo's mother thought she was a bad influence.

“We have to get you out of here. He has back up, they'll come soon."

Jiah exhales, relaxes her limbs. He mirrors the gesture, letting out a breath of relief.

Then she runs like her life depends on it. And it just might. She bumps into people, pushes them aside, desperately looking for an emergency exit she vaguely remembers from past situations that shouldn't be crossing her mind right now.

They come in handy, successfully leading her to the deserted alley.

But god, whatever version of it is out there, is just not letting her get away so easily. 

The years have granted him an extra couple of inches, not that he ever needed them. Maybe it's just the thick soles of his boots that scrape against the loose gravel. He stops, mirroring her shock for a fleeting second.

She grabs the closest thing available; a rusty, long, and thin metal thing that's heavy enough to give her some confidence. He’s staring at her, no traces left of the awe she saw before.

He's pointing a gun at her face.

"Drop it" he barks "Hands up, turn around and try not to be so damn difficult. In that order."

Frustrated, she snarls at herself, her jaw tightening until it hurts before throwing the stick to the ground. She turns around, facing the mold-infested wall. The last thing she sees is a torn-off poster of an underground rap collective.

His forearm presses to the back of her neck with no mercy. He searches for a weapon she's not carrying.

"That's for being so fucking stupid. Do you realize what you got yourself into?" he snaps, not giving her a chance to answer before he pulls her back by the back of her shirt and pushes her against the wall again.

"Ow– What the fuck, dude?" the rough, disgusting surface of the wall scratches the side of her face. She kicks her feet against the ground. "I wasn’t even– what the fuck was that for?"

"That's for making my mom worry about you, idiot."   

He finally lets her go, and she moves away from him, curses spilling from her mouth.

The exit door opens revealing Jongin—the impostor.

"What are you doing? We need to--"

They guards go up abruptly before her eyes. He raises his gun at her once again, this time with clear intent.

It'd be ugly, she imagines, being shot this up close. Her brains will end up on the floor, his clothes, maybe even his face. The Park Chanyeol she knew was an asshole most of the time, but he didn't have it in him to step on an ant or kill a spider even if his mother ordered him to, let alone shoot someone.

The inevitable fact is that they are strangers. She doesn't know who the time has turned him into, just like she’s no longer someone that he knows.

"Go ahead, big guy," she lifts her chin, rolls her shoulders. He’s looking at her like she's made of cellophane.

Someone takes the ground from under her. The ground is inevitable. Someone grabs her. Her shoulder feels wet, and her hands look for the source. When she looks down it, it’s stained red.

Did he just–

It can’t be. It doesn't hurt. It should hurt.

It all happens too quickly. There's a hissing sound. The impostor grips her tightly and says something.

Was her heartbeat always this loud? And did she really just get shot?

"Eyes open," The impostor orders. There's no escape with the world narrowed down to two walls. They’re closing in.

He keeps talking, telling her that it’s alright. Her heartbeat is drumming inside her head. It’s now supposed to do that, she shouldn’t feel this cold in August. A chill settles in her bones like she’s been running barefoot through deep snow in the woods, wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital gown.

Okay. Maybe she did get shot. And now they’re taking her away. But she can’t go down like this. Irene... the girls will wonder where she is, Yeri’s gonna burn the place down looking for her, Taemin’s too sensitive to deal with something like this, and Chanyeol–

He shot her.

And they keep calling her the wrong name.

"Rina, you have to...” 

thump 

“...be there...” 

thump 

“...right? C’mon...”

thump.

"Rina."

And then they kill the lights.

[go-to-the-mirror]

Hi, @mag200! What the fuck! I’m. What. Salmon??? IM SO ABNORMAL ABOUT SALMON BC OF YOU I SPENT LIKE THREE DAYS MAKING THIS BC SALMON BC YOURE TALKING ABOUT SALMON???

(Please continue talking about salmon.)

[ID: A digital painting of a salmon in spawning colours. It is jumping up a small waterfall. In the foreground are some mossy rocks, the same as the background. There is a log on the right in the background on the mossy rocks. There is one cloud in the blue sky, it’s on the right as well. There is some text. The first is above some rocks in the background on the left side. It says: “You can go home” and fades from blue to white to pink. The second is above the salmon. It says “but only once” and fades from pink to white to blue. The third is above some rocks in the foreground on the right and says “and only to die.” and fades from blue to pink to white to pink to blue. /End ID]

[ID: First is the above image with black text. Second is the above image without text. /End ID]

[ID: Tumblr post from mag200. Original post says: “tomorrow my coworker’s gonna ask me how my night was and im gonna ask if she’s ever considered the profoundly tragic yet indomitable nature of the salmon” The first reblog says: “shes gonna be like “what” and im gonna be like. do you want to shapeshift? do you want to defy nature and god? is there a version of death that feels glorious enough? is your very biology turning against you? do you recognize who you are compared to who you were at the start of your journey?” The second reblog says: “you can go back home but only once and only to die. hope this helps” The post is tagged “#salmonposting” /End ID]

[typotripprr]

hey i'm bored so i compiled a list of random cytus ii trivia things i found from others or discovered myself (this is a long post)

there's spoilers but it's like 5 things. but be careful anyway

if you listen reallllly closely to joe's character menu theme you can hear the joez cafe theme behind it it's pretty neat

neko and xenon's ring tones are their respective character menu themes

^ additionally, in her dlc logs her ringtone is her dlc character theme, while in the main story logs it's her normal one

credence (cherry's list) and phantom razor (xenon's list) both appear in neko's dlc logs when she goes to under velvet, which is also why those two songs have glitch charts for them

sunday night blues appears in neko's dlc logs, making it the only black market song to appear in the story

(an obvious one, but) sairai is a secret song in xenon's list, which is why the deemo x cytus ii collab for alice's character has him in it

^ the same is true for fur war, pur war and conner, fwpw appears in conner's list and conner appears in hans' story

i remember this one thing about nekosaikou's real name being bob but i'll have to find it. it's there though.

the first song in ilka's list, alb (meaning white), likely represents ilka. the last song you unlock (as of 4.8) on ilka's list is noir (meaning black) which also likely represents violette

re:the end -再- -> re:the end -cy- -> re:the end -cytus-

eternity (silaver ft. nathan brunley) has like 6 different versions of it for some reason but from what i can tell only 4 are available

atonement (sihanatsuka) is unlocked in Cam_KyuuLab_698_06_02, which is when phoenix atones for all the things he did to nora (breaks down sobbing)

as of 4.9, graff.j has 95 songs. rayark, stop giving him more. we do not need more collabs (except arcaea collab we'lltake that)

although conner himself is not directly on his song select background, there is a prosthetic arm and eye on it. weird.

speaking of conner, cherry says that she thought he was in his 50s, while conner is actually 35. so he's old but not really old

vanessa technically has the most original songs considering that all 22 of her songs are made specifically for cytus ii

sta composed incyde, though under the alias of YbeLL. if you reverse it to get LLebY, then convert it with a caesar cipher with a left shift of three, you get "II by V". ii for cytus ii (presumably) and v for well. vanessa

vanessa also has a song named ii-v which is 2:05 minutes long

neko's favorite dish is a meat stew that include pork belly, meaning domesticated farm animals like pigs likely still exist in this time

but also stray animals without chip collars get taken away by the admins (a.r.c. or something) so hmmmmmm

a more well known fact, but kai is directly based off of kiva

that one 'i am lady' post by txpazolite in game is based off a tweet made by t+pazolite

if you look at the bottom left corner of conner's bad end background you can see some pills scattered around, so maybe he takes medication of some sort?

^ also he kept a photo of sasha hidden on his desk

a.r.c. kinda just falls out of the sky in the bad ending (as shown in aroma's, cherry's, and xenon's bad end backgrounds)

as seen in his oa area, robo's room in node 08 has a window that's overlooking a.r.c. (which is also absent in his bad end background)

(recently and accidentally rediscovered) e00 has some pretty fucked up dialogue when going through the free characters' oa spaces after completing every oa task (personal most-fucked-up for me are "E00200... It's just a serial number, it's not my name." and "The cost? Probably the loss of emotions and... the ability to communicate with others.")

that's everything i have so far, i may or may not find more in the future but who knows anyway have a good day/night and bye

[reiverreturns]

9 + sereshace

OOOOOH this one got my brain going so good!! the outcome ended up being a slight divergence of the original prompt but i hope you like it anyway! Send me a prompt and some characters/ships for a ficlet or drabble

Sereshace + Teal

Coming home these days is like coming into colour. 

To Natasha, this is Bradley; a glittering gold, bright and radiant and burnt around the edges. Rich charm, warm music, amber beer. Hair lightened and skin tanned in the sun. Sand almost too hot to touch. The hazy crash of waves. Patches of shadow that deepen the dunes and the quiet dream of brighter days. 

Jake, by comparison, is red. Big. Bold. Danger, once, before thrill, and long before safety. It had taken time for Natasha to understand the nuance in him. The early night sky of his character. Deep, soft. Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shifts into tones of blue and orange. Dark chocolate chased with red wine. Neon reflections guiding the way home after a heavy storm. The sharp bite in the first berries of summer, and the promise of sweetness in the season to come. 

They’re bickering so loud in the next room they haven’t heard her come in. Natasha drops her keys at the door and shakes her head. 

She’s long thought of where she fits in this picture, though there has never truly been any ‘fitting’ to do. She’s always been caught somewhere between the open sky and the brush of treetops; now she’s blending teal between the powder blue of Bradley’s Bronco and the green of Jake’s eyes. A cool, silken morning mist that edges off the harsh lines of dawn. Deep, sparkling water without hidden threat of fear of its depths. Sea glass kissed smooth. Moonlight illuminating a gravel path that stretches on for miles. 

Jake and Bradley are sitting on opposite ends of the couch when Natasha walks in, twin scowls replaced with a beat of surprise before they dissolve into something more placid. She spares a cursory glance at the television in front of them. Some home improvement show plays on in the background. 

“Dare I ask?” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow. 

Bradley waves a hand towards the television, his scowl returning. “Jake’s trying to tell me the colour they’ve painted this room is grey when it’s clearly beige -” 

“And they let this colour-blind idiot fly jets,” Jake interjects, arms folded. “The paint was called Lady Jane -” 

“Which doesn’t mean anything -” 

“Which means it’s fucking grey, Bradley. Jesus Christ, did you open a book in high school?” 

“Listen dipshit, you’re the one who can’t split the goddamn colours out of the laundry so don’t tell me…” 

As they argue Natasha crosses the room. She winds her head across Jake’s lap and her legs across Bradley’s. Their back and forth is noisy and colourful and loud but on her their hands are immediate and soft. Carding through her hair, running down the planes of her shins, over the tops of her thighs. Painting in the relaxation. Feeling like home. 

Natasha couldn’t give a shit about grey walls, about paint names, about the too–white teeth of the tv presenter or their questionable taste in trendy pantsuits. She leaves those drab, unsaturated things outside. Between her boys, against their touch, everything is in balance. 

(And with them, she can paint this life in whatever colour she wants.) 

[iwritebadthings]

10 Proof God Doesn’t Exist

God is a hard pressed lemonade sold on every street corner but an adult who will act like a child when you say no thank you. That being said I made a hardy list in order to argue with you that of course again god does not exist. Here is why.

I don’t have a ps5 yet. If god was real I’d have a ps5 because every night between thinking about how fucking lonely I am and how horny I am the ps5 swings upon me like a Spiderman. Where is my ps5 god? Where is it?

The moon hasn’t smashed into earth yet. I know god is fake because if he was real he would’ve launched the moon into earth. Everyday someone is suffering. Everyday someone is making money off of war or scalping a ps5 or threatening to genocide someone or something. If god was real they’d smash the moon into earth because we’ve had a good run. Jesus didn’t die so someone could write 30 articles on Medium about how Yoga could make your butthole tighter with Tucker Carlson in the background.

If God was real then why does Netflix keep cancelling the shows I like? Where is the third season of OA. It’s called ORIGINAL ANGEL for a reason. Netflix how dare you. I’ll sign up with a cancelled credit card. I dare you try to charge me. I can’t even pay! I can’t even pay! I can’t! PAY!

God isn’t real because they won’t show up here. I’ve yelled at the sky several times now. I’ve shaken my fist at the sky. I’ve talked seductively at the sky. I’ve dressed up in drag doing a dance and lip synced for my life. Nothing. No voice came. No signs. I didn’t see chalk start writing upon the sidewalk. It was nothing. If god was real how come they didn’t respond to my text. 

God isn’t real because MEN WON’T LOOK AT ME. I MADE MYSELF LOOK GOOD TODAY.

If god was real then why do we have so much suffering. I’m suffering. My neighbor is probably suffering. My cousin decided to be a child and I call that suffering. Someone came up with the word suffering. The dictionary is long and anything with that many words is suffering. Suffering. Eating an apple with IBS. Now, that’s what I call suffering. 

I know God isn’t real because writing is hard. Having to come up with ten cogent well thought out ideas is incredibly hard. Do you think I’m actually going to debate over a godly being I can’t see who can emulate whatever knowledge you do or don’t know in a book you’ll translate and consume in whatever way that justifies your ideas? No, I want a ps5 and to feel a little less lonely with friends and possibly a LOVER. GOD WHERE IS MY LOVER.

God can’t be real because if God was real then they’d make sure Monday was the day we all relaxed including the rest of the week. 

If God existed more people would be gay.

I just want a ps5.

[angstama]

god knows you tried | manjiro (mikey) sano

pairing: bonten!mikey x reader 

genre: angst

warnings: heartbreak, attempt suicide(?), original characters/manga plot (pls do not read if you haven’t read the manga D: ), mentions of religion, implied sex (no smut ok!)

summary: god knows you tried your best. if only mikey knew how hard you’re trying too then perhaps this love wouldn’t hurt as much as you thought. 

 words: 1823 words 

 a/n: i think this sucks but... i hope you enjoy it! <3

god knows you tried.

you watched the ex-toman boys eagerly catching up with takemichi quietly, hands resting against your chin as you took in the rare sight in front of you with a sad smile etched on your lips. this was the happy ending that mikey had sacrificed for everyone but himself. 

“a penny for your thoughts?” mitsuya asks, plopping down next you on to the stone steps. that’s right, it’s june 19th 2018, toman’s formation day anniversary and everyone had gathered around to re-open the time capsule from twelve years ago. “hm? nothing much. just missing a particular someone.” you hummed, dragging your fingers across the ground to draw a heart. mitsuya nods understandingly, knowing not to pry any deeper anymore and for that, you’re thankful. 

crouching down, you hesitantly picked up the the blue coloured envelope you left behind twelve years ago. unsure if you’d wanna read the contents of the letter your naive self written back then. with a deep breath, you slipped open the cover. revealing a photo of candid photo of you and mikey leaning on each other asleep with your mouths wide open taken by emma. 

dearest y/n, 

i wonder what you’re doing right now? 

are you perhaps finally studying in film? 

has that idiot manjiro finally proposed to you?

 or are you the one who proposed to him? 

“y/n, you’ll be with me for a long time right?” mikey asked, staring at the very sky that you both loved oh so very much with your hands intertwined. having grown up with each other since young had pretty much given you both the illusion that the two of you will always be a part of each other’s world. and you hoped with every inch of your heart that mikey wants it to be that way forever. “of course. you’re my heaven and home mikey. i wouldn’t go anywhere else without you by my side.” you squeezed his hand in assurance, knowing that at this very moment, mikey was at his most truthful and vulnerable self with you. 

whatever it is, i hope that you’re living the happy life with him that you’ve been dreaming of. 

signing off, 

toman’s honorary member, y/n l/n. 

everyone was silent. even hakkai who had been making fun of everyone’s letter kept quiet. the boys knew how much you loved and you still love mikey. each opting to give you the concerned and sympathetic look. you could feel you heart breaking even more for you knew you weren’t doing anything that you had hoped for back then. 

you felt mitsuya’s comforting hand softly grabbing onto yours. “well that’s depressing,” you chuckled softly, wanting to get rid of the awkward tension in the air as soon as possible. “let’s grab some ramen, i’m starving.” and with that, you let your feet drag you away from the heavy atmosphere with your head hung low. 

perhaps the hurt wouldn't be as painful if you weren’t the only one who knew what kind of path mikey had chosen to go down. you see, when mikey turned his back against all his closest friend, you had the privilege of staying as his only constant thanks to your stubborn nature but even with that, you weren’t enough to keep him away from his dark impulses. mikey chose the path to destruction and the only thing that you could do was watch from the sidelines and be there when he shows up at wee hours of the night to borrow your body. but you didn't mind. it was during these most intimate moments with mikey that you finally get to feel a piece of him again when he spews the words of “i love you” so effortlessly. 

god knows that you tried. 

“mikey those aren’t good for you.” you frowned, snatching the capsule away from his hand seconds before he could flush it down his system. “what the fuck y/n?” the angered male snaps. you felt yourself falling and back colliding against the hard ground. opening your eyes, you see mikey pining you down with nothing but void darkness in his eyes. “i’ll fucking kill you if you do it again.” mikey taunts, he was serious and you know it. 

“then kill me mikey.” the words slipped out of your tongue instantly. you were tired. tired of trying. you don't know what else can you possibly do to help mikey anymore. mikey says nothing but got off you. he dusted himself and without sparing you single glance, he showed you his back again, walking out of the door where sanzu was already holding open for him. “get her home.” you heard him say. 

it’s been a week since you guys opened the time capsule. nothing much had happened since then except you’ve been spending more time with hina considering how she’s often over to mitsuya’s studio for gown fitting. you admired and envy her love story with takemichi. but who were you to complain? you were lucky enough that mikey still wanted you around. so it shouldn’t hurt so much when you sae her adorning the beautiful wedding gown that mitsuya had spent months on tailoring. 

you let out a tired yawn, stretching your arms above your head as you finished touching up the last few bits of editing on your laptop. you looked over at the calendar on your table, a pink heart circled over today’s date and smiled. “mitsuya, i’m gonna knock off first okay?” you announced, tidying up your table and reaching out for the bag of the familiar favourite deserts of a certain male. 

mitsuya nods, “thank you for your hard work y/n”. he flashes you a smile, eye slowly trailing to the white plastic bag dangling from your side as you waved goodbye, back facing him and walking away. “you’re going to see him aren't you?” you stopped in your tracks. “i know he never left you. plus you got a bag filled with dorayakis and taiyakis. that’s pretty obvious.” mitsuya chuckles. you always knew mitsuya to be perceptive but it never once occured to you that your best friend who is also your boss would ever catch on to the secret you’ve been hiding for twelve years. 

“how did yo-” 

“be careful y/n.” mitsuya waves you off, going back to whatever he was doing. a fond smile creeps onto your lips as you watched mitsuya working hard. “thank you mitsuya. for everything. really,” you whispered, but loud enough for the dual dyed coloured hair boy to look up again when you walked away. 

you made your way towards the secluded vip section of the club through swarms of body swaying around you until you saw the familiar tall pink haired male standing outside the golden door. 

“hey sanzu,” you greeted, barely audible over the loud booming music. you were about to push the door open when sanzu towers over you immediately, denying you of your entrance. you looked at sanzu in confusion, “it’s me, y/n. i’m here to see mikey.” you said loudly, voice straining to over power the background noise. “ i know. but mikey will not be seeing anyone right now.” he retorts back. 

surely mikey knew that you were visiting tonight right? after all it’s your anniversary date. you tilted your head at sanzu. not fully understanding what he’s saying. to say that you’re feeling absolutely livid would be an understatement right now. you’re too tired, angry and broken hearted to process anything anymore so you exploded. you only wanted to see your boyfriend. was that a very difficult request? 

“sanzu,” you said lowly, eyes staring blankly into his and as if on cue, you brought your knees to his precious manhood before making another high kick at him, bringing him down. it was a technique that mikey had taught you when you were younger and attending martial arts lesson together with baji. god you missed baji so much. 

“y/n because you’re short, you can do this instead.” mikey suggested smugly, kneeing poor baji’s little friend before swinging his legs much more harder than he intended to at baji’s profile when he bent forward. the main point was to get your opponent to lean forward so that your legs could reach high enough to create an impact on their skull. you eyes lit up in excitement, “wow! that’s so cool! let me try it!” you jumped impatiently. turning towards mikey to execute the exact same move. “wait n-! AHH,” mikey’s eyes widened, and before he knew it, you had completely knocked him over. 

that day, as mikey and baji lied down with pain still intact barely moving an inch, shinchiro only gave you a thumbs up and praised you for taking down the invincible mikey. you were the only one who could do that. 

“sanzu, i’ll see my boyfriend as and when i’d like to.” you said curtly, eyeing sending daggers at him lying on the ground before stepping over him to swing the door open, revealing your petite self to the other bonten’s executives and hostess who were staring at you in surprise. 

you don’t see anyone else but your lover who’s currently sitting in the center with two pretty hostess sitting by his side. you don’t hesitate and begun walking  towards him. “get your hands off my man.” you said calmly. there was tension in the air and from the corner of your eyes, you could see the executives slowly getting up to leave as if on cue. 

“aren’t you as stubborn as always,” he raises a brow as you settled down next to him, pouring the bag of dessert on the glass table in front of you. you smile softly, grabbing a packet of taiyaki and handing it to him before grabbing one for yourself too. “happy 14th anniversary mikey.” you mumbled softly before grabbing a bite.  14 years, that was how long you two had been together for. “mhm. happy 14th anniversary y/n.” mikey hums, allowing you lean in close to him and resting your head on his chest. 

you take in the scent of mikey for you knew that this is going to be the last time you’re going to be able to hold mikey close to you. you didn't want this moment to end but you were too tired to continue on and see what's going to happen the next when you go back to just another normal day. you held tightly to the gun you hid in your bag, shutting your eyes tightly. 

“hey mikey,” you called out. you never thought you’d see it again but you saw a flash of endearment in his eyes when you called him. “i love you so much, promise you’ll take care of yourself alright?” you smiled warmly before pulling the gun out of your bag and putting it against your head. 

god knows you tried. 

god knows you did your best and now you’re going home. 

bang!

[nyx-aira]

Surprise

Summary: Your friends are up to something, a surprise for your birthday maybe?

A/N: It's my friends @ynscrazylife birthday and I decided to write her a little fic as a present.

Birthday message: Happy birthday Jess 🎉🥳🎊 I'm hoping you're having a fabulous day and wish you all the best for your special day. I'm very glad we are friends and mutuals because when you pop up on my dash it makes my day. Have fun, celebrate and have a great time ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

PSA c/@ynscrazylife

You just got into the kitchen when you heard hushed talking that abruptly stopped as soon as you entered. You raised a brow at Bucky and Sam who were clearly trying to hide something behind their back and turned back to make yourself some breakfast, ignoring the rustling in the background.

While you were munching on your cereal and scrolling on your phone you were acutely aware of the two Avengers and how they were looking at you. After another 10 minutes of this weird staring you finally gave in.

"Okay what is this all about?" You asked, "if you're planning some crazy party or anything just do it but stop the staring."

Sam just looked at his watch as if he was waiting on something to fall out of the sky or something. Meanwhile Bucky was suddenly very interested in finishing his mountain of pancakes.

Rolling your eyes you snatched a pancake from Bucky and checked you messages, smiling at the many birthday wishes you received. Wanda and Vision had called in from Scotland last night to wish you a happy birthday and Peter had swung by to hand you his present earlier that evening.

Nat came down sometime after you had finished breakfast and silently made herself a cup of coffee. She would have pulled off the act of not knowing what was going on if she hadn't had grabbed a pancake as well.

Nat only ate pancakes when she was stressed.

After a very akward morning Sam suggested to go to an ice-cream parlour nearby and Bucky immediately agreed, something that never happened. So now you four were sitting in a car and were very clearly driving in the wrong direction but honestly you didn't care.

The radio was blasting a song from Rogers The Musical and both Sam and Bucky were loudly singing in the backseat as Nat was pretending not to be affected by their high spirits but you could see her mouthing the words to the song.

You were driving out of the city and were seemingly going to butt-fuck nowhere. You had to make a stop as Sam wanted to take a close look at the big cow statue that was standing in a field next to the road but other than that your drive went smoothly.

After another hour you stopped at a small lake where there was a table set up with balloons, next to a giant spaceship and a smug looking Carol.

You couldn't believe it.

Getting out of the car you ran towards her and got pulled into one of her famous bone crushing hugs.

"Happy birthday from your favourite captain."

You heard an offended "hey" from Sam and saw Nat punch him in the shoulder.

"And how do you like your surprise?" The redhead asked with a smug grin.

"It's amazing", you told her.

Looking around you saw that there were party garlands hanging around the spaceship and there was a delicious looking cake on the table next to a stack of presents that were waiting for you to open them.

First was Sam's present. It was the newest Sims game and you were looking forward to spend hours on your perfect Sims with him. There was also a card that promised you his support should you ever engage in a prank war with anyone, besides Nat.

Next was Bucky who hadn't just made the cake but also gifted you a knitted sweater with your Hogwarts house colours and crest. You knew his love language was gift giving and you appreciated the gesture greatly, putting the sweater on immediately and loving how comfy it was.

Carol got you some cool space rocks that she assured, both you and Natasha, we're perfectly safe and not radioactive. The were floating around in their glass container and were glowing in all the colours you could imagine.

There was also a photo of Thor and the Guardians with a hand made sign saying "Happy lifeday".

Natashas present was last.

It was a small box wrapped in red and blue wrapping paper with a silk bow on top. Inside was a giant stack of photos that showed you, Natasha and various other Avengers.

The photo on top showed you, Sam, Bucky, Nat, Yelena and Peter grinning into the camera. Yelena was sitting on Bucky's shoulders, both of them wearing matching tiaras. Peter was clutching a giant Stitch plushie that was almost as big as himself and Sam, Nat and you were wearing funny glasses (not voluntary on Nats part though)

You smiled fondly as you remember your trip to Disneyland you took last summer. Flipping the picture around you saw there was a note on the back in Nats handwriting.

"Time may pass but memories stay forever"

"I hope you like them, I thought it was a nice idea to just print them all out. Although Yelena pestered me on making her copies of all of them. She sends her regards by the way and told me to give you this."

You took the wrapped gift from her hands and opened it up, inside was a jacket and a little notes that said "Happy birthday from your favourite Russian, have this jacket, it has lots of pockets. Yelena"

That was a typical Yelena.

"Thank you, all of you, this is absolutely amazing."

You were just happy, this was turning out to be on of the best birthdays ever.

And then Sam fell into the cake.

Silence.

You looked at Bucky who was staring at Sam, then the cake and Sam again. When you locked eyes you started laughing.

Soon everyone was joining in and a cake-covered Sam was wheezing on the ground while you and Bucky were clutching each other for support. Meanwhile Nat was taking pictures and Carol was trying to stop Goose from eating an unfortunate pigeon that got too close to the Flerken.

As you said it before, this was turning out to be one of the best birthdays ever.

-----

Taglist: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @ynscrazylife @sokovianheadtilt @procrastinatingsapphictrash @ineffablebean @official-clint-barton @wlwlovesreading @itsyourgirlmalise @eilarch @sapphic-stress @yelenabelovasgf @lostandsearching @ilovewinter101

[mae80scerrig]

Let’s talk about Miley Cyrus’ new rock album

When you hear the words ‘Rock ‘n’ roll!’ Miley Cyrus probably isn’t the first person you’d think of... Or the second... or the 43rd. So what’s up with Hanna Montana, Miley Cyrus, a god damn pop star going into rock? 

Let’s get some background on this album first:

This album was originally meant to be called ‘She is Miley Cyrus’ and come out in 2019, but of course the world had different plans for her. After a divorce, a vocal surgery, her house burning down and a global pandemic things changed up. 

She had started work on the album in 2018, but everything was erased due to her house fire, although other people did have her recordings she didn’t feel it would be right to counite on with it.

2020 new years day ‘The new era starts now’ is what Miley says, and no one would be ready for what comes next! 

The Album:

In August she releases the leading single ‘Midnight sky’ this song having an 80s vibe. After this in October she does her most notable cover, which is ‘Heat of Glass’ at the IheartRadio festival. This cover brought a lot of attention to her because of how amazing it was. Her stage presence, her outfit and the power of her voice where just incredible, in fact Debbie harry herself praised Miley for the cover.

As well as this in October she announces the album title ‘Plastic hearts’ with a heart felt note talking about her experiences and thanking her fans.  

She counited on with her jaw dropping covers including ‘Zombies’ by The Cranberries at the #SOSFest, this cover was also released for streaming.

In November she released a remix of Midnight sky called ‘Edge of midnight’ with none other then Stevie nicks! As well as this in November she has released the track list.

WTF do I know

plastic hearts

Angels like you

Prisoner (Feat. Dua Lipa)

Gimme what I want

Night Crawling (Feat Billy idol)

Midnight sky

High

Hate me

Bad karma (feat Joan jett)

Never be me

Golden G string

Featured artists:

It may be surprising to some the queen of rock ‘n’ roll herself, Joan Jett, is doing a song with Miley but need I remind you this is not Miley’s first collab with Joan Jett. Joan Jett did a cover of ‘androgynous’ along with Miley in 2007.

Billy Idol! The famous punk rocker from the 70s famous for songs such as ‘Rebel Yell’ and ‘Dancing with myself’.

Dua Lipa. She is currently one of the biggest artists in the world (6th on spotify!). Her song ‘new rules’ stayed on the pop charts for 45 weeks!

Personally, I feel that these featured artists show what this album will have to offer. With influences such as the badass Joan Jett shows how hard this new album could go. With the addition of Billy Idol adding some punk spice. With regards to Dua Lipa although she isn’t a rock star, she’s a damn good song writer and singer.

She’s always been a rocker!

Say what?! Miley was actually brought up on country and rock, away from the mainstream pop and hiphop movements. Way back in the past she was doing covers of rock songs, but people criticized her for these covers. Some of these covers include ‘I love rock ‘n’ roll’ and ‘Smells like teen spirit’. Only did she really get some positive attention about her covers when she sung ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica at Glastonbury. 

Will it be good?

In my opinion? Fuck yes, this girl will rock the stage and win album of the year. If you listen to her many, many covers you will  hear that her voice is prefect for rock. It’s deep, raspy and powerful (and she also has that Rock ‘n’ roll attuite). Another thing that excites me is that  this isn’t just a rocker, it’s a female rocker that can inspire little girls to be bold and show them that they can do what ever they want.

My final thoughts:

As rock fans we should be welcoming Miley with open arms. I’m sure we all sometimes stand here and think ‘When will the new wave of rock happen??’  ‘I want more rock!’ Well, this could help the start of new wave of rock. We already have GVF so another artist going to some good ‘ol fashion rock ‘n’ roll that will definitely get on the charts?! Amazing! 

ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ ᵖˡˢ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁱˡˡ ᵐᵉ

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

heeey! so back when @eirianerisdar posted chapter 12 of their fic the ransom of the house of fëanor - that’s the one where they finally let the brothers hellspawn and their idiot dad out of the void, but they have to throw elrond in, all very sad - i thought up my own somewhat fluffier vastly dumber au for the end of that chapter. in honour of the fic being finished, i’ve decided to write up the various scattershot ideas i’ve had for it, with the caveat that i’ll be working off my own slightly different background headcanons

the divergence point is roughly when elrond announces that he’s totally going into the void now, for realsies, the local ainur are nodding solemnly, and the fëanorians are running preliminary can-we-take-them calculations. except for maedhros, who’s very sad to hear that they must sacrifice his nephew to the eternal dark for their freedom, ‘tis truly a shame, they will honour his memory and GET THE BOAT, BOYS

or, the original elf mad scientist, his murderous blood-hungry spawn, a guy who’s extremely grouchy about not getting to do his dramatic self-sacrifice, and their somewhat-less-reluctant-than-he-should-be getaway driver go on the lam

how they got away from the valar:

námo: already knew this was going to happen, but it’s not like anyone ever listens to him, is it? in the moment, was a little more concerned with how morgoth had started belly-crawling towards the doors of night

manwë: never wanted to throw elrond into the void in the first place, and has been silently hoping elrond would call his bluff for the past week. the children are all safe and inside like they should be, and isn’t that what really matters?

eönwë: no it isn’t boss the fëanorians are a completely unpredictable wildcard we cannot afford to let them run around unsupervised!!! would probably have at least delayed the family hellspawn until backup could arrive, except

olórin: realised what maedhros was planning almost immediately and had to consciously force down a shit-eating grin. as soon as the brothers started moving, divetackled eönwë

-

[from a note attached to a harpoon lodged outside the highest window on the white tower of the isle of seabirds]

elwing - it went better than i expected, honestly. the sons of fëanor took about as much offense to elrond’s plan as everyone else has, except when words didn’t work they resorted to action. they dragged him onto vingilot and i followed them, and then we cast off together. we’ve set sail for as far away from the doors of night as we can get. i’m coming with them, of course, i’m not letting these lunatics crash my baby

i’m not entirely certain when we’ll be back? the fëanorians seem worried the valar might come after us, which wouldn’t surprise me, really. i’m taking us out towards middle-earth, we’ll see where we go after that. they’re all screaming at each other and running across the deck, i’m not convinced they have much of a plan. elrond is yelling too, he’s arguing with either caranthir or curufin, can’t tell which. the one i suspect is maglor has wrapped himself around his neck and refuses to let go. our son is alive and healthy and not in the eternal darkness, and for that, at least, i am grateful

the redhead who’s co-opted the harpoons says we’re coming up on your tower. no one’s done anything to threaten me or elrond, or even looked at the silmaril. there’s something nice about sailing with a crew again, no matter who it is. i love you, and i’ll be back as soon as i can - eärendil

[from a note attached to a harpoon found among the ruins of a house in the tirion stonecarvers’ district]

you were right, nerdanel. you were right about everything, and i was wrong. i’m sorry. the boys and i are going on another adventure right now, but we’ll come back to you someday, i promise

[from the same note, in much neater handwriting]

tell tyelpë i love him, and also that the coordinates are [rest torn off]

-

the first sign of this mess that reaches arda is the morning and evening star disappearing from the sky. gondorian astronomers, haradren scholars, avarin priests all stare flummoxed as the star of high hope simply fails to appear before the sun. no matter how unsuperstitous they are everyone agrees this is a really bad omen, and all across the globe the high halls of power tremble in fear over the new horror this must portend

the first sign of this mess that reaches the shire (except for that one took who’s really into astrology) is when eight-year-old elanor gardner rushes into bag end the next day, all ‘dad! dad! there are elves in the woods!’

sam is pretty chuffed to hear this. the fair folk don’t pass through the shire half as often as they used to, and it’s been some years since he heard their song. if they’re in the neighbourhood, why, it’d only be polite to say hello, wish them luck on their journey, hand them a letter. he packs up a nice tuck-box full of goodies to share, and then sam and elanor (and frodo, who’s going through a following-his-big-sister-around-and-copying-everything-she-does phase) set out to meet the elves

first they hear the shouting. then they see the smoke

at the end of the path his daughter leads him down, sam finds the wreckage of what looks like a crashed boat strewn across the forest, still faintly smouldering. at least a dozen elves are rushing between and up the trees, yelling at each other in the angriest quenya he’s ever heard. in the middle of the impact crater stands a blonde elf carrying a stone that shines like the phial of galadriel, wailing something sam knows just enough sindarin to recognise as ‘MY SHIIIIIIIIIP’

as sam’s gaze pans over the unfolding catastrophe, his eyes land on one of the last elves he’d expected to see, master elrond. elrond is rubbing his temple, groaning like someone who knows he’s the most responsible person around and really wishes he wasn’t. a vaguely familiar sketchy-as-fuck elf is clinging onto his shoulders, in a not-dissimilar way to how frodo-lad is currently riding on sam. elrond catches sam’s gaze

‘greetings, master samwise,’ says the wisest elf-lord of the west, ignoring the scuffle that’s breaking out behind him. ‘i must apologise for my relations’

(fëanor and elanor become fast friends, teaching each other their languages and exploring the shire together. absolutely no one else is okay with this)

-

fëanor, dragging an incredibly-put-upon elrond around the citadel of minas tirith: grandbabies!

fëanor, marvelling over the embroidery arwen is showing him: great-grandbabies!

fëanor, carrying a tiny giggling eldarion all the way up the tower of gondor: great-great-grandbabies!

fëanor, staring fixedly at an increasingly apprehensive aragorn: great-great-great...

celegorm, on dad-watching duty: actually if you lay the maths out it’s very likely every human in middle-earth is descended... from... elros... fuck

fëanor: has gone completely still

fëanor: massive grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling like the two trees brought back to life

fëanor: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[067supremacy]

Trigger warning: this entry features the reader being followed and grabbed at knifepoint. If this is something that will make you uncomfortable, then please don't read it!!!!

So, I wrote this about a month before Resident Evil Village came out. As you can probably tell as this includes ideas of my own; and missed out some obvious problems that now show after playing the game. It was fun to imagine what the character was like at the time, from what we had to go on! :’) (also, I originally wrote this for the blonde who was rumoured to be called Daniela, but Daniela doesn't get enough love!!)

Guardian-Angel

Living your life at night had become your new regular. Your girlfriend Daniela is unable to live her life during the day, and despite the hardships, it came with, you were more than happy to give up the daylight to be with the woman you love.

Living with a vampire had its ups and downs, but you wouldn't change her for a second. You had been something of a stabilizer for her. When you first met her, she was stuck in her crazy gothic look. She was deadly and bloodthirsty, but you had a way of calming her to a tranquil state. Daniela had two different looks that were determined by her mood. When Daniela was calm, she was a natural beauty. Her Red hair was long and healthy, she had clear skin, and her attitude was caring. But when she was upset, Daniela was utterly different. She was full of anger, covered in black from head to toe, the surrounding area of her mouth was covered in crimson red, her fangs would grow through frighteningly sharp, and wasps would manifest seemingly out of nowhere.

You knew the dangers of living with a vampire, but it didn't matter to you. You trusted Daniela with your life. The first time you slept in the same bed as her, you couldn't help but worry about the possibility of her biting you. Little did you know that she could sense your worry and had even decided to tease you about it by resting her face in the crook of your neck. Daniela was in love with you. And deep down, she feared that one day your time would come. After all, she would be here long after your demise. The conversation of turning you was something she had yet to do, but the thought was always there. She had come close plenty of times to ask you to be with her for life, but her idea of rejection led her to remain happy with what she had.

It had just gone 1 am when you left 7-Eleven in a hurry. The pitch-black sky was unnerving but relaxing at the same time. There was a lot to enjoy about the night-time. Like, how quiet the streets were, how empty the store was, and how the sleepy nightlife was stunning to look overhead. The stars lead you home as you silently walk by yourself, you curse at the fact you left your headphones at home, but at least you could enjoy the walk back.

The dim streetlights ahead offer little visibility, but they give you absolute comfort. You come to the end of the high street where fast-food restaurants end, and the streets get much darker. With no cars going by, it's hard to tell what's up ahead when you turn right into a second street in which should be a straight shot to your apartment. You notice a man traveling just a few steps behind you. You felt uneasy about it but pushed the thought to the back of your mind. You speed up slightly to put some distance between you. The way the world was nowadays, you couldn't trust this situation; it is sad but true.

You decide to do a full circle through an alleyway and back out to the street out of curiosity. Sure enough, the shadow figure follows your every move, and that's the last that you were going to play with this. You pull out your phone and call Daniela with shaky hands. The phone rings once, and the voice you love so much answers cheerfully, but you can't even remember what she said as you were blinded with panic.

"Dani, I think someone is following me," you say in a hushed tone as to not alert the shadow figure following you. Almost as quickly as you finished the sentence, you can hear the familiar sound of wasps manifesting in the background. There is no time to be wasted in Daniela's mind. You can already hear the change in her voice as she asks for your location.

It's like you can feel Daniela's heart aching at the thought of your discomfort, something inside you doesn't feel right when Daniela gets like this, and it's ultimately why she agreed to stay calm in all circumstances.

"Just keep walking home, baby. I'll come and meet you." Your vampire girlfriend replies as you hear the phone fall to the floor and the raging hive leaves the apartment. The sound goes quiet, and you're left with your thoughts, but not for long as the footsteps get closer and louder. You can feel the presence on your heels. Before you know it, a large hand had taken you by the arm and directed you into the closest alleyway.

You yelp at the tight grip on your arm, the groceries you had from shopping had been sent to the floor, but you clutched your purse for dear life. The shadow figure was around 5ft 10Inches tall. The person was stocky in build, rugged looking. They wore a black hoodie and a black balaclava. The only thing you could see was the person's eyes. They pierced through you, you couldn't tell if they held hostile intent or if they were just trying to scare you, but that didn't matter. The person pushes you to a corner and unsheathes a small blade.

A man's voice, deep and resonant, shoots out from his mouth. "I'm gonna need that purse and whatever jewelry you have on you," He waves the blade before your eyes, almost teasing you that he had the upper hand.

Your fears boil over as the tears start to stream, and you feel powerless. You fold your arms over your purse in an act of defiance. The man in front of you seems to be getting impatient already, but you manage to bumble out a small plead, "Please, just let me go," The man chuckles at your plea.

"Just give me your shit, and then you can go. I won't even hurt you," the man jokes dryly. At this point in time, the tables had turned, "You can go now, and you won't get hurt," you confidently claim. Your confidence comes from the single wasp that crawls up the sleeve of the man's hoodie, but the single wasp was soon joined by another one, and then two more.

"I'm not fucking playing around now, give me your th- "he's cut off by the sting of a wasp on his neck. The few on his hoodie fly to the end of the alleyway. A woman's laugh surrounds the area, an angry hive of wasps come together and begin to form the silhouette of a tall woman. Your woman.

The man takes a step back in fear, which gives you the chance to storm toward the love of your life. You smoothly run straight past the form of Daniela, something that the man tries to replicate, but the swarm of wasps begins to surround him. They trap him within a tunnel. You knew what this was and where it was going. Daniela was manifesting into her proper, vampire form.

"the man screams and thrashes around, attempting to swat the wasps away from him, but his attempts were futile. The manifestation of her form becomes complete when she pushes him to the floor. Her movement is quirky but calculated. The wasps cocoon the two in a small dome. Keeping him grounded, Daniela laughs at the man's terrified figure. She taunts him with her newfound power.

"She gave you a chance, oh darling, you should have listened to her." Daniela spits her venomous, spiteful tone at the robber. The man attempts to slash at Daniela, and he catches her with the tip of the blade, but her form sheds more of the wasps surrounding the two instead of blood. She laughs demonically as she picks him up with effortless strength. She shoves him against the wall and prepares to end him.

From behind her, you force your way through the hive and touch her shoulder, which has a visible effect on her. She lets her grip on his shoulder loosen slightly. You assure her that you were unharmed, which seems to sway her, but you can still feel her rage within you. You use the power that you hold over Daniela by commanding that she let him go. She's come too far in her time with you to collapse into her bloodthirsty stage again.

And so, she lets the man run, he quickly flees the scene looking like he had just seen a vampire....... Daniela carefully watches the man disappear into the night. The second he is gone, her walls break down, and her softer side comes back out. The crazy gothic vampire look is gone without a trace. Daniela pulls you into her and crushes you into a tight hug. She couldn't lose you. The thought broke her every emotion as she held you. You could hear her breath hitch as she let it all out. Daniela was crying on your shoulder in a dark alleyway at 1:30 am.

"I love you, Y/N. I can't lose you; it would destroy me. I need you safe. I need you alive." She continues to unload every emotion. You reciprocate everything. The massive hug is filled with love and passion. Before you break the hug, you lean into her ear and whisper, "I love you too, Dani. I'm not going anywhere; nothing is going to happen to me. Not when I have my Guardian-Angel protecting me,"

A/N

I'm planning on doing part two, where Daniela has the talk with the reader about turning them into a Vampire. P.S I absolutely love the idea of her being like a normal looking girl when she's calm, but you piss her off........ Game over.