#every post I block sprouts another a few months later

[hrmphfft]

controversial opinion time I guess but

hey gang? hey, gang. gang, hey. blaming your fans for them not reblogging your content enough (and saying that they’re Directly Responsible For Tumblr Dying) is an extremely passive aggressive, mean thing to do, and also completely ignores so many other reasons as to why engagement has changed on this site and posts don't circulate like they used to.

for one thing, whenever I see these posts, I rarely see the ops acknowledge the HUGE HIT to tumblr's userbase following the 2018 policy change/implementation of tumblr's terrible content filtering algorithm. tumblr lost roughly 1/3 of its engagement (https://mashable.com/article/tumblr-lost-a-third-of-its-users-after-porn-ban/) and countless content creators with it. some of them migrated to twitter and other sites, some of them seem to have straight-up vanished into thin air, and countless others lost their biggest or main userbase with barely any time to shift gears to something else. that's a huge, website-shaking change! but so often in these 'reblogs vs. likes' posts I don't see anyone acknowledging that and it makes me really upset!

you can't talk about the ways tumblr has undoubtedly changed these last few years and NOT address the nsfw ban! it's completely unfair to your fanbases to shift the blame of the biggest displacement of users the site has ever experienced on...the users who had no say in the policy change and reacted accordingly when the site started softbanning everyone, and filtering all sorts of tags from the search function (including important sfw ones, lest we forget The Entire Furry Fandom on tumblr discovering that basic-ass tags like #furry and #anthro were being blocked when the ban rolled around), and making uploading anything vaguely beige-colored a dice roll. tumblr still hasn't recovered from that, and unfortunately probably never will, not without some hail mary of policy changes and overhauls.

I've seen some pretty ageist shit regarding content engagement as well that tries to paint younger users as just Not Getting how tumblr functions vs. other social media sites like instagram and twitter, and on top of that just showcasing a really uncomfortable disconnect/animosity towards new users whose only crime is being younger than op and also more experienced with other social media platforms, it also is just. it's really unkind? it's super rude? how can you call your followers too clueless to know how reblogging works and then expect them to support your content via reblogging and not feel like you're insulting them until they give you the result you want?

moreover, lots of young/new tumblr users get the gist of tumblr's controls and get it very quickly! technology literacy is becoming more and more a part of everyday life for everyone, and if you really think that a teenager can't understand that reblogging puts a thing on their follower's dashboards, one of the main functionalities of the site (and also very similar to twitter, one of tumblr's main competitors), I really don't know what to say. sometimes people just straight-up don't want to reblog stuff to their blogs, and that's okay.

there's also a tendency to ignore the ways that blogging on tumblr has changed as its userbase has became more well-versed in its functions and, frankly, a portion of the userbase has grown up on this site. when I first started blogging on here, I was 17, I didn't use tags, I commented unrelated (and frankly sometimes really regrettably rude) replies directly onto artist's posts, and I basically just reblogged whatever I vaguely liked, and a lot of things I didn't totally get but thought Looked Cool/Funny so I reblogged anyways.

and that's fine, that's pretty par for the course of being young on the internet and doing whatever you want and having a good time (barring the rudeness, being respectful to people is the ideal), but as time went on my interests changed, my time spent online changed (I went from highschool to college to a full-time job that limits my time on social media), and I began engaging with tumblr's content differently. I made sideblogs for interests and content themes I didn't want on my main blog, I started liking stuff and then going back through my likes to reblog posts later, and generally speaking my number of posts a day dropped and I stopped being able to catch up on my dashboard every single day. and I'm sure my experience isn't unique for some other people on here.

a lot of the tumblr users I've known for a while just don't have the same level of intensity in fandoms like we did years back, not because of any malice or selfish, content-hogging intent, but because our priorities have changed. I definitely miss a lot of things about years past on tumblr when fandoms were booming and new Big Name Creators were cropping up all the time, and to be fair that's still happening on parts of the site if you know where to look! it's just different now. time has passed. people have changed!

that isn't to be defeatist and say that we can't show up for content we enjoy and reblog it, but instead that people can feel differently about stuff they used to adore, and be more particular about one thing or another they reblog, and straight-up miss stuff that they would have really liked but just didn't catch up on for a myriad of reasons. and that's also okay. engagement on tumblr is really, really tied up in personal preferences, and sometimes it feels like it does that more than most other social media sites. this is kind of the wild west of internet presences and everyone operates differently on here as a result.

and probably the most touchy point of all: no one is obligated to give you validation on the internet. no one. not even if they've read all of your fanfics you've worked really fucking hard on for forever and a day, or your comics that you've spent months, years, a lifetime researching and creating, or your beautifully, painstakingly timed and masked fan videos. they can absolutely consume any of these, and more, and they're still not obligated to reblog your work or promote you. it's not fair, yes, and it's completely understandable and super relatable to want recognition for the work you've done and the ways you've brightened other people's lives, but online most of your fans are still total strangers to you, and trying to control the behavior of total strangers because you’re owed their acknowledgement isn’t a healthy mindset to have.

and you can say that any fan of yours stops being a fan after they drop you for you lashing out at them for not unquestioningly giving you space on their blogs like you're owed, but being upset at being accused of bad behavior for what amounts to not wanting to reblog something this time around and changing your opinions based off of that is also a very understandable thing to do.

and that isn't because of any sort of innate cruelty, or pointed attack towards you. it's just because there is always a disconnect between the creator and the creation, and some people will never bridge that gap and engage with you more, or build a parasocial relationship with you, or seek out ways to support you. and plenty of others will do the exact opposite! it's a total dice roll because you're dealing with a lot more people than you realize scrolling past your content, and every person is different, and some of them don't fully understand how reblogs help a creator, and some of them do but just don't want that content on their feed, and none of them are inherently bad people for that.

I'm not saying creators have to be perfectly kind and civil and praise their fans all the time, but when you engage with your followers like it's a battle where you have to keep devising new ways to get them to share your content, it just comes across as super disingenuous, and people cop to that very fast. 

it also, frankly, can make longtime fans who reblog your work regularly feel like their interest doesn't matter, and wasn't good enough, and that then it really is their fault that other people (other STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET) don't engage with your content the way you wanted them to. you don't owe them perfection, but that doesn't mean it isn't still an unkind thing to do.

so like. what can we do about this?

asking users to reblog your work is totally fine and can help! calls to action work more than nothing at all. it's possible to be respectful when asking people to reblog your work without also guilt-tripping them with "likes < reblogs" banners and passive aggressive tags/comments. generally speaking guilt is a really shitty motivational tool, and tends to breed more resentment than actual outcomes people want. like this post for example! I wouldn't have sat down and typed this all out if I didn't resent the hell out of being told I'm, personally, the reason tumblr is demonstrably not an ideal website for building a fanbase anymore. if I had that much power over this website I would have given the whole thing to the xkit team years ago and reveled in a functional website instead.

changing the way you post content might help! every site has its ideal posting days, times, and reasons for why some are ideal for one site and not another. doing a little research (https://sproutsocial.com/insights/best-times-to-post-on-social-media/) will yield some potentially helpful tips and tricks that might result in a post reaching more people. utilizing tumblr's search function is also important, and understanding the limits of the tag function (ie. only the first 5 tags of a post are used for tag searches) can help change one's habits to something a little more effective. this is why I tend to leave my tag babbling until after the main fandom/category tags on my posts, so that tumblr's jankass search has a better shot, haha

broadening your online presence can definitely help! this is by far the most terrifying option since it involves branching out onto other social media platforms, some of which really don't lend themselves to whatever fandom/content one produces, so like the other two above it's only a suggestion.

I keep coming back to twitter and instagram, but that's mainly because they're the two other powerhouses of social media right now, though admittedly they only really cater towards visual media (and mainly imagery, not longer video pieces), and they have their own weird quirks to learn and jank to deal with. but given how precarious tumblr's status has become in some ways, trying to build a presence on multiple sites means that you reach more people across the internet, and also means that if tumblr does yet another website-shattering policy change, your eggs aren't all in one basket.

of course these options aren't foolproof, and won't work for everyone in some cases or not at all for others, but my main point in all this is this: tumblr has irrevocably changed, its userbase has changed, and we are limited in the ways we can directly influence it, but there are still options. I'm by far not a social media expert, but then again none of the posts I've seen so far were made by social media experts either, so I honestly don't feel too bad for throwing my hat into the ring while we're all thrashing about in confusion

y'all aren't wrong that things have changed, but I'm begging you to have some compassion and to try not to turn the relationship between creators and consumers of content into a battleground, especially when a lot of the influences on these changes are things entirely outside of any of our's direct control.

also because it makes y'all sound exactly like this:

[jkstompers]

just to study | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: your seat partner asks if you’re free after class, just to study.

genre: fluff, college!au, established friendship, flirtationship, mutual pining, they go to a ‘frat’ party together, also yugyeom! a sweetheart<3 we love him.

warnings: mature!!, mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, strong language, SEXUAL TENSION, mentions of dick sucking??, hints of a wet dream on oc’s end, very strong urges to kiss each other but no kisses today </3, that’s pretty much it!

word count: 7.4k (i...kinda went overboard)

authors’ note: hello!! this is a pt. 2 to sleepyhead! it’s based a few weeks after so yeah <3 also the pacing is kind of weird but… i don’t really know how being drunk is so............(＞人＜) i’m sorry about that! one scene was inspired by this post haha it was just so cute to think about i had to do it. ALSO i literally haven’t taken anatomy since high school so i just used random terms from quizlet T_T pls excuse that as well! but otherwise, enjoy!!!!!!!!! (っ^_^)っ

(if u see any typos...ignore them pls T_T)

side note: imagine jk looking like this when he goes to the party lmao classic fboy look with the camo bomber and his piercings ugh <3

banner pic creds here ! <3

you made it to class on time today, woke to your alarm and even had enough time to eat breakfast before you came. in a particularly good mood, you made your way up the stairs to the row jungkook was sitting in, hoping that the seat next to him was empty (you didn’t have to hope, jungkook always saved the seat next to him for you, no matter what.)

“good morning, ___!” jungkook’s voice greets you the same as always as soon as you appear next to him. he moves his bag out of the way for you to sit down.

he looks especially cute today. his long floppy hair framing his face, his sweet smile beaming up to you. you wonder how dumb you looked drooling over him for a minute before you replied, “hi jungkook, how are you?” with the same smile on your face that you show him every time he sees you. it never changes, but it never fails to make jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

“i’m doing okay, you?” he answers while you pull out your laptop.

you didn’t have a chance to reply before your professor starts talking. informing the class about the test that’s planned at the end of the month, finals in two months, and then dropping the bomb that there’s a quiz tomorrow about the things you’ve learned in the past week. a slight panic takes over you, although you didn’t know why, you understood what he was teaching and you were retaining all of the information well. but when the professor pulls up all the information on the screen to review it all, all of the words and pictures overwhelm you.

to make things worse, jungkook is to your left, not paying attention to a word your professor is saying. instead, playing some game where he has to click his touchpad an obnoxious amount of times. your attention is split between jungkook’s erratic tapping and the notes that the professor projects onto the screen, even though his computer barely made any noise, his incessant movement was distracting you.

“jungkook, you’re taking notes and playing a game?” your voice comes out as a rushed whisper. there’s a snort that comes from him before he nods. you couldn’t be mad at him. “there’s a quiz on all of this tomorrow, you know?”

“i know,” he continues to tap and click, the motion growing incredibly annoying. you didn’t know why you couldn’t have just tried to block it out, but he was just so close to you and admittedly, you looked at his hands, a lot. the way that his fingers tapped against his keyboard and his veins that accentuate his already beautiful hands, it was free art you could look at, how could you not? at this point, you’re contemplating holding his hand to make him stop tapping.

you were in the middle of typing when he finally stops, leaning back and stretching his arms up into the air. you let out a sigh of relief, until he starts again. apparently he reached the next level on his game, tapping even faster, if that was even fucking possible.

quietly, you groan. turning your attention solely on him. you place your hand on top of his, the tapping ceasing almost immediately. “please, jungkook, you’re distracting me.”

he looks at your hand before he looks at you, his chocolate doe eyes wide to the action. he gulps, “sorry.”

you remove your hand, focusing back to the presentation. jungkook feels the heat from his cheeks travel to his hand. the feeling of your hand on his wasn’t something he was expecting to experience today, but he wants nothing more than for you to do it again. he exits the game tab and changes his focus to the lecture.

or moreso, you focusing on the lecture.

you look so cute. your cheek pressed up against your fist. he stares at the way that your forehead creases in concentration. he taps on your arm that’s resting on the table, “hey, you look like you’re stressed out.”

you turn your head slightly to look over to him. “that’s because i am,” you send him a quick smile before you go back to looking at the projection.

he furrows his eyebrows, “why? you’re smart, there’s no need to worry about what you get on this.” you were an a+ student, never anything less than that. jungkook knows that you ace every test that you take, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so stressed.

“because jungkook,” you groan. you expected a lot from yourself, sure b’s were okay, but a’s and a+’s were what you wanted and what you thought would make you feel satisfied. there was no way you could explain this without sounding like an overachiever. so you just sigh, “i’m just not really prepared.”

jungkook thinks of the perfect way to spend more time with you, snapping his fingers before suggesting, “we should study together after class, studies show that studying with someone else will give you an a+, guaranteed.” the confidence in his voice makes you smile, and helps you ease up a little bit.

you raise an eyebrow, a laugh creeping up from your lungs. “source for that statistic, sir?”

he taps his right temple, the gesture making you snort. “no but seriously, i’ll help you out,” he assures. his laptop turns towards you to show you all the notes he took, different words highlighted and colored differently.

you act like you think about it, staying quiet for a minute or so. but you know the answer was yes no matter what. “just to study?” you tease. jungkook raises his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile on his face, “just kidding, we can go to mine? i owe you for the ride you gave me like two weeks ago.” you tap your fingers against your laptop nervously, your teeth taking in your bottom lip as you ask. you haven’t had a guy over to your apartment, not since you’ve moved in. there’s a certain anxiousness that comes with the suggestion.

jungkook nods, “sounds good.”

“okay, again.” you brush your hair behind your ears, preparing yourself once more for another pass of the flashcards. the two of you have been at it with these cards for the past hour or so, you were determined to get these right no matter how long it took. jungkook knew you were gonna get it down, you only had three more cards, these ones specifically stumping you.

“aponeuroses,” he looks at the card and then to you.

“connective tissue that forms a broad sheet which attach muscle to bone or muscle to other muscles,” you speak confidently. jungkook nods, moving onto the next card of the set of three.

“endomysium,” he reads the card. you hesitate on this one for a second, he plays with the corner of the card until you snap your fingers.

“that’s the connective tissue surrounding the… the— uh, oh! muscle fiber?” your brain works extra hard. jungkook rewards you with another nod, flipping to the last card.

“fascia.”

“dense connective tissue,” you begin, pausing to think of the rest of the answer. you start biting your thumb nail, knowing there’s more to it but it’s not coming to your brain quick enough.

jungkook just stares, watching your facial expressions as you search for the answer in your brain. this could be the worst crush he’s ever had, he thinks you’re cute when you’re just sitting there, thinking. he doesn’t remember ever liking someone this much, most of the time his crushes went away after a few weeks or so. but it’s almost been an entire year since he’s started crushing on you, and it still hasn’t stopped. you still manage to find a way to make his thoughts surround you.

“separates and holds individual tissues? it’s the one that extends into the tendons, right?” you perk up after a minute or so. your brain finally coming up with the answer. you blame jungkook’s presence for slowing you down. maybe you shouldn’t have accepted this offer to study together, because how could you focus when jeon jungkook is sitting right in front of you?

“you’re amazing,” he praises, setting the flashcards down onto the table. you blush at the compliment, jungkook takes notice, but he doesn’t mind, he thinks pink is pretty on you. he’s never wanted to kiss your cheeks as much as he did now, and trust, he’s thought about it many, many times. “all done?” he asks after staring at you for the longest time.

you nod, “just gonna highlight these terms to review them later so i can get it down 100%.”

jungkook watches as you diligently reread your notes and highlight them. an apple on the table taking his attention away for a second when he realizes he hasn’t eaten at all today. he takes a bite, the loud crunch noise seemingly startling the both of you. it makes you turn your head and raise an eyebrow towards him.

“sorry,” he chews, “hungry.”

your stare lingers a little longer than you wanted it to. his cheeks are full of apple, you can’t help but laugh a little. “there’s still the sticker on it,” you point out.

he turns the apple around to see the blue sticker. peeling it off, he holds it on his fingertip, an idea sprouting in his mind to see that sweet smile of yours again. so he places the sticker on your cheek, your gaze moving from your screen to him and then to the fruit sticker now stuck onto your cheek. “get it? ‘cause you’re sweet like this apple is,” he smiles.

oh my god. you blush embarrassingly, your entire face flushed pink as you hide your cheeks behind your hands. he laughs at your reaction. jungkook was feeling bold today, so he moves forward, gently taking your hands away from your face to see the cute pink tint he caused. he sits back, admiring your pretty face.

you feel yourself burning hotter and hotter the longer he stares, looking everywhere but his face, too scared to make eye contact. you look back to your computer screen, “um— there’s pasta in the fridge— if you’re hungry, i made it last night.” you offer, but he declines politely, telling you that he has to leave pretty soon because his friends are expecting him to join them today.

begrudgingly, you watch as jungkook packs his things up. he thinks about how content he felt hanging out with you today, and how he wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. a thought pops into his head before he opens the door to leave. he turns on his heel.

you weren’t expecting the sudden turn, accidentally bumping into his chest. “oof! sorry.”

“it’s alright,” he laughs, helping you steady yourself by holding your shoulders. “i just wanted to ask— uh, my friends are throwing a party tomorrow night, do you— do you wanna come?” his words come out jumbled, jungkook never fails to trip on his words whenever he’s near you.

tomorrow night...it’s a friday tomorrow, the quiz is tomorrow, why the fuck not? a stress reliever from all the studying you’ve done. “sure,” you answer after a minute or so of deliberation. you look up at him with a smile, suddenly realizing how close the two of you are.

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, the close proximity makes you hold your breath. “great! i can pick you up? be your DD?” he quirks his head, a smile that matches yours on his face.

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” with that, jungkook takes a step back, widening the space between you both as his right hand goes to hold the strap of his bag.

“okay, i’ll text you the details.” before he turns around, turning the knob of your front door and letting himself out. before the door closes, he sends you a wave, one which you reflect as he pulls the door closed. you move up and lock the door, your forehead resting against the cold metal slab.

you wonder if this crush will ever advance into something more. neither of you really push the agenda, most of the time just cutely flirting with each other and only talking to each other during class. maybe this party will be a chance to further the bond the two of you have. you could only wish that you could drop this nervous shield that pops up everytime you’re around him, but jungkook is just so cool. the campus heartthrob, everyone wants to be him or be with him.

for the rest of the day, jungkook seems to occupy your mind, as he always does. when you get to sleep, the fantasies of jungkook’s lips on yours drift you into a deep sleep, one that eventually leads to a dream that has you rubbing your thighs together. his hands were all over your body, his cologne that you were so familiar with tormenting your nose, it all felt too real. so when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, sweat beaded at your hairline. you took deep breaths, cementing the fact that he isn’t here, and he certainly isn’t doing those things with you right now.

it was not helping that you dreamt of him sexually on the day of your quiz, the one that you were immensely stressing over. now, you’re gonna have to walk into class, act normal around jungkook even though your brain produced pornographic images of him, (it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve had to face him right after it happened) and ace this quiz.

you tried almost everything you could to have cleared your brain of your dream sequence. taking a shower, eating breakfast, studying once more, etc. but when you’re walking into the lecture hall, flashes of the dream and the sound of his imagined moan echo in your mind.

you walk up the stairs with your eyes down, not sure if you could make eye contact with jungkook without turning red. “hey, ___, good morning!” the familiar voice greets you.

“morning,” you reply, dryly. taking the seat next to him and silently taking your laptop out, waiting for the professor to start the quiz. jungkook seemed a bit taken aback by your cold answer, but he took into account that you’re probably just super nervous and stressed out because of the quiz, so he doesn’t take it too personally. instead, just sitting back in his chair and waiting patiently to take the quiz as well.

at this point, you were psyching yourself out, swearing that you already forgot all of the terms. if you were quizzed on the parts of male anatomy, specifically jungkook’s, then maybe you could ace it, but the terms that you were working oh so hard to memorize yesterday slip from your mind. when the professor tells you to separate and start the quiz, you start to bite your thumb nail again.

jungkook takes a look over at you, noticing the bad habit of yours. he gently takes a hold of your arm, pulling your thumb away from your teeth. the action causing you to make eye contact with him and his big doe eyes that hold so much love and light. you find yourself a bit speechless then, too many thoughts running around in your mind.

he whispers, “you’ll do great, okay?” the statement soothing your nerves. his voice somehow makes your body relax, even though you thought you would freak out if you made any sort of contact with him.

“you— you too, good luck,” you mutter. a half smile on your face. you were grateful that jungkook broke you out of your trance, his words of encouragement suddenly placing you in the testing state of mind. the images from last night's dream seem to put themselves away for now.

the next twenty minutes are complete silence. everyone focused on the questions before them. of course, you zoomed through the quiz, prepared for the trick questions and the harder ones that come up. jungkook finishes after you. it wasn’t a surprise, jungkook didn’t even have to try, you swear you’ve never seen him stress out before. nobody was perfect, you believed that, but jeon jungkook was the closest to it.

“okay, class! the quiz will be graded by tonight hopefully, you’re free to leave,” your professor alerts the class. jungkook waits patiently until you’re standing, following you down the stairs and out the door.

you decide to speak first, since you greeted him with such a dry response this morning. it wasn’t his fault that you dreamed of him on top of you, so why were you punishing him for it? “how’d you think you did?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he shrugs, “good i guess, i think i fucked up on one or two questions.”

“was it the striation part? i think i messed up on that one too.”

he shakes his head, “you know you aced that, don’t lie.”

you stay silent, the two of you walking to the campus parking lot. neither of you engage in conversation as you usually do. the images of last night’s dream slipping into your consciousness once again. you try to shake your head, to rid yourself of the thoughts. nothing else to distract you from them because jungkook was oddly silent the entire walk. you fear that he can actually read your mind and see all of your thoughts. if he could, he doesn’t mention it. not saying one word to you until he walks you to your car, greeting you with a ‘see you next class!’ before leaving to go to his car. not even mentioning the party to you, you start to wonder if he regrets inviting you. up until you heard your phone ring when you parked in the lot of your apartment complex.

[10:24 am] jungkook: hey! forgot to remind u about the party 😫

[10:24 am] jungkook: ur still down to come, right?

[10:28 am] you: hi! yeah :)

[10:28 am] you: is there a dress code or smth? haha

[10:29 am] jungkook: not that i know of 😂

[10:30 am] jungkook: u can wear anything u want

[10:30 am] jungkook: ur cute whatever u wear

[10:31 am] you: oh stop it jeon ur making me blush

[10:32 am] you: but tell me :( should i wear something casual? pants? a dress?

[10:34 am] jungkook: 😂

[10:34 am] jungkook: it’s kind of like a frat party…

[10:35 am] jungkook: so anything is okay

[10:37 am] you: ah okay

[10:37 am] you: i’ll surprise u then ;)

[10:40 am] jungkook: alright :)

[10:41 am] jungkook: i’ll come by around 9 to pick u up? sound good?

[10:42 am] you: yeah! gives me enough time to nap and get ready lol

[10:44 am] jungkook: great :) see u then cutie

you wake up from your nap around one, you had more than enough time for you to get ready for a party. so you decide to clean your apartment first, little chores to waste time before you get yourself dolled up. when you finished, it was around seven thirty. you washed your face, brushed your teeth, all that good stuff before sliding on a simple black bodycon that you got last summer. styling your hair and spraying on your favorite perfume before looking at yourself in the mirror. this wasn’t too much, right? lots of people wear stuff like this to frat parties, so you didn’t find it too fancy. the notification sound from your phone goes off, you move to check and see if it was who you were expecting.

[8:54 pm] jungkook: i’m here :)

[8:54 pm] you: ahh gimme a sec i need to pee haha

[8:55 pm] jungkook: take ur time cutie

[8:56 pm] jungkook: i’m right in front

jungkook only really had to wait about five minutes. the visual of you walking out of your apartment doors, looking the way you did, was breathtaking. his jaw drops, mouth slightly agape as he watches you walk up to his car through the passenger window. you are so gorgeous. it’s probably the first time jungkook’s seen you in clothes that really compliment your figure, most of the time you show up to class in hoodies and sweaters. so greedily, he takes in the way the dress hugs your curves deliciously. he shakes the thoughts from his head to get out of the car and open the door for you.

“what a gentleman,” you tease, getting into the car.

he joins you soon after, “you look...gorgeous.” jungkook doesn’t seem so shy now, his eyes taking in your beautiful self.

“thank you,” you blush under his stare. “is it too much?”

“no! no— not at all, all eyes will be on you tonight.” he smiles, turning the car on. now you were able to gawk over him. a simple outfit, all black with a black and white camo bomber. his side profile is perfect, his long hair draping over his face so gracefully and his piercings somehow sparkling in the dark of the car.

he doesn’t drive too far, somewhere in the suburbs where the big houses are. a huge iron gate in the front, seemingly too fancy for a frat party setting. jungkook rolls his window down to greet someone waiting in front of the gate with a couple of other guys.

“jeon! you’re late dude,” one of the guys gives him a handshake through the window.

“sorry man, i’m here now though,” jungkook laughs. the guy giving him the greenlight and opening the gate for him, jungkook parks inside on their stone driveway, decorated with a fountain and a beautiful garden.

“your friend lives here?” you inquire, impressed by the look of the place.

he nods, “fancy right? his parents are ceo’s.” makes sense, and it would also make sense as to why they were throwing a frat party here, rich sons always seem to stir up trouble whenever they’re bored.

he steps out of the car to open the door for you, always a gentleman. he takes your hand and helps you out, the two of you walking to the huge open double doors. as soon as you walk in, the smell of alcohol hits your nose, you try your best not to cringe. the blare of the speakers is the second thing you notice, along with the shouting of jungkook’s friends greeting him. “who’s this?” one of them asks, referring to you.

jungkook seems to hesitate at first, not really knowing how to introduce you. he settles by saying, “this is ___!” not attaching any ‘friend’, ‘classmate’, or anything to the introduction. his friend holds his hand out to shake yours.

you take it with a smile on your face, “i’m yugyeom, it’s nice to meet you!” a smile that reflects yours is on his face, it made you feel welcome. you were never really the type to go to parties, your time is spent working and/or going to school, but this interaction helps you ease up a little more.

“hello, yugyeom!” you reply, shouting over the music.

“do you wanna take a shot?” he asks. pointing to the enormous kitchen where they’re housing all the alcohol, you look to jungkook first who’s paying more attention to his phone rather than the conversation you were just having.

you shrug, “why not?”

yugyeom leads the two of you to the kitchen, jungkook following behind you blindly. he looks up from his phone, done with whatever business he was dealing with to ask, “where are we going?”

“taking a shot,” you answer, pointing to yugyeom who’s already pouring three shots.

“dude, i’m not drinking, don’t pour three.” jungkook tries to stop him before he fills up the third shot glass but his arm knocks yugyeom’s in the process, the bottle spilling the clear liquid into the third shot glass.

“i’ll take two,” you suggest, feeling a bit wild and down to venture out of your comfort zone.

yugyeom smiles at this, “i like her, jeon.” he hands you the two shot glasses full of vodka, jungkook stands next to you and watches as you down the first shot. your face cringing as soon as the alcohol touches your tongue.

“you didn’t even give her a chaser,” jungkook notices, scolding yugyeom who's already downed his shot and is sucking on a lime. “here, suck,” holding a slice of lime up to your lips. his choice of words disorienting you, especially since he was holding the lime up to your mouth instead of just handing it to you. your eyes flicker between the lime and his face, but nevertheless, you suck. sinking your teeth into the sour fruit. jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on how your lips wrap around the slice, slightly grazing his fingers. it’s not long before you’re making a cute scrunched up face from the sourness. “good,” he praises. you don’t deny the slight burn your lower belly felt when he said that to you. you swear he was making sex eyes to you, but you couldn’t tell. he broke eye contact with you soon after, throwing the fruit into the trash below the table that the alcohol was perched on.

yugyeom hands you another lime for your second shot, this time no jungkook to hold the fruit for you. the second shot burning down your throat with the lime chasing after, both yugyeom and jungkook cheer, congratulating you for being a trooper (even though two shots were their warmups).

the next hour or so, jungkook brings you around. he introduces you to his friends and making conversation with them. one certain group, you didn’t really enjoy. a group of five girls, clearly swarming jungkook as soon as he turned around from talking to another one of his friends. the girls ask how he’s been doing, all of the basic conversation starters. when jungkook tries to introduce you, they all turn to you and give you a little head nod before turning their attention back to jungkook. he stands there, conversing with them longer than he had with any of his other friends, and you found yourself getting, hm, jealous.

so you search around the room crowded room, looking for some way out. your eyes spot yugyeom in the backyard through the huge sliding doors, sitting on one of those lawn chairs with the one next to him empty. you decide to leave the group you were currently getting pushed out of and join yugyeom. he notices you when you step onto the grass, trying your best not to sink into the dirt with your heels. “you doing alright? where’s jungkookie?” he asks, sitting up.

you plop down onto the lawn chair next to him. “he’s in there,” you point to the house, “with five girls.”

the last bit of the sentence makes him laugh, a cackle where he holds his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “do you want a shot?” he offers after he recovers from his fit, pulling a tequila bottle out from nowhere.

but you agree, “two, please.” he fills the two shot glasses, but not completely like he did with the vodka earlier. there were no limes, or any type of chaser for you to take around, so you take the two shots like ripping off a band-aid, quick.

“you’re a funny girl,” yugyeom compliments when you’ve downed the shots.

“thanks?” you cough, the feeling of the alcohol still burning your nose and throat, “what did i say that was funny?”

“i think it’s because i’m tipsy, but that joke you made about jungkook being with five girls was hilarious.” he slaps his knee, almost making himself laugh up a storm again, but you weren’t laughing.

you raised an eyebrow, speaking with a serious tone. “it wasn’t a joke, he’s in there with five girls.”

yugyeom tries to collect himself, sitting properly on the lawn chair when he asks you to clarify, “you mean he’s fucking them? or he’s talking to them?”

you’re silent for a second before replying, why did you say it like he was in there fucking them? maybe it’s because he might as well be, so engrossed in whatever the hell they were saying to even notice that you were gone. “just talking to them,” you reply.

“that’s what i thought, jungkook isn’t like that anymore,” yugyeom nods his head, pouring another shot out for you.

“anymore?” you ask. he hands you the shot, you hesitate this time, starting to feel the effects of the first four shots you took. he doesn’t push you to take it. he just leans back onto the lawn chair as he sighs.

“you could say he’s retired,” he shrugs.

the term makes you laugh, “...a retired fuckboy?” you sit back into the lawn chair as well, looking up to the night sky. the shot glass forgotten on the table next to you. your body feels like it’s floating.

“yeah, he hasn’t really been doing stuff like that recently,” yugyeom spills. you stay quiet after he feeds you this information. yugyeom offhandedly telling you that you shouldn’t be jealous makes you feel guilty. why were you even jealous? jungkook was technically still just a friend to you. just because the two of you flirt every now and then doesn’t mean you’re together. of course he would be surrounded by girls, just look at him!

“there you are! i was looking all over for you,” jungkook interrupts your inner monologue. his voice comes from across the lawn, you look up to see him walking over to you and yugyeom.

“hi, jungkookie,” you smile up at him. the alcohol having more of an effect on you the longer you let it sit in your stomach.

he almost freezes up at the nickname, looking over to yugyeom and asking, “did you tell her to call me that?”

yugyeom holds his hands up in innocence, “i didn’t tell her to do anything, she’s like five or six shots deep though.”

you take the shot that was forgotten on the table and down it. “six,” you clarify.

“alright, slow down, iron liver,” jungkook jokes. yugyeom stands from the lawn chair, receiving jungkook’s telepathic signals to get the fuck up to he could talk and hang out with you.

“play beer pong with me later, ___! i’m gonna go look for eunwoo,” yugyeom points to you, giving you a thumbs up before leaving the backyard and moving into the house.

“feeling okay? think you might throw up soon?” jungkook asks, replacing yugyeom in the chair next to you.

“feel like i’m surfing, you know? like wavy,” you answer. the feeling was hard to explain, you weren’t dizzy but at the same time your brain was telling you to stop moving, even though you were completely still.

“ah, you’re getting there,” jungkook snorts. you didn’t have much willpower to answer, so the two of you sit there in a comfortable silence before a group of people coming towards, all greeting jungkook and you. they offer you a red cup, despite your current predicament. leaning against the chair and your droopy eyes, telling them that you’ve taken too many shots. a lightweight at her peak.

jungkook tries to deny it for you, but with a smile, you accept the cup. it was filled with the fancy mixed alcohol juice they had. “thank you,” you place the cup onto the table, “i’ll drink it.... later..” your words begin to draw themselves out. jungkook somehow finding a way to make the entire group leave, making it just the two of you again.

“give it to me, you’re starting to slur your words.” his hand is open, laying on the table and waiting for you to surrender the cup.

your eyes flicker from the red cup, to his face, then to his hand. a smirk on your face when you hold the cup up to your lips, tilting it back and drinking the cursed juice. you weren’t able to down it all, it was too much, you drank maybe ⅔ of it. you cough, taking in a deep breath as you try to steady yourself.

you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk, but the way that his face looks in the moonlight was so pretty. so you just had to tell him. leaning forward, you speak, almost a whisper, “you’re so handsome.” you drag your finger across the expanse of jungkook’s hand. “did you know i have no gag reflex?” you smile, not your typical sweet smile that he’s used to, but a devilish grin.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing immediately at your remark. “alright, you drank way too much.” he takes the red cup from your hands, dumping it out onto the grass in front of you both.

“hey, i wasn’t done,” you pout, but jungkook didn’t give you much time to mourn your spilled drink before he was holding your arm, lifting you from the lawn chair you were sitting on. “where are we going?” you ask, trailing behind him with your hand in his.

“gonna get you some water and something to eat,” he answers. the two of you move through the house, jungkook pushes through groups of people and makes sure you’re safe behind him.

“i have to pee.” you tip toe to tell him your emergency in his ear. he stops at the stairs, knowing a bathroom where no one else goes. his friend specifically telling him to use that bathroom when they have parties because the other ones get way too gross.

he brings you up the stairs to the guest bedroom, opening the door to reveal one of the biggest rooms you’ve seen. “the bathroom is there,” jungkook points to the door on the left. you nod, your wobbly legs making their way to the toilet.

jungkook sits on the bed patiently, waiting for you to finish. he hears the flush and the sound of the sink running, the door opens and you’re coming out of the bathroom, pulling your dress down. “are we gonna have sex?” you utter, slurring the end of your sentence. your alcohol poisoned mind taking over your ability to speak.

his eyes widen at the question. “no! no— oh my god, this is just the room with the cleanest bathroom, we’re not—“

you’re next to him now, “you don’t want to?” you pout. glassy eyes looking into his.

“no! i mean, yes, i want to but— fuck, just— just not now, yeah?” jungkook stumbles over his words, his face blushing a blood red. your pretty face peering up at him makes him even more flustered, his hands start to sweat.

“okay,” you nodded. your drunken brain deciding to stop the interrogation of jungkook’s desire for you. to which jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, taking your hand and bringing you out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the driveway. he brings you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. “wait, are we leaving already? yugyeomie wants me to play beer pong with him,” you complain, wiggling your hand from his grasp.

goosebumps appear on your arm when you make it outside of the house. jungkook notices when he turns around to look at you. without a second thought, he takes his jacket off and places it over your shoulders. the newfound warmth shielding you from the cold night. he didn’t mind the breeze, especially since he was still recovering from the stunt you pulled in the guest room.

“we can come back later if you want, let’s just go grab something to eat first so you won’t regret this tomorrow morning.” his explanation is pretty solid according to your drunken brain, so you oblige, moving to sit in his passenger seat.

he joins you in the driver’s seat not long after. “can we get mcdonald’s?” you ask as soon as he sits down.

a smile appears on his face as he starts the car, “sure.”

the drive made you feel a little dizzy, it makes you laugh. “you okay?” jungkook asks, but you nod your head. he’s so sweet, always asking if you’re okay, making sure you weren’t feeling too awful, etc. it only makes sense that you were falling head over heels for him.

“totally fine,” you look over to him with a smile on your face. he’s so fucking pretty, his side profile is something you could rave about for days. as he’s pulling into the mcdonald’s drive through, he’s talking into the intercom, ordering the two of you something to eat when you’re suddenly mumbling, “mcflurry, kookie, oreo mcflurry.”

he looks back to you, an amused smile on his face, “oreo mcflurry?” he repeats. you nod, “okay, anything for you.”

he reiterates the request into the intercom and the server gives him the greenlight. he drives forward and waits until the next car moves up, in the time being, he looks to you. your head laying up against the door and your eyes slowly blinking, warning him that you might fall asleep. so he reaches into his backseat, his arm looking for the water bottles that he usually keeps in his car.

“hey,” he taps your arm gently, “drink some of this first.” he hands you the water bottle, you blink slowly, trying to figure out what he was handing you. once you realize it was a water bottle, you take it, opening it and gulping some of the water down. jungkook is grabbing the food when you’re screwing the cap back on. he parks somewhere in the parking lot and tells you to start eating.

you grab your mcflurry first, the feeling of the cold ice cream on your tongue soothing your dizzy brain. “yum,” you think out loud.

jungkook laughs, taking out his hamburger while he takes out your chicken nuggets. “make sure to eat some of this, yeah? don’t want you throwing up and hating me.”

the thought makes you smile. jungkook was taking such great care of you. sure, he let you down the alcohol like it was nothing, but you never opposed to it, always taking the shot because you wanted to. now jungkook is here, taking care of you, because he wanted to. you knew that if it were anybody else, they probably would have left you at the party, letting you fend for yourself. the sudden warmth in your chest makes you want to tell jungkook everything.

with his jacket wrapped around you instead of him, you can see the bulge of his arm muscles peek out from the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. even drunk, your brain seems to travel back to the images from your dream. “you know, i had a dream about you, a reeaaaallllllyyyyy dirty dream, jeon jungkook.” you blurt out the confession before your thoughts catch up with you, the alcohol still very much blocking off the common sense part of your brain.

he tries his best not to overreact, but you had a dream about him? a dirty dream at that? it awakens something in jungkook, but he pushes it down, ignoring the feeling as he asks, “you did? what was it about?” he curious as to what you meant and what your dream entailed, but he didn’t want to push too far. especially since you were drunk and most likely just spilling everything because your brain doesn’t have the willpower to hold it back.

you stick your hand into the bag to steal some fries, stuffing them in your mouth. “oh, you don’t wanna know,” you chew.

jungkook quirks a brow, “well, was i good at least?” he jokes.

you scrunch your nose, nodding nevertheless. “too good, couldn’t even focus during the quiz because of it.”

jungkook is silent for a second. the conversation making him hot even though he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. so he clears his throat, trying to change the subject in a subtle manner. “is that why you were so mean to me this morning?” he pouts, connecting the dots.

you laugh at the question, “sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear.”

with that, the rest of the time is spent eating. jungkook makes sure that you ate enough and drank enough water, the empty water bottle in his cupholder as proof. “do you want me to take you home now?” he asks, the two of you finished eating and now a silence takes over the car.

“are you going back?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. he thinks you’ve started to sober up, or maybe have gotten to the point where you just want to sleep.

he shakes his head to your question, “honestly, i’m kind of tired, but if you want to go back, we can go.”

“no, i’m okay,” you decline the offer. jungkook laughs, starting the car again and driving back to your apartment complex.

you take this time to try to get yourself together. you know you’ll regret confessing to jungkook that you had a wet dream about him in the morning. but in the moment, it felt right to confess, (to your drunken brain of course). you tilt your head back, pushing your head against the headrest, and suddenly, you’re reminded of the stars jungkook has on his ceiling. you were silent as you admired the lights, jungkook takes a look at you when he’s stopped at a red light.

so cute, he thinks, staring up at his ceiling like it’s the real night sky. when he pulls up to your apartment complex, he wishes the night could be longer, that he could spend more time with you. he parks the car in the front, exactly where he picked you up. you’re looking to him now, your hands in your lap and your heart seemingly beating three times as fast as it usually does. it wasn’t the alcohol.

“did you have fun tonight?” he asks. his voice never fails to make you melt.

you nod, “i did.”

“i’m glad,” he smiles. there’s a small silence before he speaks once more, “also, y’know, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much, i know you might have expectations for yourself and stuff, but you should give yourself a break from time to time.”

the alcohol’s effects fading slowly from your brain when you start to realize that the entire reason jungkook invited you out was to help you destress. it makes you fall even harder, he was so thoughtful. even though a party wasn’t your scene, he invited you to give you a glimpse into how he has fun and hoped that it would help you loosen up a bit. you were grateful for the mental break he provided you.

you didn’t reply, purely because you were thinking about how much you want to kiss him right now, but it wouldn’t be right. when he speaks up again, there’s a nervous lilt in his voice, scared that he’s overstepped. “if you need anyone to help you— i don’t know, let loose? you can— you can always call me.” he scratches the back of his neck.

but you try your best to reassure him, smiling at the offer. “i will, thank you for tonight, jungkook, i really enjoyed it, despite being a lightweight.”

he laughs, staring at the way your face cutely scrunches when you giggle. he too, is fighting the urge to kiss you, because right now isn’t a good time. he wants to do it right. he doesn’t want to fuck it up with you. so instead, he hops out of the car and moves to open the door for you. helping you out of the car and walking you to your door, your hand in his.

“i’ll see you in class?” you turn to face him, squeezing his hand.

he nods, “yeah.” his signature bunny smile coming out to greet you a goodnight. “text me before you sleep?” he requests. you give him a thumbs up before he’s letting go of your hand and you’re sticking the key into your door, it’s then that you realize that you’re still wearing his jacket.

“oh!” you exclaim, taking the jacket off and handing it to him. but he holds his hand out to stop you.

“keep it, you can give it to me the next time we hang out, or something,” he suggests. you try to hide the growing smile behind a nod.

you hold onto his jacket, “goodnight, jungkook.”

he sticks his hands in his pockets, sending you another grin, “goodnight, ___.”

jungkook drives home, his empty apartment welcoming him. he plops down onto his bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes he was in because he was that tired. the events of today running through his mind.

he hopes you don’t think he was doing anything with those five girls. he saw you walk away when you did, he tried his best to escape the conversation, but they kept pulling him back. he gave up after ten tries of trying to get away, standing there for a good fifteen minutes listening to them babble about how much they missed him. jungkook had never rolled his eyes so many times in a conversation.

the talk the two of you had after was another thing taking over his mind. your dirty flirting and your dream you mentioned in the car had his imagination running all over the place. he didn’t want to push you when you explained, but he was very curious as to what he did in your dream, and how good it was for you to have it run through your mind all day.

his phone rings next to him. he turns and opens it, a smile on his face when he reads your message.

[12:32 am] you: hi jungkookieeeeeeeee

[12:33 am] you: im sleeping noww

[12:33 am] jungkook: alright cutie

[12:33 am] jungkook: goodnight! again 😂

[12:34 am] you: goodnight <3

he turns his phone off after that. looking up to his ceiling with a dumb smile on his face. his mind thinking of you and only you.

[hughiecampbelle]

Parting Gift (Sam Wilson Oneshot)

Character/s: Sam

Word Count: 1,411

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, but the closest I can get to that is melancholy lol. The weathers been nice and it got me feeling nostalgic for summer. I hope this gives off that vibe, if that makes sense? Sam just seemed perfect for this and I kinda love this :) It doesn't exactly fit the timeline, but oh well :P There are only Endgame spoilers, none with TFATWS. I can't thank you enough for letting me rest with my health/writing and posting in general. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You finally got him back 💌

Gif Credit: @biwilson / link 💕

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 /WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The low hum of the fan stirs in the quiet heat, restless, a lullaby you've grown used to since the season thawed. The snow puddles disappearing from the hot sidewalks, the grass growing green, the layers shedding around you until there is nothing but skin and the cool air that kisses it. It's old and shaky, the blades twisted, the fixture rattling, threatening to fall from the ceiling with every spin. Another chore you simply never got around to fixing, neglected much like the rest of the house. Like you, it was lucky it was still standing. The floors cried and creaked, needing to be replaced, but where was the time? The paint chipped, falling flake by flake, the shelves in need of dusting, the lawn grown too long, things were rusted, ruining, aging. Everything crooked, leaning, too heavy to stand on its own. One in the same, you and it, a reflection of your inner world, your inner turmoil, your grief defying, humanizing, materializing in rusted pipes, in thorny bushes, and weeds sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalks.

It was your dream. An escape. A slice of heaven he plucked from the skies. At least, that's how he'd described it. His hand, warm and calloused, over your eyes, letting your suspicions get the better of you, questioning like a child. What color was the door? How many windows? Was there a backyard? A steadiness in his voice you knew was not as solid as he showed, leading you past the street, past your new neighbors, the shade of the trees making your skin prickle. Up the path, you tried counting your own steps, anything to cheat the system. A leap of faith, you put so nicely. A house he passed by, one that struck him, caught his eye in a way nothing ever had. You? A house? Romanticized by the shoe box apartments the city had to offer, you never pictured any other life. Not out of opposition, but sheer innocence, a passive, thoughtless gesture you'd never recognized until the opportunity came along. Little convincing, it took. Somewhere far away from danger, from life, where you would always be safe together. That was enough. Always would be.

A fixer upper, that's what it was. Someone to care for in their old age, a long forgotten space only one with a heart of gold could fall for. Whether you were speaking of you, or the house, he'd never get the chance to ask. Where he saw the two of you, together, watching the rain pour from outside, comforted by a warm kitchen, a grand bedroom, nooks you could fill with hints of yourselves, you saw a slanted driveway, an unkempt garden, leaky ceilings and no hot water. He had hope. Dripped in honey,band hope, his voice sang through the thin walls, a symphony of ideas, of dreams for what it would one day be, taking you by the hand, leading you through. A maze of projects, big and small, things you'd add to a list of infinite length, your pen running out of ink long before you ever reached the bottom. For now, a coat of paint, a bucket or two for the leaks. He promised you, in the middle of an empty house, that it would one day be your home. You trusted him, because he was so sure of it, unlike anything else before.

You watched him sleep, the two of you facing one another. The sheets long discarded, too warm to even touch. You could follow the rise and fall of his back, the way in which he held the pillow to him, as if scared to let go. Tracing every line of him with your eyes, taking note of every single change, drinking him up every second you had together. The beads of sweat across his hairline. The upturn of his mouth, a whisper of a smile, as if caught in a sweet dream. The lines you see in yourself not yet reflected in him. Untouched by time. Five years could turn into a lifetime with the right kind of loneliness.

Plastic stuck to the furniture, bloated, sweaty, patiently waiting to be unwrapped. You couldn't bear to look at it, any of it, turning away from entire rooms, going only where it was necessary, using what you needed, not ready to face this place alone. It wasn't that first day, where your things, tightened by the city smog and lack of breathing room, were scattered wherever they might fit, left to expand in their new environment. The kitchen table in the living room. Chairs in the hallway. A couch discarded by the window, blocking the natural light. For the time being, he promised. Too many boxes to count, filled to the brim of glasses and mugs, wedding pictures and high school yearbooks, things you thought you needed, and things you knew you did. All of it wrapped in plastic, paper, t-shirts and towels. Whatever you could find to protect it. Sleeping on the floor those first few days, the mattress late, the frame even later, leaning on one another for that kind of comfort. It wasn't that first day, or week, but enough time to settle. The small things weren't yet opened. Two cups, to dishes, an endless waiting game for supplies to be shipped, of time to be found between work days and exhausted nights. He had a plan though, first the inside, then out. Sometimes there weren't enough plans, or lists, or schedules in the world to stop what would come next.

All of this, less than a month before The Blip.

Things hadn't changed since then, not without him. Five years you carved your path into the floorboards, avoiding everything that hurt like a landmine. His cup, his dish, his knife, and fork, and spoon, untouched. You would not look through your wedding album, or seep into the couch you bought together, or pluck the thorn riddled bushes like you pictured. His side of the bed empty, his clothes tucked away where you didn't have to see. All except one shirt taped up, turned away. His cologne fading from the collar, something out of your control, that made you want to scream. Everything these days, it seemed, was out of your control. Others, they moved on eventually. Started dating. Remarried. Found new friends, had more kids, picked up where they left off. Family reached out, teammates too, but you couldn't look at them. The anger, the sadness, all of it overwhelming. It left you drowning in questions no one had the answer to, everyone asking themselves the same thing: Why him, and not them? Why him, and not you? Why did any of this happen in the first place?

Isolating became the cure, and the corruption. The salt in the wound, a familiar sting you grew to expect, even want. A home for two, he promised, only now you were one. How cruel could the universe be? Hour by hour, day by day, you counted, carrying on for when he'd be back, because he would be. Sam, your Sam, too stubborn a man to give up like that. You would have dusted, washed the floors, made the place a little more welcoming if you'd known he'd be back when he did. Everyone came back, reappearing out of thin air, but where they felt frenzy, uncertain in explaining all that's happened, you were at peace, able to breathe again. Time had stopped when he was gone, your life paused. You could feel it, the moment when, the clocks in the house ticking once again inside their boxes.

Now, you lay together, as you had that first night. Not on the floor, not as naive as you were, but together none of the less. The sunlight strains, wanting to light up the room from behind the curtains. Even without it, you find yourself baking, wishing the fan would have a little more power. Sleeping in, you could have laughed. Five years he had, somewhere else, to rest, and yet you let him, not wanting to wake from what you fear might be a nightmare. If you woke up, and he was gone again, you weren't sure what you'd do, how much longer you could stand it. He assured you though, much like he had with this house, everything would work out in the end. That he was here, and he'd never leave you again.

Ever.

[vacantavern]

“Nothing grows in my back yard” (Original short horror story)

Nothing ever grows in my back yard. Every time I try to plant something, even though I care for it meticulously, it soon withers and dies. No matter what plant, flower, or tree, they all die. Even the grass dies, sickly yellow patches interspersed with thick weeds covering the entirety of the yard. The stress of it all was beginning to get to me after so long. I loved to garden. It was one of my favorite past times, and helped me deal with the horrendous anxiety of living alone. But my yard was starting to make me think I just did not have the green thumb necessary to do it. I considered giving up on it so many times, but something always brought me back and had me trying again.

Thats how I found myself yanking the weeds that had grown back for the umpteenth time every Sunday afternoon, instead of relaxing like everyone else. There was one weed in particular that bothered me to no end. It looked like a small tree, surrounded by tall crabgrass. The tree-like weed had a waxy, whiteish stem. The branches grew in strange, sharp angles, with small, red leaves sprouting from the ends.

It usually grew up to my shoulders before I had a chance to yank it out. But no matter how many times I pulled it, it always grew back. Finally, after many months of battle, it had grown too big for me to pull out. Its trunk thickened to a point I couldn’t fit my hands around it. The thin, angular branches stretched higher than my roof. After that I reluctantly gave up and let it be. The rest of the yard was more concerning anyway.

I thought perhaps my soil was bad, so I started doing research on how to restore it. For an entire summer, I worked to bring my yard back to life. And it seemed to be working; the new grass was growing in, the trees and rose bushes I planted were taking root. Even the tree weed looked to be finally dying, its tall branches now drooped down, and the stark white of the trunk had turned a sickly grey. I praised my lucky stars. Though of course, this wonderful luck lasted all of two months.

It was on a brisk, Fall afternoon. After coming home from a very long work day, I went to check the progress of my yard. As soon as I rounded the hall corner and the double sliding glass doors came into view, I froze. I was rooted to the spot, my mouth hanging agape as I stared with wide eyed horror at my yard. Everything was dead. My roses, shriveled and brown, littered the ground around the bush, along with all its leaves. Only dead sticks remained, reaching up to the sky in a desperate, yet futile attempt to live.

The grass had turned a sick yellow color, crinkled and dry, devoid of life. The young trees I had planted were completely uprooted, as if a hurricane had hit them and pulled them from the earth. Each one lay on their sides, roots flailing uselessly in the breeze next to small craters in the ground where they had once been standing. Shock and disbelief had my blood running cold, then hot. How had this happened in less than a day? It was impossible. Unless someone poisoned all of it, maybe. Just as my mind began racing over who the culprit could be, I spotted something stark white in my periphery.

I shot my gaze over to the tree weed. It had doubled, maybe tripled in size. It stood at least twenty feet high now. Its white trunk probably stretched the width of three people standing side by side. Long, shark branches shot out everywhere. Thick, dark maroon leaves hung off the tips. Along the tree ran thousands of small red and purple veins that looked eerily like a human circulatory system. I glanced down to see the roots had grown so large they breached the surface of the soil halfway across the yard.

Unable to comprehend what I was seeing, and not able to deal with the stress anymore, I went back inside, slamming the door shut behind me with a distressed growl. Later that night I searched online for any possible answer, finding none. I thought of calling a professional out. Even though it might be costly, maybe they could shed some light on the situation. I toyed with that idea for the rest of the night, but frankly, I was too tired to do anything about it. I was just done with my yard. I had been working so hard to fix it for so long, I just felt like giving up at that point.

The following day I cupped my hand over the side of my face, blocking the yard from view as I walked past the sliding glass doors to get breakfast. I was so upset that I couldn’t even handle seeing it in my periphery. In the middle of my delicious soggy cereal meal, a knock sounded at my door. The knock sounded two more times in quick succession on my way to get it. “I’m coming!” I shouted. Swinging the door open a little rougher than I intended, I glared at my neighbor, Leslie, standing there, fist raised for yet another knock.

She smiled wanly and lowered her hand. “Hi, sorry to bother you. I know its early...But do you know where Hunter is?” Her voice contained thinly veiled panic. Hunter was Leslie’s ten year old son. Her very annoying ten year old son. He, like any normal child, always played in their front yard with his friends. They always yelled so loudly I could hear them from my bedroom. One time the kid even put a hockey puck through my window. I constantly had to remind myself of the fact he was only a kid when my temper flared at him.

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him. Is everything alright?” Concern replaced my earlier irritation. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her hair was sat in a tangled mat on her head. She looked like hell. Her kid was missing? I began mentally preparing to get ready to join a search. “He went out to play with his new baseball gear yesterday evening and didn’t come back. I called him in for dinner and he didn’t answer. I searched the whole neighborhood and I couldn’t find him. I don’t know what to d-do!” Tears began flowing down her face as she spoke, her arms gesturing wildly as her panic rose closer to the surface.

I glanced behind her to see her husband knocking on the doors of the other neighbor’s houses. “I came home from work at six yesterday and I didn’t see anything. Have you called the police?” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “Yes, they’re going around searching too. If in 24 hours we still can’t find him, they’ll put out a missing person’s report.” She broke out into sobs then. “Alright, give me ten minutes. I’ll help.” I said, placing my hands on her shoulders in a vain attempt to calm her. She thanked me through bleary eyes before I shut the door and quickly threw on my clothes.

The search went on all day and for part of the night. We recruited quite a few other concerned neighbors on the search as well. People were driving slowly down the streets, calling Hunter’s name out of their car windows. We canvased the nearby parks while the police searched inside the schools. Hunter was nowhere to be found.

Days, then months passed, and there was still no sign of the boy. Hunter’s photo haunted me from every street post. The police investigation was going nowhere. And after a while, the police stopped looking for a living child, and began searching for a body. I spent my days off consoling Leslie and helping in the search. I was exhausted, but if there was a chance to find Hunter alive, I wasn’t going to give up. He was just a child. Even though my own hope that they would find the kid alive had dwindled over the past month, I would still help. One morning, as I trudged to the kitchen in a daze, sleep deprivation causing me to drag my feet, a flash of white caught my eye through my sliding glass doors.

Through all that had happened, I had completely forgotten about my dead yard. I hesitated to look, fearing the sight might upset me again. I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever though, so I turned with a sigh to gaze upon my lifeless yard. It was the same as it had been months ago, everything shriveled and dead, brown, yellow and a stark white tree dominating the space. It did not upset me as much this time though.

Perhaps it was because I had bigger problems now, more upsetting problems. I studied my yard for a few long moments. I don’t know what drove me, but for some reason I felt compelled to go outside. I slipped my feet into my sandals and slid the door open. The deadened grass crunched beneath my feet. My blood turned to ice, dread pooling in my gut as I approached the sickly tree weed.

The silence of the yard was almost like a vacuum, sucking in sound as it was made. I came to a stop a few feet in front of the tree. The red and purple veins had thickened noticeably. They seemed to pulse and quiver up close. All the hair on my body stood on end as I looked up to study the branches that reached high into the sky. I don’t know how I missed it that first day. It stood out so clearly now. I gasped in panicked breaths as my eyes locked on something high up in the tree, surrounded by large, deep maroon leaves. My eyes burned, my chest tightened. Because there, tangled in the high branches, was a baseball.

[pippitea]

TITLE: when the moon rises WORDS: 1.9k NOTES: shikaino / rated T to be safe but very mild! continuing my canon divergent post-war series  SUMMARY: He thinks she looks like she belongs up there, alongside the moon and the stars and all the beautiful things humans have no right to touch. He reaches for her anyway.

also on ao3!

There's flowers on his windowsill. It's such a small, pointless little detail that anyone else walking by wouldn't even notice. But Ino isn't just anyone. She prides herself on knowing the nuances of her friends; she doesn't care about knowing everything about everyone in the world, just the people who matter. She's always been reliable on that front. Maybe that's why Asuma asked her to watch over her teammates— to take care of them— because he knew she would do anything for them and their happiness.

She raises a hand over her eyes to block the lamplight, and squints up at his window to revel a bit in the color of the petals. Purple. Flowers look natural on her window, but his is so often bare and blank with the drapes drawn tightly shut... It's so out of place in her sky blue eyes that laughter bubbles in her chest and escapes into the silence of the evening. Her hand falls from shielding her eyes to cover her mouth to silence herself.

It's more endearing than a smoke signal has any right to be.

She contemplates climbing up to his window, and knocking on the cold pane keeping her from those little flowers, but she decides against it. There's a plethora of plants outside his house (one's she's all to guilty of planting whenever he leaves on a mission), and she'd rather not disturb them. He groans when he discovers a new one, but it's worth it. Each little sprout represents another time he came home safely to chide her.

There's a key clinking around in one of her pouches somewhere, but she doesn't bother. When she reaches his front door she gives it a push and it opens, unlocked. Unguarded. The lights are all off downstairs, so she knows his mother is off somewhere. She always makes sure to leave at least one little lamp on, but Shikamaru is comfortable in the dark.

She makes quick work of the stairs, even in the pitch black, and finds the door to his room open. Moonlight pours into his room through the open drapes, and casts a faint blue haze across all his belongings. It suits him, she thinks. He suits the night— dark skies, cool breezes under the moon, falling stars— they all reminded her of him.

He looks perfectly at peace when she steps in to find him. He's laying back with his arms behind his head, one knee bent and the other outstretched. He looks perfectly relaxed. Except for the imperceptible way his jaw is locked, his teeth clenching like its the only thing keeping something inside him from spilling out. He only shifts when she enters his room fully, tilting his head to get a view of her around the leg that's bent. When their eyes meet, she waves her hand a little as a greeting. He exhales audibly through his nose.

"You're breaking into people's houses now?" His voice his gravelly, like he hasn't slept in days, but it's soft around the edges and she finds that same softness in the way he looks at her.

"Says the one who left the door unlocked." She snarks back, and tosses her hair over her shoulder before heading for the windowsill. He turns over on the bed, rolling onto his side to face away from the light. She lets her fingertips run over the petals, and admires the way they look in the blue evening haze. There's a whole vase full of blossoms, so she takes one for herself. She cuts it down to size with a spare kunai, and tucks it behind her right ear.

Satisfied, she hops on over to his bed and climbs on. It dips under her weight, and Shikamaru glances over his shoulder to look at her shine in the moonlight. His gaze roams over her face, lingering over her eyes and the way they crinkle softly as she smiles down over him. He thinks she looks like she belongs up there, alongside the moon and the stars and all the beautiful things humans have no right to touch. He reaches for her anyway.

One hand comes out from behind his head to let his fingers brush over the side of her face, and caress the flowers blooming there.

"So you did come here to steal something after all, huh?" He says, wishing he only meant the flower. But the longer she sits like that, smiling and bright and alive— the more he can feel the weight of the sorrow he's been carrying on his back get lighter. It's like his demons can't help but wilt in her presence. She's a force to be reckoned with, something beyond human understanding.

"Oh, please. These were from my shop, they were mine first." She sticks her tongue out at him for good measure. "Besides, they look better on me than on that dusty windowsill."

He furrows his brows because he hates that it's true. His hand falls away from her, and drops to the side of the mattress as he rolls over onto his back. If Ino were the flowers, he would surely be that dusty windowsill. They were mismatched, always were. Anyone could see that. His knit brows relax when he hears her voice intruding in his thoughts, remembering her babbling something about opposites attracting each other or some other nonsense when they were younger.

She's still sitting there, looking at him, concern in her eyes and radiating sunshine even in the dark. He shuts his eyes.

"Yeah." He says. "They do."

She lets him stay like that for a moment and basks in the comfortable silence. She could probably get answers out of him if she tried. But that's not what she wants. She craves the honesty that leaks out of him when he's not looking. She puts all her weight onto one of her palms as she leans forward, and lets her free hand cup his face. He leans into her touch so faintly she's almost unsure it's even real.

He's not in the mood to talk about it, but she knows what's on his mind. It's the same thing that plagues her when she lets her guard down. It's the memories that creep in when they don't have enough strength to push them away. They don't need to talk about it, she thinks. There's no easy solution to working through loss. Sometimes it never really goes away. Ino and loss are old friends, and if there's one thing she's learned, it's that sometimes all you need is something to ground you. To anchor you to the real world, the present, so you don't get swept away in the pain of what's not here anymore.

She'll be that for him any time he needs it.

"That might be the first time you've complimented me." She teases, and watches the way his eyelashes flutter as his eyes open. He fixes her with a gaze she can't read, so she doesn't even try. She just relishes in the way he's looking at just her, at the fact that she's the only thing she can see reflected in his dark eyes. This close, she can see all the shades of brown in his irises. She thinks she should count them later.

"Not possible." He says, completely confident that he's right. The little voice in his head can't seem to ever stop singing her praises, noticing every endearing quality and virtue. There's just no way he hasn't let something slip in all the years they've known each other.

"No, really." She presses, because there's something in the tone of his voice that makes her want to chase after it.

He sits up then, all too quick, and suddenly they're face to face and her heart stumbles over its own beats. The fact that he doesn't seem phased by their closeness irritates her, so she leans closer as if to prove to herself she doesn't actually care all that much either.

"Not possible." He says firmly and softly at the same time. She hates the way it feels different when he speaks so close to her. There's something she can't place in his eyes and she wonders if its in hers too.

"What makes you so sure?" She all but whispers, tugging at a thread she doesn't understand, hoping he'll unravel for her just this once... Hoping he'll help her unravel her own tangled heart, too.

"Just trust me." He's a little too deep in the blue of her eyes, it's so safe and comfortable and all the alarms are sounding in his head to tell him just how dangerous this is. He feels himself faltering amidst the sirens. He still doesn't pull away.

"I trust you." She says, breathy and soft. She moves closer a fraction of an inch, and they're really on the cusp of something here; they're teetering on the edge of everything they've danced around these past few months since the war has been over. She can feel it. She wants to cross over into that, wants to know what the other side is like. Her eyes begin to flutter shut, and she remembers all the times she's left herself in the safety of his arms on the battlefield. She's trusted him from the beginning. She always would.

She feels his hand come up to her face, and a wave of electricity passes through her whole body. It takes all her strength to just wait. Then there's a faint rustling sound by her ear, and a soft thunk against the bed. Blue eyes snap open to find him laying against the pillows, purple flower in hand, holding it up to admire it.

"Wha—"

"Whether it looks nice on you or not," his gaze flicks up to her, "you have a shop full of flowers. This one's mine."

She's taken aback, stunned into silence. It's not often that she's speechless, but she feels like her heart just went on a rollercoaster and left her head whirling in the aftermath. When she comes back to herself, disappointment seeps into her skin at the loss of whatever was about to happen. Watching the way he holds the purple flower— with the same fondness and warmth that he touched her with— is only a small consolation. She straightens her back, clicks her tongue, and tries not to let whatever she's feeling leak out. "Stingy."

He smiles at that, and she hops off the bed satisfied that his mood has improved enough for him to manage through the night. She'd planned on sleeping over, but she suddenly doesn't trust her heart not to betray her if she hangs around any longer. She needs to get her heart and her head on the same page so her mouth doesn't say anything stupid. Once she reaches the doorway, she spins around on her heel and puts her hands on her hips in a huff. "Put it back in some water at least!"

He's sitting up now, propping his arm up on his knee so that the flower hangs just in front of his face. He waves her off with his other hand. "Yeah, yeah. I'll take good care of it."

The petals are so close she swears they brush over his lips. She feels her heart cause a ruckus in her chest, and darts out of the room like it were on fire.

"Goodnight!" She remembers to shout as she's all but tumbling down the stairs, and can't help the smile that takes over her face when she hears his almost inaudible chuckle.

[strangewhitegirl321]

Pay No Mind (12th)

{Not my gif}

Words: 4315

Originally posted to my Wattpad account.

   The car bumped and jostled (Y/n) about, causing her to groan and shove the suitcase that stabbed her in the ribs down the seat. Her favourite quilt wrapped around her legs suddenly turned into a tedious task as she began unwinding it from her legs, glancing to her parents' GPS and realising they were almost to their destination.

   The building was humongous, and she had been able to see it for the last thirty minutes as they drove. At first it had simply peaked over the horizon, and was excitedly pointed out by (Y/n)'s mother.

   The building was almost like a child's building blocks made out of a shiny blue glass. The lower level stood on stilts and was larger than the rest, and a giant stairway leading up to the open doors of the hotel seemed to sprout from the bottom of the building. Sleek, white metal bordered the windows that seemed to resemble portals to another world from the outside were clear in view. The second story was also on stilts, held up high above the first and you could spy at least three glass elevators constantly travelling up and down to no end.

   The top level was the tallest, it had a flat roof and stretched high enough to be out of the way for the palm trees growing on the second level's balcony. (Y/n)'s eyes wandered once again down to the second level, taking in the different, private wave pools that somehow never managed to splash over the edge of the building.

  (Y/n) snapped back into reality just as her father pulled into the parking lot, heading straight for the VIP section as he hollered excitedly about practically being a celebrity. Just as they passed through security from the stuffed parking lot into the almost empty section for VIPs she spied a peculiar box out of place next to the modern, expensive building. Before she could clearly observe anything other than its fine wood and lovely blue colour, they turned a corner and parked just out of view.

   Almost immediately, the family was met with three employees who quickly got to work helping unpack and carry luggage up to the hotel. Everything seemed to happen in a blur, and poor (Y/n) barely noticed when her Aunt and Uncle, the owners of the expensive establishment, came to greet them. Hugs and greetings flew through the air, and other customers gawked at the family hugging the rich owners as they passed.

   "So, how are you doing?" Aunt Stella asked after giving a tight (and frankly uncomfortable) hug to (Y/n). The girl shuffled on her feet, frowning as she thought of an answer.

   "Stiff," She finally replied, rolling her neck and cringing as it popped. Aunt Stella let out a loud, obnoxious laugh and grinned.

   "Well, I guess we should get going then," She turned towards her husband, Uncle Louis, who grinned and nodded.

   "We have a big tour to get over with before we can sit down and eat," He explained, taking a bag from (Y/n)'s father and turning around as he marched away. For a moment, (Y/n) thought they would be heading for the large, circular elevators already jam packed with people, but they veered off course and headed for a more private looking corner of the building.

   Deciding not to worry about it until later, (Y/n) took in the inside of the first level. Looking around, it was themed off of a jungle. She was able to glance into different rooms based on the glass walls, and notice that each room looked a little different.

   Upon noticing her curious gaze, Uncle Louis began to explain: "Each level has a different theme: The first is the rainforests of the world; second is the beaches of the Earth; and the third the great forests of big ol' Blue. That's part of the main attraction of our hotel. However, even more interestingly, each hotel room isn't quite a room itself. Instead, we designed it to be more of a house. We frequently get people who come and will stay for months at a time, some people even jump from level to level to experiment. And, each "room" is themed off of a different area of Earth."

   He stopped to point into a room where a family of six seemed to be playing Wii inside a room that was strange in the fact that it had kangaroos hidden in the painted and real brush growing on the walls, "That one is themed off the wild jungles of Papua New Guinea."

   Gesturing to another room, all of them with trees seeming to grow up the sides and different types of waterfalls attached to the walls seemed to glimmer in their own magnificent fashion, "That one is the Ancient Waipoua forest in New Zealand."

   Uncle Louis continued to point out different rooms, naming them in order, "The Amazon. That's the most popular, obviously. Cloud Forest of Peru; the Jungles of Borneo; the Jungles of Kipling in India. All very different, very interesting. Certain rooms, such as the Amazon and Borneo rooms, customers have to sign contracts to stay in because there are living animals in the room. We have caretakers hired, and a customer has to allow a caretaker to enter the room and give the animal its daily needs at least once a day. Children love the toucan, Huracan. He's a real laugh."

   Finally, they continued on to a private elevator for VIPS. (Y/n) about slapped herself. She honestly should have guessed.

   On the way up, they stopped at the second floor. The employees who seemed to trudge along behind the family like shadows were released upon being instructed to continue and drop off the luggage at the required room. They immediately zipped off, not wasting anytime.

   "How do you get them to-" (Y/n)'s father hesitated, waiting till he could figure the correct way to phrase his question. "How do you get such great service from your employees?"

   With a laugh, Aunt Stella was quick to answer, "Oh, well this is a high paying job. And, we try and make it as comfortable a job as possible. Loyal employees are the best employees. You can't expect people to stay devoted to their job if their job is horrible."

   (Y/n) immediately nodded, agreeing with the policy, "Sounds like a good deal to me."

   "Well, I would hope so," Aunt Stella chuckled. She reached up and fixed her hair, before turning around and taking the lead of the group.

   Unfortunately, Uncle Louis hadn't thought to hand off his bag to an employee, and because he tends to talk with his hands he kept quiet and allowed his wife to show off her favourite floor.

   "The beach level!" She exclaimed with joy. "Just breathe it in!"

   (Y/n) cringed as her whole family took a deep breath in through their noses, rolling her eyes at their actions.

   "It smells salty! Like an actual ocean is near!" Her mother beamed. Suddenly, she waltzed away from the group, stopping to admire a flower bed accompanied with a hibiscus tree behind it. Paintings of crabs; sea birds; pirate ships; and mermaids lined the clean and crisp white walls, and against the largest wall stood three aquariums.

   The middle, the largest immediately drew (Y/n) to it. It was large enough to house a little shark, which her uncle pointed out was a bamboo shark dubbed Stitch. There were also millions of other fish, including a small school of blue tangs. (Y/n) didn't need any sort of explanation to know at least one of them was named Dory.

   The other two, were large and round. Jellyfish bounced around the tank, lights changing colour to keep the decoration-vacant tank interesting for those who viewed it. It was beautiful, in (Y/n)'s eyes.

   "Every Wednesday and Saturday, we get a mermaid performer into the large tank," Uncle Louis told (Y/n). He glanced back to his wife, who was excitedly chattering with (Y/n)'s mother about all the different species of tropical flowers in the room. The two women darted around, looking at all the different types. Each time they stumbled upon a new one, an excited squeal left their lips.

   Suddenly realising her father was nowhere to be seen, (Y/n) turned on her heel to search for him. She spotted him talking to an older man who seemed to almost permanently frown. He carried a mop with him, but no bucket or tray to accompany the object.

   "Dad?" (Y/n) asked as she approached the two men. The custodian's eyes caught her attention, they seemed level and firm as they scanned her up and down.

   "This is your daughter, I assume," He stated, offering (Y/n) his hand. She slowly reached forward and shook it hesitantly, glancing at her father. He seemed unconcerned, and continued to carry out his conversation with the man.

   "So, what were you saying about the wave pools?" He inquired, eyes never leaving the water that splashed back and forth in the back of the hotel room he looked into. Once (Y/n)'s eyes landed on them, she could truly see why her father became so curious. The waves seemed so natural, it was unlike anything she had seen.

   "Ah, yes," The man began. "I was saying how they were obviously built by the same company who designed the wave pool located in central California, the Kelly Slater Wave Company. Also obviously, the company was made by Kelly Slater, a world champion surfer. But it was also a collaboration between him and the fluid mechanics specialist Adam Fincham. It's truly impressive. Once it opens, you should at least see it. It won't be beautiful for long-"

   Quickly, (Y/n) cut him off at his strange words, "What? Why? Have you seen it?" His brows raised, and he glanced at her curiously.

   "Yes. And, you humans always have the ability to quickly trash anything beautiful. It's remarkable, really," He stated, earning a scoff from the girl.

   With a roll of her eyes, she muttered, "Yeah, alright. What are you then, a merman?"

   "Oh! No, no, no!" The man replied. "Definitely not a merman."

   Suddenly, he turned away from her to continue watching the pool and he began to explain the mechanics and history, "Based on this year, 2018, wave pools have been around for over fifty years. However, it's easy to calculate how to predictably model a wave a few centimetres tall. All it takes is a few linear equations, and you've got yourself a nice small wave. In the natural oceans, however, the three creating factors are the sun, moon, and Earth itself. The moon is the strongest, however. It exerts about 2.2 times more power than the sun does. The water, being a liquid, is literally pulled up towards the moon. Probably why clothes aren't liquid. That would be a bit horrific. But this-"

   He gestured to the wave at least a metre tall that came crashing down on the artificial sand of the room, "-takes a lot more than that. There are several other factors, from turbulence to oscillations of the entire body of water- which is called seiching. Very interesting topic if you ever want to write a paper to impress your elementary school teacher."

   The man ignored her protest, as well as the chuckle of her father and continued on, "But the first model was gigantic. Seven hundred metres long and one hundred fifty metres wide. So, the fact that they were able to reduce that and make it around 8.75 metres long by 7.5 metres wide is remarkable. They also brilliantly covered the hydrofoil used to actually create the waves, I can't tell where they've hidden it- the left or the right side. I'd be impressed, but I'm mostly suspicious."

   "Suspicious?" (Y/n) tried to stop him to get an answer, but once again he simply continued on.

   "I can however see the gutter off to the right side used to prevent seiching like a damper. It also is what's limiting the bounce-back from the pool walls. So, this makes it seem possible to me that the hydrofoil is on the left side. And then the bottom of the pool- the artificial reefs are what changes the shape of the wave. However, no matter what these waves resemble more of neap tides normally found during quarter moons. Actually, no- they seem more like small tidal waves, don't they? Like a teeny tiny earthquake is occurring beneath the floor." The man suddenly stopped himself, groaning as he reached up and rubbed his brows.

   "Giving yourself a headache there, mate?" (Y/n)'s father asked. The girl however reached forward, patting the man on the shoulder as if to comfort him. At first, he jumped at her touch but calmed once he realised it was a harmless act.

   Just as she was about to speak, the sound of Uncle Louis calling drew both her and her father away, "Hey! Should we get on to your room, now?"

   With a huff, (Y/n) turned to give her uncle a glare before turning back to the man, "I thought it was interesting." She said, before darting off in the direction of her family who were forming a group again.

   The man stared after her curiously, before giving a small nod to the world and turning on his heel, marching down the hall with new passion.

   Upon reaching the third floor, (Y/n)'s face was struck with the fresh scent of the outdoors when walking out the elevator.

   "Wow," She breathed. "It even feels like we're in a real forest." Beneath her feet, she noticed grass and squatted down, picking and playing with it.

   "Ah, the grass is artificial, but the trees standing in the middle of each room and in the hallways are real and living. The rest along the walls and lining the ceiling are fake-ish, however. They were real, were alive. But, you could refer to them as taxidermy trees," Uncle Louis explained. The tall man reached up to brush the leaves hanging from the ceiling, a victorious grin painted on his face.

   "You did a simply spectacular job with this place," His sister, (Y/n)'s mother, complimented. Not-so-humbly, he accepted the praise.

   Small talk began to fill the room, and finding it dull (Y/n) wandered off through the room. She admired the deer painted hiding between the trees, and the circling vultures painted on a sunny day between the tree limbs on the ceiling.

   For a moment, jealousy filled her. She found herself wishing she had invented the hotel, made something so wonderful and creative that everyone wished to see it. With a sigh, she walked around a corner and spotted the balcony. A small running stream swept through it, stones she realised were glued in place lining it. Quickly, she glanced around and took off her shoes before stepping in. The water was cool, but something unnatural caused her to jump out.

   Her feet were dyed a light shade of blue, and they prickled as if they had fallen asleep. Brows furrowed, she reached down to massage them before glancing off to the edge of the "yard." Sighing as she spotted a sign requesting visitors keep out of the water, she quickly slipped her shoes back on.

   Soon after, (Y/n) went to track down her family. She discovered them just as they seated themselves around a feast. The amount of the food on the table caused her feet to falter as she scanned it all. A roasted turkey; lobster; jello; ambrosia salad; sushi; and all sorts of foods set perfectly on the table.

   "There she is!" (Y/n)'s mother cried excitedly. "We were going to begin without you!"

   With a frown, (Y/n) replied, "You definitely can. I'm not hungry."

   "Why not?" Aunt Stella seemed to pounce. Her gaze was suddenly sharp and suspicious, and her expression could only be described as offence. The quick question caused both of (Y/n)'s parents to glance worriedly at the woman, whose eyes were glued to the young girl before her.

   "Relax," (Y/n) began. "I snacked a little too hard on the way here. I'll definitely be hungry enough for breakfast in the morning."

   Slowly, Aunt Stella seemed to physically relax. However, her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head in question.

   "Are you sure?" Her face suddenly burst into a grin, and (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

   "Yes, Aunt Stella," She answered with ease. Then, without a second to waste she began to wander off through the hotel room.

   Just as she was about to turn a corner, she heard her father yell, "(Y/n)! Your room is down the hall, very end on the right!" Hollering that she got what he said, she changed course towards her room.

   Sauntering down the hall, she watched the ceiling as the blue of the painted sky began to shift to hues of orange and pink, purple and then to a midnight blue. A sunset seemed to take place down the course of the hall, and the birds in the trees were replaced with a single owl with piercing eyes.

   For a moment, (Y/n) stopped to try and recognise the species. It took her a moment, but she quickly realised it was just an awkwardly painted barn owl.

   Finally she reached her room and with no hesitation busted in with a sigh. Closing the door behind her, she observed the room. Instead of the blue sky or the sunset in the hallway, the room was painted like the night. Except, it wasn't a regular night with regular stars. Instead a nebula swirling with colour took its place. The picture seemed to reach out and grasp at the air, and the different coloured stars almost twinkled between the fake tree branches as (Y/n) turned her head.

   The bed was a queen, the headboard resting against a glass wall that overlooked the city outside. It was strange to see the fake forestry suddenly open up to the buzzing city below and around the hotel.

   Throwing herself onto the bed, it bounced up and down. Grabbing one of the pillows, (Y/n) dragged it over to herself and shoved her face into it. It was so nice and soft, and just the thought of waking up to grass between her toes and no possibility of bugs joining it excited her.

   "Oh," She gasped as she spotted a strange lamp in a niche to her left. Two large taxidermy trees seemed to frame the opening, and (Y/n) hopped off the bed to get a closer look.

   The lamp looked like the solar system. The sun was smack in the middle, glowing and giving (Y/n) a nice warm feeling. Then the planets were suspended in the air around it, each on the correct placement and orbit.

   Reaching forward, (Y/n) pressed a button that shut off the light of the lamp. Immediately, she switched it back on. A second button caught her attention, and without a second thought she smacked it and hoped the planets around the sun would begin to rotate.

   However, they only seemed to shift before getting caught, and an estranged buzzing filled the room. Disappointed, (Y/n) flicked it off.

   "That sucks," She muttered to herself. "Where's a phone..."

   Planning to call the front desk and ask for a repairman, she turned in a slow circle trying to spot the item needed. Not finding one, she frowned before digging out her own phone.

   (Y/n) spent the rest of the evening trying to avoid asking anyone for help as she attempted to track down the office phone number. She groaned and mumbled curses under her breath as she searched the whole of the hotel room. Not a single phone, or phone number, in sight.

   "(Y/n), dear?" A voice startled her. Jumping and turning around, she stumbled and just barely caught herself as she tripped and nearly fell.

   "Yes?" She inquired, meeting eyes with her Aunt Stella. Once again, the woman was looking suspicious of everything (Y/n) was doing.

   Offering a cursory smile, her Aunt asked, "May I ask what you're doing?"

   With a slight shrug of her shoulders, (Y/n) replied, "I was looking to call the front office. The lamp in my room is broken, I really wanted to see it work."

   Nodding slowly, her Aunt began to herd her back to her room, "It's getting late. I'll call someone in the morning, don't worry-"

   "Are you feeling okay?" (Y/n) suddenly asked, cutting her off.

   With a frustrated groan, Aunt Stella hissed, "Yes! I'm doing great, actually. Now please, just get to bed. Your parents have already retired for the night."

   "It's just-" (Y/n) began to insist. "You keep talking weird. Formal, and the like. I wouldn't even be able to tell you grew up in Texas, at this point."

   Pausing, Aunt Stella took a moment before she rolled her eyes, "Yes, well that is the point. I've been working on it for awhile now. Thank you for noticing."

   Without anything else being said between the two, (Y/n) allowed her to shove her into her room just as Uncle Louis walked out and gave her a cheesy smile.

   "I just dropped off your suitcase, you're all ready to go," He explained. "And, I presume you already discovered the bathroom's location?" (Y/n) nodded, and he clapped his hands together with glee. Then, he wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders and lead her down the hall and out of sight.

   Shaking her head, (Y/n) retreated to her room and got ready to go to bed. Sleeping in the bed was comfortable, but something about the hotel seemed to be constantly jolting her mind awake. Every hour she was disappointed to wake up after a magnificent, yet short dream.

   Finally she refused to allow her mind to lull back into a false sense of security. Instead, she stayed wrapped up in her blankets and watched the city below her. The floor was so high up, she couldn't hear any of the obnoxious honks or sirens that usually laboured the city. It appeared so quiet, so peaceful and relaxed without all the noise.

   Checking her phone, (Y/n) groaned as she realised it was only midnight. At least seven hours to go before she could rightfully be up and wandering, lost in her thoughts.

   However, she found herself panicking at the sounds of voices hovering outside her door. She laid herself out in a comfortable sleeping position; buried her head in her pillow; opened her mouth slightly to make it seem even more like she was sleeping; and then shut her eyes and relaxed her whole body.

   Tuning in to the endings of the conversation, she recognised two masculine voices. One of her father, and one she had yet to pinpoint.

   With an angry groan, her father whispered, "Look, dude, it's the middle of the night. She's fast asleep, every hotel we've ever stayed in has always put her in some sort of trance."

   "Then, you'll realise that with my super quiet mechanical skills, and her "hotel-trance," that I won't wake her up," The other voice argued lowly.

   "No! That wasn't my point. Look, if you go in there and wake her up, anything that may or may not happen to your face is definitely your fault," (Y/n)'s father claimed.

   She could practically hear the man on the other side of the door roll his eyes, "Just let me fix the lamp. Seriously, it won't take long."

   A few seconds passed, and shuffling feet could be heard. Then the door slowly peeled open, and (Y/n) heard her father sigh as he glanced in.

   "Well, we haven't woken her yet," He seemed to decide quietly. "Fine. But you do anything to her, I'm right next door."

   "Yes yes, next door. Blah blah," The other man grumbled. His feet shuffled across the floor,  and (Y/n) could hear as he seemed to come right up beside the bed. Rustles and rattles, as well as a few bumps seemed to tell her that he must have picked up the lamp.

   A second sound followed, a weird whirring that seemed to be accompanied by a low, blue, pulsing light that still caused (Y/n) to hold back a flinch.

   She heard her father close the door, and listened to make sure he wasn't still in the room. Then, slowly, (Y/n) peeled open her eyes. Once she was sure the man, who she now recognised as the guy at the wave-pool, was facing away from her, she slowly shifted to where she could see him better.

   (Y/n) watched as he held a strange tool that seemed to be making the funny whirring sound. He held it up to the lamp he balanced on one arm, and moved it up and down both below and over it. She wanted to ask him so many questions towards what he was doing, but instead opted to stay quiet and watch.

   A second later, he put the tool in a pocket and flicked a button after placing it back in the niche it came from. The planets began to rotate calmly around the light. Even the sun changed, it seemed to glow brighter, even shimmer and pulse with warmth.

   A small grin grew on (Y/n)'s face, and she couldn't help it as she muttered, "I've always wanted to see the stars and planets up close."

   The man froze, slowly turning to her. A hint of amusement covered his face, and his eyes seemed to shine.

   "Now, how am I supposed to ignore that?" He squatted down beside the bed, so he was eye level with (Y/n) as she lie in the bed. Getting a good look at her eyes, he nodded in acceptance before standing.

   The man stuck out his hand, and she took it gratefully as he introduced himself, "I'm the Doctor."

   The girl graced him with a smile, and she replied, "And I'm (Y/n). Nice to meet you, Doctor." He never released her hand, but instead yanked her out of bed and dragged her out of the room and over to the balcony. Her eyes widened at the sight of a strange blue box, before the Doctor gave her a slight shove towards it. From there, he opened the door, stepped aside, and let her peak in.

   (Y/n)'s life was never quite the same.

[themanuelruello]

Top Tips For Storing Vegetables Without a Root Cellar

You’re pulling in your garden harvest…it’s covering every surface of your home…and now you’re left with the familiar problem of “what are you supposed to do with all of this fresh produce?”.

Most of us have not been blessed with a traditional root cellar in our home. If you happen to be someone with a root cellar, I would just like to say that I am exceedingly jealous.

Fortunately, for the rest of us without a root cellar, I’ve got some good news: there are still plenty of ways to store our crops for later.

Christian and I have been contemplating putting in a root cellar for a while now. We have been seeing more of a need for one as our food growth continues to increase. Back in the beginning, I didn’t think a root cellar was necessary; I was still trying to figure out how to grow vegetables and we had smaller quantities to deal with.

Now we are in our homesteading groove (most of the time), but one of the big issues we continue to have as our growing capacity expands is storage.

An example is our potato storage. We have been Digging Up and Storing Potatoes for Winter for years now. In recent years, it has been huge amounts and we have had to come up with a plan to store them without your typical root cellar. Watch how I have managed to store over 200 lbs of potatoes without a root cellar. 

In the past, we have used our basement for storage, but it hasn’t always worked the way we would have liked. Now, we have started exploring our options; we even had a concrete guy come over recently and talk to us about the logistics of pouring a concrete root cellar.

Since there have been a ton of questions from everyone on social media recently asking me “what do I do with all of this food?”, I thought that I would gather up a bunch of info in this post. Hopefully it helps you get your ideas flowing and helps you take that first step towards storing food for later. For a more detailed in-depth look at storing vegetables without a root cellar, you can also take a look at these 13 Alternatives to a Root Cellar.

By the way, if you prefer listening to podcasts over reading info, I recently made a podcast episode on storing vegetables without a root cellar here:

Learn More About Storing Your Vegetables Without a Root Cellar

I have been reading books recently in order to do some root cellar research. So I thought that I would give you a book recommendation (and please know that I am really picky about the books I buy and recommend). 

I think that this book that I recently purchased is a good investment and I am so glad I bought it. It is called Root Cellaring: Natural Cold Storage of Fruits and Vegetables, by Mike and Nancy Bubel. This is a really good book with a very common-sense title, diagrams, charts, and also discusses about how to build a root cellar. It also talks about how to create makeshift root cellar options and it gives a lot of information on storing vegetables without a root cellar.

The book explains how vegetables will handle different types of storage and what their requirements are. It’s really good, so grab a copy and start learning about root cellaring. In this post, I would like to share a few things that I have learned from the book but also some things that I have learned through trial and error over the years.

How to Store Vegetables Without A Root Cellar

The big thing you need to remember if you are storing vegetables is that not all vegetables are great options for a root cellar or long-term storage. Things like cucumbers, tomatoes, or green beans are what you focus on either freezing, fermenting, or canning.

Root crops like potatoes, beets, parsnips, and carrots are fantastic for root cellars or cold storage. You can grow a lot of those things and keep them for many months if you play your cards right.

Vegetables That Thrive in Root Cellar Storage Include:

Carrots

Beets

Potatoes

Sweet Potatoes

Parsnips

Onions

Garlic

Winter Squash

Pumpkins

Cabbages

Note: Keep in mind that each type of vegetable has its own set of instructions for pre-storage preparation and for how best to store them long-term. 

Creating a Root Cellar Environment

When trying to create a root cellar environment or mimic a root cellar, it needs to be cold, dark, and humid. A lot of these vegetables have specifics about how they should be stored, but the thing to remember as a beginner is: the colder the better. However, you don’t want things to get so cold they freeze. If things freeze and then thaw out, they tend to get mushy; you want your temperature to be right above 32 degrees Fahrenheit with some humidity if possible.

I have learned that when vegetables are pulled from the garden, they are still alive for a time. As they age, they start to lose some of their moisture. Having a humid environment slows that moisture loss and helps keep them fresher longer. Ideally, 32ish plus degrees Fahrenheit with some humidity and darkness is ideal, however, you can get away with something that isn’t exactly that. 

Creating A Root Cellar Environment for Potato and Onion Storage:

One thing to remember when storing vegetables like onions or especially potatoes they need to have some air circulation. You don’t want to take your potatoes stick them in a rubber-made plastic box with the lid clamped down and leave it. Some of your vegetables will rot and mold quickly without the proper air exchange.

What I do for storing my potatoes is putting them in cardboard boxes, place a layer of newspaper between each row of potatoes and then completely close the cardboard box. The box then gets put in a part of our basement that is super dark. One issue with things like potatoes is that if they get exposed to light, they begin to sprout and honestly, I still have sprouting potatoes even when I try to keep it as dark as possible. I don’t think our basement is quite as cold as I would like it to be but even though it’s moderately cool it still works.

This is also a good place to hang onion braids, you don’t have to braid your onions but it’s kind of a fun thing and it allows air circulation. If you would like to braid your onions to hang for storage, I would love to help you learn How to Braid Your Onions. 

Creating A Root Cellar Environment for Carrot Storage:

Due to the many carrot disasters I have had in the past when I have tried to store carrots, I don’t feel qualified to give advice on carrot storage in this capacity. There are a lot of people on the Internet that say you can store your carrots in sawdust or boxes of sand, and you sprinkle them with some water, and they’ll be good.

I attempted storing carrots in the box with sand method and it was a horrible failure. It was so gross that Christian was completely traumatized and will no longer allow me to try to store carrots in any kind of box.

This method is also very heavy; you will need a dolly to move the boxes around. My carrots turned out disgusting: they were rotted carrot mush, thought it is possible that I did something wrong. I cannot personally recommend the carrots in the sand method because it did not work for me.

So I currently simply store my carrots in the fridge, which is one way of storing vegetables without a Root Cellar.

If your storage is a little bit warmer, not quite as humid, or simply less than perfect, there are still things you can do to make it work. Your situation might not work for very long storage or work as well, but any kind of storage is better than just letting everything rot. I’ve never had a root cellar, so I have always just kind of had to make it work as best that I can, and you can do that too.

3 Ways to Store Your Vegetables Without a Root Cellar

Your root crops can be from your home garden, bought at the farmers market, or extra produce that a friend gave you. No matter where they are from, here are three ways you can store them even if you don’t have an actual root cellar.

Tip #1: Leave Your Crops Planted in the Garden (Depending on Your Climate)

This first option may work if you don’t live in a place like Wyoming. If you live in a more normal climate, then you can leave certain crops in the garden until you actually need them. Carrots and parsnips are great candidates for this type of storage.

As some root vegetables mature, their tops stick up out of the ground, and if you are leaving them in the garden, then you will want to make sure that they are completely covered. If any part of the skin is exposed and it freezes, then it’s not going to be good anymore. You will want to cover your vegetables with a HEAVY layer of mulch (approx. 18 inches thick is a good idea if you can make that work) in this situation.

You can cover your vegetables using straw, grass clippings, or, some people cover their rows with a tarp. If we were to use a tarp, we would have to anchor it down with concrete blocks because of the wind we get in the winter. If you don’t have as much wind or you do not get as much snow as Wyoming does, you can scrape away the straw mulch or move your tarp to harvest as needed.

I do use this method to a certain extent: I will leave my carrots in the ground until October or November but beyond that, it doesn’t work for me. The ground here freezes solid and then it’s impossible to get the carrots out. Another problem that happens is snowdrifts end up right on top of the carrot bed and then I would be left digging through 3-foot snow drifts to get to the carrots.

This may not work for me and my climate, but folks in a little bit more temperate climate have been storing root crops like this with great results. If this first storage trick is something that interests you, do a little research, talk to other gardeners in your area (or your local extension office), and find some information that will let you know if this is something that will work for your harvest.

We store food in our basement because we do not have a root cellar. It works pretty well!

Tip #2 Use an Unheated Room to Store Your Vegetables

The second tip is to use an unheated room in your house, garage, or another building. When I talk to other homesteaders, this is the one option that everyone uses the most. This method of storage is one that I have done for many years, we have a basement that is not completely unheated but cooler than the rest of the house. There is an old unfinished part of our basement where I have stored my potatoes, carrots, and onions in the past.

If you have an old farmhouse-type house with a room that is not very well heated and super drafty, this might be a great room to store crops. I have also heard of people using an attic or crawl space to store their food (although one thing about the crawl space that would be worrisome is rodents and pests).

An alternative to a basement might be a garage or outbuilding that is unheated but also is not going to freeze. If you’re going to use a building like this, perhaps you can use extra insulation around your storage container to make sure that it’s protected. It really is about being creative and finding ways to make your situation work.

In your unheated room, if you can afford it, you can also build an actual cold storage room; there are some pretty cool tutorials out there where people will frame off a corner of their unheated basements and make it into an actual root cellar. 

We looked at this idea quite a bit and the reason we didn’t use this method is that we could not see a way to add a vent to our basement. Having a vent to the outside that provides air circulation is a really important part of a root cellar.

As a vegetable ripens, it gives off ethylene gas, and ethylene gas causes the other vegetables around to spoil more quickly. This gas is one of the reasons why you will see vents in an old root cellar. If we could have figured out a way to vent our basement and build a cold room, I absolutely would have done this.

This idea of adding a root cellar or cold storage room is just another option to consider; first I would recommend doing a search on building a cold storage room. If this is something that you feel is a possibility, I would consider it because it would be really cool to build from what you already have. 

Tip #3 Store Root Vegetables in an Old Refrigerator

You may not have room in your regular house fridge, but it might be a wise investment to find an old fridge on Craigslist or Facebook. This fridge doesn’t have to be pretty; you can keep it in your garage, shop, or the backroom of your house.

As long as it’s not getting too cold and/or freezing the vegetables, it will be a great place to store some of your vegetables like carrots and beets. You can also put a little pan of water in there to help with the humidity. If it works well enough, you can even put your cabbage in there and your cabbage will store quite a while if you’re not wanting to make sauerkraut. An old fridge is a great option for root crop storage, and a bonus is that you can store your ferments in there as well.

If we ever build a root cellar, my goal is to be able to put my potatoes, carrots, and onions down there in baskets. There will also be shelves to store jars of sauerkraut and other fermented foods. Since I don’t have that yet, what I’ve always done with sauerkraut in the past is just store it in our shop refrigerator and it works well.

Get Creative with Your Root Cellar Storage

More ideas are coming out, such as burying things in the ground, like burying a trash can, or an old chest freezer in the ground and storing food inside. We have not tried this because I think it would have to be buried fairly deep to not freeze here in Wyoming.

In a milder climate, this could work, though I would look at a couple of different tutorials or instructions before starting to dig and bury trash cans in your backyard. I have seen ideas where people stack hay bales around a hole then put a window on top. This creates a greenhouse effect on the top and you would just need to make sure it didn’t freeze.

If you are looking for ideas there are a lot of creative ways people have been storing vegetables without a root cellar out there, you can learn more about them by reading 13 Root Cellar Alternatives. When deciding on a method, just make sure you’re following one that has good reviews and looks like it will work. It will still take some research on your part to figure out which type of cold storage you can do in your yard and climate.

Looking For Different Food Storage Options?

I hope this post helped you get your creative juices moving. If you aren’t sure if any of these cold food storage ideas will work for you, I suggest that you start thinking outside the box, because there are many ways to squirrel away that food for later besides cold storage.

If you would like to check out some other ideas for food storage, check out my article with My Favorite Ways to Preserve Food at Home. You can also check out my Canning Made Easy System if you would like to truly create shelf-stable food; that doesn’t require any sort of special root cellar or refrigerator.

More Vegetable Storage Tips:

How to Braid Garlic

How to Can Food with No Special Equipment

How to Manage Your Garden Harvest (Without Losing Your Mind)

How to Preserve Fresh Herbs in Olive Oil

The post Top Tips For Storing Vegetables Without a Root Cellar appeared first on The Prairie Homestead.

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[texanpeanut]

Snapshots: Part 1

Some Peace Corps volunteers are excellent photographers. Their Instagram and Facebook profiles are filled with the perfect pictures - cute kids posing with crafts they’ve made, motivated farmers standing proudly with their tree nurseries, strong mothers whipping up some fire peanut sauce, or their charming village silhouetted against the sunset. I, however, am not one of those volunteers. I never think about taking pictures and when I do they never turn out well, always out of focus or with weird coloring. It might have something to do with the fact that my phone is from 2012, and while it still functions excellently and I am glad to have it, the camera pales in comparison to what’s available on newer models. Also, I tend to think that some of the most memorable or iconic moments are ones I can’t capture with a photo. So, over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to capture these moments with words. Here are some of the feelings, events, or short stories I thought worthy of taking note. I’ve titled this post “Part 1″ with hopes of making more like this in the future! 

Observations While Traveling 

the sept plas driver using a wooden block to keep the tires from moving because he can’t put the car in park 

sharing the front passenger seat with a grown man so nine people can fit in a car made for seven 

the feeling of awe seeing a massive stone cliff face loom above the trees as the car turns corner after dusty corner 

mild agony as the car slows, lurches, slows, lurches over and over; jostling as the car dips through washouts; the urge to pee continuing to grow 

Moments in Village 

excitement after checking on a tree nursery that’s actually sprouted a good amount. little babies! 

the satisfaction of walking home from the garden at sunset, looking at the mountainous horizon thinking that things are gonna be alright 

the silliness I feel when I try to be helpful and pound rice with my mom and sisters 

the closeness I feel to them when we exchange a few simple smiles 

helping the women in my village cut an entire laundry bucket full of onions for lunch at a baptism and not crying a single tear 

responding “yes, i’m trying” every time the women ask me “Binta, you can cut onions?!” as if they’re surprised i have even one culinary ability 

the moment before i ride my bike down the big hill toward my road town, listening for an oncoming car in the distance, knowing I’m making quite the risky decision 

doing it anyway and feeling the wind in my hair through my helmet and my eyes watering and the howling in my ears but coasting to a stop at the bottom feeling like everything is right 

the joy on my mom’s face when I give her and my sisters a loaf of homemade challah bread I made while in Kedougou. “binta, your dad’s going to be so happy that he will dance today!”

and my sister confused about the six-strand braid asking if it’s really just one loaf of bread 

holding a two week old baby having no clue what to do except not let the head drop 

telling the grandma the baby is beautiful only for her to respond “no, he’s so ugly” 

watching a toddler shove handfuls of dirt into her mouth as if it were candy 

sitting at a women’s group meeting, appearing to be in deep conversation with another volunteer while the women count dues, when in fact we are actually just discussing our favorite kinds of cereal 

helping the same women’s group build a tree nursery, casually reflecting on how many hours I have spent up close and personal with poop (in the form of manure) since arriving in this country 

sitting with my friend under a mango tree at the end of the day, watching the setting sun, learning about upcoming Ramadan and talking about the pilgrimage to Mecca 

Storytime - The Dog

As I’ve mentioned before, I have a dog and her name is Lyra. She is about five months old at the time I write this. She is a great companion and normally follows me everywhere I go. One afternoon, we’re walking together to the well to pump water, like we do every day, and she abandons me somewhere along the walk. I go to the well, fill my bucket, walk home, and still don’t see her. However, I’m not worried. I figure she is playing in the bush and will come back to the house eventually like she always does. 

I go into my hut, put the water bucket in the backyard, change into my running clothes, and sure enough by the time I’m done and heading out for a run, Lyra comes jogging up to my door. Two things are off. First, her stomach has swollen up like a balloon. My first thought is “what the fuck did you eat.” Second, she looks up at me with the most satisfied look on her face and there’s the clue - the fur around her mouth is all completely stained red with blood. Fuck, lol. 

So I go around the corner of my hut and find my answer. I look down at what she’s been tearing apart, the reason why she abandoned me on our walk, and find the rear half of a dead lamb, completely disemboweled. I just stand there for a few seconds with my mouth in the shape of an O, realize my host-mom is staring at the whole thing, then quickly assure her it wasn’t Lyra!!! She didn’t kill it!!! She just found it!!! Then throw Lyra in my backyard and awkwardly leave to go for my run. 

I come back from my run, ready to take a nice refreshing bucket bath, but because my dog’s face is covered in blood and she smells like a dead animal, figure I should try to bathe her first. Figure I should try to bathe her even though I know she absolutely hates water. As you probably guessed my attempt was a failure. I tried to hold her in my arms as I lathered the shampoo and water but she got all slippery like a boiled hotdog and fled from my arms when I was only maybe 2/3 finished, making sure to claw desperately at my scalp on her way out. Ouch. 

I walk outside to see where she went and of course she found a nice big pile of dirt to seek comfort in. I grab a towel to dry her off and tell my family “you see, this is why I don’t bathe her. Y’all always ask me why I don’t bathe my dog, I tell you she hates water, and this is what will happen.” Lyra’s last say on the matter was to bite my hand and run away again as I tried to rub her down. Okay. 

And finally to top it off, as I’m walking dejectedly back to my hut, soaking wet and covered in dog hair, my dad calls out to me “Binta! Don’t bathe your dog! She hates water, you hear? She refuses to be bathed, you hear?” Like as if I hadn’t already told them that a million times! Okay. 

After I finish my own bucket bath I put on some clean clothes and go outside to sit with my family as we wait for dinner to finish cooking. Lyra comes up to me seeking a pat on the head, I reject her, and she promptly throws up a nice steaming pile of sheep guts next to my feet. Then falls asleep right in the middle of the compound at 8 pm. She spent the entire following day sleeping under my bed and farting little clouds of the most foul stench I have ever encountered. Okay. 

Anyway, she’s fine now. The end. 

More to come later! 

- Maggie 

[loveiscosmicsin]

Dreaming of the Dawn

Post-canon Noctis (or should I say Post-Episode Ignis canon as of December 13th 2017? Well, it was written long before the DLC came out) and Ignis visit the old apartment building. A spontaneous decision led by another, they would always be at each other's side no matter the outcome.

Inspired by this tweet thread by titansatemysoul / @nokuigu : https://twitter.com/nokuigu/status/930533797438816257 Written with her permission. I love the headcanon and how well now it fits better than ever. Posted on my Ao3.

-

“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” - Maya Angelou

-

“What do you see?” “I...” Noctis struggled to articulate the view. “It’s different. And in much better shape than I thought it’d be.” Before the attack on the Crown City, there used to be a grand wisteria tree that grew in the centre of the courtyard. The very same tree where Ignis parked his car under one day in spring and found it overwhelmed by the fallen flowers. While Ignis lamented over retracting the roof, Noctis made no comment and compelled by some adventitious force, reached out to pluck the lavender blue blossom from the chamberlain’s chestnut locks and innocently, “You look so good in purple, Ig.” What remained of the tree now was a dead charred stump with its years before it was cut prematurely engraved in it, but beside it, two saplings had sprouted from the icy, withered ground. “Does it look safe to go inside?” Ignis asked, readjusting the plum scarf around his neck and removing the frosted visor over his scarred face. “Yeah,” Noctis forced the lump in his throat down. “Just... a lot to take in at once.”

“Then we have little to fear.” Ignis pressed a gloved finger to his lips, pensive before cocking his head assertively. “May I remind you that it was your idea to come to this place? We mustn’t drift from the goal now.” Whether Ignis was aware or felt exhausted hearing it time and time again, Noctis knew he was right. It was his idea and stopping halfway would be unsatisfactory to the both of them. With one hand holding the bag containing their lunch and the other finding catharsis from the emanating warmth of Ignis’ hand, Noctis led him inside the building. Despite its haunted and somber exterior, he can’t help but to feel relief to finally approach this piece of his past. Electricity was one of the vital resources that withstood the passages of time and underground conduits extended to all parts of the city. The apartment complex was no exception. The elevators responded when summoned and lifted the two men to the top floor. Noctis had lived in Insomnia Tower when he was fifteen and had vacated the premises five years later for Altissia. For a time, he lived a normal life and his duties as crown prince were lenient, but at the cost of being kept out of the loop of his father’s failing health. Death had followed the young prince since the beginning. Succession to the throne meant his father’s death and the frailty of his own mortality and it drove him to distance from anything and anyone that reminded him of it. “Well?” Ignis turned his head after Noctis got them inside the apartment, waiting for the grand tour he had been promised. “Don’t keep me in suspense.” “I’ll, uh, let me get the lights.” Noctis hit the switch by the entrance and light flooded the hall leading to the living room and kitchen. “Abandoned,” he paused, holding his breath to stop himself from sneezing. “And pretty dusty. Watch out.” “Duly noted.” Noctis swore he heard an eye roll with that. Ignis removed his gloves and carefully tucked them away in his pocket before feeling his way against the walls, tracing cracks and peeling wallpaper. “It’s rather drafty here, wouldn’t you say? I fear we’ll catch our death of cold.” The king agreed, it was musty and freezing inside, but he didn’t have the heart to let a gentleman suffer. “I can think of a couple ways to keep warm.” “Not so fast, Majesty. See if we can heat this room up a bit.” The power still worked, but it was too much to hope that the heating system would as well. They would just have to endure. Curiosity was the best cure to keeping minds off the cold. Ignis was more eager about coming here than he showed, examining the condition of the interior and making comments every now and then. Save for the cupboards, counters, and appliances bolted down, the apartment was stripped bare. Not a single piece of furniture remained. Not even the bed frames in the main bedroom and guest room. Noctis walked around the living room, the floorboards reverberated and eerily welcomed its visitors. He mostly remembered where everything was and the accidents that occurred. Every spot, though the physical markers long gone, carried fragments of his closest relationships. By the veranda, Cogsworth, a resilient house plant he received from Iris, was either swollen from excessive watering or went through days without a drop of water. Taking advantage of their strongest to weakest subjects, Prompto and Noctis had intense study sessions on the couch, comparing answers in preparation for exams with lots of junk food involved. Not taking no for an answer, Gladiolus had always came over with a deck of cards and despite the bitter taste of defeat more rounds than victory, somehow, became life lessons about decision making. Noctis had kept the red leather notebook that he used to write to Luna in a bookshelf, sending trading cards and limited edition stickers her way, knowing she loved collecting them. And Ignis, no matter what kind of day Noctis was having after school or work, the chamberlain had one of the vinyl records in the collection playing and a home-cooked meal waiting, starting a tradition that he would wait until they were able to eat together.

Deciding to head to the veranda, Noctis noticed that the velvet curtains swayed as if possessed, and pulled them wide open. Many times a young prince stood outside and stared out to the metropolis that he was to inherit, a myriad of thoughts plagued him. Insomnia at night had life, a cacophonous and yet, harmonious energy to that was easy to lose himself in. He was part of the city as it was of him. He wasn’t the prince, he was just Noctis and it was okay to forget for a while.   “Found what’s making the place cold.” There was a massive crack in the window and it allowed gentle gusts of air to come through. “I wonder who lived here after we left. If there was a somebody,” he pondered aloud. If someone did, maybe they saw Insomnia differently than he did. “Best not to ponder over less than savory thoughts.” Ignis said, close by, assessing the kitchen and finding that the facet ran dry.

“Yeah, you’re right. Having fun yet?” “I was just recalling our game nights. How far a man would go to get the last slice of pizza.”

“Those were the days.” The king agreed, remembering the best and cheapest pizza on the block. Through the best and worst days, Noctis treasured those memories. Ignis didn’t live with him, he stayed over often, and it was perfect even if it was only overnight and having to leave before Noctis woke up. Knowing that it wouldn’t last, the young prince pretended that they would live here forever without the burden of the royal family name looming over them. A futile and foolish fantasy. A few weeks after he survived the blood prophecy, Noctis knew not what to do next. He had no plan. No goal. Death was the last and only plan, he entrusted Lucis to his retinue and allies. Since then, rebuilding was the only thing he managed to stay focused on. He bore no weight on his own future. Ignis believed in him. Blind loyalty, he claimed, but Noctis knew better: Ignis never once lost the light in his eyes. “Shall we take a break? I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Noctis wasn’t done looking around and while they could always return, he hadn’t been fully truthful to Ignis that he informed the others that they were here. There was something here to be uncovered and he thought if he didn’t have the answer, Ignis might provide input. “You sure? There’s nowhere to sit.” “We’ll settle for the floor then.” The king and the strategist sat on the floor across each from other where the dining table used to be, and dined on what contents Noctis brought in the bag. “What kind of sandwich—” “PB and J,” Noctis answered cheerfully with his mouth full. “Of course.” Ignis chuckled as he bit into his sandwich. “Compliments to the chef as always.” “I know my way ‘round a jar or two,” the king replied, licking the peanut butter off his digits. They ate their food in comfortable silence and tidied up before resuming to the investigation of the apartment together. “We’ve achieved much in the past several months,” Ignis remarked, joining Noctis at the veranda. “The progress of repairs in the Citadel have exceedingly gone beyond expectations.” “It’s because everyone’s been so willing to help,” Noctis explained, giving credit where credit was due. “Men, women, even the kids pitched in. Everyone’s giving their all.” “They’ve been inspired by their king and his trusty pickaxe, toiling away to clear the rubble with his own two hands. It sounds like a folktale, given your new honorific as the Dawn-Bringer.” The strategist crossed his arms. “Let’s turn our attention to this place next.” “Huh? Didn’t know we’re playing real estate now. You sure love taking your roleplaying seriously.” “Come now, it’s more of a personal interest. I thought we ought to restore what memories we can.” “We can always make new ones, right?” “Is that not what we’re doing now?” “Yeah, but...” Noctis’ mind painted of what used to be there. Yes, it was where he lived, precarious circumstances aside, but it wasn’t home. Home was in the people, not the place. In a way, his heart moved out when Prompto, Gladiolus, and Ignis helped him pack that day. If he were asked to provide a definition of home, Ignis’ smiling at him was the thought that came to mind. Since the first moment Ignis breathed his name in absolution, Noctis had thought of the future even when the universe fought so viciously to deny him of it. Ignis had never left Noctis’ side. When Noctis returned from his time in the Crystal, he had thought Ignis would treat him as a stranger and after all that time, the strategist would have a change of heart. It was a cruel reality that he was ready to accept, ten years was more than enough time for a person to change. He was glad he was wrong. Nothing changed. “Noct?” “Back when you, we, had our doubts about how this would turn out, I promised you that every morning when you wake up, you’ll never regret being with me, right?” “Of course. I never regretted you or us, cherishing the time we have together.” “And we agreed to one day going to Caem and locking ourselves in a cottage for a week. Finally get that peace and quiet we talked about.” “Mhm. After Insomnia’s rebuilt. Not before,” Ignis reminded him of that condition for good measure. “You were quite persistent that I wear that swimsuit when we both know how inappropriate it is for harvesting mussels.” “Hey, hunting for seafood is your idea, not mine.” The king realized that the conversation was starting to go off-track and revealed the first five words without hesitation, “Ignis, will you marry me?” Ignis’ eye widened and his body stiffened for a moment. He made a sound as if the puzzle pieces in his ever-calculating mind have finally clicked in place. “Are you...” Noctis took Ignis’ left hand and his lips caressed the knuckles, unable to look at his face while his own warmed. “I... don’t have a ring. Yet. But I can ask this again when I do.” A soft, rueful laugh escaped him as his forehead touched Ignis’ chest. He didn’t have a speech prepared, but that didn’t mean the desire to spend his life with the man he loved wasn’t without certainty. “Not once we talked about this, but in my head, I see us tying the knot already and it always felt so right. So... You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just think about it.” Draping an arm around him, Ignis rested his chin on the king’s crown, his voice unexpectedly low that it raised goosebumps. “That won’t be necessary.” His chest rose and fell once with ecstatic conviction. “Nothing would make me happier.” Noctis’ heart thundered in his chest at the vagueness of that answer. “Do you—”

“I do.” “Wait, you didn’t let me finish,” the king frowned, untangling himself from the strategist’s embrace. “Is that a yes or a no?” Ignis tilted his head, a teasing smirk on his lips. “I didn’t wish to waste a single second to give you my answer. Twice. And yet, you certainly love to keep me waiting.” His fingers twined in Noctis’. “You may not realize this, but the thought about marriage has crossed my mind. I swore to love you until the last star in the galaxy is extinguished, have I not?” He said, bringing Noctis’ palm to his lips, adding, “I aim to keep my vow.”

The king pouted, tracing the thin scar on the lower lip. “You could’ve said something.”

“Patience is a virtue. I can account that the quality of is quite rewarding. Your spontaneous proposal caught me by surprise.”

“If anyone asks, it’s because of your ‘patience’ that we’re not married right now.” “Perhaps,” Ignis admitted and he reached out with his free hand to stroke Noctis’ cheek. “However, I will tell you this once more and for as many times as need be: I do.”

Noctis grinned, standing on his toes as he circled his arms around Ignis. He could never get sick of hearing those words. There were many ways to express their love and those two words were enough for now.

“I do, too,” he murmured before he kissed him.

With every atom of his existence and all the light that shined on their world.

[met4n0i4]

Master cleansing method, for those nasty energies that won’t come out.

Hey, guys. This is the weirdest prompt ever. I’m in my van writing on my phone. But I couldn’t just shake this post off my head and I’m not heading home. So I had to do it. I’m sorry if it’s specially bad written or has more typos than others but when the muse calls, we answer.

So, it’s been a couple of days since I talked to you about detoxing and I hope you now understand that there’s a lot of energy that we put out there in the universe, some time or another. And that we have to remove or transmute it. Because that stuck energy is most of the times the one blocking our manifestations.

You now know that transmuting your negative thoughts and transforming them into positives is not just something that happens in your mind. It affects your body, too. And that transmuted stuck energy literally comes out of your body as sweat, pee, poop, and mucus. Funny how our bodies are hyper sensitive to our every thought, huh?

But, today I just remembered that when I first got this and started transmuting my thoughts, something besides the detox started happening. I would out of nowhere get this really intense emotions and thoughts that I just couldn’t turn around.

I lived with my family back then. One brother, one sister and my parents. And I remember my family used to leave very early. Of course that meant that they usually would leave some mess back in the kitchen. Being a nice guy and all, I used to clean after their mess. After all, I had more time in the morning before I left.

But the more I cleaned, the messier the kitchen got in the mornings. After a while that was out of control. After a few months the kitchen looked like a gotcha camp for three years old. I’m not kidding when I say there was juice dripping from the counter to the floor. And sometimes there was even food on the walls.

I started to get a little uncomfortable about it. But I never complained. I kept cleaning after all my family. But you know what? It did get me a little mad. I felt like I was being abused somehow. But it was just like a little anger and when I saw my family later in the day it was gone. I didn’t even remember the morning mess. And so that same thing kept happening for months.

Well, after I started transmuting my thoughts, everything seemed great. I was casting spells about my beautiful body and my millionaire lifestyle mostly. I was detoxing hard. Yep, it hit me hard. But at the same time I was having some sprouts of happiness here and there. So I knew I was getting somewhere even with the mixed signs I was getting, that now I come to understand where just the detox.

But one day I woke up just like any day, went to the kitchen and guess what? It was the worse I’d seen it in my life. And I just 🔥🔥 🔥

I couldn’t transmute my thoughts about that kitchen. And to be honest I knew in my mind it wasn’t such a big deal. I was getting way too angry over nothing. Besides, I could just NOT clean the kitchen and nothing would’ve happened. No one was making me do it after all.

But I just couldn’t control my anger. It was too freaking much. I had been very successful at transmuting my thoughts up to this day. And now I just couldn’t stop thinking of how ungrateful and inconsiderate my whole family was. Why couldn’t they just pick their plates? Why is there food on the floor? What are they? Humans or pigs? My god! Why couldn’t I just chill????

Well, my friends. From what I’d leaned si concluded one thing. This had to be addressed ASAP! My emotions and my mind where telling me that there was this accumulated energy under the rug that I hadn’t dealt with for a very long time. And what do you do when something like this comes up? Yep, clean it up.

But as much as I though ‘My family is so clean! They are so considerate to me. They clean while they cook just like me. Everyone’s so organized that even with the dirty dishes the kitchen looks good. I only find food on dishes.’, it was just not working. That rage was not going anywhere!

How am I supposed to clean all that filth surrounding me in thought and emotion? And then inspiration hit me. I previously told you that I read and tried a lot of things before I came to all this. So I remembered one specific practice that Saint Germain suggested. No, it was not a suggestion, he clearly said it was essential or we wouldn’t see much progress. And it was the use of the violet flame.

Well, to put into very few worlds the violet flame was supposed to have 3x more grease cleaning power! All I had to do is use the next spell. ‘I am the violet flame that cleans and transmutes all this negative energy. Root, cause and consequence, cleans it all. Cleans perfectly and deep. 🧼 The violet flame is supposed to be the love of God in action, that forgives past negative thinking. So, it’s supposed to be powerful!

So guys, I did it. I lay down on my bed and started casting the violet flame over me, my kitchen and my whole family. ‘I am the violet flame that cleans and corrects all the negative energy around that kitchen. I am the violet flame that consumes and transmutes all my anger.’

See, I didn’t know what spell to cast or what to transmute specifically, so I used something a bit more general. Clean, correct, fix, scrub 🧽 all this energy that is now coming to the front! And it did. In about half an hour I could feel relief. Something was lifting from me. The uncontrollable anger was completely gone and I was amazed. It was like it never had been there in the first place.

See, when I first used the violet flame there was nothing this strong to transmute. That’s probably why I didn’t feel its effects and didn’t stick to it. But now that I was slowly cleaning thoughts, big chunks of negative energy where coming forward to be dealt with, and the violet flame turned out to be a life saver! Just like Dawn, with active suds for squeaky clean dishes!

And then I understood that I could just cast a spell to clean whatever’s wrong! I might not know what’s wrong or how to fix it. What would things look like if I remove that energy. But I can cast a spell to just clean and fix. And I started using it.

Guys, I didn’t just use the violet flame. Some of you might already have figured this out. But sometimes a very powerful spell that usually works like a charm, doesn’t seem to work in other situations or in different moments. So at times I’ve used the blood of Christ to clean and correct. I’ve soaked in God’s love. Or any other thing that seems to work better at each moment. And they all work.

See, I believe in God so thinking of God’s love cleansing me was powerful. But everyone has to find their own spell. If you believe in the tears of Pachamama,for the love of God use that. If you believe in fairies dust, then use that! Just like any spell, it has to be personal and close to you.

I never told you this but lots of people telling me that one spell about being sexier than Brad Pitt doesn’t do it for me. I’m sorry, the guy doesn’t turn me on! What are we gonna do about it? So find a spell that works for you in this situation.

I’ve come to figure out that believing in something more powerful than us helps. People, who believe in something or someone bigger and loving is helping them, usually have better results for this kind of cleansing. For me, God’s love, whoever God is, did the trick. But you get the help from your favorite archangel, saint, ascended master, or Pokémon. It’s all good.

Only conditions is it has to be very very powerful and it has to be loving.

So well, after learning and applying this powerful force of nature that cleanses very strong emotions and thoughts that arise after some house cleaning, I started applying it to the most difficult things. That’s how I healed a shoulder pain that was not going away with the day to day transmuting. Pain was gone in less than a week with this spell, and it had been there for more than a year.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that you stop doing the every day magic. That’s still mandatory to get results. This one trick is just for the most stubborn stains! And it will come with some detox of course. But we want all that energy out so let the detox come.

And so, now you know. If you are experiencing this super hardcore thoughts or emotions, and normal transmuting everyday thoughts is not helping. Well, this right here might do the trick. Use it wisely and have a happy deep kitchen cleaning!

⚠️ Using this technique may cause excessive diarrhea.

[ia21132melly]

Development

Because I have never ran a community page before or took note of social media metric, I thought it would be a good idea for me to know that before going live. A site I found called “Sprout Social” provided ample of information on the subject. This is a business that helps to build user’s social media traffic for a range of business types. It is also useful to see how they as a company advertise themselves within their own resources which are aimed to help their users. Using Sprout Social’s “Creating a 30-Day Social Media Plan” I began my journey by setting out solid and realistic goals. The site gave me examples of objectives and key results, while also touching on the importance of a goal and how to monitor them. There was then a link taking me to another one of their blog articles which went into detail of how to use metrics in order to keep tabs on your goals. Sprout Social suggested if my goal was to educate my followers then paying attention to both impressions and engagement metrics is something I would likely be doing.

“All metrics have meaning, it’s about interpreting what that metric tells you and translating that back to your business goals. - Jenn Chen”

It is also worth me keeping in mind my post intention along side the results. For example if one of my post was a call for action yet it primarily received a high number of likes over comments/sharing, then it means my call for action message got lost and I will need to revaluate how I should go about my call for actions in the future. Because I am doing things differently to the norm, a lot of the data companies have access too, I don’t. They are data I will receive once my page goes live and I start posting. To keep my goals realistic, they really do need to be as low numbers as possible, as it will be a completely new page with no prior audience to transfer too. I will need to plan for this and think about ways I will go about spreading the message of my page (outside of the exhibition). To start with the metrics that will matter the most for me are the post engagements. Particularly the views vs interactions. If I am getting plenty of views but no interaction, I will need to figure out why, by having a variety of post I will be able to attempt to nail down the reasoning.

I have made the decision to create a 6 months plan. This will involve daily post, weekly check in on the metrics and enough time for me to see the potential impact of my idea. To start off with my goals will be exposure growth, establishing brand trust and engaging the audience. I plan to do all of this with a series of repetitive post in which the content changes, but the overall idea stays the same. E.g. Myths Mondays – A myths around periods/vagina health/menopause will be debunked every Monday. The style of the post will remain the same while the information changes. Doing this means I can produce a large quantity of post in a block of time without overwhelming myself. Having a schedule to follow and time set aside for pre-made content will allow me more time to engage and stay on top of other work outside of the project. It will provide consistency which will help keep followers. After the first month I should know if these posts are successful or not and can act accordingly. I will need a back-up plan if they are not desired by the community in order to reduce workload and delays.

Texts taken from a Social Sprout article which I think will be useful to keep in mind:

“For example, your business goal may be to increase conversions. Therefore, your social media goal becomes increasing conversions from those that visit your site via posts that are part of your strategy.” “For example, increasing conversions from social by 25% in a three-month span. To meet this goal, you decide to run a campaign that will include ads, product tags and influencers. To measure this, you determine that you’ll look at the social traffic and conversion rate metric from those posts in your website analytics.”

“If you’re looking to build a community, how many people do your posts engage on average?“

I used a separate notebook to plan out my Instagram page. I took polls and request from a few Facebook groups who would be interested in the page. Then I started working through who the page would be for, the type of content and so on. 

The three main goals I will be focusing on over the next 6 months are exposure growth, establishing brand trust and engaging the audience. To achieve these, I will break each one into a smart goal and come up with ways to tackle the challenges I may face with these.

 Exposure Growth S – By August 2020 I want at least 200 followers on Instagram. M – I will see 200 followers on the Instagram account. A – Providing I follow the social media plan and adjust accordingly it should be possible to achieve 200 followers by August 2020. R – It is beyond realistic, as stated before, providing the social media plan is followed and adjusted when needed. Challenges are expected and my vision of how things will go are more than likely to match reality based off the research I have already done. Providing the results of the research was honest. T – August 2020 is the deadline for this goal. If I achieve it sooner, I will increaser the goal by 100 followers per month as this would be putting me ahead of the next 6 month goal.

 Potential Challenges:

-      I only receive followers doing the follow back trick (following you only to unfollow a few days later in attempt to have you seek them out and follow back).

-      I lose followers during the time.

-      I am followed by too many fake accounts.

 Establishing Brand Trust 

S – By August 2020 I will have been tagged in another follower’s post at least 5 times. M – I will see and increase in followers who are also connected to other existing followers. I will start to see my page tagged into other follower’s post and once I have reached 5 tags the goal would have been achieved. A – Providing I follow the social media plan and adjust accordingly it will be possible to achieve 5 tags by August 2020. R – Providing I continue to provide truthful and high quality information this goal will be realistic. I can also ask other trusted or similar brands to give me a shout out. T – August 2020 is the deadline for this goal.

 Potential Challenges:

-      No one wants to tag me.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Rokuhoudou 1 - 12 (REWATCH) | Fruits Basket 25 (FINAL) | Demon Slayer 25 - 26 (FINAL) | Mob Psycho 100 II OVA | Cop Craft 11 - 12 (FINAL) | Dr Stone 11 | Ahiru no Sora 1 | Shinchou Yuusha 1

New anime of the season, here we go!

Rokuhoudou 1 (REWATCH)

I’m doing a new project where I rewatch some of my favourites to test their integrity in that regard. Here’s the first show - Rokuhoudou. So what I remember about Rokuhoudou is that it’s very simple – the guys make food and help people, occasionally there’s cats – and that was enough to help me through a mental rough patch I was going through at the original time of airing.

Being sick and watching with a cinnamon roll really brings home the idea of Rokuhoudou as “comfort food for the eyes”…No, it’s not what you think. I’m eating a cinnamon roll.

I always assumed the title was translated to “Four-Coloured Daily Life at Rokuhoudou”, because that would be the best translation if the title was fully in kanji. It’s not though, so the hiragana-rendered parts could mean anything.

Rokuhoudou almost gives you this sensation of being spirited away by good food (and Good Boys).

Sui sometimes reminds me of Kunikida (BSD)…must be the glasses.

Gure’s such a tease, LOL.

Tokitaka’s so refined, yet also has the heart and patience to help old people, plant things and make pottery. I love him~!

“You don’t need to show appreciation with bodily functions!”

I only just noticed it…but Gure has a nice eye colour.

Oh…I just realised this since I now know Tokitaka grows the veg and herbs out back, but Tokitaka must’ve grown them.

Hmm…I was wondering why you’d need a spoon for chazuke, but then I realised it’s because of the soup…D’oh.

I wonder if Tokitaka also made the chopstick holders…

Update: The ikura reminds me of Hinamatsuri…

Rokuhoudou 2 (REWATCH)

(Sorry, I had a note, but I didn’t write it down fast enough so I don’t have any for this ep…)

Rokuhoudou 3 (REWATCH)

Tokitaka has a flower in his hair (during the pottery wheel scene)…cute~!

Rokuhoudou 4 (REWATCH)

“You need to chill out.” – More like “you need to calm down”, amirite??? (LOL)

Look at how badass my bois are!

Now that I’ve been seriously working on my customer service skills, I sort of get the ethic behind the Rokuhoudou workers in general.

Rokuhoudou 5 (REWATCH)

Oyaji ga Susumeru Café Iko! – “The Old Guy Recommends Cafes to Go To!”, literally speaking. However, it’s quite slang and seems to be hinting at the positive connotations of an oyaji (fondness, the sort you’d have for your dad), so I approve of the chosen translation “Daddy-o’s Café Go!”.

Oh yeah…this is the weird delusion from Isago, isn’t it? I still rmembr writing a blog post about it!

Why does Tokitaka look so evil in this one scene (where he’s helping Tsubaki), anyway?

Rokuhoudou 6 (REWATCH)

(no notes, sorry!)

Rokuhoudou 7 (REWATCH)

(no notes, sorry!)

Rokuhoudou 8 (REWATCH)

I love how Gure gets all fired up just to pedal a duck boat.

Is it just me, or does young!Gure look like he was designed by Rihito Takarai (creator of Ten Count)…?

I can’t believe this…my stomach grumbled in the middle of an espresso episode…

“Who else could it be for?” – The dog?...I’m kidding, man…don’t get so angry at me, dog lovers.

I think this might be the 2nd time I thought the kid was called “you” (2nd person pronoun), but his nam is “You” (given name).

Oh! I don’t think I noticed this special ED the first time around.

Update: Gure is a happy drunk, LOL. Also, Gure is half-Italian, with his father being Japanese. (see ep. 1 of original watch-through for corresponding notes)

Rokuhoudou 9 (REWATCH)

Is the land of love France or Italy…?

Shinchosha is real…in fact, they’re the ones who publish Rokuhoudou’s manga!

Oh, seriously, I ship it now! Isago x Hayashi, that is…and Sui x kittens.

Update: Somehow I only just ralised it…but the titular “Mont Blanc Boy” is Tsunozaki, even though technically the only boys we see in this episode are young! Kyousui and Yakyou.

Rokuhoudou 10 (REWATCH)

The Napolitan episode…this is where Astral’s post comes from.

I get the feeling this segment’s title is a shoutout to “You Don’t Know Gunma Yet”, which is in…Kurage Bunch, also by Shinchosha, if I’m remembering correctly.

Gure and Tsubaki are like children sometimes, I swear…

Kuromitsu = brown sugar. (It means “black sweetness”, literally translating and it used to confuse me so much that I want to mention it here.)

VAINO computer, eh?

Tokyo NX, LOL. (Parody of Tokyo MX, which has a lot of anime.)

Short-haired Tokitaka!

I think Koto(ko…?)’s words, in particular, were one of the best monologues in this series when it comes to relaxing by realising I wasn’t alone in my doubts of the world. “Can I make it to my dreams?” I was asking the first time I saw this and even though I haven’t achieved the dreams of past me, I just had to adjust my expectations, make some new dreams and keep on going.

Rokuhoudou 11 (REWATCH)

Good heck, Gendo-I mean, Kyousui. (re: finger tenting)

Also, there is one univeral truth about this show: don’t watch it on an empty stomach…I had to go get some food a few eps. back in this rewatch because my stomach grumbled…

When I thought of “something rich”, I thought of a pudding too. Maybe my memory is better than I thought, huh?

I thought there was something dirty on my screen…turns out it was just Gure’s beauty spot.

Rokuhoudou 12 (FINAL, REWATCH)

“I’ll wake you up, then.”

I learnt this from the manga, but Itou is the old tea vendor.

Gin-chan reminds me of the inventor Logicalist from Hina Logi.

Karamimochi. By the way, from earlier in the ep…ankoro mochi.

Neneko was meant to be into kimonos, wasn’t she…?

Nion (sic) camera, LOL.

Okay, that’s the end of my first rewatch. It’s a keeper!

Fruits Basket 25 (FINAL)

Shihan = shisho = instructor.

Notice the Jizo, protector of children.

“…didn’t have to block…”

LOL, Tohru’s shocked face going from Kyo to Yuki.

Ooh, Makoto Takei and Machi Kuragi…

Isuzu!!!

Okay, that’s the end of that. See you next time!

Demon Slayer 25

So the other butterfly mansion girls (aside from Aoi, Shinobu and Kanao) are called Naho, Kiyo and Sumi, huh?

Tanjiro is seemingly a freakin’ masochist right now to those girls…

Ooh, there’s a butterfly in a chrysalis on the title card!

It seems, based on the kanji for Tsuguko, the word literally means “inheritor”, “successor” or “one who makes [another person’s role flourish by being in it]”…Like a Legacy Character from TV Tropes. Also, “Tsuyuri” literally means “chestnut flowers fall”, if I understand the characters right.

Kanao does the Naruto run. She wants to see them aliens too!

“Putting in effort isn’t my thing.” – Now there’s a sentence after my own heart!

Why does Kanao not talk???

Kanao’s coin says “front” and “back” instad of heads and tails.

Hmm, hmm…very heterosexual reading of Kanao here. It almost makes me lose hope in the “gay Shinobu” department (not that I’m angry about that).

This guy with the hat…I swear he looks like a jellyfish…

Why do all the swordsmiths wear that mask???

There’s one thing I realised this episode…anime humour means I expect exaggerated reactions to a lot of things, such as Inosuke chipping his swords like that.

I remember being a bit annoying about the interchangeability between the translation of honoo as “fire” and “flame” when I was a Boueibu rookie...*sighs happily* good times.

Okayyyyyy…Tanjiro’s gone cuckoo…

Nezuko, Inosuke and Zenitsu, huh? There’s a combo I’ve never seen!

Mob Psycho 100 OVA

Isekai hot springs, LOL.

I think I can see Saitama’s bald head, LOL.

I think there might be CGI on this hot springs establishment…

This is Reigen, king of bulls*%$, everyone!

Nanbanzuke.

“[P]air of plumbers”, eh…?

Ooh, 8-bit graphics! Remember season 2’s early scenes? That 8-bit one was good.

Dude, Reigen…just leave the train already…then you’ll get out.

LOL, “Mobpis”...Mobpis 100, maybe?

Strangely, Teru looks vaguely hot in one frame of one scene where he has his eyes closed.

Why do I get the feeling the capybaras on TV will be relevant later…?

Now, this parallel world brings a new meaning to “Infinity Train”!

Nice callback to the opening words of s1 and 2.

…and randomly, Dimple can be seen in the red waves.

It seems Dimple likes sprouting legs these days.

Cop Craft 11

Tourte’s career…almost sounds like Trump’s…

“No one treats me like an alien.”

Don’t bring a sword to a gun fight, Tilarna…

The name “transitional crises” is perfect for this episode…geesh. Just like episode 1, there’s a cliffhanger.

Dr Stone 11

Notice the focus on E=mc2 when Senku talks about passing on knowledge.

Ahh, science…the cliché says it’s for loners, but truth be told, science works in tag teams just like anything else. (Yes, even IT, if you look at it a certain way – such as how creating your code builds upon the people who built that code and the people who made the programs you code in.

Why do all the villagers have platform shoes anyway???

Demon Slayer 26 (FINAL)

Is that woman (not the Biwa player, the other one)…Muzan?! Update: Yes.

Genya…he got so tall in 2 years(ish)…poor Tanjiro. He’s fated to kill Kibutsuji, but he’s also fated to be short.

Does every girl in this series have to fall in love with Tanjiro?!?! (or be implied to be shippable with him, even Nezuko???) I obviously don’t like that kind of direction, as you can see.

Ah, Kanao speaks…for once.

I guess Nezuko has a really loud heart voice, to contrast Kanao’s tiny heart voice, so to speak.

How does Inosuke eat anything through the boar head if he’s taking it off all the time now to do things with his mouth???

Darn that ninja Giyu, leaving as soon as he feels sentimental. (LOL)

*starts yelling at top of lungs* MU-GEN TRAIN! (roughly to the tune of TM Network’s Love Train, which I heard about a few months before this)

I just realised Tanjiro’s probably never seen a train, considering the only transport he’s ever known is maybe a carriage/cart…or maybe just his legs.

As Zenitsu’s struggling to keep up with the train, I almost expect the Harry Potter theme to play and a flying car to appear in the distance…okay, I’m kidding about the car, but I did wish for a second the Harry Potter song would play. Nur-nurr-nur-nurrrrrr-nur-nurrrrrr-nurr…(or something)

Cop Craft 12 (FINAL)

“…taking the lead in the mayoral lead.” – That sounds redundant.

Hey! It’s that one Demon Slayer joke again! (i.e. Kei used his head.)

Dead Randall: too much for TV.

I still can’t believe they properly managed to incorporate the porn case into the finale…

I watched Hellsing today and all this “Sir Matoba” this and “Sir Matoba” that made me wonder…why is Integra a “Sir” as well…?

Zelada does look like Alucard in some senses…hmm.

I think the large bruise over Kei’s eye disappeared in one of the scenes…Now it’s just under his eye.

Wait, Tilarna has a sibling??? Wuh???

I like how they transitioned into the OP, but man…talk about a fast ending. That’s a Hellsing kinda ending fo’ sure. Oh well, see you next time.

Ahiru no Sora 1

New season, new faces, new series. Let’s get into it.

Man, this sparrow freaks me out…

Lyrics from the outset. This must be something special to warrant such a thing.

I always thought Kuzuryuu (“nine-headed dragon”, literally translating) was a cool surname to have! Or just a place name, in this case.

LOL, his name is Momohara (peach field).

The arcade machine says “fist” in the back.

Uh-oh…nothing ever goes right when a boy tries peeping into the girl’s locker room…

*sigh* The male gaze…geesh.

“What are you doing?!” (Nani yatterun da?!) doesn’t translate to “This isn’t the circus!”.

Oh right…Momo = 100, chi = 1000, haru = spring, aki = autumn.

Hey, Chiaki actually got Sora’s name right for once…

Basically everything I know about basketball is from Kuroko no Basuke, so…uh…Sora’s reminding me of Kuroko right now.

Shinchou Yuusha 1

I just call this “TUEEE” instead…don’t mind me. Obviously, my target here is Ume…y’know that, right?

Most of these gods and goddesses look suckish, but I wouldn’t mind an anime about the one with the long hair and Monkey King headband.

Ristarte’s already a bundle of fun…although her leg jiggling’s a bit annoying…

(mocking) There must be a downside to this, right, Listarte…?

Can we not with boob storage??? I bet no matter how big a woman’s knockers are, you can’t store anything between ‘em in real life! (I think we’d need an anime Mythbusters for something like that…make it happen, someone!)

YesyesyesyesYES! OOH, Ristarte, you sure know how to pick ‘em! The fact he’s over 180 cm in height is…well, it’s bad for trying to kiss him, but otherwise it’s just a cherry on the cake of smokin’ HOT!

“[F]ish story”??? You mean “fishy”, right? (Oh well, seems like synonyms work too…)

I…don’t quite get this song…but I think I saw a hot guy (might’ve been a woman, but I’d like it to be a man since there are already so many women in the OP as is) about halfway through the OP. It’s a real 2 for 1 bargain here, people. Update: Argh…that’s a woman after all…

Argh! *is suddenly sabotaged by one Ariadoa* If you’ve read the Spellbook, you’ll know one of my aliases is “Aria Noyed”. It just happens to be the same as an anime and manga already, but now I have it ruining my fun here too…

LOL, did you hear that “ba-bing!” acquistion sound when Rista produced the money?

To be honest, I think regular Seiya (with the purple-highlighted armour as you see here) looks pretty hot anyway (plus Ume’s voice, which I came for), so I think I have a lock-in for the season right here.

The sakuga in this show is way too good (according to all the cubes of soil I keep seeing)!

This ED is a pretty cool bop, yo.

[infireation]

Birds of Summer [M]

Author’s Note: Here I am again for another @btsbound​ fic exchange! Not sure how much of an AU this is other than a jumbled idea, but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 5,641

He was the fluttering of the butterfly wings that sprouted in your chest whenever he spoke your name. His eyes were the warm color of a deep caramel, his hair that sifted through your fingers resembling the branches in the trees in the park in which you frequented. His kisses melted upon your lips like the rays of the sun, his golden skin a brilliant contrast with yours, as your hands intertwined.

He would lie his head upon your lap as the breeze whispered songs to the leaves, sleeping quietly while the clouds passed by. His smile was as bright as a summer’s day, his warmth seeping into your limbs and taking over every crevice of your heart as the weeks moved on, and the nights grew long.

He was everything you could ever imagine.

All until the moment the first leaf had fallen, and with the wind came a chill; and so it seemed, he too, was whisked away.

The morning he arrived, the first glimpse of summer came with the humming of the birds, the brisk winter air long forgotten. Flowers were in full bloom, hues of yellow and violet, ivory and rose, the feeling of prickled thorns and flushed cheeks.

“My name’s Namjoon,” he muttered, his deep baritone trickling into your ears, causing a lovely warmth to arise upon your skin. You hurriedly brushed away at the scalding liquid that had spilled upon your dress, the man in front of you with whom you collided scratching the back of his neck, his lush lips mumbling a slew of repeated apologies.

With a light chuckle you spoke your name, gripping onto his hand as he introduced himself.

You waved his apologies with a polite, shy smile, insisting that “Everything’s okay, I’m just fine.” but he wouldn’t quit; and you had to admit you found it endearingly adorable.

“Would you like to get a cup of coffee?” you found yourself nodding as you laughed again at his meek question to replace the one he so clumsily caused you to spill, following his tall form back into the shop around the corner from whence you came. The familiar ding sounded above your heads as you entered, the soothing aroma filling your senses as you felt like you were returning home.

This local coffee shop was mere blocks from your apartment, the table in the corner by the window having seen many countless nights cramming on philosophy papers, and downing copious amounts of caffeine. The baristas knew you by name, your favorite order always ready when you arrived promptly at eight am.

But it seemed today was different, as your routine was put to a halt by happenstance of running into this alluring stranger - literally - with his smooth brunette locks, and beautiful golden skin as warm as the sun above.

Whatever plans you had for the day were long forgotten, the rays of warmth shining in from the window starting off high in the sky, only to slowly drift away into the coolness of the night, the colors of violet and scarlet illuminating the wood of the table between the two of you as you spoke. He noticed the little things almost immediately: the way you curled your hair behind your ear when you were timid, or how you smiled brilliantly when you laughed wholeheartedly, throwing your body into the emotions as they took over you. You too, observed small details and mannerisms: such as how he spoke with his hands just as much as with his words, the admirable way his eyes lit up whenever he talked of something that gave him pure joy.

You had only hoped one day something in your life would cause you to do the same. Perhaps that something would be in the form of Kim Namjoon.

There was no exchange of numbers or contact information. Just the one simple promise to meet each other in this very same spot tomorrow, at eight am sharp. It wouldn’t be an issue for you, as it was a part of your daily ritual; but with him it was a mystery, and the question of if he would keep to his promise would be the root cause of your insomnia throughout the night.

In the end, he was always a mystery, wasn’t he? Always a step ahead of you, where you were lost, hidden within his shadow.

He did in fact keep to his word, surprising you by beating you to your seat with the same coffee order from yesterday residing within his palm, ready for you to take. He welcomed you with a smile, his hand reaching towards you to hand you the drink, gesturing for you to sit across from him.

“I hope you aren’t busy today.” He asked with a worried expression.

While you had errands that needed tending to, they suddenly seemed less important as your ears were filled with his soothing voice, and your eyes were filled with the beautiful sight of the boy in front of you, trying desperately to spend even a few moments with you.

But of course you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Not at all.”

It was there that you began to discover the alluring personality of the boy before you, smitten with the dimples that appeared whenever he smiled, his face flushing a charming pink when you made the comment to point them out. Your table was littered with empty coffee cups and stacks of plates from the off chance that either of you remembered to eat. He did decide ultimately to give you his number this time, teasing with a small grin that if you got an enigmatic text in the middle of the night, to just let it be. He mentioned his mind tends to drift quite often as the sky turns to black, and his line of thinking could become rather chaotic.

It was long after dusk when the two of you parted ways with a friendly hug, and you wouldn’t see him again until two days later when you ran into him on the subway on the way to work, the morning rush leaving little to no space between the bodies. Namjoon took care to stay by your side when he noticed you were there. It was hot, sweaty, and unbelievably uncomfortable, but that came with the territory. But with a sharp jerk of the train as it approached the next stop, your eyes shut tight as you grasped onto the metal pole in front of you for stability as the rush of people sped past you, only for your heart to nearly stop inside your chest as you felt an arm loop securely around your waist. The smell of pine and a hint of a bitter brew caused you to relax, the familiar scent from a few evenings prior from a simple embrace something that became ingrained within your mind.

His hand pressed against your hip, drawing you back towards his chest. Namjoon’s mouth became dry, and you swallowed hard at the intimate contact. “Easy,” he muttered into your ear. “You nearly got trampled there.”

Your days and nights were soon encompassed with a deep baritone that was stuck in the depths of your subconscious, same with the warm smile and gentle touch as the feeling of how he first took hold of your hand while walking down the street from your apartment towards the crosswalk. The sensations of his lips upon your own felt like fireworks every time, a fresh, blossoming affection blooming inside of your chest, in time with the flowers in the park where he kissed you for the first time, beneath the soft glow of the sunset in the horizon.

But just as the wind grew colder and the leaves changed color, the fingers that were intertwined with your own disappeared, tepid summer nights turned to crisp autumn days, and you longed for his presence all around you like the breeze that brushed your cheeks and blew through your hair, wanting him to surround you, entirely encompassing each other in a tangle of limbs and soft sheets.

You fell hard and you fell fast, but you were never quick enough to keep up with him, always a step behind. His education was first priority, the autumn season a busy time for the both of you, understandably so. But it didn’t mean he had to shut you out the moment the leaves turned from a vibrant green to a dull yellow.

You began to wonder if you even meant anything to him at all, or if it was just an affair that passed with the sun as it settled into the west. And yet, with the turn of the clock and the change of the seasons, he was there in your arms again, the heat of the summer rivaling that of the scorch and the intensity of when your bare skin melted with his.

It was an exhausting push and pull with your heart the unfortunate victim, but you couldn’t turn yourself away. You had grown to love him and all of his faults, all of his beauty and everything in between. He would spend countless nights with your head nestled beneath his chin, poetry and sweet nothings falling from his lips as you fell asleep in his arms. He wouldn’t completely leave you empty handed, because whilst he was away he would send you text messages, emails, even physical letters through the post to have a “feeling of nostalgia for an art form long since passed,” or so he would say.

He would ask how your school year had progressed, explaining how his brain was constantly filled with obscure theories and connotations because of something his professor said and how he would dwell on it for hours afterwards. Or how his mind would wander and his thoughts would turn into a frenzy as always and how he “wished like hell you were here because you were the only one who kept him sane.”

You tried your hardest to read between the lines, hoped to see what your eyes couldn’t at the surface, but you came up with nothing. Just as he was cryptic with his actions, he was always cryptic with his words. He would give you the world if he could, and yet he still hadn’t given his heart to you, not fully, whilst you had lost yours long ago.

You began to realize as the months went by that this was much more than something that was one sided; you had no doubt in your mind that he cared for you, he showed an immense amount of affection whenever you were around. But after every mutter from your lips of an “I love you,” he would remain silent, except for a kiss upon your cheek or the brush of his thumb upon the back of your palm, and that was the only gratification you were going to get.

It stemmed deeper than commitment issues and you knew this, but no matter what you did nothing would break past that barrier that he had worked so hard to build for himself. There was always going to be a wall, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try your hardest to tear it down, to allow him to let you inside, to finally be able to hopefully complete and become the missing piece of the puzzle that was Kim Namjoon.

You constantly told yourself that what you were doing was inevitably for the best, albeit if it was selfish. In the end you told yourself that ultimately pushing him just a little bit further, that ruffling his feathers was the only way you would hear the answer you’ve been wanting to hear, whether it be a welcoming one or not. You could learn to deal.

And still here you were, once again on the edge of summer, back with Namjoon in the privacy of his apartment about to lay your heart out on the line entirely and you couldn’t be any more terrified.

“I’m going to miss you.” you were brief with your words, but he knew you were referring to him returning to school, returning to the life without you for those long months, and you wanted nothing more than for him to say it, the sentence you’ve been longing for and knew was deep inside his heart, but he would always push you away whenever it became too intense. It all seems juvenile, but when you kept getting hurt, you stopped thinking of the consequences. You had to protect yourself, while ultimately trying to help him.

He glanced upwards from his chair to look at you, your fingers lightly brushing his own, and seeing the look in your eyes that he had come across during many instances in the past. He knew you meant well, that you were simply trying to reach out to him, allow him to come undone and accept your affection the way he knows he should, but something inside keeps his defenses up, the pang inside his chest of thinking of his own family turning to ruins by two people who supposedly loved each other.

“I ran out of time. I always ran out of time.” His words hung heavy in the air, suffocating and final, alluding to his days spent with you, just as he had so many summers before.

“That’s not enough of an excuse anymore,” you muttered, feeling the tears well up in the corners of your eyes, but you did your best to remain level headed and strong. “You always have more than enough time.”

His head shot up, eyes piercing into your form.

“I thought you would understand,” there was a bite to his tone that was hard to dismiss. “But it’s clear now that you never did.”

It was your turn to lift your head, your gaze shooting through him, competing with his own, baffled by the fact that he thought you didn’t comprehend him.

“I do, I do understand! But that doesn’t make it right. You know I’m here for you, through anything. Don’t let their mistakes burden your own life.”

He released a shaky breath, hands forming into fists as he hung his head low once more.

You decided now was better than ever to push his buttons. “Go ahead, tell me you don’t love me.” You challenged, sure that you would win this naive battle.

“I don’t love you.”

You scoffed, but sloppily played it off as clearing your throat. The words from his lips completely rivaled his body language, which was saying the complete opposite. Even his tone was shaky and uncomfortable, unconfident with his statement.

“Once more, and try to make it sound convincing this time?”

He sighed in annoyance, and changed the subject.

“I can’t stay, and you know that.”

It was hard this time to hold your tears, one slipping through the cracks and onto the skin of your cheek. He would forever use something so trivial such as school to hide behind, which was an idea that you could never wrap your head around. This beautiful, intelligent man became a coward of a boy with his explanation though justification of education to defer him from allowing himself to truly live.

“Have you ever even tried?” his knuckles became white, knowing you were speaking more than just literally, that you were asking if he’d ever even experienced love. “Can you at least try, for me?”

He remained silent after that.

Namjoon simply rose from his seat without a word, his arms smoothly slipping around your waist just as they always did, feeling like they belonged there. His hands slid upwards upon your back, tightening his hold as his fingers eventually made their way to tangle in between the strands of your hair, his forehead resting against your own. You could feel the warmth of his breath as it fanned against your skin, unabashedly causing you to lean into his touch even more.

And it was then that he kissed you so carefully, treating you as if you were made of the finest glass, afraid you would break with the tiniest of disruptions. His thumb brushed against your cheek to hold you in place, feeling the water from the tears upon your skin, wiping them away. His lips melded and meshed with your own in perfect harmony. He had never done this before, he had never expressed himself in this way to you, and yet every unspoken word, every unanswered question was sensed as his pressure began to increase, pressing his lips against yours with a heavy fervor as you too, tasted the salt upon your tongue.

Whether it was his or your own, you weren’t sure.

What mattered in this moment was that he loved you. And that’s all you ever wanted.

He continued to kiss you in the middle of the living room, the brazen sounds of the city outside a mere buzzing compared to the drumming of your heart in the depths of your eardrums. His skin was soft, his skin felt like home, the rustic smell of his cologne and the taste of his lips were something you could never get over. It was as if you were melting with him, with every touch your bodies felt electric and alive, and it was simply indescribable.

It had never felt like this before.

He pulled away for a moment, the both of you needing some necessary oxygen, but it didn’t stop him from whispering against your lips, “I love you. I absolutely love you.”

All you could do was smile.

“I told you,” his eyes closed in embarrassment, a breath released as he sighed with a quiet laugh. “I can see right through you, Kim Namjoon. I always have.”

“Which is exactly why you will be the end of me,” his thumb caressed your cheek once more. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” he didn’t let you say another word, immediately sweeping you off your feet and carrying you down the hallway to his bedroom, the action causing you to giggle at its cheesiness, but the moment his lips touched yours again, all those silly thoughts were tossed aside as you lost yourself so easily in his touch.

His fingers played with the sides of your dress, lingering upon your waist as his hold grew stronger when you playfully bit his bottom lip. Fingertips slid slowly down your frame to tug at the edge of the fabric, gliding it upwards along your legs and eventually over your head, taking a moment to truly look at you. He had seen you like this many times before, but this was different. This was as much meaningful as it was him learning about you from the beginning all over again. This was a fresh start, to see you with brand new eyes as the beautiful person he loved, and he was proud to call you his.

A bright flush appeared upon your cheeks, but you didn’t let it stop you from stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck, lightly scratching the hairs at the base while his hands simultaneously took hold of you. Your eyes wandered across his features, his crooked jaw that only became prominent when he broadly smiled, or his dimples that you always found endearingly adorable since the day you met him. But nothing came close to the warmth of his brown eyes as they lit up when he spoke with such passion, and you had always hoped he would look at you such the same, and it had finally happened. He was looking at you as if you were his entire world, and your stomach became filled with butterflies at the sudden thought.

“Are you just going to stare at me all night, or can I fuck you into the mattress the way I’ve been wanting to this whole time?”

It was then that you burst out in a fit of laughter at such a forward statement (it’s not that you weren’t used to this, Namjoon had certainly said his fare share of similar things, but perhaps it was the overwhelming emotions that caused you to become foolish like this) continuing to do so up until he pinched your hip - quite hard, too - causing you to gasp at the shock of pain. He was quick to capture the air that left your lips, in a rough, open-mouthed kiss, walking forward enough for you to fall backwards upon the bed with a light bounce. He was hovering over you in a matter of seconds, the smile still lingering upon your face, irritating him.

His hands came in contact with your wrists as he lifted your arms above your head, holding them in place while he began to nibble along the side of your neck. “I wasn’t kidding, Y/N,” with a playful bite to your earlobe, his words were whispered as his voice became dangerously low. “I’m going to fuck you into this mattress, so much so that you’ll forget your own name.”

You shut up after that.

Once he realized you were done playing games, his movements became slower, his touch grew softer, his fingertips gliding along the skin of your arms as they moved downwards to the valley of your chest, his lips now upon your jawline and making their way towards your own. His kiss was gentle as he took hold of your breasts with a squeeze, once again capturing the sigh from your throat with the taste of his tongue. His thumbs teased your nipples through the fabric of your bra, feeling them harden as he pressed small pecks upon your chest.

He loved the way you felt along the skin of his fingers, the warmth of your flesh and the sweetness of your sweat never failed to get his heart racing. He was going to prove to you just how much you meant to him, in every way that he could.

You arched your back when his hands slid lower, smoothing themselves along your inner thighs and massaging the muscles of your legs. You assisted by removing your bra, becoming impatient of having any item of clothing at all;  but the feeling of his teeth biting your skin in punishment of doing so had you rein in on your impetuous actions. Although, now that your chest was bare for him to see, you can bet like hell he took advantage of it, squeezing the flesh and teasing your nipples once more as his lips kissed along the edge of your panties.

“Stop being such a tease, Namjoon.” you sifted your fingers through his hair, hearing him chuckle and feeling the vibrations as he moved closer to your center, placing delicate pecks along the outside of your underwear, his hands gradually peeling them off your body and finally tossing them upon the floor. He continued to tease despite your exclamation, blowing a cool air between your warm folds, causing your body to twitch and squirm just the way he had predicted and the way he had hoped.

His hands would eventually take hold of your hips, but before doing so he made sure to slide your legs further apart atop the sheets, granting him better access to what you desired. Seeing his head between your thighs and feeling the heat from his breath upon the most sensitive of areas was entirely exhilarating and your stomach began to twist into an abundance of knots. It’s not as if this hadn’t been done before, but this time was different.

This time will always be different.

But the second his tongue made contact with your folds, the world around you turned to black as your eyes shut tight and your nails started to dig into Namjoon’s scalp in response. He hummed as you did so, the momentary pain turning into instant pleasure as he continued to lick along the edge, never where you wanted most. You huffed in frustration, tugging harder onto his hair as a silent plea. Your breath caught in your lungs as his lips sucked and nibbled upon your clit, his tongue following, swirling and moving rapidly before finally pushing past your walls and into the depths of the warm heat between your legs.

He slowed his actions again, the pace switching from fast and heavy to slow and calculated, knowing every place and every groove to hit perfectly to make your toes curl in absolute pleasure. You moaned his name, a cry releasing from your throat as you were so close to your release that you needed him to speed things up, or you would certainly go insane. Namjoon knew exactly what he was doing - and you knew it, too - but it didn’t make it any less exasperating. You opened your eyes for a fleeting moment to catch him staring up at you as he was completely buried between your thighs, granting your silent wish as his tongue moved rapidly upon your clit whilst his hands massaged your thighs, ultimately sliding themselves inwards to insert his index finger quickly with the middle finger hastily following suit, scissoring them with swift movements until you reached your ultimate high.

“Fuck, Namjoon,” you sighed with a heavy exhilaration of air, your chest rising and falling as you wiped away the hair that had fallen upon your forehead, feeling the sweat that developed. You twitched when he licked the remnants of your release, biting your lower lip from the sensation as you were still sensitive; but a smile graced your face as he lifted himself up, his hands moving themselves upwards upon your frame and taking residence on your hips, kissing you with a tender pressure that caused you to grip the bed sheets tighter than you had moments ago.

“I’m going to worship you, baby. The way I always should have.” as he continued to whisper into your ear, your fingertips grazed the buttons of his shirt, making your way down his chest as you unfastened them one by one. His lips moved onto your neck, placing gentle kisses upon your skin as you helped him slide his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it onto the floor to join the pile with your dress. Your fingers slid across his chest, his lips finding yours again as you pulled him towards you, your back arching and your body rising to meet his own, hearing him groan from the simple touch. Your hands traveled down to unfasten his jeans, his long legs having some trouble kicking them off which caused you to laugh, Namjoon pecking your cheek as he momentarily shifted in order to take them off along with his underwear properly. The immediate feeling of his growing hardness against your bare skin made you whine, your impatient attitude coming to fruition once again.

Despite his words not a few moments prior, he too, was growing anxious, his body ten steps ahead of his mind. But he tried his hardest to stay in control, but when his cock grazed against your tender clit, the subtle cry it released from your throat made it damn near impossible to defer his desire any longer. He could feel your hand slither downwards as he continued to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours as your fingers grabbed hold of the head, sliding downwards and rising back up along with the beats of his heart that were rapidly increasing. His teeth took hold of your bottom lip in protest, whilst his body betrayed him by involuntarily jerking forward into your touch.

“You don’t want to play this game with me,” Namjoon muttered, his fingers taking hold of your wrist, stopping your movements and removing your hand entirely, placing it down at your side. He in turn, brushed the head of his cock along the folds of your entrance, teasing you as he slipped himself inside for a brief moment, only to remove himself once more and continue to grind against you. “Because you will never win.”

It didn’t take long for his resolve to falter, ultimately penetrating your walls and taking you by surprise, his length something that always took a few minutes to adjust to. He knew this, remaining still whilst he kissed your temple, fingers brushing your hair away from your face, taking in the sight of you with your eyes shut tight as you slowly accustomed yourself to him. With a short quick nod of your head and a squeeze to his bicep, Namjoon understood that it was safe to move, and he began to thrust himself inside at a slow and steady pace, wanting to feel every inch of you, immerse himself in the feelings that he was overcome with, and he was certain you were too.

With every drive of his hips, he would hold onto your body just a little bit tighter, with every moan of his name from your mouth he would reply with only I love you, wanting nothing more than to lose himself entirely within you.

“You feel so good, baby girl,” a kiss to your lips, “I can never get enough of this.”

It was only when you suddenly told him to stop that he regained a grip on reality, the worry that he’d hurt you written all over his face.

“I want to be on top,” with an airy breath and a faint smile, you spoke what was on your mind, and it took Namjoon a minute to comprehend. But as soon as he did he immediately pulled you up onto his lap as he sat upon the bed, with you wincing at the change in position, only to come back down slowly as you slid yourself onto his cock once again, easily comfortable once more. You began to swerve your hips, feeling his fingers along the bottom of your spine, sliding upwards along your back as you fell into a rousing pace. Your hands wound themselves around his neck, your breath fanning upon his cheeks, hearing him grunt as his forehead rested upon your shoulder. His thrusts grew faster, his entire aura becoming fervid and raw as his teeth bit the skin of your collarbone, taking control of everything from below even as you hovered over him.

Every time your hips collided the pressure would build within your core, the vehement ecstasy residing only so far out of reach. Namjoon could sense that you were near your end, his arms reaching out to glide along your back and take hold of you as he thrust upwards with almost a ravenous hunger as his lips crashed upon yours, capturing each breath as it released from your throat.

“I’m so close,” you sighed into his ear once you pulled away for air, another moan falling from your lips as he continued to push himself deeper. One hand took hold of your neck to force you even closer to him, the other slid across your breast and down your torso to place his fingertip upon your clit, rapidly moving in circles as he sustained his aggressive pace.

It was incredibly hard for him to speak, “It’s okay,” he managed, “I’m right there with you baby, keep going, don’t stop now,” his words only encouraged you to shift your hips in time with his, matching his flow to the best of your ability, the both of you entirely lost within one another. You were as close as humanly possible and yet it still didn’t seem like enough, not even with his teeth on your flesh and your breasts against his chest, the sweat forming a slippery barrier between your bodies as you moved in a haphazard harmony, hearing him continue to mutter along your skin how breathtaking you were like this, how amazing you felt around him.

“Namjoon, please, I–” a mangled cry arose from the depths of your gut, your head thrown back and your hair a tangled mess as you surrender yourself to the ultimate euphoria, seeing only the black of your eyelids as they shut tight with a smile upon your face. He wasn’t far behind, with you assisting as much as you could in your delirious state, continuing to grind your hips and help him find his own gratifying release with a drawn out moan into the crook of your neck.

The heat that was forming between your bodies was becoming unbearable, but neither of you wanted to move, wanting to stay rooted in this spot for as long as you could manage, embracing one another in the glow of the moonlight. Namjoon’s hands slid along your spine again, a pleasant chill residing in your bones at his light touch. Your fingers gripped along the base of his hairline, brushing your nails along it, kissing his temple.

“I’m such an idiot,” you heard him mumble, feeling him sigh into your shoulder, his warm breath lingering along your skin. “I am an idiot who’s irrevocably and indefinitely in love with you.”

All you could do was laugh, the airy chuckle sounding like the most beautiful melody to his ears. It didn’t matter how many times he would say it, you would never grow tired of hearing it, and for once, you would be the one to remain silent, and Namjoon would be the one doing all the talking.

Because now, he would undoubtedly stay for the summer, and in turn for the autumn and winter to follow. He would undoubtedly stay for as long as you will have him, which he can only hope would be many years to come. To stay forever with you wrapped within his arms with your head beneath his chin, as poetry and sweet nothings would fall from his lips, just as it had always been, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[zip001]

coach

inspired by the picture reblogged in https://zip00198704.tumblr.com/image/162613934714

sorry in advance for the rushed (and yet incomplete) ending. i decided to post but will likely tinker with it more (maybe).

for awesome mlle karen - hopefully this bit of fluff will make her smile!

——-

Goodness, not only were her shorts a horrid bright purple color that did nothing for her pale long, gangly legs (her nan clicked her tongue, telling her that she looked like a wobbly filly) but she had the worst PE teacher in all of the universe! She so wanted to be in Ms. Brienne Tarth’s class but just missed out, being first in the wait list.

It was destiny her traitorous mind told her. Coach Clegane was Robb’s and Jon’s PE teacher last year, their senior year, and the years before he taught PE in elementary school for all of her younger siblings. Her siblings were all athletes unlike herself but all shuddered when they talked about the Coach, saying that he was the absolute worst. He even rolled Arya up in one of the paddings like a burrito because of her bad attitude.

Sansa tried to blend in with the other waiting students but she was a good foot or two taller than everyone, even the guys who all called her giraffe (or worst). She hunched down even though she heard her mother’s voice in her heqd reminding her to have good posture and be poised.

When the gym door swung open, the biggest man she ever saw stomped in. He looked them over and then down his clipboard. He looked straight at her, and Sansa tried to not flinch at his scowl. It was her turn to be tortured. Jon and Robb told her of their class running laps for a whole month because Theon made fun of the Coach’s gruesome scars and everyone snickered.

Suddenly Coach Clegane shouted that there would be no talking, no gum chewing and no laughing in his gym. It was his rules or detention, no bloody exceptions. He sneered and glared at Joffrey and Margaery who were holding court on the side, both from wealthy families but were not “titles” like herself or Dany Targaryen, who hung with goths. Hunching further down, Sanse held her breath and hoped he forget about her.

“Stark!”

“Get up here! I want you to climb that rope and ring the bell. Then you come down slowly and in control. Show the class how it is done.”

Sansa heard snickerings from Joffrey’s crowd as she walked towards Coach Clegane and the dreaded rope. Staring at the bell that seemed so far away, she wiped the sweat from her hands on those hideous shorts. She gulped, praying that she would not fall.

He got close to her, and he told her that the key was using her legs. She got it.

Her body was shaking when she was slightly above the mid-way point.

“Stark, push, push with those legs!”

Sansa knew that her sister, Rickon and especially Bran probably shimmied up the rope like monkeys. Both her elder brothers would have no problems she was sure. She couldn’t quit even though she felt her grip slipping. She had to do it! She was a Stark.

“Stark, you are almost there! Rest your arms using your feet, your legs should do most of the work!”

She wanted to cry as she felt she could not go on! But every time she heard his growly voice exhorting her forward, she surged up. Up. Sniffle. Up. Sniffle. Up.

“The bell! Stark!!!”

It was there, just within her reach. She barely saw it, through her tears. Her long arm waved at it and the ding was the sweetest sound she heard. Sansa almost giggled in relief until she made the mistake of looking down. She was gonna die!

“Stark! Hand over hand down, use your feet to slow your descent.”

Frozen still with fear, Sansa thought of all she wanted to do, that she wished she told Arya that she was not horse faced but kinda cute in a way, that she wanted to kiss a true prince, that she wanted to -

“Stark! Down! Down! Hands! Feet! Hands! Feet!”

When Sansa thought she could not go on and started to slide down, she was easily plucked from the rope and gently put down by the Coach, with his large body blocking her from the class. Sandor grunted in her ear that she did good, that she should not psych herself out. Wiping away her tears, she nodded as he looked at her raw red hands as she slid down the last few feet. Up close, Sansa thought his scars would be more hideous but all she saw was the concern and pride in his brown eyes. He rubbed her hands with his large thumbs, muttering no broken skin, that’s a good thing.

It was weird but she could not help but sniff him, wrinkling her nose at the smell of smoke that permeated off of him even though he had a lot of cologne on. She shook her head, thinking that was an unhealthy habit, that as a gym teacher, he should know better, that smoking would shorten his life. But she thought better to voice her concern, as it was unsolicited and rude if she said anything. She was her mother’s daughter.

“Starks never give up,” he grunted approvingly. “Baratheon, what are you laughing about? Get up here!”

“Baratheon, you call that climbing! Move it! Not so easy, eh, now that you are on the rope.”

“Pathetic! Just pathetic!”

When she got back to her friends, they quietly cheered her and then giggled at Joffrey’s failed attempt but she saw and heard nothing but Coach Clegane in his yellow track suit that she originally agreed with Myranda that it made him look like a Guido but now she saw was like a golden armour and heard his low rumbly voice that seemed to go through her body.

Her teachers (with the exceptions of maths) had always praised her academic accomplishments but somehow it meant so much more coming from his scarred mouth. She knew that he was not one to praise and yet he exhorted the class to be like Stark, not give up. Every time he said Stark, he would look at her and nod, making her stand taller. She was a Stark.

And she was so lost in her thoughts that Jeyne had to push her as Coach Clegane made them all run laps the last ten minutes of class.

Sansa no longer dreaded PE and stood in the front. But unlike the first day, he did not call on her first. She was not the top student in the class but she tried her best, each time doing much better than she expected, especially with his shouting her last name, telling her that she could do it.

And her confidence grew. Instead of crying when the cool kids teased her, trying to shrink and hide, she stood up to them until they stopped bothering her and her friends. It was fun mocking them using words Joffrey and his goon friends did not understand. Sansa shook her head in disbelief that she once thought Joffrey was cute (ugh!).

She blushes, thinking of how her heart raced when she saw the tuff of black hair that sprouted out of the Coach’s gold track suit. Was he wearing anything underneath his track suit other than his gold chains? She dared not to lower her eyes downward as that would be untoward, but did peek surreptitiously at his tight buns whenever he turned around.

She almost died of mortification the day they learnt first aid. As she was practicing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, she kept imagining that it was Coach’s lips! Oh, how sweet that would be! If only he was not her teacher, if only she was older, if only she was not this awkward gangly “ginger” scarecrow who just got her braces and was bloated with her period, if only.

She heard him bark at the boys next to her who were sniggering as Joffrey pretended to French kiss (so much tongue and those wormy lips - yuck!) the male-ish (no dick as Myranda checked) mannequin. Coach called Joffrey and his followers dumb shits and made them run laps, threatening them that they would run laps all of next class if he heard another word from them.

“Word,” Joffrey loudly said.

“Fucking high step the bleachers!” the Coach barked. She heard the boys groaned - that was the absolute worst!

Then the Coach came behind her which made her blush like mad.

“Stark, long, deep breaths. Tight seal.”

She pressed her lips onto the mannequin’s lips, deeply inhaled, and then everything went blank.

When she opened her eyes, she say his eyes looking sadly at her. She was lying down on the bed in the school nurse’s office.

“Stark, I-I was too tough on you. I realize that now.”

“Sansa,” she whispered.

“What?”

“My name is Sansa.”

Coach smiled, shaking his head.

“Sansa.”

When his deep voice spoke her first name, Sansa shivered and could not help smiling at him in adoration.

Coach froze at that and slightly pulled away.

“I’m not what you think I am - I’m no hero.”

“You are to me.”

——-

So my muse (mlle karen) thought of an awesome ending for this piece (much better than anything I could imagine):

Seven years later, he doesn’t recognize her.

She says “I’m Sansa. Sansa …”

His eyes get huge round and blurts “STARK!!”

[simplemlmsponsoring]

New Post has been published on https://simplemlmsponsoring.com/attraction-marketing-formula/blogging/12-mistakes-even-smart-bloggers-make/

12 Mistakes Even Smart Bloggers Make

A well-to-do father once reproached his son for “shady financial dealings” and “improprieties with another workman’s wife.”

This prodigal son abandoned the opportunities afforded by his father, turning his back on higher education and government service to seek his fortune plundering foreign lands as a mercenary. His father wrote a letter lamenting the errors of his ways, pleading that he reconsider and return to the straight and narrow.

How does the story end?

We don’t know.

Only the letter remains. As recounted in The Instruction of Amenemope, by Dr. James R. Black, this letter dates to the era of Ramesses III, between 1186–1155 BC.

…a few years ago, to say the least.

What’s striking is that there’s surely a similarly-distraught father composing a near-identical letter (or perhaps email) somewhere in the world today, well over 3 millennia later.

After all…

Some things NEVER change.

And this is precisely what I’ve noticed over the years receiving requests for blogging critiques:

99% of all bloggers make the exact same mistakes!

And just like that troubled father from a few thousand years ago…all I can do is write about it.

So… today I’m here to plead that you cease your careless ways and heed the following instruction, lest I continue my bereaved lamentations and furious protestations!

Let’s dig into the 12 mistakes even smart bloggers (myself included) make.

Have a listen to the top 3 right here…

Read on for the full dastardly dozen…

1. All steak; no sizzle

While most people read blogs to learn something new or simply to be entertained, every reader is a potential customer, and a blog should seize every possible opportunity to compel readers into taking action.

In short, you’ve got to SELL your goods.

For instance, a blog could be advertising the best lead magnet in the history of the Internet, but if the pitch isn’t compelling, no one’s going to opt-in to get it.

Don’t be afraid to plunge considerable time and effort into crafting your pitch. Write out 25 variations before choosing one. Seriously.

Blogging is one of the most effective online network marketing strategies!

Unlike traditional salesmen, bloggers can easily overcome the fear of rejection, since they can’t have a door slammed in their face. However, this also means they have to work twice as hard (at minimum, really) to get readers to actually take action.

An effective pitch should:

Solve one specific problem. Be short and to-the-point. Provide clear instructions on what to do next.

Keep in mind that “get updates” or “free newsletter” or “email list” aren’t a strong benefit to a casual browser.

Try something more like, “get X result in Y number of days…all without having to ever do Z.”

For dozens more examples of strong offers, check out this special report on writing killer headlines.

2. Vacancy in neon

Results are a product of consistency. Period.

“If you want to continually grow your blog, you need to learn to blog on a consistent basis.” – Neil Patel, co-founder of Quick Sprout, KISSmetrics, and Crazy Egg

According to HubSpot’s Marketing Benchmarks from 7,000 Businesses report, companies that blog 15 or more times every month get at least 5 times more traffic than companies that don’t even have a blog. And successful traffic generation is, after all, the name of the game.

It’s difficult to achieve momentum and it’s all-too-easy to lose it, so keeping a schedule is crucial. Writing your next blog post should be a regular item on your calendar.

While content creation may be an uphill battle sometimes (I’ve certainly taken a walk around “writer’s block” more than once), figure out what gets you in the “writing mood,” and then take advantage of the productivity surge.

This 3 step process capitalize on your creativity helps tremendously with inspiration.

Try batching; write two or three posts in a single session to publish them at a future time. This will not only help you maintain consistency, but will also reduce the stress of churning out last-minute content.

Finally, set expectations and stick to ‘em.

3. All hat; no cattle

“Fake it ’till you make it” doesn’t mean inauthentically representing yourself. It’s perfectly acceptable to be exactly where you are in your growth as an entrepreneur.

You don’t have to be THE expert on any given topic, you simply have to be an expert in someone else’s eyes. Chances are strong you know a thing or two someone else doesn’t.

“Ask yourself, what simple twist on a familiar theme will entrap your audience?” – Andrew Davis, author of Brandscaping

Share what you’re learning while building your business. Be a journalist. Chronicle your education and subsequent success all along the way. It’s totally cool to be a student. You think a med student knows more about medicine than the average joe? Right.

Embrace your failures and turn them into lessons so that your readers may learn from your mistakes.

Remember Sonny Lanorias’ story of going from foreclosure to generating 10k in 60 days? Just like him, you should let your audience in on the hardships you’ve overcome to get where you are today.

4. Talkin’ the leg off a donkey

In order to prepare for possible objections, an effective door-to-door salesman will attempt to get to know a customer BEFORE pitching a product to understand exactly how he or she can benefit from it.

“Blogging is a conversation, not a code.” – Mike Butcher, Editor-at-Large, TechCrunch

Blogs should not be treated as bullhorns.

In fact, blogging is closer to dating than it is to selling.

It is one of the online network marketing strategies that actually helps you build trusting relationships.

One of the biggest differences between bloggers and traditional salesmen is that door-to-door salesmen need to “woo” their prospects and “propose” just moments after they met.

Blogging, on the other hand, is a slow courtship…

So when you write a post, be sure to solicit feedback from your audience and encourage engagement. Just like your audience gets to know you a little bit better with every post, you should also get to know them!

Read and reply to all of your comments and don’t be afraid to reach out over the phone or Facebook. It’s the quickest way to get your audience to trust you enough to take the “next step.”

5. All form; no substance

Some people focus entirely on how their blog looks, and pay too little attention to the content.

And it should come as no surprise that failing to create genuinely valuable content is one of the main reasons why most marketers SUCK at content marketing (and get poor results).

Your blog can be drop-dead gorgeous. You can spend ages obsessing over your font selection and color scheme, but if your blog is not helping readers solve their problems, they’re NOT going to return…thank you very much.

Luckily it’s easier than you might think to quickly and almost effortlessly create high-value, problem-solving, and traffic-exploding blog posts.

And your #1 priority is to have people coming back to your blog over and over again, so they can slowly “fall in love” with your content. Why? So they can sell themselves on the idea of buying from you!

“Content isn’t King, it’s the Kingdom.” – Lee Odden, CEO of TopRank Marketing

Furthermore, you should strive to continuously and consistently deliver quality content. It is easy to lose an audience if you stop delivering value and just try to “cash in” with empty pitches.

6. All substance; no form

Similarly, your blog can deliver a metric ton of life-changing value, but if it looks like it’s headed to a GeoCities theme party, you’re in big trouble.

“A bad website is like a grumpy salesperson.” – Jakob Nielsen, renowned author and web usability consultant.

Users should be able to easily get around your blog and navigate through your content.

The most valuable content in the world is worthless if the reader is unable to find it underneath a barrage of oversized images or if he/she has to struggle with gawdawful color combinations to actually read it.

Importantly, avoid the temptation is make your blog too “busy” – stuffing your navigation and sidebar with too many banners, widgets, and offers. Less is more. Simple and straightforward is always more effective.

“Design is not just what it looks like and feels like – Design is how it works.” – Steve Jobs

Your blog’s appearance and the quality of its content should be well-balanced. ‘Nuff said!

7. Don’t know when NOT to quit

Most bloggers get excited, write a few posts, get discouraged, throw their hands up in the air, and say, “this isn’t working for me!”

Well, I hate to point out the obvious: blaggin’ takes time.

“Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out.” – Robert Collier

Many people enter the ‘blogosphere’ much like the first time they join a gym: they sign up hoping to see results in the first couple of weeks, and when those results are nowhere to be seen, they simply throw in the towel, seek refuge in a large tub of ice cream, and scoff at anyone who ever suggests they should work out regularly…

As I mentioned in The 5 Worst Traffic Mistakes and How to Avoid Them:

“Entrepreneurs don’t quit; they fail and fail and fail until they succeed.”

8. Barking up the wrong tree

I’m about to say something that isn’t true, but I want to you behave like it is. Cool?

SEO is dead.

It’s so dead, don’t even think about it.

SEO, or “search engine optimization,” are strategies designed to appeal to the “robots” that crawl and ultimately index Web pages. SEO tactics usually involve stuffing keywords and hunting for backlinks.

Forget all that. Unless you’ve been blogging for a year or have written over 100 posts, SEO is not where you need to focus your energy. Not even close.

Write for people – living, breathing folks with emotions; not target keywords.

Your readers are looking for leadership, and expect to be engaged and educated.

9. Cat ‘n gloves

Look, you’re doing this to make sales.

They’re not just going to magically happen. You’ve got to ASK for the sale. Don’t be timid about it or you won’t catch any mice.

“Make the prospect a more informed buyer with content.” – Robert Simon, Four Seasons Hotels

This doesn’t mean you should bombard readers with banners and links to your products and business opportunity.

Some people publish marketing messages—almost like a text-based infomercial—and expect readers to become customers just because they ask them to.

You wouldn’t ask a girl to marry you on the first date, now would you?

Your offers need to be naturally integrated into your content and congruently provide additional value to the topic at hand. This way readers won’t be caught off-guard when you reveal your offer, and they will appreciate your efforts to complement the information you’ve shared with a relevant, valuable product.

10. They’re just not that into you

You know what they (your customers) are into?

Themselves.

Their problems. Their dreams, ambitions, excuses, and “reasons.”

Whether you’re telling a story or writing a step-by-step guide, you’ll want to pull your readers into your content.

Using “you” is a surprisingly effective way to get up close and personal with your audience.

People who read your blog will become more involved in what you’re sharing, and it will allow you to build stronger relationships with them.

Use 10x more “you” and 10x less “me” and you’ll be all right.

11. Use it or lose it

Despite the fact that we live in a world of amazing technological advancements, there is still a possibility for something to go terribly wrong, causing you to lose your blog (knock on wood).

Imagine: after spending countless hours creating compelling content for your audience—knowing they’ll keep coming back for more—you log into your blog to discover your database is corrupted or someone hacked in and deleted all your content…just for kicks!

And there goes one of your most effective online network marketing strategies!

Don’t let this happen to you.

Have a regular plan to back up your site and stick to it.

Automate it if possible.

Do it before tinkering with anything. Do it before updating anything.

Heck, how about you go back it up right meow?

12. Failure to promulgate and propagate

If you’ve spent the time to create a post, you’ve got to spend an equal, if not greater, amount of time shamelessly promoting and syndicating it!

“What you do after you create your content is what truly counts.” – Gary Vaynerchuk

You’ll want to let everybody know there’s a new piece of content on the blogosphere.

Send an email to your list, tweet about it several times on the day it is published, and make sure your Facebook followers are aware of it.

Keep posting comments and new updates about it on social media on the days following the piece’s publishing, and keep sharing it until the cows come home…

However, relying solely on free traffic is one of the worst traffic mistakes you can make!

Especially when you’re just getting started.

Setting an advertising budget to promote your content—however small it may be—will allow you to quantify your results and, more importantly, scale your operations when you feel your business (and your budget) is ready for the next level.

Romancing Readers into Customers

“Always remember that before your prospects will buy FROM you, they have to buy INTO you.” – Ferny Ceballos

In short, you need to “woo” them.

Think of it this way: you wouldn’t just go running around with an engagement ring in hand, desperately chasing after random passers-by, asking to get hitched on the spot, now would you?

Didn’t think so.

First you’d want to exchange numbers, go on that awkward first date, and then experience the fun (and qualification process) of a prolonged courtship, all before taking the next step.

Well, this is precisely what your blog allows you to do!

Your blog’s opt-in form creates the initial attraction and gets interested prospects’ contact information.

Easy peasy.

Once you’ve got their “number,” which in this instance is usually their email address, you’re ready to turn on the romance through your follow-up and convert your prospects into paying customers.

You’ve got to do this right:

Tastefully not timidly, and in a value-added way. (Else you’ll turn them off!)

To effectively craft such a follow-up process, which cements that YOU—and you alone—are the “one” in your prospects’ eyes…

…I strongly recommend that you sign up for this free 10-day crash course in online recruiting.

Ferny Ceballos, Chief Marketing Officer here at Elite Marketing Pro, reveals everything you need to know about automating this entire process and cultivating strong relationships with dozens, hundreds, even thousands of prospects simultaneously, every single day.

  Until next time,

Andrew Draughon Director of Content, Elite Marketing Pro

FREE INTERNET RECRUITING COURSE Finally, An Easy Way To Recruit Into Your Network Marketing Business – Rejection FREE – Without Wasting Your Time & Money Chasing Dead Beat Prospects & Leads… Claim Your Free Internet Recruiting Bootcamp… CLICK HERE FOR INSTANT ACCESS

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London’s Calling

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Chapter Nine: Cracks 

Word Count: 3258

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“So that’s it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

It’s a strong statement to say both teens are to blame for what happened. Blame isn't really the right word, even though both Riley and Lucas are at fault for what transpired the day they called quits on their friendship. Everyone involved believed that their actions were the right thing to do. But, that’s getting ahead of ourselves. 

Riley and Lucas are at their best when they’re just talking to each other so if one decides to withhold parts of the truth, cracks begin to form in their deep connection. Cracks much like the ones that sprouted after Riley hid her feelings from Lucas in Texas. 

Dancing around the truth is something both Riley and Lucas have been guilty of doing since they each went back to school. Riley’s little white lies are an attempt to protect herself. A shield blocking all potential pity she may receive from Lucas. 

Lucas takes Riley’s vagueness or her ‘too good to be true’ nature as her hiding something from him. One of Lucas’ biggest faults is how blind he is when it comes to Riley. Knowing her is something he’s very good at but sometimes his jealousy clouds rational thinking and his mind wanders to conclusions far from the truth. For example, in the Texan’s mind Riley is having a wonderful life but her eagerness to change the subject every time it’s brought up comes from her being too shy to tell him the truth about certain things, like her feelings. 

Lucas had been sugar-coating things from his end in New York too, also in an attempt to protect Riley’s feelings. Lucas didn’t want to ever make Riley feel like she wasn’t apart of their world anymore so he avoided talking about things that didn’t include her. Riley knows this, she knew that from the start but once Rain came into the picture Riley worries their distance was more the cause of a new girl in his life rather than him holding on to the old one. 

One thing is certain in this confusing mess of miscommunication and that is that both teens, as smart as they are, are completely wrong. 

You could say the beginning of the end was the day Riley began school in London, that the first crack, as tiny as it was, showed. However, the real damage happened the night Riley and Lucas video chatted about Rain asking him on a date. 

“Hey Riles, I should probably go.”

“Sure, speak soon okay?” Riley grins one last time before they end the video chat.

In New York City, Lucas closes his laptop and remains at his desk. The Texan wears a crescent fallen expression as he rests his chin in his hands. Something about their conversation was off and their last few conversations for that matter. Lucas starts to overthink every conversation they’ve had of late, the distance between them and he tries to pinpoint when it started. Lucas is quite confident it began around the time they both went back to school. At first Lucas passed it off as her being busy adapting to a new school, he’d been in her position before. But now, after their most recent call Lucas revisits the thoughts he had the night Riley was tagged in Finn’s photo at the party. 

Lucas wonders why Riley was so supportive, why she seemed happy about him dating someone else. If Lucas took a moment to remove jealousy from his mind he’d easily come to the conclusion that Riley truly does just want him to be happy, like she does for all their friends but, in Lucas’ mind that has been swirling with conspiracies about Riley’s feelings for months he can only come to one conclusion: Riley is a) no longer interested in him romantically and b) romantically interested in someone else. Finn.  

He decides to call Rain. 

One Week Later

Lucas arrives home, it’s relatively early for a Saturday night, 9pm. He makes his way to his room and pulls out his phone which has been turned off all night. He switches it back on and a few notifications pop up on his screen. Only two of which mattered to him. 

(3) Missed Calls from Riley 💜 (2) Texts from Riley 💜

Instantly he’s hit with a wave of guilt and for more reasons than one. He and Riley had made plans to video chat that evening. After their call ended so quickly last week the two found trouble finding time for a longer call so even though it would be 10pm for Riley and 5pm for Lucas they decided that that was when they’d catch up properly. Quickly Lucas opens her messages. 

Even though she only texted him one hour ago he still knows it’s 2am in London so he just sends her a text rather than calling her back. 

Sadly this wouldn't be the last time Lucas forgot he was supposed to chat with Riley. In his defence though, Lucas was trying his very best to do right by everyone in his life and assure that no ones feelings were hurt, not Riley’s or Rain’s but he was crumbling under the pressure. Even though his greatest worry was to spare anyone heartache he unknowingly caused it through the very actions he hoped would save them from it. 

A month passes since Lucas’ first date with Rain and ever since then he’s been more aware of the strain on his and Riley’s relationship. Even though he’s worried about Riley he finds himself avoiding her and still not being able to open up to her when it came to Rain. 

Riley noties Lucas’ distance, she feels Lucas slipping away from her more and more as they days go by. To make things worse Riley has noticed Lucas purposely lying to her before. He’d apologise for not being able to chat because of one reason only for Riley to later find out he was occupied for a different one. Although, Riley being Riley just smiles and lets it slide.  She’s still so trusting of her former boyfriend, he’s one of her very best friends and if he tells her something she’s going to believe it. So when Lucas missed another one of their scheduled video chats she believes him when he says he got caught up in an assignment. 

It was the early AM for Riley when she finally got a response from Lucas. Riley almost felt guilty for making Lucas feel bad for missing their call but after she assured him it was okay she fell asleep quickly. The very next morning Riley wakes up thanks to her alarm for school and notices a tag notification of Lucas. It was a photo Rain posted a short while after she fell asleep. Quickly Riley opens the photo. 

Riley burns red with rage after discovering that Lucas had lied to her yet again and she was even more cross that she’d felt guilty about making him feel guilty. Riley had let this slide one too many times so she decides to finally call him out on it. Knowing it would still be the early AM for Lucas she’s surprised that Lucas replied instantly.

They then make definitive plans to video chat that coming Saturday. No matter what, they weren't missing that call. 

Still irked about her current predicament with Lucas, Riley sits alone that morning before school on her favourite bench outside. She’s spooked when Finn sneaks up behind her. 

“Hey,” He hands her a paper cup from the cafe around the corner from their school. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink coffee,” Riley gives him a small smile. 

“I know, that’s why I got you a hot chocolate,” Finn smirks. 

“Thank you,” Riley gives him a warmer smile and sips on the hot beverage. 

“I feel like we haven't spoken in forever,” Finn says as he sits beside Riley on the bench. 

“I’m really sorry,” Riley gives him a sympathetic look. 

“Is it because of the party?” Finn asks quietly, “I really am sorry.” 

“No, it’s not that,” Riley lies because it was a little that. “My New York life is clashing with my London life and I’m just struggling to balance them.” 

“Sorry to hear that,” Finn says genuinely. 

“It’s okay, I get to go home for a few weeks during the Summer so hopefully things will work out before then,” Riley shrugs, desperately wanting to change the subject. 

“I hope so too.” Finn smiles and turns his attention to the lovely gardens surrounding them. A moment of silence passes before Finn speaks again. “So we’re good though, right?” 

“Of course,” Riley nods. 

“Good, I just wanted to make sure we were still friends because it would be weird this weekend if we weren’t,” Finn lets out a breath of relief. 

“This weekend?” Riley narrows her brows in confusion. 

“I’m staying at your house?” Finn coaxes his head, confused as to why she was confused. 

“What?” Riley lets out a nervous chuckle. 

“It’s my parents anniversary weekend and they’re going to Rome...” Finn waits for Riley to catch on but she doesn’t so he continues, “My parents don't trust me alone anymore after last months party where my apartment got trashed so your mom offered to babysit me for the weekend.” 

“She did?” Riley remains puzzled. 

“Yes and I assumed it was cleared with you first,” Finn chews on his bottom lip. “I can make other arrangements if it’s too odd for you.” 

“No, I’m just surprised,” Riley laughs, “It’s fine, we can have a movie night or something.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Finn nods. 

That afternoon Riley confronts her mother about it and Topanga is very apologetic for not telling Riley. The plans had only been made that passed weekend after brunch with a client. Riley doesn’t blame her mother for letting it slip her mind, Riley had been well aware of how busy her mom now is and how frazzled she seemed of late trying to balance her new position and new home life. 

Riley feels a little awkward about the situation but settles when she gives it some more thought. Finn is her friend, he’d be sleeping in Auggie’s room whilst Auggie stayed with Riley and they’d just be hanging out the way Riley would with Farkle or Zay. Still, Riley decides to keep this to herself because she doesn’t want to arouse suspicion or cause waves within her friend group and it’s at this very moment when Riley realises she’s gotten angry at Lucas for something she’s been doing for months, lying. It’s because of this realisation that Riley’s anger towards the Texan deflates and she makes a mental note to apologise to him for being angry and somewhat jealous. 

Riley starts to come to her senses, she lets her jealously go and thinks rationally about Lucas’ behaviour. Of course he’s just trying to spare her feelings with the whole Rain situation. Riley knows Lucas would never rub that in her face. After deep thought Riley decides she’s fully prepared to have an open and honest conversation with Lucas that coming Saturday liked they planned, she wanted to clear the air with him and patch any cracks in their relationship. Riley even thought about sharing her struggles these past months with school and friends. 

In theory this conversation could have saved Riley and Lucas but an unforeseen roadblock got in the way. 

Friday 11:50pm London. 6:50pm New York City. 

After marathoning the first three Hunger Games movies Riley and Finn contemplate staying up and watching the last one before calling it a night. Finn had to be up early for soccer practice or ‘football’ as he says and it always makes Riley giggle. Not to mention that Auggie was already passed out in Riley’s bed so the two teens thought about just leaving it but when Riley jokingly grunted, “Sleep is for the weak!” like some drill sergeant Finn lost it completely, erupting into hysterical laughter and the two settled in to watch Mocking Jay part two, but not before Finn could document the moment he found so hilarious. 

Now, Finn couldn’t have known that this would cause such conflict in Riley’s relationship with Lucas. To the Brit he was harmlessly documenting something funny that happened during his stay at the Matthews’ apartment. He wasn’t even trying to be vague or misleading with his caption to imply something else as he’d told all his friends about having to be babysat that weekend and they’d all laughed about it. Even Riley had a giggle about it when she sat with them at lunch. But, nonetheless the caption was misconstrued as something else to Lucas and Riley woke up in the middle of a metaphorical storm, one that even she couldn’t calm Lucas down in. 

5:00am London. Riley stirs in her bed when she hears Finn’s alarm sound in the other room. The brunette is hit with instant regret for watching that last movie. Riley looks over to Auggie with a smile on her face as he’s still sound asleep beside her. Riley stretches her tight muscles and sits up, eventually getting out of bed. Riley pokes her head through the door, she figures it would be the polite thing to do for her to check on Finn before he goes. Riley spots him quietly exiting Auggie’s room with his sports back over his shoulder. He notices Riley and gives her a small smile from down the hall and whispers an apology if he woke her. Riley mumbles her response and wishes him well. They exchange ‘see you laters’, he’d be back later that day as he was still staying the night again. 

Riley tiptoes back to her bed, her plan was to catch a few more hours sleep before starting her day but when she checked her phone to see the exact time it’s not the early hour she notices as much as the backlash from the post she was tagged in. She had two missed calls from Lucas. Knowing it was just after 12am in New York Riley took her chances in calling him back. Worried that something was up for him to call her because he would have known it was the early AM in London at the time. She makes her way into the living space so she doesn’t wake Auggie and hits dial.

It should be noted that Riley was unaware she was tagged in any photo so the conversation started on a very confusing note for the brunette. 

“Lucas?” Riley asks panicked through the phone when he answers. “You called and we were supposed to talk later today so I was worried. Is something wrong?” 

“I just think it’s funny how you lecture me on lying when you’ve been doing it for months,” Lucas is clearly agitated. 

Riley is caught off guard by his tone. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about today, when we video chatted.” 

“You're only saying that because you were caught in the lie,” Lucas scoffs. 

Riley is confused, why would Lucas be mad at her for feeling lonely? Surely he’d understand why she felt the need to hide that. “What?” Is all she managed to ask. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Lucas says, “I know about you and Finn.” 

“Me and Finn?” Riley repeats, “Did Maya tell you?” 

“She didn’t have to, I just worked it out. Why you’ve been acting so weird lately, why you never really want to talk about it.” 

“It was just one kiss. Finn is a really nice guy.” Riley and Lucas are still having two different conversations. In her mind Riley was admitting to the awkward kiss but defending Finn’s character, she didn’t want Lucas thinking he was a bad guy. Especially after the nice time she had with him last night, things were starting to feel natural between them again. 

“Okay, just one kiss, now he’s sleeping over at your house?” Lucas asks. In his mind they’re talking about Riley confirming her secret relationship with Finn. 

Riley is confused for a moment, how would Lucas know about that but then she remembers seeing that Finn had tagged her in a photo, she just didn’t open it because all Riley saw were Lucas’ missed calls. 

“Wait, Lucas I think you have the wrong idea...” Riley shakes her head. 

“It seems pretty clear to me,” Lucas states, “I can’t believe you’d get angry at me for spending time with Rain when you’ve been doing the same thing with Finn this whole time.” 

“Whoa.” Riley says firmly, her panic and confusion is quickly turning to anger, “I was never angry at you for spending time with Rain. A little jealous maybe but never angry. I was only ever angry at you for lying to me or constantly forgetting our calls.” 

Jealous? Lucas hears her but can’t fully register what she’s saying, that whole jealously blinder thing he has when it comes to Riley. “But what about Finn?” Lucas asks, “I thought we were always supposed to be able to talk to each other. Or was that just another lie?” 

“Finn and I are just friends, Lucas and you have no right to get mad at me even if we were more than friends,” Riley snaps. 

The conversation went back and forth for ten more minutes. Neither teen actually communicating properly just spitting angry comments out at one other. Lucas being blinded by his jealously he couldn’t hear Riley when she said he’s misunderstood what was going on. Then there’s Riley who in the face of conflict says things she doesn’t mean and rightly so she’s offended that Lucas is attacking her like he is. 

Both Riley and Lucas are arguing different things but what neither of them say and what both of them are actually so worked up over is that their upset with how distant they’ve become.

Yes, Lucas is certainly blinded by jealously. His temper is something he’s always had trouble controlling and with the lack of Riley in his life lately there’s been little to calm him.

Riley takes a deep breath, being the first one to realise why she’s really upset and tries to soften her approach

“Lucas I don’t want to fight,” Riley says calmly.

“Neither do I,” Lucas sighs, “This is why I’ve been avoiding your calls.”

“So you have been avoiding me?” Riley asks hurt.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lucas says quickly.

“What else could you possibly mean?” Riley questions.

“I’m just stressed out okay,” Lucas groans. “I can’t do this anymore!” He blurts out.

“Do what?” Riley asks cautiously.

“Us,” Lucas sighs. 

“Why does it feel like you’re breaking up with me?” Riley crinkles her brows.

Lucas is silent for what feels like a lifetime to Riley before he quietly says, “I don’t think it’s a good idea that we speak anymore.” 

“That’s what you want?” Riley can only whisper. 

“I just can’t anymore. It’s not fair on Rain...” Lucas remains deflated. 

“So that’s it?” Riley is too stunned to process if she’s angry or sad in this moment. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” Riley says quietly then after a moment she says something again, “Oh and Lucas, you know what I find funny? You were the one that needed to know things wouldn't change between us if you went out with Rain. I was sure they wouldn’t. Guess I was wrong.”

With that she ends the call. Angry. Yeah, she was definitely angry. 

End Notes: LDKHGDSFLJHGWELJHFGFLHKBGRLHKB 

comments, reviews etc are also appreciated. Chapter 10 shouldn't be too many days away :)