#but neither of my parents think i was. bc both of them were delayed in speaking too so they think its normal--

[nexus-nebulae]

just realised that the first media we consumed that made us REALLY sympathetic for the monster was that fucking point and click Mystery Case Files Ravenhearst game. bc that entire game i was legitimately fucking TERRIFIED of the ghost lady in that game but the second i found out her husband was abusive i doubled down on trying to help her escape. and the ending of that game Did make me cry out of fear but hey at least i did in fact help her escape

[nightfayre]

I wanted to share a thought on He Cheng that has been on my mind a lot lately.

Have you ever thought about young He Cheng? His life and development during his teenage years? My heart breaks at the fact that He Tian had lost his mother at a such young age, the child who missed all the tender touches and kind smiles from that mother's unconditional love. But I think we tend to forget about He Cheng. He was only a teenager when he lost one of the most important and the most loving people in his life and was left alone to battle against his father's ideology in order to protect his little brother. During his teenage years, when he only knew what the life was like with both parental figures, the years when he just started to become his own person; the same years he lost something so precious in his life and was left to deal with the consequences all by himself. He knew that the father had power over him since he was not yet independent and the other still held guardianship over him. He was aware of the father's line of work which he despised since childhood because it made his mother cry. But he made a personal choice, that in order to subdue his brother's misery from the affect of that side of his father, he would become the prodigy. He would become the one responsible and the perfect child so He Tian will have the freedom to become someone who He Cheng did not get a chance to become. He Tian once said that He Cheng became a person he hates the most, but who said that He Cheng does not hate himself for that as well? He sacrificed his future in order to protect a loved one (He Tian). He sacrificed his life in order to give He Tian that gleam of opportunity for something pure. As much as it hurts to see the panels where He Tian feels lonely and isolated, it becomes even more unbearable because the only person who knows exactly what it is like, is being misunderstood by him. I think He Cheng is one of the most loneliest and the most heartbreaking characters there are in that universe.

Thank you, I just wanted to share a little piece of mind

hi!! <3 sorry for the delay in my response. I’ll explain why I waited to reply in a second

but first I want to say that I completely agree with every point you made! I don’t want to waste too much time restating all the thoughts you explained because I think you said them well enough yourself <3

but still, I agree that He Cheng made/makes a lot of sacrifices for He Tian. he clearly loves his little brother. but I also think He Tian is too young and ignorant to fully understand that. he’s still harboring hurt from when he was blindsided by Cheng when he was younger. clearly they had a much better relationship before Cheng “became someone He Tian hates the most.” I can’t imagine the isolation they both must have felt when Cheng began to adapt to their fates. and it’s not just about the dog — it’s about everything else too. it’s about the fact that they only had each other after their mother passed, and then they quickly lost each other, too. they are both very, very lonely — but neither of them are willing to show it bc of their lovely, lovely pride. He Tian is beyond lucky to have a brother like Cheng, given their circumstances; he just can’t appreciate that fact yet

and listen: I know I won’t shut the fuck up about my ongoing fic, but the timing of this ask is too perfect to not mention the chapter I just posted to desecration. that’s why I wanted to wait to post this response. although it’s a tianshan fic, the He brothers were one of the driving factors/inspirations behind the story

lmk if you’re not interested in reading the entire fic but still want to see excerpts that explain my thought process/evaluation of the He brothers’ relationship and history! <3

[waters-and-the-wilde]

oh god this has been simmering on back burner in my mind next to the rotating kebab spit, like every time i think about that note i'm like. 'so when you say you meant every word'

hi op do you mind if i piggyback on this bc i was having Tag Thoughts and they got unwieldy

bc Nureyev strikes me as a very like. situational. short-term off the cuff seat of his pants sort of thinker - because he has to be, because that's how he survives, he's extremely equipped to deal with being decisive in the moment due to Mag's A+ Parenting - and probably barely knows how to make a life decision when not in crisis mode

and obv he's pretty sharp about people, he gets at least a little bit of what makes Juno tick, he could offer him a way out at least, throw in the alliance and a whirlwind romance to sweeten the pot, knowing they both know that they're in no position to make anything last. he could be sincere about the offer with a kind of subconscious gambit of knowing that juno would either never take him up on it as you said, or dip the moment he found out about brahma or mag or slip or something else he couldn't forgive (and he Would find out obviously he would find out, Nureyev can't hide from this man, and isn't that Exhilarating, for now at least). or maybe he even accounted for Juno pulling a whole self-sacrificing 'it's not you it's me' thing somewhere down the line but got blindsided by how soon and sudden and hurtful he was in doing it. maybe the most nureyev could hope for was getting to run together for a bit, because neither of them could have made it work but maybe it would be enough to have someone to watch his back for once.

and god the aftermath of miasma. he offers juno a cybereye. again with the 'powerful friends'. because Peter Nureyev and The Massive Guilt Complex can't just leave it all behind and he can absolutely go 'well fuck it what's a little more debt if it's for Juno's eye that's my fault too anyway'. plans within plans. sufficient grounds to stay connected to his creditors and an opening to explaining his circumstances to Juno, assuming he didn't get caught making suspicious phone calls on like. day three. and then never finds out how that conversation would have gone because Juno beat him to the punch.

the crux of it all, that they were never supposed to last. long-term was never in the picture. and then boom it's Buddy Aurinko with a Steel chair (that joke is never getting old to me) and yeah they can kiss and make up but like. of course he's not making new promises, of course Juno wouldn't make promises when he's just barely figured himself out and doesn't know if he can keep it up yet, of course they're not ready to open up about their pasts. he's already taking a massive leap of faith just letting Juno back in at all.

jfc and then the wedding. 'it's difficult for me too.' probably the moment Nureyev starts to really grapple with the wedding, and there's Juno right there, and he's realizing that they could make it work that they are making it work, well. Juno could. Juno's grown into somebody who could do that. And Nureyev can't give him that. or maybe he thought he'd have a shot at clearing the debts and whatever's happened on his end during S4 put the kibosh on it re: 'my aims have shifted'. probably extra delays because of having to get in and out of Dark Matters again. but as far as he's concerned it's off the table and it's all he can do to beg Juno not to put himself on harm's way on his behalf again because fuck knows he can't bring himself to cut those ties definitively himself

girl help my pot boileth over

Okay, I’m re-listening to the Murderous Mask and Peter’s “run away with me” monologue is recontextualized SO MUCH in light of recent events!

When Juno asks if Sasha/Dark Matters were in on the heist, Peter says no—“it pays to have powerful friends”. That struck me as odd up until recently, because we quickly learn that Peter…doesn’t have friends or allies or, well, anything, really. He works solo and burns through identities too quickly to make or maintain those kinds of connections. But now we know he’s in deep debt to a pharma corp, which are some of the most powerful forces in the solar system, even rivaling Dark Matters.

All well and good, except Peter also says “You can leave Hyperion City behind, I’ll leave my powerful friends behind. We’ll sell the mask and live a life of thrills and decadence across the galaxy, always running, never looking back.” And that…we know that’s wrong. We know Peter can’t leave Slip behind. So what gives?

I don’t think Peter ever actually thought Juno would leave Mars with him in the Murderous Mask. It’s why he left his name on a note in Juno’s couch (before he even makes the proposition) instead of just saying it. He knew Juno would say no. He was always planning on coming back, of course, but if Juno runs away with Peter, he could be used as more leverage against him. Another person for the corporation to balance Peter’s debts against. …but it’s a nice idea, right? Being able to finally leave behind the pressure of ever-growing debt and run off with the detective who he’s fallen for so quickly. Running away was a dream, and there’s no harm in keeping the fantasy alive because he knows Juno won’t leave Mars. I don’t think that ever really changed until the aftermath of Miasma—when he thought Juno had died and he lost everything again, only to miraculously recover it. Anything seems possible after that. But reality would’ve sunk in eventually, even if Juno hadn’t left that night. Let’s say they had run away together back then. It would be the same situation that made Peter leave in season 3: he’s still in ever-growing debt and Juno would be just new collateral for Peter’s creditors. It’s too dangerous, and Peter can’t bear to lose him again.

All this to say that I firmly believe that if Juno hadn’t left that night, Peter would’ve. Better to throw away something precious yourself than watch someone else shatter it because of you.

They were both always going to leave. Juno just reached his conclusion faster than Peter, is all.

[nessinborderland]

The Games We Play

Pairing: Niragi x Reader x Chishiya

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You have been playing with them for long enough. They want to win the game.

Warnings: Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Dubious Consent, Double Penetration, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, Shower Sex, Overstimulation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Creampie, Cum Eating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Notes: One-shot based on these two submissions:

Anonymous said: okay so first I love your imagines sm!!! your writing its so good and second I was wondering if u could do a chishiya x niragi × brat reader plsss😳👉🏻👈🏻 

Anonymous said: Do you think that you could maybe write something where fem!reader keeps rejecting Niragi and Chishiya (bc she's playing hard to get and likes watching them compete for her) and Niragi and Chishiya find out and corner her, which leads to a steamy threesome shdhfhgkYou don't have to write it if you don't want to! You're doing amazing and I love love loooove your writing! Keep up the great work, and remember to take care of yourself too!! 💜💜

Is this any good? No idea, you let me know ahaha.

You always liked the attention people give you. Men, women, or in between, you have a way to draw people to you. You don't even do it on purpose; it just happens. There is always someone wanting to sleep with you, or take you on a date, or introduce you to their parents. But you don't want any of that. You just like the attention, to see people competing for your affection. It makes you feel desired. It makes you feel important.

You love it; you crave it.

It's no different when you find yourself in the Borderlands and at the Beach. People still try to get your attention. Some had even tried to take you against your will, more than once. But you know what you're doing; you are prepared for that kind of thing. It also helps that someone always has your back.

More specifically: two men. Men that you are more than just interested in. You had caught their attention too, right in the first few days of you being there. And, just like the others, you played with them. You acted interested in one moment, uninterested the next.

They are so different but so alike at the same time; two sides of the same coin. One is darkness, the other is light; one is fire, the other is ice; one lures you in with seduction, the other with mystery. Both beautiful, both dangerous.

You want them; you really really do. But you also love playing games. And oh, you play them well. It's so much fun, seeing them compete for you. They are both too proud to do something that will downright demonstrate their interest in you, but you know. You always know.

When Niragi passed you by the pool, eyes lingering on your body like a starved wolf, you could tell. When everybody else seemed afraid to get close to you, you knew that was his doing. When he approached you at the club, hands on your hips and pierced tongue on your neck, that was a sign clear as day. He wants you as much as you want him. 

Things hadn’t been that different with Chishiya. The way he talked to you, silver tongue ready to manipulate you, whispering sweet things in your ear as his fingers brushed against your naked arm; you knew what he wanted then. When he showed off at games, using his intelligence to win; you knew he wasn’t just trying to win the game. 

But, like so many others before them, you pushed them away and faked disinterest. 

You want to see where you can push them. It's mostly curiosity on your part; will they give up? Snap? Fight each other to death? You are dying to know.

And it seems like you are getting your answer tonight.

“Good evening, gentleman,” you greet them as you close your bedroom door. You weren’t expecting them, but you also can’t say you are fully surprised. “I think you’re in the wrong room.” 

You just observe them when neither of them says a word. Niragi is leaning against a wall, arms crossed as he looks at you with fire in his eyes; if lust, anger, or a mix of both, you can’t tell. Chishiya sits at the end of your bed, leaning back on his hands as he also gazes at you. He was always a hard man to read; tonight is no different. 

You should be afraid; you should. But there is no reason to be when this is pretty close to what you desire. When they keep quiet, you go around your room as if they aren’t there. You ignore them, as you so masterfully do in every other situation. You can feel their eyes on you, burning the skin as you make your way to the bathroom, leaving the door open. You can hear footsteps as Niragi gets closer. 

“Niragi, be a dear and get me my towel, yes?” you ask in a soft tone, turning your back to him as you slowly start to undress. You look over your shoulder when he just stands there, leaning against the threshold as his eyes take in your curves. “See something you like?”

“Plenty…” is all he says, pierced tongue showing in between his teeth to lick his bottom lip. Chishiya chooses that moment to appear, your towel in hand. You smile at him as you take the cloth, making sure your fingers brush against his. 

“Ah, thank you, handsome,” you say, lips widening in a soft smile in his direction. He smirks in response, eyes glued to your naked chest as he stands there next to Niragi. You turn around and get into the shower box, turning on the faucet. You gasp as the cold water hits your warm skin, exaggerating your reaction for them. 

You wonder how much longer they will control themselves. You can feel yourself getting wet from anticipation, and you brush your thighs together without even realizing it. You control the want to look over your shoulder, wondering what is taking them so long. You can hear their murmurs as they speak between them, the stream of water falling on your head making it hard for you to distinguish words. 

Then you feel warm hands on your hips, soft but firm. 

“You know, kitten,” Niragi’s voice on your ear is mistakenly sweet, like bitter chocolate. You don’t mind a little bitterness. “I think you have been playing with us for way too long…” His hands go up to cup your breasts, large palms pushing them up. You’re forced to bump against his chest, a shiver running down your spine when you feel his naked skin against yours. His hard erection brushes against your ass, making you gasp. He laughs, “I wanted to do things my way, but Chishiya here had a plan I just couldn’t resist. So here we are.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say in a confused tone. You turn around to face him, glancing at Chishiya, still by the door, “What do you mean I’ve been playing with you?” you turn your head to the side, giving them your best impression of puppy-eyes. Now is Chishiya’s time to laugh.

“Oh, you’re infuriatingly beautiful,” he says without a change of expression. “We know what your game is. Honestly, it took me some time to understand exactly what your moves were, but I know I can win now. We can win now.”

“It never crossed my mind that you liked to share,” you let your mask fall, and Chishiya’s smirk grows wider. “C’mon, you can’t blame a girl for being curious. I get bored easily.” Niragi huffs out a laugh, giving you a light spank to your backside.

“Something tells me we’re gonna have a lot of fun together,” he says in your ear, before turning you completely towards Chishiya. “I’m sure you don’t mind that I fuck her first, do you?” 

“Nah, I like to watch.” is Chishiya’s shrugged response, “Just don’t tire her too much; I have some plans for her too.”

Your hand snaps to grab Niragi’s hair, and you pull a strand as you force his head down. “I think you’re being way too confident,” you say against his cheek. “I haven’t given any of you my consent.” his hands proceed to grab your neck, pressuring just enough to make you want to cough.

“Fortunately for me,” he starts, “I didn’t ask for your consent.” you yelp as he forces your head to the side, licking your wet skin from chest to ear. He hums in approval, “Your skin tastes good,” the hand still on your chest slides down your belly to the apex of your thighs, “I wonder what more of you is sweet…”

Your body shivers and you close your eyes as he starts fingering you under the hot stream of water. Your shivers don’t come from fear but pleasure, as you try to contain your moans to not give them the satisfaction. This is your game, after all. Niragi’s fingers are long and slim inside you, two digits thrusting in and out as his thumb plays with your clit. He rubs against you from behind, cock nestled between your ass cheeks as he tries to get some friction. His other hand lifts your thigh off the ground, giving Chishiya a nice view of your stuffed pussy.

“Add another one,” Chishiya’s words make you open your eyes. You moan as you take in his state of undress, fisting his engorged cock as he watches you through half-lidded eyes. You clench around Niragi’s fingers, making him chuckle.

“Fuck that, I think she’s ready for something bigger,” he says as he pushes you against the shower wall. He shoves himself inside you with a grunt, and you whimper at the stretching sensation. “Do you like that, you little slut?” Niragi asks with a bite to your earlobe as he makes you take his cock inch by inch.

“I– I’ve had bigger,” is all you manage to say. Your words clearly affect him. He tilts your hips further up and – with so much force that you scream – fills you to the brim with a slap of his pelvis against your ass. You can faintly hear Chishiya say something, but you’re too focused on the pleasure and pain at your core as Niragi starts to move, stretching you further with each thrust. You’re moaning freely not long after, slowly sliding down the shower wall as you try not to lose your balance, your orgasm so close to making you fall apart. Niragi’s hands keep you up as he uses you, fucking you relentlessly as he grunts filthy things in your ear; things that only make you clench harder around him. 

“That’s it, kitten…” his words are followed by a firm thrust, making you whine. He takes that opportunity to put two fingers inside your mouth, pressuring your tongue in a clear order to suck on them. You suck on his digits the best you can, faintly tasting yourself as those same fingers were inside your cunt not long ago. He moans then, and you can feel him close to orgasm. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, you’ll be leaking with my cum for days,” you clench around him again and he chuckles, his thrusts getting more erratic and his grip tighter on your flesh, “No one will want to fuck you then, except me–”

“– And me,” Chishiya says in a deep voice. You look to the side to see him still stroking himself, long, slow gestures as beads of precum glow on the tip. You moan further around Niragi’s fingers, imagining that it's Chishiya’s thick cock instead. The pressure in your core grows, but never enough for you to come. You grunt in frustration, and Chishiya lets out a huffed laugh. “You should let her come, she’s getting desperate.”

“She can come after I fill her up,” Niragi answers with a hard slap to your ass. You jolt forward with a yelp, but he ignores you as he keeps impaling you on his cock. “Shit, I’m so close…” his mouth goes to your shoulder, and you feel his teeth on your skin.

“N– no,” you faintly say, pushing your hips against his in a pathetic attempt of shoving him off of you, “Not inside, get off.” He ignores your words, and you feel warmth in your core as he comes right after, fucking you through his orgasm as you milk him dry. You whimper when he pulls out, feeling immediately when his cum oozes out of you and starts sliding down your thighs. You keep your forehead pressed against the shower wall, regaining your breath as your legs shake. 

You feel sore, but you also feel electrified. You want more, and you know you’ll get it. You gasp when Niragi abruptly pulls you into a kiss, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip and tongue pressing against the back of your throat before he lets you go.

“She’s all yours,” he says to Chishiya before sliding out of the shower and drying himself on your towel. You just look at the other man, waiting for him to make the first move. Niragi sends you a look before approaching you again and involving you in your towel. He passes by Chishiya, dropping you on the bed before laying beside you, back against the headboard and arms crossed behind his head. “Let’s go, I don’t have all night.”

Chishiya gets closer, steps slow but determined. His eyes remind you of a cat on a hunt. It only makes the fire in your core come back ten times stronger. You keep your gaze locked on him as he gets closer, stopping by the foot of the bed before glancing at Niragi.

“Are you just going to watch?” he asks, mattress sinking under his weight as he gets on the bed. “Or you want to join?” his words make you clench around nothing, a moan escaping your lips as you imagine all the things they can do to you; at the same time. Both men snicker at your reaction, and Niragi promptly pulls you against his chest.

“Let’s see what you have in mind for her, first,” he says with a squeeze to your tit, “But I wouldn’t mind making her beg.”

“Good luck making me beg for anything,” you retort, a smirk playing on your lips.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Chishiya says as he gets closer, hand sliding up your leg. His touch makes you shiver, and his next words make you whimper, “Keep her wide open for me. Let’s see how long it takes until she’s begging.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” you repeat his words back to him. He smirks, exchanging a look with the man behind you. You gasp when Niragi grips your thighs, folding them against your body. Your pussy is in full view now, open and glistening with your mixed cum. Chishiya licks his lips as he sets himself in-between your legs, hot breath tickling your swollen clit. You gaze at him through half-lidded eyes, expecting the moment when he finally touches you with his lips.

His fingers touch you instead, going up your slit as he gathers the cum from your skin. You just look, entranced as he licks his fingers clean with a hmm of approval. You moan at the sight at the same time Niragi grunts behind you, whispering out a curse before you feel him grind on you. 

Chishiya is back at your cunt, and this time wastes no time in latching his lips on your clit, making you arch your back with a whine. You try to close your thighs on a reflex, but Niragi’s strong hands stop you from doing it, pressing your legs further against your body. So you just hear yourself get louder as Chishiya works wonders on your pussy, either by sucking on you or fucking you with his tongue. The slurping noises as he eats you out only make it worse, and you can’t control yourself from fisting his hair, forcing his face further against your pussy as you move your hips in unison with his licks. The man behind you fills your neck with licks and bites, telling you in detail of his plans to fuck you in every room of the Beach, as he grinds on your ass. Fuck, you want him inside you. This is all too much. You desperately want to come.

“Don’t stop,” you cry out after a particularly good flick of Chishiya’s tongue against your sensitive bud. Your legs shake, and your core burns from the impending orgasm, so close but not close enough, “Don’t you dare stop, I’m so close…”

He stops. Of course he does. You let out a frustrated whine as he pulls away from you with a last lick to your folds. He licks his glistening lips with a satisfied grin, before grabbing you by the chin, pressing his lips to yours in a strangely soft kiss. He hums before looking at Niragi with a raised brow.

“Did that sound like begging to you?” he asks in a fake inquisitional tone. 

“No, it did not.” Niragi laughs, shaking his head, “Guess we’ll have to give it to her harder.”

“I would like to see you try,” is all you say before grabbing Chishiya by the shoulders and pushing him down on the bed, straddling his hips. You both moan as you swiftly impale yourself on his shaft, moving your hips as he starts bucking into you. His hands go to your hips, keeping you at his desired pace. You throw your head back, feeling him inside you as he pleasurably touches your g-spot with each thrust. You’re about to slide your hand down to your clit – desperate to ease that hot pressure within you – when a hand stops you.

“Nobody said you could touch yourself, kitten,” Niragi says in your ear, hand sliding up your back. You yelp when he pushes you against Chishiya’s chest, his other hand tilting your hips up. The man beneath you keeps fucking you as if nothing happened, eyes locked on the man behind you. You gasp when you feel Niragi’s fingers over your asshole, realizing what his plan is a little too late. You jolt forward with a cry when you feel one of his fingers penetrate your tight ring, carefully at first until he tries to push in another. You freeze for a moment at the sensation of fullness, and you wonder if you can take more of him. 

“Relax, honey,” Chishiya says as he slows down his thrusts, hand raising to cradle your face as you moan from both discomfort and pleasure, “Focus on me.” you do as he says, relaxing your lower muscles until all you can feel in the amazing sensations they provide inside both your holes. 

That doesn’t stop you from crying out when Niragi starts penetrating your tight hole with his cock, inch by inch until he’s fully inside. You keep your mouth open in a constant moan as they both start to fuck you. You have never felt so full in your life. So unbelievably, deliciously stretched. You can barely think, letting them use your body as they see fit. You’re beyond caring, feeling your orgasm closer and closer, as they touch every spot inside you that makes you moan, cry and whine at each thrust. Your pleads to come are nothing but mumbled words that neither of them seems to hear. It’s exhilarating.

“Please– please,” is all you manage to say.

“Please what, kitten?” Niragi says with a grunt, followed by a hard spank to your ass. That makes you clench around them both, only making them fasten their thrusts. You shake your head, burying your face on Chishiya’s neck.

“All you have to do is ask us nicely, honey,” he says with a kiss to your temple. You weakly shake your head, biting your lips in a failed attempt to keep quiet. They should be the ones begging, not you.

But you can’t. Not when you feel so full, so stretched by those two men. You should’ve fucked them a long time ago, have you in control. But like this, with both teaming up to make a mess of your mind and body, it’s impossible. 

Someone’s fingers flick against your clit, and you whine in response to the touch, pushing your hips as best you can against those fingers. Mission close to impossible when there are two cocks inside you, their bodies keeping you trapped and practically unable to move. So you allow yourself to be as vocal as you want. Then the touch stops. Then it proceeds again, just to stop once more. You feel like crying. This is too much.

“Please– please let me come, please!” you finally say the words they want to hear. The hand on your clit fastens and so do their thrusts. Yes, just like that. You come so hard your scream in ecstasy, sparks of white blurring your vision as your body spasms, pussy clenching in a vice grip around their cocks. You let yourself relax, too tired and blind by your orgasm to move.

You feel when Niragi comes right after, hips slapping against your ass as he fills you up with his cum for the second time that night. He keeps rocking against you before he stays still and pulls out from your hole. You whine at the emptiness he leaves behind, his cum already sliding out of you. Chishiya is next, rolling you on your back as he comes in you, stuffing your already filled pussy with even more cum.

You’re a panting mess as he too pulls out before laying down beside you. You don’t have the strength to close your legs, too sore and sensitive to even give it much thought. Your eyes flutter close as you try to calm down your heartbeat. All you want now is a hot bath and a long nap.

“Ready for round two?” you hear Chishiya’s panting question. That makes you open your eyes, staring at the men on each side of you. They both look satisfied, Niragi is back to leaning against the headboard as Chishiya stares at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Nah, she’s all yours,” is Niragi’s tired answer. “I’ll just watch this time.” Chishiya’s smirk widens.

“More for me then,” he says before covering your body with his. You gasp, surprised by his advances. What can he possibly be planning? You don’t think you have it in you for more. He notices your expression, before leaning to kiss your breast, hand sliding down your body with feathery touches. “I told you I was going to make you beg,” his eyes are locked on you as he goes down your body. He stops by your mound, pressing a kiss to your clit, making you gasp from oversensitivity. “You begged me to come...now you will beg me to stop.”

[ddaenggtan]

as we go along | myj [m]

pairing | min yoonji x reader

wc | 10.4k

genre | NSFW; Fluff, Smut, a dash of Angst bc why not

Four years ago, the beautiful stunning attractive frustrating Min Yoonji came into your life. Ever since, it’s been a competition between the two of you to win the HOA’s Holiday Decorating Contest. The fiery looks she gives you paired with the pointed insults throw you off your game every year, but not this time. This holiday season, you’re determines to win; and along the way you might just find that Yoonji’s been trying to win something else.

;OR the queer hallmark movie of your dreams.

warnings/tags | idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers, Awkward Gays, Idiot/Oblivious Gays, very strong language i think this MC curses almost as much as i do, oral (female receiving) x2, fingering, wall sex, theres like....a hint of body worship in that MC loves eating pussy bc lbr. what else could possibly compare to that. uhh side jinkook, as well as some side namyoonmin and some vhope if u squint real hard. hwasa and chungha are a lesbian power couple. OH The Min Twins aka Yoongi and Yoonji are siblings uwu

a/n |  this is 100% every single lesbian fantasy of my dreams because i just really love the ladeez and also min yoonji needs more characterization outside of 'stone cold butch domme' so uh. here ya go. i love ladeez so this is v self indulgent and also Super Gay. 

this is part of the 25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology 

[Today]

Red bleeds into green and glitters magnificently on the snow. Lights and tinsel are strewn all over the yard of your parents’ house, creating a rather pretty collage of sparkles and swirls against the white backdrop. You wish you could appreciate it more. 

As it stands, however, you’ve been outside for hours untangling the decorative strands so that you can hang them on the gutters, eaves, and railings of the two story house behind you. Your mother had insisted you work inside but you know better. The cats - Mochi and Pablo - are your favorite in the world and you love them dearly, but one of their favorite things in the world has always been holiday decorations. The number of times you’ve had to stop them from chewing on lights of knocking the tree down is frankly ridiculous. So instead you’re unravelling everything so you can get started on what you’re sure is going to be your best year yet.

You’ve always loved decorating, of course, especially for the holidays. Getting up before dawn to go pick out one of the giant fir trees to stand in their living room, picking out new figurines for the Winter Village that sits on the mantle, helping your parents put ornaments on the tree. You love holiday decorating nearly as much as you love the feeling of victory in your chest. 

“If you had an organizer that wouldn’t take nearly as long,” says a voice from behind you. It’s melodic and deceptively sweet in spite of the lower register, and you don’t turn. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. You don’t even respond, instead settling your gloved hands on your hips and eyeing the front porch so you can decide where to start. 

“Really? Ignoring me now? Tsk tsk, and here I thought you were better than being a sore loser.”

Continuing on your mission to pretend she isn’t there, you heft several yards of lights over your shoulder and head toward the ladder you have against the porch roof. You may as well start up high. 

“Interesting choice,” Yoonji mutters as she watches you. The hair on the back of your neck bristles, and you take a deep breath to calm and center yourself. “I’d heard that icicle lights were a bit last season, but I’m excited for this vintage look you’re going for. If you need more, let me know. I think the ones I used last year are still in the garage.”

“What do you want, Yoonji?” You huff, turning over your shoulder to glare at her. She looks entirely too at home in your yard with a steaming thermos in her mittened hands. 

“Just wanted to say hi. Wasn’t sure you were coming this year, considering how late you got in.”

“My flight was delayed for weather reasons,” you snap. 

“Ah. That’s why I always drive up instead.” There’s a pregnant pause that’s filled only with the huffs of your breath as you focus on the lights in front of you. “Oh, but you never got your license, did you? Ah, you should call me next year, we can carpool.”

“I got my license this past year,” You bite out. She doesn’t need to know that it took a few tries. It’s not your fault it makes you anxious to be behind the wheel. “Seriously. I have work to do.”

“Obviously,” Yoonji mutters. You flash her a glare and she just smiles back. “Just wanted to see how you were, if you needed any…” She pauses, eyes trailing over the explosion of decorations on your lawn with thinly veiled judgement in her eyes. “Help.”

“If I needed your help, I wouldn’t be winning this year’s contest.”

“By the looks of it, you aren’t winning this year’s contest anyway.” Her mutter doesn’t escape your notice. But that’s the real problem you have with Min Yoonji.

She’s sarcastic and blunt and kind of intimidatingly hot, but you can handle that. You are a strong, independent queer woman in the modern age and you are not about to let some random lesbian intimidate you, no matter how much you kind of wanted to fuck her in the past. Yoonji is not a problem for you. 

It’s the way she’s constantly putting you down, giving you backhanded compliments, and generally acting like she’s better than you. While winning your parents’ neighborhood’s annual Holiday Decorating Contest that their local Homeowner’s Association runs. Everyone gets a kick out of the friendly competition, the winners get a gift certificate to a Korean BBQ place, and a good time is had by all. 

Except you. 

Because you’ve made it your mission to win - to beat the current reigning champion of the past three years who stands on your lawn sipping what smells like hot cocoa and silently judging your decor choices like she didn’t put a massive inflatable pumpkin on the roof for Halloween. 

She watches you the entire time you hang up the lights, carefully attaching them to the edge of the awning covering the front porch. It isn’t until your father pulls into the driveway and you’re done with the upper half completely - about to start the railing - and descending the ladder one careful step at a time that she speaks again. 

“Those are hanging too low,” She tells you. She doesn’t seem to mind when you ignore her in favor of wrapping lights around the stair banister. 

“Hey there, Yoonji!” Your father calls as he starts to unload the groceries. “What brings you to this part of town?” They both laugh at the joke and you force back a gag. 

“Just hanging out,” She calls back. “Making sure your daughter doesn’t break her neck for some silly competition. You need help with those?” Your dad waves her off. 

“I’m not that old, but thank you. Besides, it looks like you’re needed elsewhere.” He gestures with one bag-laden hand, and both you and Yoonji turn. 

A large SUV pulls into the driveway across the street; the passenger door swings open before the vehicle even stops, and a girl - woman, really - launches herself out of the car. She’s across the street in record time, nearly tackling Yoonji to the snow with the force of her hug. Both look excited to see each other, a rare smile on Yoonji’s face that makes you burn with something that doesn’t feel quite like the usual rage. 

The two are talking rapidly in your front lawn, too harried and chaotic for you to make out much of anything besides the fact that they missed each other. They look comfortable with each other in a way you’ve never been and you force yourself to remember that you don’t care . Even as you eye the way the newcomer’s hand sits just that little bit too low on Yoonji’s back. 

The sounds of car doors closing and snow crunching draws your attention and you’re shocked to see another gorgeous girl making her way over. She looks as excited as the first, yet more subdued about it. 

Likely because they’re on a lawn that decidedly does not belong to them, but you could be wrong there. 

Both of the women are absolutely gorgeous, though, easily model material. The first has artfully styled dark hair that falls in perfect waves down her shoulders, and is delightfully curvy in all the places the world loves. Her cheekbones are to die for, makeup flawless, and you resist the urge to pluck at your own outfit, chosen for warmth over style. 

The second woman is no different; not quite as thicc, as Jimin would say, but the figure suits her, as does the straight platinum hair that hangs down to her lower back. It’s stark against the black of her expensive-looking coat, and it only adds to the energy she carries that draws you in even as you wish it wouldn’t. 

“Oh, how rude of me! These are my neighbors,” Yoonji says after a minute. You don’t miss the way she hesitates saying your name, or the almost predatory smiles the other two women get. 

“So you’re the one,” The dark-haired one says. You don’t get a chance to question it before the blonde cuts her off. 

“I’m Chungha,” She says with a friendly smile. “And this is Hyejin.”

“My friends call me Hwasa, though,” The brunette adds. “We hate to tear her away but it’s been ages since we’ve seen our girl.”

“You saw me like two weeks ago,” Yoonji mutters. You’re too caught off-guard by anyone calling Yoonji their ‘girl’ to respond, but you don’t miss the way her cheeks tinge pink from something that isn’t the cold. 

“So we’re gonna steal her away now,” Hwasa continues, oblivious. You don’t protest, letting your father chat amicably while they say their goodbyes and you look between the girls. 

Hwasa’s hand is still lingering on Yoonji’s lower back, something neither of them seem bothered by. That’s something that friends do, though, right? Jimin squeezes your ass constantly and the two of you definitely aren’t together. 

You hear your name and a question but you can’t seem to really focus beyond a mumbled agreement to whatever you were asked. The way Chungha’s eyes glance over her companions feels like something more, but you can never really be sure. Not in this day and age.

But when they head back across the road to Yoonji’s house, Hwasa doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together. Yoonji lets her do it, and the glimpse of the grin and the flushed cheeks you see make your heart clench. 

Paired with the way Chungha eyes the pair as she follows behind - a decidedly more than friendly gaze - and every alarm in your brain is going off. She looks ready to jump them both the second they get in the door. 

“I’m impressed,” Your father says. 

“I’m not done yet,” You tell him, turning back to the decorations sprawled across the lawn. “I’ve still got to-”

“No, no,” He interrupts. “Not the decorations. That you’re finally making strides to be nicer to Yoonji.” You stare blankly at him, not understanding what part of your attitude towards her said anything about being nicer. 

And anyway, why shouldn’t she be nicer to you?

“The party…?” You blink at his words, looking in all respects like a startled rabbit. “The annual Min family holiday party? That they just invited you to? The one that you said you would attend?”

“I’m sorry, I did what. ”

“It just happened, sweetheart. I was standing right here for the entire thing.”

“No,” You tell him firmly. “No, because I would remember telling Min fucking Yoonji that I was going to her stupid holiday party.”

Your father just shakes his head. “Then perhaps we ought to get you a doctor’s appointment, sweetie, because I watched it all happen not five seconds ago.” He pats your shoulder, doing his best to show his solidarity for your sudden idiocy, and makes his way inside. 

You spin to watch him go, all the potential protests and complaints clogging together in your throat and leaving you silent. He gets to the bottom step before you’re storming angrily back to your decorations, because whatever , you’ll go to the stupid party. 

Yoonji can have her dumb holiday party with those overhyped cookies your father always raves about. She can have her caroling and her sing-a-long that your mother adores. She can even have her two super hot model girlfriends, because you’re a modern woman, and sometimes that’s what a relationship is. Whatever. It’s her prerogative. You don’t care. It is not going to affect you, or your decorating, at all. 

You scream a little when the icicle lights you so carefully hung knock against your father’s head on his way inside. 

[Three Years Ago]

“You look like you’re struggling,” a voice says behind you. 

They aren’t wrong, either. You’re balanced precariously atop the porch roof your parents’ new hours, hanging garland off the edges so your dad doesn’t have to do it himself. 

You turn to see who’s talking to you - especially since you don’t actually know anyone, this being your first visit to the neighborhood - and very nearly have to hold on to the edge beside you to stop yourself from falling off. 

The man that stands on your parents’ front walkway is easily the most beautiful you’ve seen - a casual elegance to his stance that you’ve not seen outside of celebrities. His leather jacket looks warm and comfortable while remaining stylish, and the all-black underneath suits him while highlighting the lithe form. All of it is perfectly complemented by the mop of jet-black hair tucked under a knitted beanie, and you can’t help but wonder what kind of neighborhood your parents have moved to, when models are just walking around the streets. 

“Uh…” You would kick yourself for sudden ineloquence if you thought you could without falling straight on your ass. The guy bites back and obvious smile, ducking his head for a moment to do so. 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” He calls as he looks back up at you. “Did you move in recently?”

“No, I don’t live here.” He raises a brow and you huff. “It’s my parents’ place. I’m just doing their decorating for them.” The guy nods and starts to say something else, but he’s cut off before he can. 

“Jimin-ah, what are you doing?” You look back to the garland as someone else walks up, some girl based on the quick glimpse you get while tugging on a strand that doesn’t want to untangle. You give them some semblance of privacy as the guy - Jimin - relays to her everything you’ve said so far. It only strikes you as a little odd that he’s being so detailed; she could be a jealous girlfriend, for all you know. 

“Oh,” the girl says, tone as dry as the dead leaves piled in the corner of the yard, “Is this supposed to beat me somehow?”

“Yoonji,” Jimin scolds under his breath. 

“Sorry,” You say, standing up to your full height. It’s a considerable distance considering you’re still on the porch roof. “But what is that supposed to mean? Is there some kind of competition I don’t know about?”

“Oh,” Yoonji repeats, surprise evident in her voice this time as she eyes you. You take the opportunity to do the same, and you’re glad the nip in the air already turned your cheeks pink because fuck. 

Yoonji’s god damn gorgeous. She’s slightly taller than the average girl, even in the winter boots she’s wearing, but she wears the height well; her shoulders are straight and her chin has a natural upward tilt to it, like she’s used to looking down at people in more ways than one. She’s not dressed fancy - just thick leggings and an oversized sweater - but she looks like she belongs in a commercial or something. Her hair is similar to Jimin’s - pitch black and soft - but hers is glossier, more like a cat’s coat; her cheeks are pink from the cold, her lips are slightly parted and invite too many thoughts about if they’re as soft as they look, Even in such casual circumstances, she’s radiant, even as she says-

“That explains a lot.”

It takes a second longer than you’d like to admit for your brain to resume function, but when it does, you huff with indignation. 

“Excuse me?” You hiss. “What, are my decor choices not good enough for whatever this competition is?”

“No,” Yoonji says slowly, cocking a brow, and you see red - and it isn’t the lights from the house across the street. You don’t even let her continue before you’re defending yourself.

“Well I’m sorry that not all of us can decorate like they just stepped out of...of…Better Homes And Gardens, or some shit like that. Some of us focus more on making sure we like our decorations and that they actually mean something instead of just doing things for the aesthetic .”

Yoonji mutters something under her breath but you can’t make it out; it’s lost among the breeze that kicks up and the soft sound of laughing that Jimin is trying desperately to muffle. You huff a little and return to your mission of dragging the garland up on top of the roof, a new determination filling your chest. 

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be doing this?” Yoonji asks, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a brow. You freeze. You can hear Jimin’s quiet inhale, and when you look up, he’s got his lips puffed out like that meme of that guy doing the duckface. You let your hand rest on your hips and give this girl the best glare you can - which you have to admit is quite powerful when you need it to be. 

Like now, when this random super hot girl is judging you for being single and also assuming you’re interested in men. The nerve of her. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” You tell her firmly. She frowns a little, and you wish the expression wasn’t so cute. 

“Why not?” 

You scoff. “ Because,” You tell her firmly, “Not only am I happy by myself and don’t need someone else to be complete, I happen to prefer women. You may be happy with a member of the opposite sex,” You wave at where she and Jimin stand close together and return to trying to pull up the piece of garland that’s probably stuck on something, “But I tend to lean the other way.”

Yoonji just arches a perfect brow at you, but she at least doesn’t bust out laughing like Jimin does. 

“Oh man,” He says, wiping tears from his eyes as he stumbles forward, “Imagine looking at us and thinking we’re straight. Oh my god, imagine, can you believe-”

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend doing this then?” Yoonji asks. Her cheeks are a little redder, but you’re pretty sure it’s just from the cold. “Wouldn’t it be better?”

“Because I’m a strong,” You heave another string of garland up, “Independent,” heave, “Woman!” You give one last tug on the garland and it flies loose, sending you landing back on the flat of your ass atop the porch roof. It doesn’t hurt too bad other than the fact that you can see a smile playing on Yoonji’s lips and your pride has already taken a few hits. 

“Well then,” Yoonji says, patting Jimin’s arm and stepping back, “We’ll stop distracting you, Miss Independent.” She and Jimin walk across the street, and you pretend not to notice the way she looks back every so often. 

[Today]

“No, it needs to be taller.”

“Sweetheart if it’s any taller, it won’t fit in the house.”

You send your mother a frustrated glance and shake your head. “It will, it just needs to be the right height and shape.”

“Why can’t we just get a fake tree? They’re so much easier to move and put together, wouldn’t that be better?”

“No,” You hiss, scandalized. “Real trees are better overall for the environment, not to mention how you can’t manufacture the smell of pine trees that come with them that set the entire atmosphere. Plus this nursery uses the profits to plant more trees both here and in areas that suffer with deforestation. It’s for a good cause.”

“And that’s why we had to get here at five in the morning?” Your mother asks sarcastically. 

“Yes,” You reply firmly, “Because otherwise all the good trees will be gone and we’ll be forced to choose from the leftovers.” Your mother mumbles something else under her breath, but you don’t hear it. You’re distracted because there it is. The perfect tree.

You’re two steps away from your perfect tree - tall, evenly spaced, full branches, well balanced, with the perfect shade of evergreen - when you hear her. 

“It’s over here,” Yoonji’s voice echoes. “I need the perfect tree, and it’s the best one I’ve found in years.”

You ignore the way your mother lights up and shush her when she tries to call out to Yoonji. You listen closer; your nemesis is still talking, something about needing a tree for someone - which, who leaves tree shopping to the last minute? The only reason you’re here is that you got in late because of the weather - but her voice is definitely getting closer. 

Panicking, you look at your tree. If Yoonji sees it, it’s definitely over. It’s perfect, there’s no way she’ll want any other, and what Yoonji wants, she gets. 

The only real explanation for what happens next is that you’re running on four hours’ sleep and Yoonji tends to make you a little stupid. 

“Get the other side,” You whisper to your mom. She stares at you and doesn’t move. “Hurry up, before they get here!”

Your mother watches for a few seconds as you wrap your arms around the tree, getting pricked in the face with pine needles as you do, and start to tug. It’s a heavy tree, and it’s only just started to shift when the voices get closer. 

“Seriously?!” You exclaim in a harried whisper to your mom. “Not even a push?!”

“You’re trying to steal a tree,” Your mother says. “From a nursery that gives to charity. I’m not helping with that.”

“I’m gonna pay for it later!” Your mother sighs and starts pushing halfheartedly on the other side of the tree.   

“Shit, no, I meant-” Your words are cut off by a grunt as you manage to catch the tree before it falls entirely. It’s heavy against your shoulder, and of course that’s when Yoonji turns the corner, followed by the broadest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. Both stop in their tracks at the sight of you. 

“Hey Seokjin.” You say, faking a laugh. “How are you? Haven’t seen you this year. Business good?”

“Yeah,” He says, cocking a brow, “When people don’t try to run off with our trees.”

“Who? Me? I would never!” The tree starts digging into your shoulder and your legs tremble. “I just thought I’d load it up for you, y’know, save you the trouble.”

“Oh did you?” There’s amusement in Seokjin’s voice as he fiddles with his ring. “You know our policy, you have to pay before loading.”

You start to stammer out some bullshit about him being busy but you’re only halfway through the excuse when Yoonji says your name.

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a bored voice. “She was loading it up for me. That’s the tree I was coming to show you anyway.”

The weight finally overtakes you, and you crumble under it. You manage to twist so that nothing important is trapped under the trunk, but you get a faceful of needles for your efforts. 

“Maybe you should do it, though, Jin,” Yoonji says. “It looks a little much for the poor dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin huffs. He pulls the tree off of you with what looks like little effort, hefting it over his shoulder so the base drags the ground. “Where are you parked, Yoonji?”

“Load it onto their car,” Yoonji responds. Both you and your mother stare at her in shock. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”

“Oh, well isn’t that sweet of you,” Your mother coos. She points the way to Seokjin and the two head off, chatting amicably as they go. 

You narrow your eyes at Yoonji where she stands, not even offering to help you up from the snow where you still lay.

“What’s wrong with it?” You ask. All she does is quirk a brow. “The tree. Why are you giving it to me? You wouldn’t unless there was something wrong with it. So what is it? Termites? Leaking too much sap? What?”

Yoonji shrugs. “You wanted it,” She says simply. Your blood boils, and she steps back like she doesn’t even notice. 

“You aren’t even going to help me up?” You call as she starts to walk away.

“Good try, Miss Independent,” She calls back. “I think Jungkook’s still in the office if you need him.”

You half-scream a growl as you flop your head back into the snow. A pout forms as you watch the sky start to color with the sunrise. 

You’re going to have to throw away your perfect tree.

[Two Years Ago]

It’s the day of the contest. You’re confident in your decor choices this year, even if you couldn’t get every single thing you had in mind, you decide as you wander the neighborhood to scope out the competition. Last year you went simple and got second place, and you’ve switched it up this year. All out with the best decorations possible. 

You’re going to win. Losing isn’t an option, not again. Not when you were beat by her. 

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself as you turn the corner onto your parents’ street. Your decorations are as good as they can be. 

Your mood sours a little when you see a figure in the yard across from yours, but the soft beanie and oversized hoodie cheer you up once you notice them. 

“Yoongi!” You call with a smile. The man turns and gives you a gummy grin. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Yeah, we got in late last night. Kinda crashed once we did. Then someone dragged us all out to the store early this morning.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh. 

“Well the house looks good. Not as good as mine, obviously,” You tease, “But good.”

“Yeah, you might win this year. Yoonji’s got some good competition.”

You sniffle a little, doing your best to contain your distaste for his twin. 

The Min twins, nearly identical save for the fact that they aren’t the same gender, are easily the best and worst things about the neighborhood. Worst because of that pompous priss Yoonji, obviously. 

Best because Min Yoongi is one of the sweetest people you’ve ever known even if he is a bit shy. You met him last year, when he’d carried in an obscene amount of groceries for your mother and you’d almost mistaken him for his sister. You’d made him coffee to say thanks, the two of you talked, and you’ve been friends ever since. 

“No Jimin?” You ask him. He gestures vaguely to the roof, where you can see a small blue hat bopping around. “Ah. I take it you aren’t finished yet, then.”

“Do you know any other reason my sister would have my boyfriend on the roof?” You share a grin with him as you both watch a strand of lights fly off somewhere. “Apparently she needed to make some last minute adjustments. That’s why she dragged us all out to the store, to hunt down some stuff for her.”

“Oh, did you happen to see one of those big dancing snowmen? The one that plays music, you can control it all from your phone? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find one, it’s the one thing I was missing. Had to use an inflatable yeti instead.” Yoongi frowns. 

“Huh, how weird. That’s what we were-”

“I got it all ready, it just needs to be plugged in.”

Yoonji strides out from the house - looking as good as ever in some plaid pants, how dare she - and stops dead when she looks up and sees you. 

“What are you doing here?” She snaps, and you scoff. 

“Visiting a friend,” You respond with a nod towards Yoongi. You take a glance at the phone in her hand, then up to where you can see Jimin standing up a snowman. “Did you seriously steal my idea?!”

“What? No.”

“Really. Because I distinctly remember telling Jungkook about this yesterday while I was picking up my tree and you were right beside him talking to Seokjin. I was even going to put it on the roof so everyone could watch it dance to Pentatonix covers.”

“Like I would listen when you talk,” Yoonji says. Yoongi sighs but you can barely hear it over the flood of rage. 

“Y’know what? Get fucked,” You tell her as you storm out of their yard and back to your parents’ house. 

“I guess you won’t be coming to the holiday party then?” She calls over the road. You send her a rather vulgar hand gesture in return that you hope your parents don’t see. By the time you get inside, the snowman is playing a Mariah Carey Christmas song and you kind of want to set it on fire. 

You do not win the competition that year. 

[Today]

Maybe you should have listened to your parents when they said not to drive today. Probably you should have taken the big ass truck that your father keeps in the garage specifically for when the weather is bad, because it’s got that fancy four wheel drive and traction control and all sorts of stuff meant to keep people safe in the middle of floods and monsoons and blizzards. You definitely should have remembered to charge your phone before you left the house.

Especially considering that your car isn’t great in the snow now falling gently from the sky to land on your hood, mixing with the smoke pouring out from under it. 

You’re lucky you managed to drift to the side of the road and get your hazard lights on, but that’s where said luck runs out. Your phone is dead, it’s several miles back to the house, even further than that to town, and the temperature is already dropping into dangerous territory. 

You’ve been sitting here for three hours, though, tucked inside the residual warmth of your car with spare blankets wrapped around you as you watched night fall. You’re not sure what else you can do. There aren’t any wild animals around here, or anything like that, but it’s definitely too dangerous to trek back to the house. 

“I should’ve just walked back earlier,” You groan as you bundle the blankets closer. “At least it was warmer then. Stupid car, stupid car, stupid me , didn’t charge your stupid phone, how dumb am I.”

Your tirade against yourself continues for several minutes and includes a few very crafty curses that would make your mother gasp. You’re in the middle of another when lights shine into your mirrors, nearly blinding you. 

The lights slow and come to a stop behind your car. A door shuts and you scramble to exit, ready to get on your knees and beg whoever it is to give you a ride to literally anywhere that has heat. 

It takes a second too long for you recognize the shiny purple jeep and the elegant black peacoat backlit by the headlights, and by the time you do, she’s already got an angry snarl on her face. 

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” She demands. You shiver in response and glare at her. 

“Oh, just hanging out, thought I’d take a little nap beside the road in the freezing cold, the usual y’know,” You bite back. She rolls her eyes and starts back towards her jeep. You frown, watching her, and she stops with one foot inside and her hand on the door. 

“What are you waiting for?” She asks. You shrug, and she huffs. “Get in the fucking car, I’m taking you home before you turn into an icicle.” You don’t move and her frown deepens. “Fine, but if you die out here, I’m not the one that’s going to tell your parents it was because you were too stubborn to accept a ride.”

Guilt gnaws at you, and with a frustrated huff, you stomp your way over to the passenger side of her jeep and climb inside. 

She’s careful as she drives, you notice. Long fingers wrapped tight around the wheel, jaw tensed so hard it could be stone, and one arm leaned against the window after she’s finished turning the heat up as high it will go. 

It’s not even been five minutes when she tosses a thick, fleece-lined blanket at you. You look at her, ready to be pissed off, and she cuts you off before you can complain. 

“Your teeth are chattering so loud that I can’t hear myself think. Try not to get hypothermia before we get there, okay?” You huff a disbelieving laugh but curl into the warmth of the blanket anyway. It feels almost too-warm, like when you pull clothes out of the dryer, but it’s a comfort against your freezing skin. 

“Why are you even here? You aren’t heading back from town, you’re not heading to town. Do you just drive around looking for lost girls?” 

“No,” She says carefully, hand tightening around the wheel. It’s all she says for a full minute before she sighs. “Your parents got worried.”

“What?! ”

“They said you went to town to pick up some salt for the sidewalk and drive, and that it had been hours, and that they hadn’t heard from you again even though you took your phone. They were scared that something had happened, so I…”

Your sarcastic response dies on your tongue when you look at her. Really look. 

Her shoulders are tense and set, in a way you haven’t seen before. Her brows are creased, and the pretty lips you refuse to acknowledge are set in a thin line and turned down at the corners. There’s something fizzling in the air between the two of you, something new and unknown.

“...Were you worried about me?” You ask quietly. She shoots you a look and then laughs, a second too late with not enough amusement. 

“Drink that,” She says, gesturing to a thermos. “It’s coffee, it’ll help you warm up a little.” You take the thermos, thoroughly enjoying the warmth it provides your hands, and take a sip. You don’t know why, but you’re surprised when it’s the exact way you like it. You shoot her a thoughtful look, wondering just how else she might surprise you. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, only the lull of the engine and the tires. Neither of you talk much; perhaps because she’s too angry, but you’re too distracted by your own thoughts to say much. 

There’s no way, right? The two of you hate each other, you have since you met. It tints all your interactions, colors every single conversation where either of you are even mentioned, it’s one of the basic facts of the universe. 

So why, as Yoonji pulls into your parent’s driveway and smiles at where they stand watching from the window, do you have a feeling like maybe you’re wrong?

[One Year Ago]

“Really? Inflatables?”

You scowl and turn, already prepared. There stands Yoonji, arms crossed. The weather is fairly mild for the season, and she’s taking advantage of that. High waisted shorts, an off-the-shoulder top, lace-up boots, leather jacket, she looks like every rebellious lesbian you’ve ever dreamt about, and it only makes you hate her more. 

“Yes, inflatables. Because some of us like a little fun. Besides, you stole my dancing snowman last year, and I wanted something you aren’t going to rip off.”

“I didn’t steal your-”

“Whatever,” You interrupt, not wanting to even bother to listen. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

She starts to say something else, but the slam of the front door cuts her off. You turn and grin, waving. 

“Tae! C’mon, put it over here!” 

Taehyung smiles and makes his way over, inflatable deer in his hands. Yoonji’s silent as he gets there and sets the animal where you direct. When he’s finished he turns to you, boxy smile and all, to make sure he’s good, and glances at Yoonji. 

“Oh, you didn’t say you had a friend over,” He whines. “Now I’m being rude. Hi, I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Yoonji doesn’t answer, merely eyes with distaste the hand he’s got extended. 

“Right. Well then, I’m gonna go get the fawn, alright? Be right back.” He smiles at you, and you watch as he jogs back into the house.

“I thought you only brought Namjoon with you this year.” You turn at Yoonji’s words. 

“No, Tae came as well. It’s a good thing, too, because Joon is utterly useless now since he met Yoongi and Jimin. Little punks stole my best friend.” You’re only mostly kidding. You’re happy for Namjoon - he’s been somewhat lonely these days, and now he’s got not one but two handsome men vying for his affection. 

It does reinforce your own loneliness, though. 

“I thought you liked girls.” You look back at Yoonji and notice she’s got a small pout on her face. It’s cute. 

“I do like girls.”

“Then why is Taehyung here?” The way she says his name is full of spite, and it makes you laugh. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that I had to get your permission when I want to bring my friends and loved ones up to visit my parents for the holidays.” You adjust the inflatable deer, posing it so that it looks like it’s glaring at Yoonji’s house in anger. 

Taehyung comes back out before Yoonji can say anything. He’s got his jacket off now, and he does look good in the simple white shirt and the headband that makes his hair look even fluffier than usual. You just really can’t focus on anything but the inflatable fawn he’s got tucked under one arm and the matching rabbit tucked under the other. 

Yoonji’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you roll your eyes. 

“You need another deer,” She spits before she turns around and stomps back to her house. Taehyung shoots you a look. 

“I take it that’s Yoonji, then,” He says with a laugh. You make a puking sound and he tuts at you. “You’re supposed to be nice. That is not nice.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t steal your dancing snowman, did she?”

Across the street, you can see Yoonji fuming as she stands on the porch, talking to Yoongi about something or other. They both look over and while your first instinct is to turn around like you haven’t been watching them, you resist. Instead, you give Yoongi a bright wave. He doesn’t return it but his frown lessens slightly, though that could be because Jimin stumbles, laughing, out of your parents’ house with Namjoon not far behind him. 

Both of them have hearts in their eyes, and it only gets worse when they look at Yoongi. 

“That’s disgusting,” Taehyung says with a wrinkle of his nose. “Eugh, they’re so couple-y and gross. Remind me not to come next year if Namjoon’s here.”

“Oh no,” You tell him with a grin as you wrap him in a hug. He’s warm and solid against you, as he always is, and you thoroughly enjoy it. “If I have to struggle, you do too.”

“Fine,” He whines dramatically. “But I’m bringing Hobi so he has to suffer, too.” You laugh and set him to work organizing the inflatable animals. There are eyes on your back the entire time, but you refuse to turn around and give Yoonji the satisfaction. 

Especially once you realize that you do need another deer to make it look balanced and perfect.

[Today]

The holiday party is well underway by the time you arrive at Yoonji’s, however reluctantly you do so. Your mother and father disappear almost immediately, sucked into conversations with people they’ve known for years now; Tae and Hobi are tucked into a corner, nursing glasses of cider while they look at the rather extensive Winter Village display on the Mins mantle; Namjoon has been here for hours already, and is no doubt locked away in Yoongi’s room with the man himself, and Jimin, and you choose to believe that they’re having some philosophical discussion and not doing anything else. 

You think you catch a glimpse of Jungkook amidst the people from the neighborhood, but by the time you get to where he was, there’s no sign of him, or the broad-shouldered man he’s usually with. Abandoned in the kitchen, you pour yourself some cider and spike it with a hint of rum, just to get you through the night. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” A voice says. 

When you turn, you find Hwasa perched on the countertop, Chungha leaning back between her legs. Both are watching you curiously, and both look absolutely fantastic in figure-hugging dresses and tights and heeled boots. They look like they just stepped off a runway, but the look in their eyes feels more like a panther than a model. 

“What boyfriend?” You ask eventually. 

“Tall, great chest, soft hair,” Hwasa says. When you just stare at her, she smiles a little. “Boxy smile.”

“Oh, Tae?” You laugh a little. “He isn’t my boyfriend. I’m not even interested in him like that, he’s just my best friend.” The two women share a look and Chungha kisses her cheek before heading out of the room. Hwasa eyes you and you have the distinct feeling you’re being judged. 

You thought you looked okay when you picked out the simple but nicer outfit; black sweater, maroon skirt, tall black boots. It’s classy but casual. You’re sure of it. 

At least you were. 

“So tell me about this thing with Yoonji,” Hwasa eventually says. You nearly choke on your cider. 

“I mean...there’s not much to tell. We’ve hated each other ever since we met four years ago.”

“Oh?” Something lights up in her eyes that you don’t particularly like. 

“Look, no offense to you or your girlfriend, Yoonji’s just...kinda mean for my tastes. I guess some people are into that.”

“Elaborate.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and you find yourself explaining before you can stop. You tell her nearly everything, about all the shit Yoonji’s done to you, and by the time you’re finished, she’s actually smiling.

“Like...I’m sure you love her and all, otherwise you wouldn’t be dating her, but-”

“What? ” She nearly falls off the counter, she’s laughing so hard, and when you start to help steady her, she just waves you off. “No, sweetie, I’m dating Chungha, not Yoonji.”

“I thought you were dating both of them? Did you all break up?”

“Oh my god , she wasn’t kidding,” Hwasa says breathlessly, still fighting back giggles. “Holy shit, this explains so much. Ha, oh my god, no, we never were dating Yoonji, she’s just our best friend. Like you and that Taehyung guy?”

“Oh.” You feel foolish; it makes sense, friends can be just as physically close as romantic partners. You and Taehyung are proof enough of that. “I...just assumed…”

“I know, but you’re definitely wrong. You drink more cider, stew on that, maybe rethink things from another perspective, I’ve got to tell Chungha about this, it’s too good.” Hwasa hops off the counter with ease and disappears out the door before you can ask her to explain what she means about other perspectives. You can hear giggles as they slowly drown in the chatter of the party and the soft carols playing over the speakers. 

You stay in the kitchen for a while, nursing your cider and thinking. If Yoonji doesn’t have two model-hot girlfriends, then could you have been onto something in the jeep that night? You’ve hated her for so long, and assumed that she hates you in return, but if you were wrong about the girlfriends, then maybe you’re wrong about that, too. 

Something enters your vision and you look up, nearly spitting out your drink as you do. 

Yoonji stands in front of you, in a slinky green velvet dress that she keeps tugging the bottom of. It doesn’t look like anything she usually wears, down to the floral lace tights and the wedge heels that make her even taller than she already is, and she looks slightly uncomfortable if the burn in her cheeks is any indication. 

The worst part is that she looks good. Like, good good. It suits her, even if it isn’t her usual style, and for once you can’t deny the attraction swirling within your stomach. 

“What are you wearing?” She asks angrily, glaring down at your clothes like they kicked her dog - whom you have not seen tonight, which is a travesty, because you adore Holly. A cough echoes from somewhere behind the two of you, and Yoonji wrinkles her nose. “I mean...I like...your outfit.”

You quirk a brow at her and set your cider down on the counter nearby. “Really? Because it looks like you want to tear it off and then set it on fire.” Something complicated happens with her expression and a spark ignites in your mind. 

“Are you sick?” She asks. Her face does something else complicated as a groan echoes from nearby, and something painful twists in your stomach. You really didn’t think you looked that bad. “I mean, after the other day. With the snow. And the cold. Are you sick?”

“Is...this your way of telling me I look ill?” You ask her. She frowns. “Because if wanted me to leave your party, all you had to do was say that, you don’t have to insult me.” You head toward the door of the kitchen and there’s a scrambling that sounds much too loud for just her friends. 

So your friends are also eavesdropping. Fantastic. Now everyone knows she’s insulted you. Just what you needed tonight. 

Her hand catches your wrist as you’re about to leave the kitchen. “I didn’t mean it like that,” She mumbles, not making eye contact. “I just...wanted to make sure you were feeling okay. It was really cold that night, and you were out there for a long time.” 

“So, what, you suddenly care? Why? Because you don’t want to win by default or something?”

“No, because I-” She cuts herself off with a groan, and you’re glad there are so many people around, because it seems like everyone’s distracted with something else. They’re too busy to notice this absolutely disastrous conversation. 

“Hey look,” Taehyung says, appearing from nowhere and pulling roughly on Yoonji’s arm until she’s standing beside you in the doorway. “Mistletoe! How random! Guess you have to kiss!”

“That’s a stupid tradition,” Yoonji spits, and you’re inclined to agree with her. “Forcing people to kiss just because of some plant? How is that okay? Besides, it’s got nothing to do with the actual myth behind it, and-” She sounds like she could go on forever, but you cut her off. 

“And it’s not like we want to kiss anyway.” Her grip on your wrist slackens, and you turn to look at her. Uncertainty fills you as you look at her expression, because the only word that comes to mind is crestfallen. “Right?”

“I...I mean…” Taehyung disappears as Yoonji searches for words, and you just know he’s hanging out somewhere nearby to watch it all happen. 

“Because we’re nemeses.” You say slowly. “We hate each other.”

“Do we?” Yoonji asks quietly, threading her fingers through yours. “Do you?”

“Don’t you? ” You ask her. “You’ve been nothing but rude to me since we met. You’ve insulted me, and stolen my decorating ideas, and-”

“No,” She says quickly. “No, I never meant any of it like that, you just never gave me a chance to explain. You’re...you’re so pretty, and I always get flustered around pretty people, and I say the wrong things.”

“You told me I wasn’t as good if I didn’t have a significant other the first time we met.”

“I was trying to figure out if you were interested in women, and when you said you were, I just...panicked, because I figured you had someone, because you’re…” She gives a wave to your general being. 

“You stole my dancing snowman.”

“I did not! I heard someone talking about a dancing snowman at the tree nursery, and I didn’t realize it was you, and I thought, since I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I’d get a dancing snowman that would play this cheesy playlist thing I made for you. I didn’t know you were looking for it, and I didn’t steal your idea. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“Okay, well...last year you were so rude! And you said you wouldn’t listen when I talked!”

“I thought…” She trails off, looking ashamed. “I thought you were dating Taehyung, and I got jealous. But the listening comment wasn’t like that! It’s because I always zone out because I like to listen to you talk, because your voice is so pretty, but I never hear what you actually say, and also you just...are really pretty. So I get distracted.”

“I…” You’re rather speechless; your entire world has shifted on its axis. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never.” Yoonji insists. “I just don’t know how to talk to pretty girls.”

“You hang out with Hwasa. And Chungha.”

“Yeah, and?” Her brows furrow. “What’s your point?” If you could, you would keysmash at her, but as it stands, you just gape. 

“Uh, they’re literally model gorgeous?”

“Oh, are they?” She looks down at where your fingers are still entwined with hers. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You blink at her, and she looks up at you. There’s a faint smile playing on her lips, and something bright in her eyes that you haven’t seen before. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, shaking your head. “I just still don’t-”

“Will you shut up?” Yoonji asks, free hand coming to gently glide across your cheek. “And let me kiss you?” Your jaw shuts with a snap and you nod. 

Her lips are soft against your own, and your breath catches in your throat as you return the kiss. Her hand moves to grip your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly so the two of you fit together that little bit better, and your hands come to rest on her hips. 

Electricity sparks through you to her. She pulls back just a little and you’re distracted by the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips. 

“This might be moving a little fast, since we hated each other an hour ago-”

“You hated me an hour ago,” She corrects. 

“But I would be very, very happy taking this to a more private area so I can express to you just how apologetic I am that I thought you hated me.” You tear your gaze from her lips to look at her face. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown out at the mere thought. 

“Upstairs,” She growls, already pushing you in the direction of the staircase. You’re both speeding through the crowd of people as fast as you can without being obvious, and you have to help her every few feet because she’s wobbly in her heels, but by the time you make it up the stairs and into her room, you’re both desperate. 

Her mouth meets yours with a fire behind it that you’ve never felt before, and you hardly even get the door closed before she pushes you back against it. Your tongue darts along the seam of her lips and she grants you entrance, and you could moan at just the taste of her if you were just a little weaker. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” She whispers, moving to nip at your neck. Her hands are under your sweater and you don’t even remember them getting there, but you can’t complain as they move to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples through your bra. “Can you even imagine how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you? Tasting you? Hearing you moan?” 

She bites, hard and rough, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. How she possibly knows that you like that is something you don’t have the energy to ponder, nor the will to question. 

“Please,” You breathe, hands tangling in her hair as she sucks a mark into the skin of your throat. She’s slotted between your thighs and your hips are rutting against hers ever so slightly, desperate for some friction. You know you’ve already soaked through your panties, which is a feat considering all she’s done is play with your nipples a little and kiss you like you’ve never been kissed. 

“What is it, angel?” Her voice is deeper than usual, roughened by the desire coursing through your veins and hers, and it only makes you wetter. “What would you like me to do?”

“Anything,” You plead. “Please, just touch me.” 

“Anything?” Yoonji mutters. She chuckles, low and raspy and so unbearably attractive that you want to scream. You almost do scream, from frustration, when she pulls her hands away from your nipples, but she drops to her knees and you forgive her. 

Yoonji kisses up your thighs, from the edge of your boots all the way to where the hem of your skirt hits mid-thigh, and her hands are warm as they slide underneath. She doesn’t stop kissing you, not even as she lifts the fabric of your skirt and nips at the crease where your thighs meet your hips. Still, she’s so far away from where you need her, that you can’t help your whine. 

“Patience, angel,” She whispers as she glides one finger along your fabric-covered lips. Your hips rut forward on instinct, and she laughs a little. 

“You stole my dancing snowman, you could at least be quick about this,” You mutter. 

“What’s the fun in being rushed?” She leans forward to mouth at your pussy through your underwear and your legs tremble slightly. She’s gentle as her hands slide your underwear down to pool around your ankles, and even more gentle as they glide back up to rest on your thighs. “But I’ll be nice this time. Besides, I’ve been dreaming of what this pussy tastes like for years.”

Anything else you might say to her is cut off with a moan as her tongue starts to tease at your clit. One of your hands comes to rest on the back of her hair before you even realize you’ve moved, and she takes that as all the encouragement she needs. 

Yoonji eats pussy like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have, and you’re in absolute awe. The way her tongue moves against you is absolute bliss, no matter where it is; she teases at your entrance, sliding the very tip of her tongue inside to gather your wetness before she runs the flat of it up to your clit, where she circles and sucks mercilessly before moving back down to thrust it in and out and in and out relentlessly. She coaxes an orgasm out of you faster than anyone else ever has, and even as your writhing against the door with her head under your skirt, she doesn’t stop. 

Instead, she slides one long finger inside of you and keeps it there. She doesn’t move it, doesn’t even allow it to twitch, but it’s there and you can feel it as she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks, making your clench around her. She moans into your pussy, too, the entire time she’s at work between your legs, and it only turns you on more when you glance down to see her hand between her legs. 

“Yoonji, please, I want, please, I wanna taste you too, please,” You beg, tugging gently on her hair until she pulls back. Her chin is covered in your cum and the sight is so unbelievably unerotic that you could probably come just from that. 

“Take this off,” She growls, pulling on your skirt as she stands. You do as she says without hesitation, more than willing to get naked if it means getting your mouth on her, and by the time your boots are in the corner with the rest of your clothes, she’s just as naked as you are. 

And god, she’s beautiful. 

Your lips meet hers again as you push her towards the bed, and you can taste yourself on her tongue as it slides against yours. The two of you tumble onto the mattress and you situate yourself between her thighs. It isn’t until you’ve got her legs spread wide and your licking and sucking at her nipples that you register that her face is flushed with something new. 

“What is it?” You ask, panting, as you detach from her - beautiful, wonderful, adorable, perfect - tits. “Do you not want me to? I don’t have to, I just would really like to, it’s up to you.”

“No, it’s not that, I’ve just never…” She trails off, looking embarrassed, and realization smacks you in the face. 

“No one has ever gone down on you before?” You ask in disbelief. She shakes her head. 

“I’ve always been the one to do so, all the other girls have been kind of...well. I’m usually the dominant one, so…”

“Yoonji, sweetheart,” You say seriously, pressing a kiss to her cheek with each word. “Will you allow to me to eat you out? Because seriously, those other girls are trash, and I would absolutely cherish the experience if it’s something you want.”

Her face turns even more pink and she nods. You press a quick kiss to her lips and gently spread her thighs so you have better access. You mimic her actions from earlier, pressing kisses to her thighs and the crease of her hips. When you finally get a taste of her, you moan. 

She tastes like absolute fucking bliss, you decide as you glide your tongue through her folds. You could live off of nothing but the taste for her until the end of time itself, and the way she moves is amazing. Little jerks and thrusts, and her fingers tangle in your hair to push you closer even as her hips pull away slightly. 

Your tongue rubs circles around her clit, flicking and licking and coaxing her closer and closer to her high. You dip down to fuck your tongue into her for a second or two, and the way her back arches is art in motion. You reach one hand up to tweak one of her nipples while your other arm remains wrapped around her hip like a steel bar, keeping her in place even as she grinds against your mouth. 

You remember how it felt earlier when she wrapped her lips around your clit, so you mimic the action. Her bud fits perfectly between your lips, and when you suck on it, she tenses. Everything stops for a second, and you’re afraid maybe you ruined it, but then her whole body jerks, and she presses you hard against her. You lap up her essence as it comes, eager and more than willing, and when she finally stops spasming, you pull yourself away with a grin. 

“Holy shit,” She mutters, and you laugh. 

“I can’t believe no one’s ever eaten you out before,” You sigh, one hand sliding along her waist to massage her breasts. “Does that mean no one’s ever fucked you before either?”

“I mean…” You stop, staring at her with wide eyes. “I told you, I’m usually the dominant one, so most people don’t really...return the favor.”

“Can I please fuck you?” You ask in a rush. “Please, I promise I’ll be gentle.” She huffs a little, and you think it’s amused but you can’t be sure, because she’s spreading her legs again and your focus is elsewhere. 

“Yeah, angel, you can fuck me.”

You lower yourself to kiss her, lingering and deep, and you don’t miss the moan she gives as she tastes herself on your tongue. You wait until she’s thoroughly distracted by the way your mouths move, then glide your fingers over her. 

Her clit is still sensitive, based on the way she jumps as you ghost your fingers over it, so you avoid that. You don’t want to overwhelm her. She groans as you slide a single single finger inside her, and you moan. 

Her walls are softer than the velvet of her dress, and warm around you. She’s tight, too, so incredibly tight that you aren’t sure you’ll be able to fit another inside her. She moans as you slide your finger out and then back in, gathering more of her wetness as you do. 

You’re careful as you fuck her, gentle and slow, and you think you could get addicted to it. Her hips move in time with your hand, gaining speed as you do. “Fuck, angel, it’s so good,” She whimpers. You smile. 

“Let me know if it gets too much, okay?” She nods, and you start to slide a second finger in. Yoonji winces, just a little, so you slow until her hips rock against your hand. 

“More,” She breathes. “Please, more.”

“As you wish,” You tell her. You still are gentle as you thrust into her, feeling her walls contract around you. It’s heaven, absolute perfection, and you tell her so as she grips onto the sheets. 

You latch your mouth onto her nipple as you continue fucking her, biting and sucking as your fingers curl. 

“I need, ah, please, I need more, I need, holy fuck, to come, I need to come,” She moans desperately. You grin and curl your fingers more, sliding them against her walls. You finally find what you’re looking for, that small spongey spot that has her convulsing around you. 

“That’s right, baby,” You coo, “Come on, I know you want to.”

Her hands are in a death grip on your shoulders, and they only get tighter as you press harder against that spot inside her. She comes with a cry that you muffle with your own mouth, her body shaking as she lets go. 

You slide your fingers out when she’s relaxed a little more, licking the taste of her off as she pants. 

“Holy shit,” She breathes. You grin, peppering kisses along her stomach, up her chest, along her throat and over her cheeks. “Can we do that every day?”

“I dunno,” You tease. “Are you going to steal my dancing snowman again?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves at your shoulder, and you laugh. 

“I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be nice to the people you like.”

“I’m bad at that, though,” She mutters. “I always just...say the wrong thing. I’m more of a do-er.”

“I’m still caught up on how I was supposed to know you liked me based on the things you did.”

“Really?” She huffs, glaring at you playfully. “I went tree shopping at five in the morning for you.”

“Yeah,” You say softly, grinning. “You did.”

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Christmas Anthology 

[zoryany]

@kaitodetective1412 sent me 45 -- You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

(an anon did as well and I do plan to answer both in different ways and I will tag kaito in the anon answer as well bc I feel like this isn’t what either of you wanted but it’s what you’re gonna get, for now)

Imperial Royal Skywalker Family AU Pt 1 || Pt 2

send me ficlet prompts – optionally include characters

Dessert passed in relative silence, the atmosphere in the dining room having grown decidedly tense. Luke had really been hoping he could have delayed Han meeting his father until after he’d spoken to his parents, but the Force seemed to be set on toying with him. At least Mother had been able to placate Father before he’d done anything rash, but Luke wasn’t sure that had been entirely preferable, either.

When they’d all finished, Luke moved to usher Han back to his suite, but his mother raised her hand before he had the chance to even rise from his chair. “Leia? Sweetheart, can you please escort Captain Solo to his rooms while your father and I talk to Luke?”

“Yes, Mother.” Leia looked as though she would rather swallow a bantha whole, but she knew better than to argue with their mother, especially when she was already in a dangerous enough mood. She was also probably hoping she’d get to be in on the whole conversation that was to come, which added to her disappointment. Not that it mattered, anyways, because one way or another, she would know exactly what was said, but her expression and presence in the Force soured significantly as she turned her gaze to Han. “Let’s go, Captain. I don’t have all night.”

Han threw a final, withering look over his shoulder as Leia led him from the room, leaving Luke alone with his mother at last. With a severe expression, she turned to face him, and Luke felt his stomach drop out from under him. Out of the eyes of company, it was entirely clear just how upset she really was. All of the guilt that had been eating at him for the past weeks rose back up in him all at once.

“Come, dear,” said his mother as she stood. “Let’s not keep your father waiting.”

Hanging his head, Luke followed his mother with heavy steps to his father’s study. Unlike the rooms of the Palace occupied largely by the Empress, Darth Vader’s spaces, both planetside and on his flagship, tended to be dim and spartan, possessing little in the way of embellishments. He claimed it as practicality -- and, on most occasions, Luke would agree with that -- but right about now, he was convinced that it was meant to make facing him all that more intimidating.

Luke had never been afraid of his father. He understood why people were, and why they should be, and he was all too aware of what someone as powerful as Darth Vader was capable of, but he’d never feared him. His father would never hurt him or Leia, especially not with Mother around to rein in his temper, but there was always a certain anxiety that overtook him whenever his father was angry. He hated the feeling, the sudden urge to cower in submission before a man he’d idolized all his life and who loved him deeply. Leia had always been better than Luke at standing strong in the face of his emotions, perhaps because she had never felt the same level of hero-worship towards him, but Luke was finding himself longing for some of her strength right about now.

His father had been pacing the length of the room when they’d arrived, but the moment they crossed the threshold, he stopped in his tracks and whirled around. The movement was so abrupt that most would assume that kind of speed impossible from a man as large as Vader, but he moved quick enough to send his cape billowing behind him. “Sit,” he commanded, pointing to a chair in the centre of the room.

As he complied, his mother walked to stand to the right of her husband, both parents folding their arms across their chests. His cheeks burned in shame as he avoided looking directly at them. How was it that they could so easily make him feel like he was five years old again?

“You know why you are here, son.” The modulated voice carried a tranquil rage, one that affected him far more than being shouted at ever would. “Explain.”

‘You can do this, Luke,’ he thought silently, sucking in a shuddering breath in an attempt to steady himself. ‘You’ve been practicing this speech in your head since you left.’

"I -- I can’t apologize enough for leaving without warning like that. I know I put you through needless worry, and I’m sure that nothing I can do will make up for that. I just... needed to get away.” Stars, it sounded even lamer saying it out loud than it did in his head. Neither parent looked pleased. He pressed on. “You know I’ve never really liked -- never really been comfortable with any of... well, our status.” Once again, he was jealous of Leia. She wouldn’t be stumbling over her words like this. “I’ve never liked being the Prince, never really liked making public appearances. Never been good at them, either. Leia’s always been better suited for it. And after twenty years of it, I was feeling... claustrophobic. I needed some freedom.”

“Freedom?” It had always been a touchy subject for his father, Luke knew, but he had to hope he could use that to his advantage. “As the Imperial Prince, you have been granted every want, every desire you could hope for. Your mother and I fought tirelessly, made endless sacrifices to create this life for you and your sister. There has never been more freedom in the galaxy, and you stand at the head of it all.”

Was his father being serious? “You... actually expect me to believe that being rich and powerful is the same as being free?” But then, of course his father did. “Maybe you just don’t realize this gilded cage you’ve put me in, Father. I can’t go anywhere beyond our private quarters without an excessive number of guards accompanying me. You and mother have to be aware of my location at every given moment. I’m not allowed to fly or talk to people or do anything without express permission! It’s suffocating! It’s -- ”

“For your safety,” his father growled, hands falling from his chest to form clenched fists at his sides. Next to him, his mother tensed slightly, pursing her lips, but she did nothing more than focus on watching him just a bit more closely. “Everything I have ever done has been to keep you and your mother and your sister safe. The life we live has come at a great cost, and I will not see you throw it all away out of some foolish rebellion. If something would have happened to you -- ”

“But it didn’t!” Luke cried, his voice pitching upward. Any fear or anxiety he’d been feeling had evaporated, and he was prepared to staunchly defend himself. He was not an idiot. He knew exactly how his parents would feel and how they would react to his departure. The decision he made was conscious and purposeful, and he had every intention of justifying it. “I can take care of myself, you know. All that training hasn’t been for nothing. I was careful. I took every precaution. And I’m twenty years old, now, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

While his mother’s face had relaxed a bit, his father did not appear to be convinced. “You may technically be an adult,” he said, slowly, “but you are still my child -- our child. I have torn down the galaxy once to protect you, and I would do it a thousand times over if it keeps you from harm.”

Letting out a noise of frustration, Luke leapt up from his seat. “But that’s just it! I know you have and I know that you were trying to do it again! Don’t think I didn’t notice the swath of destruction you left in your wake when you tried to track me down this time. It’s too much! I love you both so much, but I don’t want the galaxy to grind to a halt just because I ask for some time alone. I can’t stand all the attention, the pomp and circumstance that surrounds everything I do, the formality I’m forced to endure just to attend dinner! I just -- ” His voice broke, and he was embarrassed to find his eyes stinging as he looked imploringly at his parents. “All I wanted was a little bit of normalcy.”

Slumping back in his chair, Luke realized he may not have processed all of this quite as successfully as he’d initially thought. Running away, it turned out, had only served as a distraction from genuinely confronting what was really bothering him.

“Normalcy?” The vocoder’s tone was dull and flat, and his father seemed to have relaxed his stance, somewhat, almost in disbelief. “You wish to be ordinary? Like every other being in this galaxy?” Disbelief was evident, now. His father’s fists had uncurled, his shoulders slackened, and though he could not see his face, Luke got the impression of wide eyes and raised brows. “That... is unacceptable. You are the furthest thing from ordinary, son. You are above those lesser beings, and I would not see you receive anything less than you deserve. ”

"No,” Luke said, quietly but firmly, “I am not above them.” He’d spent countless hours in the Coruscant underground, on treks both known and unknown to his parents, and he’d spent several weeks touring the galaxy. He had interacted with their citizens on a regular basis, and he knew who they really were. They were people, beings with dreams and aspirations and ideals, and they were magnificent. “My abilities and my status don’t make me any better than anyone else. Aren’t we supposed to be ruling the galaxy for them?”

A stubborn set worked its way through his father’s frame, unyielding as ever. “We do. The galaxy has never fared better.” And he could not be certain if that was a truth or a lie, but his father certainly believed it. “But I cannot allow you to stoop to the level of those below your status. The future of our benevolent Empire rests upon you and your sister. You must maintain a particular image if you wish for your control over them to endure.”

“Are you not listening to me?” But Luke already knew the answer to that. Of course his father wasn’t listening to him. Anything that contradicted his very specific view of the universe rarely made it through. “I don’t want that power to rest on me! I’m not interested in having people grovel at my feet or flinch away from me in fear. I don’t want people to worship me or treat me like... like -- ”

“Royalty?” His father’s arms were folded across his chest again. “That is what you are.”

Luke was prepared to cut in, and his father looked like he had more to say, but before either of them could speak up again, his mother stepped up and placed a gentle hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Ani, wait.” Even after twenty years, Luke could still not believe just how quickly his father seemed to settle when his mother intervened. “I think I know what this is about.” His mother’s expression grew tender as she stepped towards him, crouching down before his chair and cupping his face in her hands. “Dearest,” she said with unparalleled tenderness, “was this because of your birthday?”

Reading the sympathy and understanding in his mother’s deep brown eyes, Luke found himself leaning into her touch. She was radiating compassion, searching for understanding, and Luke knew that this was the reason he’d always intended to return home when he’d left. His parents loved him. They cared for him. They wanted what was best for him, even if they didn’t know how to go about it. All he’d wanted was to do something on his own terms.

“Yes...”

Because his birthday had not been on his terms. It hadn’t been on Leia’s, either, but she could adapt to it much easier than her brother. He’d been overwhelmed, surrounded by sycophants who only wanted to know him because he was an heir, and his status meant that he could not enjoy even the smallest of pleasantries at a party that was meant to be for him and his twin. And then the scene during the speeches...

He’d never wanted to leave his family. Luke loved his mother, father and sister with his entire being. But their status had always weighed on him, and that night had been a breaking point.

“Oh, sweetheart...” His mother shifted her grip and pulled him close. Luke squeezed his eyes shut. Tears had been threatening to spring forth since he’d sat back down, and they ran freely down his cheeks when his mother’s arms enveloped him. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have talked this out. You didn’t need to run away.”

At this point, his father had taken a single step forward, appearing somewhat hesitant but still refusing to relent. Luke chose to focus on his mother, and he found himself sinking in on himself even more. It felt nearly impossible to convey how he felt and what he wanted without hurting their feelings. His mother’s sympathetic gaze coupled with his father’s unyielding stance only served to elevate his guilt. 

But there was this sneaking feeling within him that the conversation his mother suggested wouldn’t have gone well regardless.

“I didn’t think you would listen to me,” he said quietly. “You’re still not really listening to me. I had to do something drastic. It felt like the only option, at the time, and I still feel like it’s not enough. Han makes me happy in a way that all that spectacle just - doesn’t. So I just - I need you to understand why - and I mean actually understand. Because I didn’t want to run. And I don’t want to do it again. But I can’t keep going like this...”

For a long moment, his mother looked at him with large, sad eyes before finally withdrawing her hands and stepping away. “Alright,” she said, a quiet resignation working its way into her voice. “I... don’t think we’ll get much further tonight. Why don’t you go wash up for bed, and your father and I will discuss what you’ve told us.” She pressed her lips together and gave him a long, steady look. “We want what’s best for you, Luke. Please know this.”

And he did. The trouble was, their idea of what was best for him didn’t always match up to his own.

“Luke.” His father seemed uncharacteristically hesitant. “Please do not resort to this again.”

There was more his father wanted to say - more they all wanted to say - but Luke felt satisfied that they had, at the very least, made some manner of progress tonight.

“I won’t, Father. I promise.”

[firebirdsdaughter]

Random Writing Tidbit This is Bad…

… New discovery. If you try to edit a ‘read more’ post on mobile? Tumblr erases the whole post.

Okay. Let’s try this again. I still blame this on @thornstone8773 for giving me the idea.

This partially heavily based on a scene from Killjoys. Yes, I am still thinking about Killjoys.

This is set in the ‘human Jin raised by HumaGear Horobi’ AU, and deals w/ after the end, so I kinda inserted general, hazy epilogues for everyone:

In this version, Thouser was the big bad, so after they took him down, Yua took over ZAIA. Fuwa started working w/ Aruto as part of Hiden’s security (partially bc of a comment I saw about him becoming Aruto’s bodyguard and it stuck). Aruto keeps running Hiden Intelligence. Jin and Horobi kinda help him out/are both in rehab/are under his supervision. The promise Horobi mentions later in this essentially boils down to ‘stop trying to cause human extinction/killing humans = BAD.’

You know, the usual.

This comes across as pretty sad… Kinda. Maybe it is.

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

For a while after, things were difficult.

He found himself answering the same questions over and over, weathering the same suspicious stares. He didn’t like how people looked at Horobi—like he was was a bomb that they expected to go off at any moment. Aruto had to remind him often that the transition was as hard for everyone else as it was for them. Trust was hard to relearn, for both sides.

For his part, Horobi made an effort. He was generally indifferent to his infamy, already long accustomed to suspicion and coldness from humans—but for his adopted son’s sake, he made deliberate attempts to assuage their fears and fit in. Even when it was clear to anyone who knew he’d rather be in the company of Fuwa—one of the few to whom he felt he had nothing to prove—he’d put on a face to try and keep others at ease. He even tried to smile a  few times, though that rarely went over well.

As time went on, however, people stopped staring so much. Months fell away, turning into years. Memory didn’t exactly fade, but altered. There was less fear and more marvel. But that wasn’t the only things that changed.

People who didn’t recognise them would ask if Horobi was his brother, starting at some point in his thirties. Horobi had never paid much mind to such questions to begin with, so Jin often found himself recounting the explanation multiple times, while Horobi hovered like a ghost at his elbow. Out of all of them, Horobi and Izu remained the same; timeless while the humans around them steadily altered. Aruto had to politely force Fuwa, the eldest of them, to retire from his new position as Hiden’s security head when it was clear the demands were too much for him—even after that, though, Fuwa stayed close, watching the Hiden CEO like an unofficial bodyguard. Yaiba was up and about even longer, rustling around ZAIA’s offices like a queen, not slowing down at all. She laughed and said it was because women lived longer—Fuwa shot back that it was because it was her.

Horobi said nothing about the expanding differences in their appearances, merely retuning his hyper awareness of his adoptive son to look for new things, always already offering help before Jin would even know he needed it. He even offered to carry Jin a few times, like he had was Jin was small, but Jin put a stop to that in his early fifties. Horobi was strong enough, but it didn’t seem right anymore. Around then, he also stopped giving proper answers when people misinterpreted their relationship.

When he was in his sixties, he slipped on the sidewalk, and though some passersby rushed forward to help, it was, as always, Horobi who caught him instantly, gently pulling him back up.

“Such a dutiful son!” A woman nearby had exclaimed.

Horobi ignored her, but Jin couldn’t resist glancing over and giving her a small smile. “Yes.” He said, “I am.” Her eyes had bugged out. Later, Horobi hadn’t understood why it was funny—but Horobi never understood why anything was funny.

As he got even older, there was an unspoken tension in the air. For the first time, they were both confronting something neither had considered before; being separated. Horobi, he knew, wouldn’t say anything, still so afraid of accidentally pressuring Jin into something, constantly doubting himself. That meant it fell upon Jin to broker the conversation, something he made plans to do.

Until he started getting sick, and their balance shattered.

The doctors the others dragged him to concluded it was some sort of delayed response to exposure to radiation. Something that had been building in his body all those years at Daybreak that was finally breaking free as he got older and weaker. He considered trying to hide it from Horobi, until Izu looked him in the eye and informed him that if she had noticed, there was no way Horobi hadn’t.

He was quickly confined to a hospital—moving hurt, and he was tired all the. Horobi was, s always, never far away, and the others came to visit often. Yaiba had finally retired—partially, Fuwa would always add with a chuckle until she smacked him with something. Aruto was starting to ease out of his duties as CEO, needing to lean more and more on Izu just to get around. Jin didn’t know what Aruto was planning to do—but he knew the idea he had had, even before the illness set in, and he knew Aruto still had the power to make it happen.

“… It’s possible.” The Hiden CEO admittedly, slowly. “My father…” Aruto trailed off there, and Jin waited patiently for him to find his voice again. Aruto didn’t really talk about his father—at least, not to anyone other than Izu or Fuwa—and it was better not to push him. “… It’s possible.” He finally continued, sighing slightly. “And we’ve made even more advancements in the field. But…” He looked sideways at Jin then. “Are you sure? It’s not exactly something you can take back.” Speaking was effort, but Jin carefully met Aruto’s eyes and nodded. Aruto studied him, then sighed again. “Alright. But there’s someone who wants to talk to you first.” The Hiden CEO shifted his seat to reveal the doorway.

Horobi was standing by Izu’s shoulder, looking distraught, for him.

Jin looked back at Aruto accusingly, dragging his voice out to demand, “You told Horobi?”

A small smile flitted across Aruto’s face. “Well, see, I need parental permission on the form…” He stopped when he saw Jin’s incredulous look. “… You should have told him.” Turning his head, Aruto signalled Izu, who came over and helped him up. “I’ll let you two discuss this,” He told them, “Call me if there’s a decision.” Then he and his secretary made their way out, with his arm around her shoulders, slipping past Horobi and out the door.

For a long time, silence filled the room. Then, slowly, Horobi crossed the floor, sitting beside his bed, and taking Jin’s nearest hand in both of his.

“You don’t have to do this for me.” Horobi’s hands were actually warm on his, unlike the usual room temperature, the HumaGear putting conscious effort into trying to make him as comfortable as possible. “I will stay by your side until the very end, hold your hand when you pass on.” The hold on his hand tightened, though the pressure was, as always, carefully measured so as not to hurt him. “I will remember my promise—I will watch over them, guard them. Justice will be done, cities built, and a future made in your name.” One of the perfectly temperature-controlled hands moved to tenderly touch his cheek. “You are my son. I will be your legacy, and you will not be forgotten.”

He looked back into the HumaGear’s eternally weary eyes. It was hard to remember his younger days, when Horobi had been so hard to read, all blank and ominous. Now detecting the sorrow in those eyes was as natural as breathing—perhaps even more so, by this point. There was also something else there, hiding just behind the thick curtains of forlorn affection; guilt. The like of which he had seen before. “But…?” He prompted softly, voice even hoarser than usual.

Horobi’s gaze faltered, flicking downward.

A laugh bubbled from him, one that even almost sounded like his old childish giggles, just a little more breathless. Even as tired as he was, his lips pulled into a smile. Slowly, he freed one arm from the blankets, reaching over to cup Horobi’s face and gently lift it back up to meet his eyes again. “… But if I leave…” He whispered, running his thumb across the HumaGear’s cheek, “… Horobi will be lonely again.”

Horobi still couldn’t weep—but Jin knew for certain he heard his adoptive father’s breathing hitch.

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

… Or, maybe it isn’t.

At least, that ending is supposed to be kinda hopeful. Kinda.

Hopefully it’s also at least kinda clear what Jin’s idea is. I may have made it rather obvious. ^^;

[leaveharmony]

Nope, not even readmore-ing it

Welp.  I don't know what I was expecting.

I mean.  I do know what I was expecting: what I paid for, what was promised in plain writing on every scrap of information released, what I had to check and double check and triple check because there was ZERO info anywhere on the ticketmaster pages for the individual time slots RE who was in which, so I had to concentrate to make sure I picked the right one. 

Why I thought that any of those things meant shit to WWE is beyond me, because by now I should know better.

We took the 11:10 train, which got us into Union around 12:53.  Shinsuke (and everyone in his group) was advertised for 1pm-5pm.  So after a little bit of memory jogging we found the right way to the convention centre, which was fortunately a place we'd been before off the only part of Toronto (or possibly the world) outside my own house that I'm capable of navigating (union station).  We were making all speed for Shinsuke's line across the convention hall no later than 1:25. Of course, the first thing the staff lady at the end of the line said was “We'll be swapping talent out at 3, so unfortunately we can't guarantee you'll get to meet this one.”

And like.

At that point I just knew, you know?   I'm not great at estimating #'s of people but there must have been maybe a hundred in front of us with a little over an hour and a half to go rather than the promised 3 1/2.  People still joined the line after us, even with the warning; there were probably at least 40 in line behind us, including little kids.  One boy was w/ his mum and hopefully clutching his glossy picture of Shinsuke; I watched his lil face go from Really Excited to a state of sort of crushed, anxious horror as the polite staffer apologetically delivered the news. Standing there, occasionally able to watch Shinsuke through the gaps in bodies and heads, I speed-ran the stages of grief all at once and in the span of about half a minute.  There was...no way in hell.  The girl who got in line behind us was much more optimistic, but I've been living my life a long time.

‘Please,’ I thought helplessly, ‘Just let me get up close enough to catch the front staffer's attention and then at least I can pass along the magnet I brought for his collection.’ Like that was the minuscule, sad little prayer I was capable of when I should have been buzzing with excitement.  Let me give it to someone else and maybe with any luck they'll pass it along to him.

We stood in line the entire time.  I hadn't had a drop of liquid since breakfast (empty bottles!  You couldn't even bring in empty bottles to fill with water inside) and my back hurt so badly by ~time's up~ that once or twice I thought I was actually going to pass out; normally in that situation I sit down before I have a chance to faint, but occasionally, when people were in the right arrangement, I could see him.  Just see him.  If I'd sat down I wouldn't  have been able to.  ‘I'll stand til he's gone, and then I'll have a chance to collapse on the cement floor and never move again,’ I thought. There probably would have been more heartbreaking positions to end up in than where we did, finally right against the last divider barricade, no further impediments to seeing him.  The one who would have been next, that would have been tough not to take personally.  Or a couple of people back.   Two people ahead of me there was a guy with his haircut, only dyed purple and teal; peeking out of his regulation clear plastic bag was a replica of the IWGP Intercontinental title.  He must have had a rough day. Homeboy in the wheelchair looked so happy to be one of the last ones up.  A baby in a stroller was going to be rolled aside while his dad got the photo but Shinsuke said no no, and waved them back; he laid his title over the kiddo's lap and leaned down to pull a face for the picture.  Kiddo didn't even seem to know where the fuck he was, but it was sweet and so Shinsuke that even the ppl who knew damned well they weren’t going to make it were laughing. Purple-hair lady we'd chatted with a little when we met at the centre of the parallel, winding lines made it up.  Maybe the third to last guy walked away with his arms raised in triumph and was so overcome he forgot the photo they'd taken, had to scurry back. 

I was...maybe ten people, maybe fifteen back from the front when they called time.  Dead centre of the front row, right behind the photographer.  As it turns out a comparatively enviable position.  One staffer brought out a black velvet bag for him to put the title back in (which he seemed a little confused by, I guess he's both not used to having one here and like...he'd always carry it himself and keep it with him in NJPW).  It was enough of a delay. 

I don't even know whether the woman I spoke to was a WWE employee or the photographer's assistant, or neither, but I hope the rest of her life goes exactly how she wants it until she’s called home to join the other angels.  I musn't have been talking loudly or clearly enough at first but she took my meaning, probably because I was holding out the magnet in it's little purple gauzy drawstring bag.  I thought she'd just ferry it over, that was absolutely my expectation, but once Shinsuke was finished wrangling the title into its own drawstring bag she flagged him down instead.

Probably no other person in the world could have made things Suddenly Ok, but Shinsuke came over to say a brief hello and graciously accept the silly-ass magnet I brought him, and smile at me and shake my hand before they ushered him away.  It was more than any of my poor fellow disappointed line people got, and it takes the edge off a considerable amount of the absolute despair that would have reigned otherwise. 

Though...less of the absolute fucking fury at the bunch of cold-blooded con artists he works for.  The poor.  Fucking kids.  Left in that line.  The poor kids!  How could their parents have known that ‘Signing from 1-5′ doesn't mean what any rational fucking person would take it to mean, but ‘Show up exactly at or maybe a half hour before 1 and be grateful for an overrun of nine whole minutes when we arbitrarily change the rules and replace him with Chad fucking Gable like all the wrestlers are interchangeable mass-produced knickknacks.’

The first person who went up, I looked between them and had no idea which one was even the wrestler - I wouldn't know Chad Gable if I tripped over him in the street.  We just got out of line. 

I hope to fucking god that they treated the people who paid for the WILDLY overpriced higher tier tickets more fairly and honestly than they did the general admission people but like, tbh it wouldn't surprise me if they'd bait and switch ppl at $500+ as readily as at $50.  It would surprise me more if they didn't, to be blunt.

That building is gods-damned huge and they were only using one room.  Literally every other convention in the world, people sign as long as they're advertised to sign and if they need breaks THEY TAKE BREAKS, a back in 20 sign appears and the world doesn't end.  The Usos were even meant to be in the group but weren't bc of like.  All the DUI, they wouldn't let them in the country, so...there were less people than were meant to be, even.  And still, still they find a way to send people away disappointed, man, woman and child.

On the way in we spotted the Feedback tables, laden with clipboards.  After a completely fruitless look at the shop (no more of the Shinsuke figure I wanted, of course, just the Bret Harts released at the same time), we just left to go eat because at that point I was legitimately about to pass out from the sustained pain & inadequate hydration.  “Oh, they're gonna get some fucking feedback, all right,” I muttered.   I didn't swear.  Too much.  I think I mentioned Shinsuke about seventeen times, and I absolutely called them demons (underlined), and I signed off with NEVER AGAIN.  DO YOU HEAR ME?  NEVER AGAIN.  But I didn’t swear.  Til the end, where they requested my email to keep me up to date with all the latest lies.  “Oh, go to hell.”

[padawanton]

you know, also, I bet pretty much any of Alexa and Astra's potential babysitters have the best bedtime stories for them, so what are the kiddos' favorite stories to hear from them?

The girls’ top 5 stories, in no particular order, are as follows:

Stories from Kara and J’onn from when they lived on their home planets

Kara meeting Barry for the first time

“The time Mom fought a dragon. What do you mean we can’t get a dragon? Mom, c’mon it’ll be so cool, I promise to walk it and feed it and everything, pleeeeease.”

Kara and Brainy meeting in her dream-loft (Astra pretends to think it’s mushy, of course.

Supergirl’s fight with Red Tornado (No one understands why the girls gravitate towards this story in particular.)

————————————

“Grandpa, who is this?”

J’onn looked up from the astronomy textbook he was reading to Alexa to see Astra across the room, hovering about a foot above the air with a picture frame in her hands.

He placed the book onto the table next to him and gestured for Astra to come over to him, “Let me get a look at that.”

Astra flew over to him, landing on his unoccupied leg across from her sister. She handed him the frame, pointing to and naming the people in the photo she recognized, “There’s Mommy and Auntie Alex and Uncle Winn and you but I don’t know who this is.”

J’onn looked down at the photo and saw that Astra was pointing to an older man standing next to him. One of his hands was on J’onn’s shoulder while the other one gripped a mug; his smile telegraphed a long-forgotten happiness.

“This is my father, M’yrnn.”

“He’s your daddy? Then he must be a bajillion years old!” Astra said, bursting into a fit of giggles at her own hilarious joke.

J’onn chuckled, “I suppose you’re ri-,“ he paused as he felt his shoulder being pat, “Alexa?”

“How come we’ve never met him?” she asked, “Does he live on Mars?

He paused for a beat, a lump forming in his throat. “No, I’m afraid he’s no longer with us.”

At this revelation, Astra’s laughter quickly died down. She glanced at her sister, neither of them knowing how respond.

However, unable to quell her curiosity, Astra asked, “What happened to him?”

J’onn took a deep breath and began, “A few years before you two were born, there was a group of villains who called themselves the Worldkillers. They were Kryptonians who’d escaped the planet’s destruction, like your mother, Clark and the citizens of Argo City. The Worldkillers wanted to conquer the Earth and transform it into a new Krypton. During the final battle between us and the Worldkillers, the ground began to split open, part of the terraforming process; my father was able to stop it and delay their leader, Reign, but using that much power had taken its toll on him.”

The girls remained quiet until Astra spoke up again, “He must’ve been really, really brave.”

J’onn smiled at her, “Yes, yes he was.” 

Astra wriggled in excitement, “Tell us more about him!”

He ruffled her hair and chuckled, “Alright.”

———————–

(The background is a photo bc I’m lazy and they’re in an abandoned warehouse bc where else do you build a robot without your parents’ permission.)

“What is that?”

“This is Red Tornado!” Astra said, beaming with pride.

Kara froze at the mention of a name she hadn’t heard in years. “What is it doing in our house?”

“We wanted to show him off to you and Dad; ‘Lexa and I have been working on him for months.”

Kara hadn’t fully registered what her daughter had told her, “Girls, you need to get away from that thing right now, you know how dangerous it is.”

Astra stepped in between her mother and Red Tornado, shielding the android from her, “He’s not a thing, and he’s not dangerous either. Red’s our friend.”

Alexa spoke up, “Astra’s right, Mother. While we based his aerokinetic abilities off Morrow’s original creation, we designed his A.I. from scratch. He’s nothing like the first Red Tornado.”

“The first one tried to kill General Lane and his daughter, Lucy. Do you really think the public won’t notice that you two have basically resurrected him?”

“That was, like, 20 years ago,” Astra protested, “and our Red doesn’t even look like the old one, that one was lame.”

Kara didn’t want to admit it but Astra had a point, the fire engine-red chassis, yellow detailing and…blanket wrapped around its shoulders distinguished it from the older model. “That still doesn’t give you the right to build an entire robot behind our backs. Why did you do this?”

“Because whenever you told us that story we always felt bad for the original. He only tried to kill the Lanes because Morrow was controlling him, he treated him like a weapon. Plus, Alexa and I are pretty sure that the only reason he kept attacking you after Morrow was killed was because he didn’t know any better. Plus he’s just us.”

“What?”

“I think what Astra means is that while we’re not automatons ourselves, and we’re certainly more organic than the average Coluan, we still posses Father’s technological abilities. So, in a way, Red Tornado is like us.”

“The old Red Tornado could’ve been good if he had a chance,” realizing what she had implied, Astra quickly became flustered, “Not that we blame you though, Mom! We get that you really didn’t have a choice.”

“All that we ask is that you allow our Red Tornado his chance to be good.”

Kara pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh, “Go to your room girls, your father and I need to talk.”

Much to the surprise of everyone in the room, excluding Red Tornado, Astra began to make her way to the staircase without protest, Alexa trailing behind her. Red began to follow them, only to be interrupted by Kara “Uh-uh, you’re staying down here.” He glanced at the sisters, who responded simply by nodding their heads, indicating to Red that he needed to stay where he was.

***

The girls sat in their room, waiting for verdict.

There was a knock at the door. “Astra, Alexa, may I come in?”

“Sure.”

Querl entered the room, “May I talk to you two for a moment? I have some questions regarding the android.”

“Can you please call him by his name?” Astra asked.

“Alright then,” Querl said, “I have some questions regarding Red Tornado.”

“Shoot.” Despite her casual demeanor Astra, along with Alexa, felt tense, bracing themselves for their father’s interrogation.

“Why does he have a blanket tied around his shoulders?”

Astra and Alexa let out a collective sigh of relief; Alexa answered, “We had intended on crafting a proper cape for him but Astra and I were too eager to show you what we had done to wait, so she improvised.”

“He likes it.”

“And what about the arrow symbols on his forehead and limbs? I searched his programming and found nothing about what purpose they could possibly serve.”

Astra answered him this time, “Uh, they don’t really have a ‘purpose.’ Alexa and I got the idea from this super old cartoon we used to watch with Uncle Winn. The main character could manipulate air, kind of like Red can; he has blue tattoos that look like the Red’s arrows. He helps out a lot of people throughout the series and by the end he saves the entire world. We thought they’d make him feel like more of a hero.”

“Why did you not ask Red himself?” Alexa asked.

“Oh, I did and he told me the same thing, essentially. I didn’t understand the concept though, and decided to ask you two.”

“Maybe you should watch more cartoons with us.” Astra teased.

“Perhaps I will but in the meantime your mother and I have made a decision concerning Red Tornado.”

He had the girls’ full attention.

“Red Tornado will be allowed to prove himself trustworthy but will be staying at the DEO until further notice. As for the two of you, you’re both grounded for three weeks for hiding this from us. No television, video games, or leaving the house without someone supervising you.”

Astra slid down into her chair, groaning, “That’s fair.”

Querl began to make his way out of their room, he paused, though, and said, “While I’m incredibly disappointed in your behavior, especially considering how much this has upset your mother, I am very proud of the both of you as well, Red Tornado is a masterpiece.

Alexa smiled while Astra pointed finger guns at him, “Thanks, Pops.”

Querl awkwardly mimicked her gesture.

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 2x11 recap

(Aka the one where Keaton and Dr Sun face off in an exciting round of  “~Whose Presence Is The Least Wanted~”. Spoiler: they both win.)

Delayed a little by a spontaneous three-day trip across the state and a few late shifts, but finally here at last. So thanks your your awesome responses to last week’s recap, and prepare for a large quantity of thoughts and opinions because damn this ep was actually good??

Noooo. Roman. My baby. Why must you suffer so much??? I mean sure there was the terrorism and the murdering and all, but... well, just as I don't see Remi and Jane as the same person, Times New Roman and Old Roman are also not the same. Plus, given that messed up childhood he had, his violence is kinda unsurprisng. And I just can't help it okay, he's my scruffy psycho puppy and I love him. And Jane does too, which is why she's always visiting him (FOR THE LAST 2 WEEKS WHAAAT. mORE ON THIS IN A SEC) and trying to make sure he's eating and getting some rest and just basically being the sweetest sister ever ughhhhh. But he's understandably starting to crack, being caged up in there like an animal, and ugh can I just hug them both rn

Okay this next scene is a Nas scene, ergo I don’t care about it, so I'm gonna just pause for a second and vent about this whole two-week-jump thing. Because you know what can happen in two weeks in this show?? Everything!! Like literally from the time Jane rejoined the team in the premiere up to the events of last ep (aka a total of 11 eps), only TWELVE DAYS had passed. (Yes, I counted). So let's think about this. This means that Jane came back into the team's lives 12 days ago. She met Roman 12 days ago. She was shot by Zapata 12 days ago (though you would never know it based on her physical activity... #tvmedicine). And wanna know some other things that happened in that 12 days? 11 days ago Weller found out he was gonna be a father (Allie was like 15 weeks along at the time, at best guess??), and Borden asked Patterson out. Approx 6 days ago, Jane kinda pretty much admitted to Weller that she loved/loves him. She found out about the baby a day later, the same day Allie was shot. (Again, not a hint of that injury any time we've seen her since!). Weller and Nas started sleeping together 4 days ago, while Jane's 'happy ending' fantasy (*sobs*), and her failed date with Oliver happened only three days ago. Then let’s not even get into the whole shitstorm of Shepherd’s trap and the team nearly dying and Patterson discovering Borden’s betrayal just a day ago. So are you seeing my issue here?? All these things happened in LESS than 2 weeks, and now we've just jumped forward that entire block of time and ugh what the hell did we miss in all those days??? I’m actually legit worried about what bad things could have happened/are brewing...

Aaand speak of the devil. Or devil-lady. Nas is apparently doing something shady (shocking, I know) and Weller comes to investigate, since apparently she's been 'sneaking off every morning'. Oh, great. You know what, maybe I'm glad we've skipped ahead two weeks, if these two have continued their... whatever the hell this is... during all that time. But seriously dude, Jane is back and you guys are actually on good terms again, why are you still with the rebound??? Unless... unless she's no longer the rebound but rather the barrier. Like with Jane back and their old connection starting to reform, maybe he's using this thing with Nas as like a buffer to keep himself from gravitating back to Jane-- lbr, he's the proverbial moth to her flame, and vice versa-- and so basically this thing with Nas is all just a way of protecting his heart by keeping it far away from the one woman who could truly crush it? Honestly rn that's the story I gotta go with bc otherwise I’m gonna get stuck obsessing over wtf is going on here with these two  completely ill-suited people. Sigh. But anyhow apparently Nas used to get messages from this sign from the Sandstorm informant (did she ever look into how though? Like did the informant know or pay off the person who types them? Or did they hack in themselves? Surely that was a lead that should have been followed??) and so apparently she's still checking it. Also damn, the quote up on the sign: "The soul can never be cut to pieces by any weapon"-- very true about Jane, given all she's been through and how strong and incredible she's manages to remain through it all....

But anyway now there are two thug-like dudes just sneaking thuggishly amongst a bunch of shipping containers and lbr it's already a better scene than the previous one. And then a Distinguished Looking Man and a younger man (his son, I'm guessing?) exit one of the containers, looking Distinguished and Mysterious. Dude, I hope you guys didn't come from far away, bc that would not have been a fun journey...

Ooooh Weller's lady-juggling is apparently not going so well as he ends up missing Allie's appointment-- what's she now? 20 weeks, give or take? And yet that's one tiiiiiny belly she's still got... like okay yes, some women barely show at all, even well into the second trimester, but lbr NEVER TV WOMEN. TV women are usually always sporting one of those massive fake belly things so that we, the poor silly viewers, don't forget that “HEY THIS LADY GOT KNOCKED UP, THERE'S DEFINITELY A BABY KICKING AROUND IN HERE SO GET READY FOR IT TO FLY ON OUT AND MESS SHIT UP AT ANY MOMENT". And yet, with this show... nothing? Some slightly baggier clothes, maybe, but not even a moderate bump. What does it mean?? Are they sneakily trying to tell us that ~all is not as it seems~ with this pregnancy (like hey, maybe Allie even sneakily moved the appointment forward so Weller would miss it)-- or, am I just reading to much into things, and the show’s prop-masters were simply out of stock on the Defo-Preggo fake bellies and decided it didn't matter and we probably wouldn't notice its absence anyway? Seriously I have been super suss of this pregnancy from the start (mainly bc why the hell would it even have been written into the story unless for some kind of ~Shock Drama~ down the track) so maybe I'm looking too hard for hints? Lbr it's gonna take a fair bit to shake me from my 'Allie is a Sandstorm operative and is faking the pregnancy bc of reasons' theory. And Cutie Connor can totally fit into that too. But anyhow Weller is a sweetie and is trying very hard to be a Good Dad(TM). Oh, my son. Why do I strongly get the feeling that you will never even get the chance to be a dad to this baby. (*whispers* there's always your babies with Jane to look forward to, tho...)  

Oooh it's back-to-work day for Reade (two weeks post-surgery really isn't enough for a physical job like his, but whatever I'mma overlook it) and omg he and Zapata having an awkward little chat and dude is this really the first time they've spoken since that terrible kiss? Really?? So there was just radio silence between them, two best friends, for two weeks while he was practically an invalid. Ooookay. Sure. On a brighter note, there was a rat in the lockerroom that Reade had named Whitey Bulger hahaha. That's adorable. I hope it was released humanely. Reminds me of the mouse that used to live in the wall of my parents’ house and its hole was right near the computer desk so I would feed it crumbs when I was up on the computer at like 3am haha. Ah, good times. Also okay hold on google says that Whitey Bulger was an infamous crime boss who murdered like 20 people. Ohhhhh and apparently he was an FBI informant, aka a rat. I wonder if the rat was white, too? Though generally wild rats are brown. But wow okay I am getting very distracted (lbr it's the secondhand embarrassment from this super awkward interaction, I can't deal so I’m avoiding the whole thing lol)

Phew okay now we can switch to a far more pleasing scene-- my baby Patterson is back at it, and I'm not even gonna comment on the bullet-wound recovery time. Just look at this restraint I’m showing. Anyway based on Zapata's very pointed comments, lil baby Patterson has refused to take any time off. Ugh. Though if I were her I wouldn't really want to be at my apartment either. I wonder if Borden left anything there... :( also Patterson still has a nasty headache, which sounds ongoing and is not all that consistent with the eardrum-stabbing. It could be a bunch of things, including lack of sleep, but... I wonder. Maybe Sheherd was sneakier than we thought. But for now let's just hope our baby is okay.

Looolll I feel like I'm watching a married couple having a fight over what's best for their kid or something. But lbr here if not for the pressure that Weller's facing to show that he's 'punishing' Roman somehow (seriously we know how Pellington fels about Roman, not to mention how all the agents under Weller’s command must feel about the man that helped kill 12 of their own), I feel like he would be on Jane's side of this argument. Although, he probably also recognises the influence Roman has over Jane, and might be worried that Roman could pull her away from him... but anyhow it's entertaining to watch these two in their own little bubble with Nas off to the side, just awkwardly hovering there like she's an afterthought. Neither one particularly wants her input rn but she has to be there, so... but then she suggests bringing in an 'expert' that she knows and that sets off instant alarm bells for me. DO NOT TRUST ANYONE ASSOCIATED WITH NAS, INCLUDING NAS, OKAY GUYS? THEY’RE SNAKE-PEOPLE, THE LOT OF THEM. This is bound to bode ill for Roman and Jane and like probably everyone somehow

Aw my clever baby has cracked (or re-cracked) an old tattoo, which previously had given them a random number but now correlates to a shipping container-- naturally, the very one that our mysterious duo exited earlier. And due to some handy camera unscrambling, we know that Distinguished Man is a supposedly-dead warlord dude that did a bunch of bad things and was actually indirectly involved in the team nearly getting killed in Turkey last season. Oooooh, drama.

So the kiddies are heading into the bullpen-- Reade joining Weller and Jane as they head together to the main briefing area. So wait how come Jeller were off on their own just then, given that the team was all just together down in Patterson's lab a minute ago? (*cough* quickie?? *cough*) But anyhow traces of nitroglycerin were found in the container apparently so ooooh bomb??? But apparently the company who paid for the container also paid a bunch of dough to some other lady, so the team brings her in-- and finds out the money was 'life insurance' from the death of her brother a few days ago. But hold on, she never even saw the body, said that he'd already been taken to the morgue. And bingo, this story is already throwing up a ton of flags. I can tell you from direct experience that when a person dies in hospital, a doctor (ie, me) is immediately called to certify them, and then we tuck them in nicely and ensure they look peaceful before we contact the family and allow them to come in. And unless the family is like hours and hours away, the patient will remain in their room until they've had a chance to say goodbye. If the family can't get there for a long time, they're taken to the hospital’s mortuary where they await pickup by the family's chosen funeral director. At any point in this process the family can still be taken to see the patient if they wish. So clearly, something else happened with this woman's brother, and someone paid off multiple hospital staff to make it look how they wanted. Definitely not easy to do. And now, according to Patterson, it turns out he was actually transferred elsewhere... this is all veeeeery shady

Ugh Jane going to Roman and using Borden's coffee example to help reach out to him. Ughhhh. And then ugh he asks her if Shepherd loved them and why she wiped his memory and this puts Jane in such a tight spot bc if she said Shepherd did it but didn't love him then how does she explain later that she herself did it out of love and aarghh. But her answer "maybe she thought it was the only chance she had left to get you back” is a good answer. I'm still sad that she had to lie to him about it, and the ramifications that that's going to have. Please understand, Roman, she loves youuuuu and only wants what’s best for you!

Meanwhile Patterson's found the person who last visited the dude in hospital, bc she's da boss. And then Weller asks if she ran the plates and she practically rolls her eyes at him, sassily gesturing over her shoulder just as a photo of the plates appears on the screen behind her. Badass. The team subsequently goes chasing the car-- which is conveniently like ten mins away-- and suddenly it's like we’re in the middle of a black SUV convention when the team surrounds the target cars, the two separate sides differentiated only by the fact that out of one set of cars comes our badass team with their big guns, and out of the other comes a murdering, bloodthirsty, terrorist warlord... and something much worse. KEATON. And lbr I will forever be proud of Jane for the fact that she has her torturer directly in her line of fire and yet doesn't even once struggle with the temptation of pulling the trigger. Because no matter what she's been through-- and no matter what Remi did in the past-- Jane is not a killer. (Let's just agree to overlook the whole thing with Fisher bc that man was an evil little weasel and deserved what he got). And then Zapata discovers a possible bioweapon in the car, ratcheting tensions even higher until Keaton is all 'chill, it's just a pilfered body part'. And lbr, Keaton is so damn repugnant that this is the only way he could ever steal anyone's heart. (badum-tish?). But omg then Jane tells Weller-- while staring at Keaton with bared teeth-- that he was the one who tortured her. And being the little shit-stirrer he is, Keaton tries to imply that Weller has known all along (actually only two weeks and 4 days, but who's counting), and Jane's trust in Weller wavers just slightly at that, given that he'd told her from the start that he hadn't known anything about her torture. Which was true, at the time. And now he quickly reassures her-- while staring absolute daggers at Keaton-- that he only found out in Bulgaria. I wonder if he's mentally reliving that last meeting bc oh boy I sure am. Ah, those satisfying choking sounds. But anyhow, it turns out that Warlord Man's son needs a heart transplant and the CIA is providing it in exchange for info about planned terrorist attacks. The traces of 'nitroglycerin' that was found in the storage container was actually from the kid's heart medication (glyceryl trinitrate, in case you're interested, though he likely wouldn't be on that medication for this particular condition. Also to get those traces around the container I guess he must have been doing a Great-Escape style boredom activity, just with throwing his tablets instead of a ball. Anywho tho Jane tells Weller he can't trust Keaton, and as he always does (or did, in the old days) he finds a way to do what she suggests that is also going to appear acceptable to the Big Bosses. Which in this case means inviting Keaton and Co into their base. Joy. 

So not only does the team have to work with the world's biggest asshat, but there's an attack tonight that they need to stop. Zapata takes Anton the Warlord's phone and laptop to Patterson bc apparently she can't face the idea of interviewing him with Reade (come on kids, we're all grownups here) and everyone suddenly disperses, leaving Jane alone in the room with Keaton. I kinda feel like that's an oversight that Weller wouldn't actually make (and lbr he's always been super aware of where Jane is and what she's doing at all times) so I kinda feel like he is deliberately giving her this chance to face Keaton alone? He knows she wouldn't do anything foolish-- such as, say, try to choke him to death, like a certain someone-- and knows she needs this closure. And omg Keaton is now boo-hooing about missing his kid's basketball games because he had to spend his time 'interrogating' her. Damn, that's cold. He's literally acting like she wronged him. (Can I claw his eyes out now, please?? Since Jane is too good of a person to do it??). But well, at least Keaton’s shittiness gives us this scene of Jane storming into Weller's office. He's sitting and staring pensively at a watch in his hands-- what's the significance? Was it his father's? What am I missing here?? and she bursts in all angry and hurt that they're working with Keaton after what he did to her, which lbr would basically feel like everyone dismissing it as no big deal. But thankfully Weller makes it clear-- with his Serious Voice and turbulent eyes-- that he hates it too and even nearly killed Keaton when he found out. And boy, does that take the wind out of her sails. Yes, Jane, Mr Always-Do-The-Right-Thing literally nearly murdered a high-ranking government official for hurting you. And ugh you can see how much that means to her-- lbr with them, that's basically as much an admission of love as any kiss could be... 

Aaaand then of course Nas has to appear to ruin the moment, because that's literally like her entire role on this show; Ms Shady Backstabber and Moment-Ruiner. And oh joy, she's brought her 'expert', who on one hand I am pleased to see is a disabled WOC, bc yes good tv representation, but on the other hand I wish she just wasn't there at all. That actress was great in Quantico though. Literally tho in the first minute the doctor has called Roman a 'prisoner' and a 'killer'. Biased, much??? I have literally treated jailed murderers myself, and the entire medical staff would always refer to them only as 'the patient' or at the very worst, 'the inmate'. So this lady is really already rubbing me the wrong way here. As much as I dislike her, though, I agree that Jane shouldn't be there for her assessment. But ugh I hope she can watch on cameras or something just so someone is keeping an eye on what they do to my poor puppy... but seriously tho let's all take a moment to appreciate how well Jane keeps herself in check like all the time?? I mean she's constantly copping crap from people and she just takes it with such grace (okay sometimes with a little less grace but generally very well) and ugh I just love her so much

Speaking of Jane, she takes her turn watching over Anton, and while the man refused to say a word to Reade, the sight of Jane has him opening right up. I feel ya, buddy. I'd spill my guts to her too. I enjoy that they bond over their mutual hatred of Keaton. Can I join that party? Also ugh the way he talks about his son not being like him, and being deserving of a proper life... kinda like Jane still deserves a good life despite who her 'mother' is and what she's done. But oh geez, his next line-- "You know what's the worst thing that can happen to a man, Jane? To lose a child." AAAAHHHH RED FLAGS RED FLAGS THIS IS FORESHADOWING I JUST KNOW IT. DOES THIS MEAN THE WRITERS ARE GONNA KILL OFF WELLER'S BABY??? DOES IT???? And then oh shit, the son dies (I am still sure that that line was foreshadowing more than just his death though) and the team is all like wtf do we do??? Naturally Keaton thinks the only option is to lie, which Jane strongly disagrees with, both of them turning to Weller, who brings them both with him to see Anton. Keaton gets in there and starts spouting lies-- only for Weller to step up and tell the truth, while also being genuinely sympathetic. Yaaaaasss my son taking Jane's side and doing the right thing, as he should :) And ugh she is so sad for the man's loss and tries to get him to see that his son wouldn't have wanted this. 'His ideals aren't like yours' oh boy does she know all about that. But even her heartfelt pleas can't get through to him (come on, dude, look at that faaaace) and so now the team is really in trouble... But as always happens when shit hits the fan, everyone turns to Patterson, who naturally comes through, tracing a phone that got a coded message from Anton's phone, giving them the lead they desperately need...            

But while my beautiful and trustworthy team is busy doing that, Shady and Shadier are starting their mindgames on my poor lil caged lion Roman. Keep your devil-claws off him, ladies! That means you, sneaky shrink! Also if he is believed to be so dangerous and unstable, there is no way she would be that close to him, especially without any guards present. He could kill her in a single second. And speaking of which, baby Ian just stabbed the hell out of one of the other boys at the orphanage (the one that stole his coin), seemingly on the order of their captors? And in the earlier flash that we got, the guy said "Will you kill your rabbit now?" So these are two separate memories, right? The rabbit is really a rabbit, yeah? Like ‘rabbit’ isn't a metaphor for a 'target' or something right? Either way, daaaaamn, these poor kids...   

Aaaaahhhhh we're getting another Jeller heart-to-heart moment in the caaaarrrr! I've missed these. I so wish Reade and Zapata were in the back seat pretending not to exist like they did in the good old days when Jeller were having a ~moment~, but sadly not this time. But ugh Jane is again expressing her fears about Roman's reaction should he find out that she zipped him, and I love this bc not only is Jane allowing herself to turn to Weller again for comfort, but she's also being open with him about her feelings, ensuring there's nothing hidden between them anymore (at least on her side. While I assume she's figured out the whole Nas thing, I doubt he's outwardly said anything to her). And ugghhhhh Weller doesn't hesitate to comfort her, reminding her that she has become a completely new person-- aka, a good person-- after her wipe. Yaaaassss for Weller acknowledging that Jane and Remi are separate people. And then ughhhh he says the wipe was the best thing that ever happened to her but lbr it's the best thing that ever happened to him??? That memory wipe brought her right to him, gave them the opportunity to know each other and fall for each other. Hers wasn't the only life that was changed forever the day she climbed out of that bag. But omg he's still not done??? He tells her that she not only saved Roman's life by doing what she did, but whatever hope he has left (of a life, of happiness and normalcy) is a gift that she gave him. Oh lord, help me. And then he turns to her and puts the heart eyes up to high beam and boy are they blinding. I'm legit gonna have lightspots in my vision for like the next hour. But ugh what I love most is that these are not his previous "I adore you and everything you are" hearteyes but more of an "I have done so wrong by you and though I know I could never make it right I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying" hearteyes and honestly JUST LET ME DIE. Oh wait, nope, I am about to die bc now we're in the other car with Zapata and Reade AND I CANNOT DEAL WITH THE AWKWARD. Save me. At least Reade is trying to talk it out like a grownup whereas Zapata is all but stuffing her fingers in her ears and going "la la la la I can't heaaaaar you" lol. 

Thankfully, Weller chooses that moment to rescue us all (he probably needed a distraction of his own bc he was becoming too lost in Jane's eyes haha) and everybody pulls into a place that looks kinda reminiscent of the spot where Zapata shot Jane. Everyone fans out, including Jane, and I will forever be so happy about the fact that she's back out with the team and trusted with a weapon and they all know they can rely on her as a true team member and ughhhh I'm just so happy to be getting back to the real heart of this show. And speaking of things that are right at the very core of this show, Weller has managed to get himself blown up yet again, this time by trying to stop a dude who had wired a bunch of basketballs on a rack into a bomb. Bad dude gets away with a bunch of other bombs, and Weller gets away with barely a scratch-- which doesn't stop Jane from yelling his name in alarm and immediately running to his side, even giving us an Unnecessary (but sadly not all that Lingery) touch on his arm as if she's reassuring herself that he's okay. Ah man. You guys are killing me. While this season has certainly frustrated me in regards to Weller's actions towards Jane, it definitely doesn't disappoint in hers towards him. Ugh, my stupid in-love babies, how I adore you

Anywho the whole crew is on the site now (including Keaton, which literally everyone there/the entire world could do without) and they realise that though there's no major basketball games on tonight-- which of course our resident ex-gambler knows-- there is a youth league game on, aka the one that Keaton's daughter is playing at. And how do they know this?? Because my baby Jane is a freakin' genius as well as a badass, and she actually listens to what people say, even if those people are jerks and don't deserve a second of her attention. And so now when Jane speaks, everyone listens, which is why they're all currently bolting to the kids' game. And Keaton is all "he's doing this to get at me" *whinge whinge*, and Jane is all 'bitch shut up there's a lot more people there than just your kid'. But naturally Keaton continues to bitch bc he's Keaton, then even annoyingly brings up the whole being a parent thing, at which time Jane sneaks an almost-sad look at Weller, because freaking everyone has to continuinally remind her that the man she loves now has a permanent tie to someone else. Great, thanks, show. 

But anyhow despite Weller having everything under control, Keaton manages to ruin everything as usual, getting his own agent killed and forever traumatising his daughter in the process. Weller and Keaton then bugger off in search of the daughter while Jane and the other two take out a bunch of baddies like the badass little team they are. Ah, so good to see them like this again. Jane splits off from the others to chase more baddies while the two of them try to defuse the bomb with Patterson's help. Bc when in need, always call Patterson. Jane's fight with the baddie in the gym is kinda hilarious, like at one point she sends him sprawling but rather than knocking him out she waits politely for him to get up before continuing their fight. Such manners :P  Although given the fact that she then slams a kettleweight straight into his face/chest, maybe she’d used up her quota of good behaviour haha. Meanwhile Patterson shuts down the cell signal to the area, preventing the bomb being activated via the mobile phone detonator... ummm is that a thing that's actually possible? Idek. Anyhow Weller and Keaton find the daughter at gunpoint in the locker room, and Weller's all "I haven't got a shot" though lbr I bet that ‘Mr Exceptional Marksmanship Award’ could totally shoot that guy's exposed hand. A moment later he gets the shot anyway when Keaton draws the baddie out, and all seems to have ended happily until-- dun dun dun-- there's another baddie, right about to shoot both Keaton and his daughter!! Only to be shot by Jane first, aka my perfect beautiful princess who always saves any life she can, even if that life belongs to the piece of slime that tortured her for three freakin’ months. Hey Weller, take notes. If Nas had been in Jane's situation just then, she would have sat back and watched. No doubt about it. At least Keaton is man enough to genuinely thank her tho, to which she gives pretty much the much more professional-sounding version of "screw you, asshole" lol. You go, girl.

Oh boy. So you put Roman into an ‘MRI’ and are now basing your diagnosis on the absence of a perceived response to a few pictures. Good lord, woman, you must have gone to a worse medical school than Borden. I don't even know where to start with this. Firstly the scan you're thinking of is a PET scan, but you literally can’t make this diagnosis based on that anyway!! And honestly lady have you ever opened a psych textbook in your entire life, there's a whole bunch of criteria to diagnose Antisocial Personality Disorder and ROMAN LITERALLY DOES NOT MEET THEM. Even Old Roman doesn't meet the majority of them, and New Roman meets practically none. This woman is a CHARLATAN and I will not TOLERATE THIS DISRESPECT TOWARDS EITHER OF MY BABIES. Gaaawd. So now poor Roman is in danger of being locked away in a padded room for his whole life on the word of one woman; one woman who they know nothing about except that she comes recommended by Nas (which should be an automatic black mark against anyone's name imo) but also a woman who just told Jane-- aka Jane who grew up in Hell's Orphanage and has been through unfathomable shit her entire life including three months of recent physical torture-- and this woman just told her she can't possibly imagine how 'terrible' this Sudanese orphanage was that she visited once as a student. Good lord, can I slap her yet. Please. At least Jane kind of calls her on it, raising the point that she grew up in exactly the same way as Roman, but it's clear the snake-charmer's mumbo-jumbo has her doubting herself. Ugh. At least Weller doesn't seem at all happy with the idea of having to lock Roman up-- probably bc he knows how it'll hurt his precious Jane, and after allowing her to suffer for so much of this season he's finally gotten his shit together and realised she didn’t/doesn't deserve any of it and now desperately wants to make up for his previous ass-ish ways.

Speaking of ass-ish ways, Zapata has decided to grow up a little and reach out the olive branch. Thank god. She even apologises, which is impressive, because this is Zapata... although she still manages to turn it into a bit of a joke. I do love the "you're not even my type, though" (we know, Sarah is) and the "why, too smart or too classy?" Thankfully he calls her on the classy part, and yaaayy we are back to the sassy banter that I like :))) Brotp forever please. Also Reade aren't you still on pain meds? You shouldn't really be drinking... And then aww she wingmans for him (which would have been hilariously awkward if the girl had actually been checking HER out. Man, that would have been amazing). But then hold on writers, what is this little ~look~ she throws back at him?? Please tell me that that was just a slightly wistful 'If only I could love him as something more than a brother, who knows, we could have been a good couple" and not a "I'm pretending I don’t have feelings for you bc though I actually am in love with you I don't want to drag you down into the trash pile with me". Bc legit if the writers go down the path of the latter, I'm going to be so pissed. JUST LET THEM BE BEST FRIENDS, OKAY??? NOT EVERYONE WITH OPPOSITE GENITALS HAS TO FALL IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER, GEEZ.

Naw Patterson finds Jane sitting behind the mirror, watching over Roman like the loving-- and worried-- big sister that she is. And Patterson, bless her, my precious angel made of fairy dust and sunshine-- gently reassures her that 'psychology isn't even a real science so you shouldn't listen to anything the shrink says' (or something along those lines lol), and then ughhhhh when Jane is basically acknowledging that she has no power to fight the shrink's diagnosis because she 'isn't objective', Patterson gifts us with this: "Maybe that's the point. Weller wasn't objective, and he brought out the best in you. Maybe you can do that for Roman". And so the Queen has spoken: lack of objectivity = LOVEEEE, and love will set you free and all that jazz. But ugh Patterson I could kiss you rn (not like I would ever need much encouragement any other time, tho lol)

Okay if no kissing then could I at least write you a prescription for some better pain killers because I hate seeing you suffer like this (ugh Shepherd what sneaky thing did you do to my precious baby). At least the pain meds that she has-- while useless for the pain-- actually help her to crack the leopard clue. Wooo! Shame she had to get Nas involved, but at least she's telling Jane pretty much immediately. And because Patterson is a genius, she determines that the clue points towards a chick in some bikie gang, who is seen in a photo with none other than Roman. Guess we know what next ep is about!!  #exciting

Oh joy, an Allie and Weller scene. I was totally just thinking that this ep needed more of them (#not). But oh my goddddd he's been nesting, setting up a nursery and buying a crib with the highest safety rating and trying out colour swatches for the walls and oh my lord this is simultaneously the worst and the best thing bc 'excited prospective-dad Weller' is SO ADORABLE but the circumstances and partner are definitely... less than ideal, shall we say. Siiiiiiiigh. And then BAM Allie's suddenly moving to Colorado with Connor and Weller cares too much about her to ever even consider trying to get her to stay and so okay I see two options here: either the writers are trying to make us think Allie is going to be out of the picture, so when some Big Bad Thing happens involving her and the baby, it'll be an even bigger twist; or, she literally does move to Colorado and the show very occasionally mentions Weller's interstate baby in future seasons just so we don't start thinking that the whole storyline was just a really protracted, mass-shared bad dream. Since the second would just be embarrassingly bad screenwriting, I'm pretty much hoping for the first option...

Well, there it is. Happy Blindspot Day, and see you for the (hopefully much more punctual) next installment!                       

[succorcreek]

Teenager Donald Trump or Lizard People Alien. Which is it??? Teenager Donald Trump or Lizard People Alien. Which is it??? Wow these traits apply to all 3!! See in the topic cloud below: donald trump age-17 regressed boy From BBC and spelling errors are actually Brit spellings:http://bbc.in/2xTcz9y Millennials may be the worlds most hated generation at the moment. But is disdain towards youth a new dynamic? By delving into the archives we found that older people have been griping about young people for more than 2000 years. Far more surprising is that throughout the centuries their criticisms have been remarkably similar. From complaints that the next generation are both too cautious and yet downright dangerous too worried about the world and at the same time too self-absorbed to care here are some of our favourites. Theyre lazy Millennials are lazy and think basic tasks are beneath them. A generation with a huge sense of entitlement Daily Mail 2017 Many [young people] were so pampered nowadays that they had forgotten that there was such a thing as walking and they made automatically for the buses unless they did something the future for walking was very poor indeed. Scottish Rights of Way: More Young People Should Use Them Falkirk Herald 1951 self-obsessed Theyre out-of-touch hipsters who spend too much on coffee and too little on facial hair care. Many are spoiled entitled or both. A Bosss Guide to Managing Bratty Millennials Momzette 2016 Whither are the manly vigour and athletic appearance of our forefathers flown? Can these be their legitimate heirs? Surely no; a race of effeminate self-admiring emaciated fribbles can never have descended in a direct line from the heroes of Potiers and Agincourt... Letter in Town and Country magazine republished in Paris Fashion: A Cultural History 1771 ...and really just awful. The tragic truth is that Americas millennials are a bunch of phone-addicted selfie-obsessed hashtagging snapchatting kale-munching twerking lazy whining ill-informed politically correct cossetted narcissists who find absolutely everything mortally offensive and believe there are 165 ways to sexually identify. Memo to millennials that awful feeling youve got is called losing Daily Mail 2016 We defy anyone who goes about with his eyes open to deny that there is as never before an attitude on the part of young folk which is best described as grossly thoughtless rude and utterly selfish. The Conduct of Young People Hull Daily Mail 1925 (Credit: Getty Images) Artistotle contemplating the know-it-all youth of his day (Credit: Getty Images) They think they know best My huge generalities touch on their insistence that they are right despite the overwhelming proof that suggests they are not Bret Easton Ellis in Generation Wuss Vanity Fair 2014 They think they know everything and are always quite sure about it. Rhetoric Aristotle 4th Century BC But theyre also too cautious. Millennials have been called the most cautious generation the first to grow up with car seats and bike helmets the first not allowed to walk to school or go to the playground alone. There really isnt anything magical about it: Why more millennials are avoiding sex Washington Post 2016 Its an irony but so many of us are a cautious nervous conservative crew that some of the elders who five years ago feared that we might come trooping home full of foreign radical ideas are now afraid that the opposite might be too true and that we could be lacking some of the old American gambling spirit and enterprise. The Care and Handling of a Heritage: One of the scared-rabbit generation reassures wild-eyed elders about future Life 1950 And yet too confident. Many of the millennials in today's workforce have more confidence than they do competence. Millennials: Their overconfidence at work can look delusional Irish Independent 2017 [Young people] are high-minded because they have not yet been humbled by life nor have they experienced the force of circumstances. Rhetoric Aristotle 4th Century BC (Credit: Getty Images) Millennials are defined by their flighty entitled approach to work or is that just young people in general? (Credit: Getty Images) Their expectations are too high. The prevailing narrative about members of Generation Y is that they are a fleet of job-hoppers who think they're above the grunt work of an entry-level position; in other words not the most desirable employees. The 40-hour weeks I think its slowly killing you Irish Independent 2017 The traditional yearning for a benevolent employer who can provide a job for life also seems to be on the wane In particular they want to avoid low-level jobs that arent keeping them intellectually challenged. Meet Generation X Financial Times 1995 Really they just complain too much. Whether its jobs property or just the sheer towering unfairness of the world millennial complainants are everywhere ready to give you a rundown of everything their generation has been stiffed on. In the way that we once had The Greatest Generation we now have The Whiniest Generation. But really the only place theyve been short-changed compared to us Xers or even the Boomers is property. Crybaby millennials need to stop whinging and work hard like the rest of us The Telegraph 2015 What really distinguishes this generation from those before it is that it's the first generation in American history to live so well and complain so bitterly about it. The Boring Twenties Washington Post 1993 They spend way too much money which is bad. When I was trying to buy my first home I wasn't buying smashed avocado for $19 and four coffees at $4 each. We're at a point now where the expectations of younger people are very very high. They want to eat out every day they want travel to Europe every year. Australian mogul Tim Gurner on 60 Minutes Australia 2017 The beardless youth does not foresee what is useful squandering his money. Horace 1st Century BC But theyre not buying houses also bad. Somebody is buying houses in the United States but it sure isnt millennials. Just ask their parents. Theyll be the ones worrying in the kitchen about whether their little darlings will ever leave. Millennials arent buying homes right now: What if they never do? The Guardian 2016 We want to get married but there is nowhere we can set up a house of our own. It is either a case of waiting goodness knows how long and we've waited all the war or going to live with Mary's mother. How often is a similar remark heard in those days for it is the problem that young people all over the country have to face. Thousands of young fellows have come home from the war intent on setting up a home with the girl of their heart only to find that there are no homes to be had Many men of course have not waited for houses but have got married and gone into rooms or to live with relatives but neither course can be considered very satisfactory. Nowhere to Set Up House Dundee Courier 1920 They want to live like adolescents forever. As more millennials delay moving out of their parents' home getting a job and are paying their own bills the age of adulthood has been pushed back. One expert suggests that millennials stay children for so long because they have been coddled by their parents and have had things 'too good'. Will they ever grow up? Daily Mail 2017 A few [35-year-old friends] just now are leaving their parents nest. Many friends are getting married or having a baby for the first time. They arent switching occupations because they have finally landed a meaningful career perhaps after a decade of hopscotching jobs in search of an identity. Theyre doing the kinds of things our society used to expect from 25-year-olds. Not Ready for Middle Age at 35 Wall Street Journal 1984 Modern technology has made them useless at decision-making The endless choices millennials face have also proven paralyzing. Theyre the constantly-swiping-right generation. Its always on to the next thing. They cant even: Why millennials are the anxious generation New York Post 2016 They have trouble making decisions. They would rather hike in the Himalayas than climb a corporate ladder. They have few heroes no anthems no style to call their own. They crave entertainment but their attention span is as short as one zap of a TV dial. Proceeding with Caution Time 2001 as well as impossibly self-absorbed. Mythology of Narcissus: entranced with his own image in a reflection: Who is entranced by their own glory and aura? Narcissus? Donald Trump? Teenagers and adults as with age regression? . Lost in Me Myself I and My Things: Emory University English professor Mark Bauerlein demonstrates how the internet is making young people increasingly ignorant about almost everything except online video games and the narcissism of self-authored internet content The more skilled kids become in using the tools of the digital revolution he demonstrates the more ignorant they become about the objective world around them. Digitally Addicted Kids Threaten to Return Civilisation to the Dark Ages The Independent 2008 Cinemas and motor cars were blamed for a flagging interest among young people in present-day politics by ex-Provost JK Rutherford [He] said he had been told by people in different political parties that it was almost impossible to get an audience for political meetings. There were of course many distractions such as the cinema Young People and Politics Kirkintilloch Herald 1938 Psychopaths Pirates Vampires and more: Run flee tell others! 300 topics on this listed below in the Cloud Archive: Click Here: Catalog of 100 Books Kindle Hypnosis Binaural Subliminal CDs culture of narcissism and psychopathy Donald Trump narcissistic personality disorder entranced narcissism narcissus self-absorbed trump aura and glory #trumpbully #stopbully #trumpmentalhealth http://bit.ly/2rZ1vSp

Teenager Donald Trum

[succorcreek]

Teenager, Donald Trump, or Lizard People Alien. Which is it???

Teenager, Donald Trump, or Lizard People Alien. Which is it??? Wow, these traits apply to all 3!! See in the topic cloud below: donald trump age-17 regressed boy From BBC, and spelling errors are actually Brit spellings: http://bbc.in/2xTcz9y  Millennials may be the world’s most hated generation – at the moment. But is disdain towards youth a new dynamic? By delving into the archives, we found that older people have been griping about young people for more than 2,000 years. Far more surprising is that, throughout the centuries, their criticisms have been remarkably similar. From complaints that the next generation are both too cautious and yet downright dangerous, too worried about the world and at the same time too self-absorbed to care, here are some of our favourites. They’re lazy… “Millennials are lazy and think basic tasks are beneath them.” A generation with a huge sense of entitlement, Daily Mail, 2017 “Many [young people] were so pampered nowadays that they had forgotten that there was such a thing as walking, and they made automatically for the buses… unless they did something, the future for walking was very poor indeed.” Scottish Rights of Way: More Young People Should Use Them, Falkirk Herald, 1951 …self-obsessed… “They’re out-of-touch hipsters who spend too much on coffee and too little on facial hair care. Many are spoiled, entitled, or both.” A Boss’s Guide to Managing Bratty Millennials, Momzette, 2016 “Whither are the manly vigour and athletic appearance of our forefathers flown? Can these be their legitimate heirs? Surely, no; a race of effeminate, self-admiring, emaciated fribbles can never have descended in a direct line from the heroes of Potiers and Agincourt...” Letter in Town and Country magazine republished in Paris Fashion: A Cultural History, 1771 ...and, really, just awful. “The tragic truth is that America’s millennials are a bunch of phone-addicted, selfie-obsessed, hashtagging, snapchatting, kale-munching, twerking, lazy, whining, ill-informed, politically correct, cossetted narcissists who find absolutely everything mortally offensive and believe there are 165 ways to sexually identify.” Memo to millennials, that awful feeling you’ve got is called losing, Daily Mail, 2016 “We defy anyone who goes about with his eyes open to deny that there is, as never before, an attitude on the part of young folk which is best described as grossly thoughtless, rude, and utterly selfish.” The Conduct of Young People, Hull Daily Mail, 1925 (Credit: Getty Images) Artistotle contemplating the know-it-all youth of his day (Credit: Getty Images) They think they know best… “My huge generalities touch on… their insistence that they are right despite the overwhelming proof that suggests they are not…” Bret Easton Ellis in ‘Generation Wuss’, Vanity Fair, 2014 “They think they know everything, and are always quite sure about it.” Rhetoric, Aristotle, 4th Century BC But they’re also too cautious. “Millennials have been called the most cautious generation – the first to grow up with car seats and bike helmets, the first not allowed to walk to school or go to the playground alone.” ‘There really isn’t anything magical about it’: Why more millennials are avoiding sex, Washington Post, 2016 “It’s an irony, but so many of us are a cautious, nervous, conservative crew that some of the elders who five years ago feared that we might come trooping home full of foreign radical ideas are now afraid that the opposite might be too true, and that we could be lacking some of the old American gambling spirit and enterprise.” The Care and Handling of a Heritage: One of the “scared-rabbit” generation reassures wild-eyed elders about future, Life, 1950 And yet too confident. “Many of the millennials in today's workforce have more confidence than they do competence.” Millennials: ‘Their overconfidence at work can look delusional’, Irish Independent, 2017 “[Young people] are high-minded because they have not yet been humbled by life, nor have they experienced the force of circumstances.” Rhetoric, Aristotle, 4th Century BC (Credit: Getty Images) Millennials are defined by their flighty, entitled approach to work – or is that just young people in general? (Credit: Getty Images) Their expectations are too high. “The prevailing narrative about members of Generation Y… is that they are a fleet of job-hoppers who think they're above the grunt work of an entry-level position; in other words, not the most desirable employees.” ‘The 40-hour weeks… I think it’s slowly killing you’, Irish Independent, 2017 “The traditional yearning for a benevolent employer who can provide a job for life also seems to be on the wane… In particular, they want to avoid ‘low-level jobs that aren’t keeping them intellectually challenged.’” Meet Generation X, Financial Times, 1995 Really, they just complain too much. “Whether it’s jobs, property, or just the sheer towering unfairness of the world, millennial complainants are everywhere, ready to give you a rundown of everything their generation has been stiffed on. In the way that we once had The Greatest Generation, we now have The Whiniest Generation. But really, the only place they’ve been short-changed compared to us Xers or even the Boomers is property.” Crybaby millennials need to stop whinging and work hard like the rest of us, The Telegraph, 2015 “What really distinguishes this generation from those before it is that it's the first generation in American history to live so well and complain so bitterly about it.” The Boring Twenties, Washington Post, 1993 They spend way too much money – which is bad. “When I was trying to buy my first home, I wasn't buying smashed avocado for $19 and four coffees at $4 each. We're at a point now where the expectations of younger people are very, very high. They want to eat out every day, they want travel to Europe every year.” Australian mogul Tim Gurner on 60 Minutes Australia, 2017 “The beardless youth… does not foresee what is useful, squandering his money.” Horace, 1st Century BC But they’re not buying houses – also bad. “Somebody is buying houses in the United States – but it sure isn’t millennials. Just ask their parents. They’ll be the ones worrying in the kitchen about whether their little darlings will ever leave.” Millennials aren’t buying homes right now: What if they never do?, The Guardian, 2016 “‘We want to get married, but there is nowhere we can set up a house of our own. It is either a case of waiting goodness knows how long, and we've waited all the war, or, going to live with Mary's mother.’ How often is a similar remark heard in those days, for it is the problem that young people all over the country have to face. Thousands of young fellows have come home from the war intent on setting up a home with the girl of their heart only to find that there are no homes to be had… Many men, of course, have not waited for houses, but have got married and gone into rooms or to live with relatives, but neither course can be considered very satisfactory.” Nowhere to Set Up House, Dundee Courier, 1920 They want to live like adolescents forever. “As more millennials delay moving out of their parents' home, getting a job and are paying their own bills, the age of adulthood has been pushed back. One expert suggests that millennials stay children for so long because they have been coddled by their parents and have had things 'too good'.” Will they ever grow up?, Daily Mail, 2017 “A few [35-year-old friends] just now are leaving their parents’ nest. Many friends are getting married or having a baby for the first time. They aren’t switching occupations, because they have finally landed a ‘meaningful’ career – perhaps after a decade of hopscotching jobs in search of an identity. They’re doing the kinds of things our society used to expect from 25-year-olds.” Not Ready for Middle Age at 35, Wall Street Journal, 1984  Modern technology has made them useless at decision-making… “The endless choices millennials face have also proven paralyzing. They’re the constantly-swiping-right generation. It’s always on to the next thing.” They can’t even: Why millennials are the ‘anxious generation’, New York Post, 2016 “They have trouble making decisions. They would rather hike in the Himalayas than climb a corporate ladder. They have few heroes, no anthems, no style to call their own. They crave entertainment, but their attention span is as short as one zap of a TV dial.” Proceeding with Caution, Time, 2001 …as well as impossibly self-absorbed.

 Mythology of Narcissus: entranced with his own image in a reflection: Who is entranced by their own glory and aura? Narcissus? Donald Trump? Teenagers and adults as with age regression?

 . Lost in Me Myself I, and My Things:

“…Emory University English professor Mark Bauerlein demonstrates how the internet is making young people increasingly ignorant about almost everything except online video games and the narcissism of self-authored internet content… The more skilled kids become in using the tools of the digital revolution, he demonstrates, the more ignorant they become about the objective world around them.” Digitally Addicted Kids Threaten to Return Civilisation to the Dark Ages, The Independent, 2008 “Cinemas and motor cars were blamed for a flagging interest among young people in present-day politics by ex-Provost JK Rutherford… [He] said he had been told by people in different political parties that it was almost impossible to get an audience for political meetings. There were, of course, many distractions such as the cinema…” Young People and Politics, Kirkintilloch Herald, 1938 Psychopaths, Pirates, Vampires, and more:

Run, flee, tell others! 300 topics on this listed below in the Cloud Archive:

Click Here: Catalog of 100 Books, Kindle, Hypnosis Binaural Subliminal CDs

via Blogger http://bit.ly/2gbApTQ #trumppirate #trumpgangster