#feat. inaccurate face paint

[trinuviel]

This article is hilarious! I'm going to quote the hightlights:

"WHEN I HEARD that there was going to be a Coronation Concert at Windsor Palace to celebrate the crowning of King Charles III and Queen Camilla, my first thought was: “Wow, who would voluntarily perform at that?” Some international viewers might have expected the biggest stars the U.K. has to offer, like Adele or maybe even Elton John, Harry Styles, Dua Lipa or Ed Sheeran. But no, instead the baton seemed to fall primarily to people whose management didn’t get the memo that this was the most uncool gig ever: Americans!

Yup, it turns out that there is only one thing more undignified than British people who are completely obsessed with Monarchy: hardcore American royalists. People whose nation was supposedly founded on completely opposing principles but, somehow, have flown across the Atlantic to show fealty to our King anyway.

...

Sunday’s Coronation Concert did feature some British people, of course. Prince William took time out from the smear campaign against his brother and sister-in-law to do a heartfelt speech in support of his father, which was good of him, I suppose. 

...

Elsewhere, there was an attempt to make the concert feel more high-art and distinctly British by including performances from pretty much everything with “royal” in the title, like the various ballet, Shakespeare, and opera societies the royals are patrons of. By contrast, it was the sketches and linking videos played in between the acts which felt most out of place: Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog joined host Downton Abbey star Hugh Bonneville, who at times looked like he was being held hostage at the event. One of the videos shown on the big screen featured Tom Cruise in a jet, telling his Majesty the King that he can be his “wingman” any day, which made me question whether I’d accidentally taken a tab of acid.

...

These pre-recorded segments were where the royal propaganda — designed for the thoroughly King-pilled — was at its most intense. Saying it was “like North Korea” would be not only lazy but also inaccurate because, really, North Korea wishes it was at the U.K.’s level here. A key theme of these bizarre videos was “Did You Know?”, which manifested as a bunch of celebrities — all of whom were clearly desperate to lick the boot hard enough to be made Knights and Dames — queuing up to tell us various complimentary “facts” about the new King. The most undignified of these was probably award-winning artist Tracey Emin, who sat with one of King Charles’s watercolor paintings and tried to suggest it was some sort of artistic feat.

...

After this, we got to the heaviest musical hitters of the evening. Lionel Richie had even the stony-faced royals (minus Prince Andrew, who must have been enjoying a sweat-free evening elsewhere) on their feet dancing. Even Queen Camilla — who seemed bored and was checking her watch every time the camera panned to her — looked like she was briefly enjoying “All Night Long.”

...

As this bizarre and strangely entertaining concert came to a close, we were subjected to a three-song medley by the Final Boss of royal events: Take That. Again, for the unfamiliar: Take That were once a five-piece British boy band who rose to fame in the 1990s, before mounting a huge comeback in the mid-2000s. Now, they play concert tours to stadiums of screaming mothers and grandmothers, and are wheeled out for every royal event, where they look and sound progressively worse each time. Last night, there were only three of them, so by the time we get to Prince William’s coronation it’ll probably just be frontman Gary Barlow creaking and croaking around the stage. 

Barlow — a supporter of the U.K. Conservative party — apologized in 2014 after trying to save millions in an “aggressive” tax avoidance scheme. I wonder whether that makes him the perfect performer to close a concert for a King whose vast wealth is partly upheld through exemptions from tax laws that only apply to his subjects. Perhaps it does, because this concert — like the Coronation and Monarchy itself — was a bewilderingly positive and expensive celebration of the belief that we are not all born equal."

[twistnet]

against all odds [ dmitri antonov ]

⋯ SUMMARY ; somehow, you managed to beat the odds that were stacked high against you; as escaping a secret russian prison wasn��t exactly an easy feat nor something people attempted on a regular basis

⋯ WARNINGS ; female!reader, slight!au, inaccurate medical treatment // advice, tw [ gunshot wounds, blood + mentions of infections / fevers ], angst [ general fear + worry ], general fluff [ proposals, confession of feelings + kisses ] + mature language

a gunshot rang out around the command room, no time to truly comprehend where the bullet had come from, but the splitting pain rippling up your side was enough to paint a decent picture of events. the bullet piercing the left side of your abdomen, and sending you back against the iron gate with a heavy thud.

your friends around you were quick to subdue the shooter, before someone crossed your line of sight with a pained expression. dmitri knelt before you, hands immediately pressing against your wound as murray and joyce took care of the guard.

following you down to the ground as your knees buckled beneath you, cursing in his native tongue as you whimpered out in pain, “hey! stay with me, дорогая! you’re going to be alright!” he yells before ripping open your jacket layers and ripping a scrape of fabric from the bottom of your undershirt, “you’re going to be alright, just stay with me!” dmitri repeated, quickly pulling a scrape of fabric from the bottom of your undershirt to tie around your waist.

“is she okay?!” joyce’s voice cut through the haze, your eyes lifting to meet hers as you shot her a weak smile, “the bullet is still inside. best guess is it’s caught in an empty space, but i have no way of telling.” dmitri mutters in response, arms looping around your waist to tie the scrap of fabric tightly against your wound. uttering a soft apology when he pulls it tight and you wince in pain.

“we need to get going. guards could be on us any minute. and we’ll need as much of a head start as we can get.” hooper states, looking around the small control room for a way to get out of the prison with as little contact as possible. dmitri nods, apologizing softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead, then he’s hauling you to your feet. you groan in pain, blunt nails digging into the thick fabric of his winter coat as you press your face into his shoulder.

“i’ll make sure she keeps up, but we need to find a way out of here first.” he comments, already wrapping an arm securely around your waist to keep you upright and standing. dmitri knew it was going to be a task and a half to get you out of kamchatka in one piece, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. you were going home to america.

just as he turns to ask one of the captured operators for a way out of the prison, a loud screech is heard from the room at the top of some steps, “what the hell is that?” dmitri questions, hair already standing up on the back of his neck as the noise sounds eerily familiar to the thing that had torn that group of men apart in the pit below.

and when jim had stepped closer to the room, the operator was quick to utter out suggestions of not going in there. to which dmitri had quickly silenced with a glare. the rest of the group followed jim up the steps, dmitri aiding you up the stairs before the door opened, revealing a sight that nearly had you vomiting up the contents from the previous night's dinner.

a demodog laid strapped to an operating table, thrashing and bellowing out as it attempted to escape it binds. but, it was very obvious that there was something a little more sinister in the works as it had looked as though the russians had been experimenting on the subjects from the upside down.

you flinched heavily when a couple gunshots rang out, stumbling in dmitri’s embrace as hopper put the demodog down and moved beyond the curtains to investigate further.

“i’m going to set you down a moment, любимая. need to find a way out of here.” dmitri utters, shooting you a soft smile as he guides you into one of the chairs nearby, pressing his lips against your temple before looking around the room. it takes him less than a few minutes to find an access grate located in the floor -- and from his best guess, all of the gunk had to go somewhere, which meant there was a way out.

you watch as he nearly scares the rest of the group after pulling the curtain back, “hey. found something.” he utters, pointing down towards the grate in the floor and quickly pulls it up as hopper leans in to inspect the tunnel, “you think this’ll lead us out of here?”

dmitri looks over the grate, shrugging his shoulders softly, “i give it a hundred to one odds.” the two quickly share a smile before jim begins making his way down the ladder and into the darkness below.

dmitri stands, wondering back over to where you sit before he’s pulling you up and ushering you over to the grate. he guides you down to the floor as best he can, not wanting to cause you too much pain before you finally catch your footing on the ladder rungs.

“watch your head, любимая.” he utters, guiding you down into the grate right behind hopper. you wince slightly, struggling to lift your arms above your head for any given amount of time, and starting to feel a little woozy as the pain starts to mix with something else.

hopper is waiting for you at the bottom of the ladder, and is quick to help you down after you struggle to make the jump from the ladder to the ground below, “you feeling okay?” hopper asks quietly, looking over your already pale face as you nod lazily, “just dandy.”

the second dmitri drops from the ladder, he’s right back at your side. hoisting you up against his side with an arm thrown around his shoulders and his own around your waist for stability. once everyone is in the tunnel, he lets hopper lead the way, helping you along behind the group so as to not slow the rest of them down -- though, it’s evident by the way they keep looking back at the two of you that they do care about you keeping up with the group.

dmitri eyes your state every so often, taking note of your harbored breaths and the way your eyes blink heavy with each step. in a surge of affection, he presses his lips against the side of your temple, whispering a sweet encouragement to you.

yuri takes note of the little display, letting out a heavy sigh of content, “ah! two little love birds! out of all my years of knowing that traitor, i have never seen him be so kind to someone. she must really be special!” the smuggler comments loudly, drawing the attention of the rest of the group before he’s quickly shut up by murray, who shoves him forward down the tunnel.

murray glances over his shoulder at the two of you, watching as dmitri kept pace with a sturdy arm around your waist as you walked alongside of him. the two of you quietly speaking as you walked through the filthy sewage tunnel toward what you hoped was a way out of here.

of course, he had heard the affectionate names dmitri called you whenever he interacted with you. дорогая, or sweetheart and darling, and любимая, or beloved, had been what dmitri called you from the moment you stepped foot in kamchatka. using it as a way to garner your attention before it was something he began to regularly call you until learning your actual name. though, it had still taken him some time to even tell you what the name meant, even after he had been placed on the other side of the bars alongside you.

however, when faced with certain death, he had opened up to you more in that night than he had during any interactions you had previously. explaining the meaning behind all the nicknames he used for you, and why he had used them. and while he had already previously admitted his feelings towards you, ones that you had reciprocated, before plotting to get both you and hopper out of the prison and back home, he still liked to keep an element of surprise to his small affections.

it was obvious the old prison guard had fallen in love with you, and in turn, you had fallen in love with him. hopper had joked at one point after watching the two of you cuddle up to one another in the cell right before the big fight, that the two of you were attached at the hip -- “practically sewn together” now that dmitri had joined the two of you on the other side of the bars. you had dismissed these comments, but found truth in them when dmitri had finally kissed you on the lips right before the guards had come to bring you down to the pit and uttered his love for you to hear.

you probably would have regretted not saying anything back if either of you had died, but the moment the doors had closed off, separating the three of you from the demogorgan, you had quickly pressed a kiss to his lips and confessed your own feelings, nearly crying when he pulled you in for another round of affection.

there was one more ladder to climb, and you had waited back to let the rest of the group go before you, knowing it would take you the longest to climb up. dmitri had been patient, watching you carefully as you slowly climbed up behind joyce. only climbing once you got a few rungs above him, and always checking to make sure you weren’t about to take a fall.

hopper had been the one to haul you up, forehead pinching together when you had cried out at the stretch of your wound, nearly doubling over in pain and exhaustion as you stumbled slightly. dmitri quickly coming back to your side after climbing from the tunnel.

after making it over to where murray had been instructed to park yuri’s van, hopper ushered you into the back of the van, patting your shoulder as you hissed in pain before slumping against the divider wall.

yuri had settled in next to you, hopper and joyce seated on the bench across, while dmitri was seated up front to guide murray out of the prison extension and toward the gate.

the exit from the prison had gone by in a slight daze for you, sounds slowly starting to distort and for a moment, you couldn’t figure why joyce and hopper were huddled together. maybe they were just cold. you were really cold. and tired.

“oh, nothing like a little prison escape to get your day started, am i right?” murray yells from the front driver's seat, obviously excited about the little adventure he was able to take part in -- as it wasn’t every day you were able to escape from a russian prison in the middle of nowhere.

“we’re not out of the woods yet. my people do not take kindly to escapes. they will be hunting us.” dmitri comments, still scanning the vast snow-covered slopes for any other threat that may appear. until hopper slides up towards the divide with a heavy sigh, “yeah, well, we aren’t exactly planning on sticking around. where’s the plane you came in on?”

“that plane? um, that crashed.” joyce states, smile dropping as both dmitri and hopper toward her in surprise, “crashed?” hopper questions to confirm as a million and one thoughts about how this plane crashed ran through his mind. until joyce points a gloved finger toward the man in front of her, “his fault.”

“a word of warning, jim. that man is more slippery than an eel dipped in baby oil. i wouldn’t trust a word out of his mouth.” murray warns as hopper comes to kneel in front of yuri, ripping the scarf from his mouth as the older russian man starts to complain, “my tongue. my tongue! i can’t feel my tongue!”

in your haziness, you swear you catch the tail end of dmitri cursing under his breath at the smugglers antics, “we need to get out of here, and back to the states. can you get us to another plane?” hopper demands, staring him down as the smuggler scoffs with an angered expression.

“now? you are asking for yuri’s help after dragging him through miles of shit tunnel? i could have told you we were going wrong way hours ago! you neanderthal -- “ he glares before jim shoves him back against the wall of the van, “watch your mouth, or i’m going to take this, run it along the bottom of my shoe, and jam it down your throat!” he gestures with a torn piece of scarf.

“well, go ahead - ! but you’ll never make it out of you country alive.” yuri quickly redirects the second jim’s hands fist the front of his coat, the statement causing joyce to perk up, “so, you can get us out.”

“for a glass of water and hot steam bath.... and five-inch stack of american dollars, yuri will fly you to moon!” he states with enthusiasm as hopper slumps back into his seat next to joyce with a defeated expression.

then, dmitri whips around with a gun in his hand, pointing it towards the smuggler, “you make another demand, you double crossing muzak, and i will decorate the roof of this van with your brains.”

“what so upset, comrade?” yuri questions, enjoying the way the guard’s face falls and his jaw tightens at the friendly nickname, “rough couple of days for you, i’m sure. but now, you are free! everything works out. happy ending for everybody... no?”

“for you, that will very much depend on how you answer, comrade. will you take  us to america? yes...?” his thumb reaches to switch the safety off, “...or no?” after yuri had settled back into silence, dmitri spared a glance toward your slumped form. worry casting across his features as he maneuvered himself into the back of the van, gently patting your cheek to focus your attention, “keep your eyes open for me, дорогая. you can’t fall asleep, no matter how much you want to.” he utters out softly paired with a smile.

you hum softly in response, hissing when you shift in your seat to sit up right, eyes closing for a split second that seemed almost like an eternity, “i’m tired...” you whisper out over a heavy tongue, “i know, but we will be at yuri’s warehouse in no time. and then we will fix you up, and you’ll be good as new. sounds good, yes?”

“i’m just gonna check your wound, is that alright?” he questions, gray eyes boring into yours as you nod sloppily, hands lazily gripping at your prison jacket to help him get a better look at the wound burning into your side. hissing slightly when dmitri pulls back on the makeshift wrappings to assess your wound. nearly grimacing at the amount of blood that dribbles out from the wound, and the darkened bits that have dried and crusted onto your skin.

“how’s it look?” you slur, wincing when he presses the wrapping back into place, uttering a soft apology as he bundles you back up before offering you a shaky smile, “you’re doing just fine, дорогая.” he answers, before turning to look over at joyce and hopper who sit just behind him. he shakes his head in concern, eyes filling with worry as their own features fall in despair.

dmitri settles into the seat beside you, shouldering your head up to rest on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around your back, securing you in place as the van continues towards it’s destination. all while hoping that you make the trip without any further issue.

the second the van comes to a stop in front of the familiar church, dmitri helps you out of the back, pulling you along with the rest of the group as he continues to threaten yuri in the chance he decides to pull another fast one on them.

the two exchange something in russian before the smuggler turns toward jim with a eerie smile, “you spent all that time in a cell with this dull man, and didn’t take the chance to smother him?” he tuts before unlocking a separate warehouse, large enough to carry a aircraft to get the six of you home in one piece.

however, as yuri presents his way of getting everyone to america, he is met with less than satisfactory expressions as joyce rushes forward, “you said you had a plane!” she states in frustration, hitting the man on the shoulder to aid in her frustration before yuri drops into an explanation about how he never said anything about a plane, but that he could fly.

you had tuned out most of the conversation, slumping against dmitri’s shoulder as your knees slowly began to buckle underneath you. his arm gripped you tightly, ushering you into the nearest chair as the group behind him argued over the smugglers' means of transportation out of the motherland.

his hands press against your cheeks, wincing at the heat radiating from you. a fever only means one thing, your body's response to fighting off an infection. “do you have any medical supplies inside your warehouse?” he questions, cutting off the group's bickering as they all turn to find him practically keeping you up right.

murray quickly comes to your side, helping dmitri shoulder you into the church where yuri points out the different places he has medical supplies scattered about. dropping you onto the mattress in the corner, dmitri’s thumb brushes against your cheek, muttering something in russian before joyce drops some items into his hands, “these should help.”

then, hands are pulling at your jackets once more, unzipping and unbuttoning fabric until the blood soaked fabric wrapped around your middle is exposed. hisses fill the room at the sight, and dmitri hasn’t even pulled back the makeshift bandage to see the full extent of the damage.

and the second he does, he swears someone behind him vomits in reaction. and he has to swallow down the bile rising in his throat, “is there anything in there to get the bullet out with?” he utters to joyce softly, eyes never leaving the wound as you groan softly in pain.

joyce makes an utterance behind him, trailing off to find something to use while dmitri rolls up his sleeves, coating his hands with alcohol before soaking a gauze pad in the same substance, “clean your hands in the alcohol, then the tools. we have no clue where they’ve been.” he asks jim, nodding to the first aid kit joyce had dropped off beside him.

“this is going to hurt a lot, любимая. just try to stay still for me, yes?” dmitri utters quietly, before pressing a kiss to your burning forehead. then, he’s pressing the soaked gauze pad to your wound, nearly bursting into tears as you howl in pain and kick against his hold. murray jumps in quickly, holding you down until dmitri pulls back from cleaning the blood away from your wound.

tears leak from your eyes, sobs rocking your chest as dmitri steels himself for the next part -- heart ripping in two with each sob that shakes your form, knowing that he’s the one causing you this amount of pain.

jim hands over the cleans tools, along with a small pair of pliers that joyce managed to find somewhere. hands shaking as he hovers over your side, before he’s looking up at joyce and jim, “will you... hold her down?” he asks hoarsely, before the two quickly station themselves on either side of you, each grabbing a hand before pressing against your shoulders. giving dmitri a nod to signal they had a good hold on you.

then he presses the pilers into your wound. after almost an hour of your screams filling the small church, and dmitri nearly stopping halfway through due to the amount of anguish and guilt filling his heart and soul, the bullet was removed and your side stitched up.

you laid on the old mattress, now asleep and warm under the mountain of blankets with the hopes of you sweating out your fever. dmitri sat over a short distance away from you, eyes watching the soft rise and fall your body with each breath you took -- wanting to make sure nothing happened to you and you were progressing as you should.

he chats with joyce and jim when they come by, asking for an update on your condition before muling around to keep themselves busy while yuri works on getting the helicopter functional for flying. when they ask, he tells them honestly that you’re doing better than you had been almost an hour ago. but beyond that, he’s unsure. combat medicine wasn’t something he was trained to do, but the amount of times he’s had to fix prisoners up to keep them working gave him enough experience in the field.

however, panic soon sets in when he goes to get you up -- wanting you to have something on your stomach to keep you hydrated for the long travel ahead, but you’re unresponsive to the calls of your name and the shakes of your form, and the fever has seemed to rise well beyond comfort.

the rest of the group come rushing in when the first worried yell of your name is made, and they find dmitri pulling you from the mattress with a worried expression, “her fever is too high, we need to get it down, or she will not survive the night.” he utters before murray looks at the man with a raised brow, “what are you going to do? bury her in the snow?”

“precisely, i will apologize for it later. but we need to get her body temperature down. and if i have to sit outside in the freezing cold with her until it comes down, then so be it.” they offer no argument in return before stepping into help dmitri get you outside. once you’re settled on the ground, he’s quick to scoop some snow and pack it around the exposed parts of your face. it’s probably the worst way to get your body temperature down, but he doesn’t have any other option.

so, he sits there next to you, fingers pressed against the pulse point in your wrist as you lay on your side covered in a heavy snow. eyes still closed, but the color coming back to your face is enough to give him some hope, “this isn’t how i expected things to go, you know? days ago, i figured you would be long gone. back in america where you were supposed to be, and i would be rich and not a traitor. and yet, it all ended in the opposite.”

he pauses for a short moment, looking over at you next to him before he smiles, “i... want to be with you. go to america with you. live in your house with you. marry you, and make you my wife.” he confesses softly, knowing you won’t remember a word he’s telling you in a moment like this, “but i cannot do that if you die on me... i’m not sure what i would do if you did. so, don’t let me become lost, yes?”

he spends a few more minutes with you outside, before pulling you back inside. stripping you of your wet clothes after the manages to send everyone else out of the church, and gets you dressed in something warmer before tucking you back under the blankets on the mattress. happy that your temperature had come down.

when you wake up, no one else is in the church. you’re stuffed under a mountain of blankets and most definitely not wearing your prison work clothes -- a given, based on the bright yellow hank hogan t-shirt on your form. you sit up, hissing as the stitches in your side pull, and you hike up the end of your shirt to see the full extent of the damage. mildly impressed by the stitching before climbing to your feet.

holding your side, you make your way outside. fear developing in the pit of your stomach at the thought of them leaving you behind. and while it wasn’t something you knew they would do, it was still a big fear at the moment. the cold of the night hits your face as you open the door, eyes immediately finding dmitri and yuri over by the helicopter.

the crunch of snow under your boots alerts dmitri to your presence, and he’s quick to stamp out his cigarette before crossing the distance to you, “what are you doing up? you will rip your stitches!” dmitri seethes, wrapping his arms around your frame and hugging you tightly against him. you immediately tuck your face into his shoulder, arms wrapping around him in return, “i... i thought you left me here.” you whimper out, tucking your face into his neck as his hold tightens around you, “never. i told you i would get you home. and i plan on fulfilling my promise.”

he breaks the hug, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before nodding towards the church, “come, let yuri finish getting the chopper together. i need to see if you ripped your stitches in your little scramble out of the chapel.” you nod softly, snuggling into his side as he guides you back inside.

dmitri gets you seated on one of the large crates, mulling around until he finds wrappings and the medical kit had used to stitch you up before. “can you lift your shirt for me, любимая?” he asks gently, waiting until you get your shirt lifted just enough for him to get a good look at your stitches.

“nothing ripped, but i can now get the bandages on so you don’t get your shirt messy.” he comments, patting your thigh softly before picking up the bandages and wrapping your stomach to keep the wound compressed -- something much easier now that you’re sitting upright.

“much better than the bottom of your shirt, no?” dmitri jokes lightly, smiling as you laugh and nod in agreement, “but you did what you could... i know plenty of people who probably would have left me behind after all that.”

dmitri shakes his head, leaning forward to press his forehead against your own as he stares deeply into your eyes, “it would have fought that... thing again, if it meant getting you back to america in one piece. i was not going to let you spend another moment in my country. alive or dead.” you heart skipped at this words, feeling better knowing that he would have brought you home even if you had died in his arms. something you never hoped to happen, but a good thought nonetheless.

the sound of the church doors slamming open forced the two of you apart, gaze turning toward where yuri stood proudly in the doorway with his hands up high, “katinka is finished! we can take to the sky whenever you and your little prison lover are ready to go!” yuri smiles brightly, and you have to fight the flash of embarrassment that crosses your mind at the mention of being dmitri’s prison lover.

but it doesn’t matter, as you quickly help gather a few items to take with before joining the two men at the helicopter. dmitri gets you settled, handing you a set of headphones before climbing into the front with yuri.

the ride over the prison isn’t long, and from your view, it seems that a lot had transpired after you had passed out. it was a little crowded with the other three members of your party joining into the small helicopter, but you had made it work for the time being. after all, all you had to do was reach alaska and meet with the people jim had spoken with over the phone -- then you would be home free.

the ride back to the states had really been the only thing that had gone according to plan, with a quick refuel at the russian coast, where you had cuddled up to dmitri as the cold of night had started to set in before eyuri had announced the fueling was complete.

the rest of the trip was uneventful, aside from the moment katinka had landed, government cars had quickly pulled up, ordering you all out before a female agent had stepped forward, greeting hopper with an emotionless face before ordering that the two of you be taken to the hospital first.

dmitri had called your name as an agent ushered you towards an ambulance, and you had jerked in the agents hold at the despair that had laced in his tone.

“please don’t send him back! they’ll kill him! he saved us!” you pleaded with the agent that was holding you, eyes desperately looking to find where he had been moved as you were shoved into the back of the ambulance with the doors closing shut behind you.

you were quickly checked out by a physician, one who had praised the work of whoever had stitched you up, before doing so properly and after checking that nothing else was going to be an issue. the second the doctor had stepped out, the female agent from before came in.

“where’s dmitri?” you ask before she could get a word out, eyes narrowing at her as she sighs in response, “being questioned by another agent. we’re getting his side of the events.”

“you can’t send him back...” you plead, face hardening as she shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest, “we don’t have any other option.”

that’s when you blew up, “yes you do! we have rules for refugees! things in place for those who need sanctuary knowing that if they got sent back, their governments would kill them.”

“if we did that, we don't have anywhere for him to stay. that is a security risk we aren’t willing to take.” she stated quickly, before you shook your head and stood to your full height, “then, i’ll take him. my house is still up, right? we can live there. and you have one less commie running around your precious little nation.”

dmitri was brought in to see you, with him immediately scooping you up into his embrace the second he laid eyes on you. lips pressing kisses anywhere he could reach as he let out a sigh of relief at seeing you alive and well.

after the situation of his stay were explained, his face morphing into one of surprise as he was read the rights of a refugee and awarded heaven in the states from prosecution should he return to his home country, you were given transportation back to hawkins.

“so, this is your home?” dmitri questions as he steps out from the car, looking up at the slightly weathered home with a soft smile, “it looks just like you described it... more rundown.”

“would you believe me if i told you it was because i was locked away in some secret prison in russia?” you tease, earning you a deep chuckle before guiding him up the steps and unlocking the door. it was a surreal experience -- getting to step back into your house after a hellish eight months in a russian prison. a lot of your items still left untouched, and just as you had left it all those months ago to help the kids save the world.

“hey, i wanted to ask you something...” you start, looking over at your lover as he offers you a kind smile, “you can ask anything of me, дорогая.” the nickname sends a quick spark of heat to your cheeks, smile widening ever so slightly as you hesitantly ask, “did you mean what you said? about marrying me?”

dmitri pauses for a short moment, wondering how you had managed to hear his confession while you were fighting off your infection, “i... don’t recall saying anything like that.” he stutters out, blinking as you raise a brow in his direction, “oh, so you didn’t say you wanted to be with me? live with me in america and then marry me, all while pressing my face into the snow?”

“i did not press your face into the snow, дорогая. merely piled the snow on top of you.” he defends, chuckling to ease the growing tension and you shake your head, “you’re avoiding the question....”

“i... would, yes. i love you. though, i never imagined myself getting the chance to say it aloud.” dmitri mutters shyly, head ducking down and away from your capturing gaze to save himself from the embarrassment already burning in. his cheeks. only burning more when you chuckle, moving closer to his side as you press your cheek against his shoulder, looking up at him with bright eyes, “well, then be glad the feeling is mutual. i love you too.”

“so, what would you say?” he asks after a brief moment, eyes locking with yours once more as he waits patiently for your answer. you smile, “to marrying you? i would say yes.”

dmitri beams, turning to wrap his arms around you as excited laughter leaves your lips, hands cupping your cheeks a second later to pull you in for a heated, yet passionate kiss before resting his forehead against your own, “i’ll have to get you a ring... i didn’t exactly come over with much.” he mutters softly, now embarrassed for the reason of not being prepared, but you don’t seem to mind.

“i’m sure we could find something to make things a bit more official.” you answer back, already thinking of the little shop down on the main strip the sells all types of jewelry. and it would be a great surprise to the older lady behind the counter seeing you after your supposed death.

dmitri nods, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips. practically melting as your hands grip the front of his shirt, and humming in content just as your lips part just enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth and taste you softly.

pulling away, chests heaving as you catch your breath, with bright smiles pulled along your lips, “you’re going to be my wife...” he mutters softly, nuzzling against your cheek as you nod, “how lucky i am...” the rest of the evening is spent mulling around, and getting the house back in order after sitting empty for months.

dmitri helps where he can, nearly collapsing onto your mattress after finally getting a new set of sheets on, “i’m sure you are happy to be in a normal bed again. and i do not blame you for one second... this is wonderful.” he comments, snuggling into the pillow as you settle beside him, “well, it’s yours now too, unless you want to sleep in the spare bedroom.” you tease lightly, before chuckling as he makes a noise of discontent.

he looks up at you after a moment, head cocking to the side when he catches you far out gaze. and drops his hand to the top of your thigh, pulling you from your thoughts, “you... alright?”

“yeah... just thinking.” you utter, causing dmitri to raise a brow, “about?” he questions once more, curious as a smile splits across your lips and you look down at him, “our wedding... the reception would be small. we’d invite murray, joyce, hopper, and all their kids. and then, we could go to enzo’s and eat dinner there... i hear they have really good breadsticks and lasagna.”

the mention of enzo’s has him chuckling heavily, lips pulled into a wide smile at the details of a wedding -- his and your wedding, “it sounds like you have the whole thing planned out..” he utters, eyes sparkling as you shake your head and move to lay on your side facing him, “i don’t need anything over the top to make things official. just you, and those i care about.”

“then we will have to call them in the morning. let them know what we are planning.” he comments before reaching across and pulling you against his chest. letting you snuggle up against him as his fingers brush along where his ring for you would go -- giving him more hope than ever that things worked out just right.

blog navigation ⇢ [ stranger things masterlist ]

[megumei]

✿ : kissing them on the cheek — jujutsu kaisen !

feat. toji zenin / fushiguro, sukuna ryōmen, geto suguru x fem ! reader

genre. fluff !

a/n. so this is my first time writing for geto idk how to feel about it </3 i hope nothing is that inaccurate !

— toji zenin it’s never easy to steal a kiss from him. the only time you’d be able to do it is when he’s sleeping or when he just woke up, when he isn’t so aware of his surroundings yet. he had woken up to the feeling of something wet and warm touching his cheek. he peeked one eye open to find you sitting on the bed next to him, smiling innocently and acting as if nothing had happened. he groaned and wiped the side of his face, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “that is disgusting.” he mumbled. “why did you wipe it away ?” you asked with a pout, crossing your arms at him. “don’t get all pouty now, brat.” he rolled his eyes playfully at you before pulling you down. you squealed in shock when your face made contact with his chest. you inhaled his scent, smiling in content as you got comfortable again, nuzzling your face into his chest.

— sukuna ryomen “can i paint your nails ?” you asked your oh so kind boyfriend. you were sitting on the couch next to him, a movie playing on your laptop which was placed on a coffee table in front of you. “what the fuck ? no.” he mumbled in reply, not even sparing you a glance. “you’re always so mean to me.” you reply, huffing and crossing your arms at him before turning your attention back to the laptop screen. he scoffed in reply, glancing at your disappointment face and suddenly feeling a little bad. “fine.” he mumbles, causing you to turn and give him a confused look. “since you wanna be such a brat about it fine, you can paint my nails.” you squeal in excitement, causing him to scoff again. you lean in a press a gentle kiss to his cheek, causing him to turn red. “you’re red.” you giggle, poking at his cheek. “i’m not, go have your eyes checked.” he mumbles before swatting you away.

— geto suguru a pout decorated your features as you stared at suguru who was sleeping peacefully on his bed, there were soft snores coming out of his slightly open mouth. you gave his arm a little poke, a gentle attempt at getting him to wake up. you had been sitting in his room, lonely, for what seemed like hours but in reality it had only been thirty minutes. “suguru,” you whisper, the pout on your face only growing wider when you receive no response. you leaned down slowly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. a squeal escaped your lips when you felt arms wrap around your waist and pull you down to the mattress, you landed beside him with a soft thud. your boyfriend immediately started pressing little kisses all over your face, not giving you time to recover. giggles escaped your lips and he smiled at the sound, settling down next to you once again. “good afternoon, lovely.” he mumbled into your neck, smiling in content when you place a kiss to the top of his head in response.

[jtrbluv]

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera​ , @koushiningg​, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

-

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very  rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

-

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,��� another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,” you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only. 

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth. 

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out. 

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite. 

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you. 

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance. 

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time. 

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues. 

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it. 

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face. 

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight. 

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below. 

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time. 

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top. 

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away. 

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.” 

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find. 

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm. 

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay. 

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky. 

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you. 

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin. 

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do. 

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp. 

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only. 

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight. 

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey. 

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.  

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!” 

-

-

-

MASTERLIST

[golddustinourhands]

Hidge Week 2020 Day Two: Gardens | Robot

After they had proved themselves in the maze, the people of the strange planet accepted them without question. It had been over a thousand years since anyone had made it through the maze and the trials without dying, and for their whole party to succeed, it was a feat unheard of.

The people threw a fancy dinner in their honor, considered them gods. It was quite a different feel from the hours before in the maze.

Everyone else seemed unfazed by what they had seen in the darkness, but she could see they were all affected in small ways. Lance’s smile, as the ladies fawned over him wasn't as wide. Keith was jumpier than usual. Shiro was more observant than ever, his eyes never leading their leader. And Hunk...

Hunk tried hard to hide it, but she could see he was uneasy. He pushed his food around his plate, did his best to try and hide, but she saw him.

She wondered what the strange room had shown him. She wondered what the one thing was that would break the team apart was for him. What ultimatum had the room given him in the next seven days?

She pondered it and all the possibilities all through dinner. Once the plates were cleared away, the people were free to mingle and enjoy the large halls of the open building, and bask in the triumphs of their successes.

Shiro, Lance and Keith were enthralled by the paintings on the wall, the people’s rich history. They had succeeded so far. The orb wasn’t a short mission, but a long one, spanning seven days or more. Only the most worth of them would receive the orb and get one wish granted, whatever the cost. She wondered what her wish would be if she were given the ultimate power for that brief moment. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she would wish for, what she would ask for that she didn’t already have. Except perhaps—

Hunk appeared before her before she could pull herself completely from her thoughts, and she forced herself not to jump. She brushed it off, wishing the concerned look would vacate his face and he would smile again. 


She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him truly smile, but it was before what had happened with Allura.

“It’s an effect from the maze,” She said, which wasn’t completely inaccurate. Several things had made her jump in the maze, several things had attacked them and hunted them, but those had all been physical. That room, the darkness was pure mental anguish, but she couldn’t let any of them know that.

She was the smartest of them, and she should have been able to handle anything brainy. But to see her own self staring back at her was frightening.

Hunk nodded along in agreement. “That maze was crazy, wasn’t it?” Then he simply let that conversation drop.

He seemed nervous, unable to relax, and she felt that deep inside herself. “I know you’re not big on the outdoors,” He said next, and she watched him briefly. “But one of the robot butlers told me there’s a beautiful bloom supposed to be happening in the garden tonight that only happens every 167 million years. It would be a shame to miss it.” He offered her his hand. “Would you join me?” He asked, the nerves definitely as his hand trembled before her. “Please?”

For a brief moment, she hesitated. 167 million years was a long time, but she knew what was at stake if she wasn’t patient. They needed the orb, whatever the cost, and she could still remember vividly what the darkness had shown her when she was all alone. Then, she shook the fear from her head with a brief burst of courage. “I would love to join you,” she said, taking his hand.

Nothing had to change.

Nothing had to change.

Nothing had to change, it was simply a mission for Voltron. One of the last few, according to the shadow of herself, but she would do her best to make sure the future she had seen did not come true.

Orb or not.

Outside, in the garden, everyone stood around waiting for the flower to bloom. Hunk pulled them forward, especially since she was shorter than the rest of the competition, and she stood at the front, within arms length of the rare flower.

As the moon appeared from behind the clouds and as the beams hit the petals of the flower, it opened slowly with a spinning flourish.

Inside, a small fairy, glowing under the moonlight, her arms wrapped around the orb.

“You all come to seek the orb,” she said, her voice small but mighty. “But only one may truly hold it in their grasp. Step forward and meet your true fate from the oracle.”

Another test.

The first man, an alien with forty tentacles sticking out from all directions, even cockier than Lance on a bad day, stepped forward before the flower.

“Do your worst, tiny fairy.” His voice was deep and rough. “What's to stop me from tearing that orb from your tiny grasp?”

A terrible feeling surged in the pit of her stomach as Pidge watched the tiny fairy break out into a demure smile.

“Would you care to try?” The fairy asked. She held the orb out at arms length.

The alien reached out, his arm muscles thick with age and wear, toned more than even Shiro. Pure strength. As he reached out, tentacles ready to grab the orb, the flower grew in size, massive, overtaking the whole of them, its sharp fangs dripping with a shiny venom.

In a blink, the flower swallowed up the whole alien, as if he hadn't even been there, then returned to normal size, the fairy still demure and holding the orb.

“Sapiqar of the planet Trianoq is no longer in the competition,” the robot butler stated as he rolled out to meet them. “Let that be a lesson to the rest of you, this competition is a serious feat and you gamble with your life.”

The robot butler looked out through the crowd and landed on her. “You,” he said, pointing to her. “Step up to the flower of fate and see what awaits you.”

Pidge let go of Hunk’s hand and stepped forward. There was no place for fear in a competition like that.

[oraculideluna]

[SLAMDUNKS ADOLUNA IN HERE FOR THE SHIP MEME]

Soundtrack meme || @luck-crowned

Because obviously

opening credits: Left Behind - Gustavo Santaolalla [The Lastof Us OST; Instrumental]

meeting for the firsttime: Blue Velvet - BobbyVinton [She wore blue velvet / Bluer than velvet was the night / Softer thansatin was the light from the stars / She wore blue velvet / Bluer than velvetwere her eyes]

hey, i kinda like you: American Money - Borns [I was there when youfell from the clouds and landed in the desert / There was a thunder inside ofmy heart, there was a wonderful pleasure]

i’m going to kiss younow: A Little Bit - AlexzJohnson [When you told me you love me / I love you more, yeah I love youmore / Cause all I ever needed was a little bit of lovin’ / Yeah, a little bitof lovin’ goes a long way]

falling in love: Clouds - Borns [All my thoughts slip away /But I can’t stop thinking ‘bout your face / Oh, I won’t stop ‘til you knock onmy door]

your place or mine: Pleased to Meet You - Alexz Johnson [Nightlife got my arms real good / Holding me the way you should / I’m praying thiscan start real soon / to wake beside you in the afternoon / But hold on, itisn’t over here / The sun isn’t awake my dear / We’re feeling higher than arocket ship / I push it over when I dip my hip]

naked in bed: Everglow - Starset [You’ll never know / Thebeauty I see when you open your shadows / Everglow / They’ll never know / Theworlds that I see in the darkness you don’t show]

first fight: Paint It Black - Ramin Djawadi [WestworldOST; Instrumental]

maybe we should take abreak:  Island - Svrcina [Mybreath is shallow, I just can’t catch it / My heart is breaking, Feel the wavescrashing / A new storm is building / If it catches land, I’ll go under]

i want you back: Far Away (feat. Liz Williams) - Troy Baker [You,you’re so far away / But something just puts me in your arms / You, you’re sofar away / Something just keeps you hanging on to love]

will you marry me: Portuguese Knife Fighter - Cage the Elephant [I wanna waste my life withyou / Well, the look in your eyes says you’re feeling the same way too / Thelook in your eyes is as sharp as a cold knife fighter / Cutting me through, thefeeling is true, I really wonder /  Give me a sign, tell me, what should Ido? / Say that you’re mine and you’re feeling it, too]

we’re getting older: Mind - Sleeping At Last [First, the ground rulesget established / Memory is historically inaccurate / But repetition,repetition sings / ’Til finally the melody is sacred, rooted, unchanged]

if you die i’ll go withyou: Headrest for My Soul -AWOLNATION [If the hospital burns / If it’s really my turn / How the hellwill I, how the hell should I learn / There’s a leak in this boat / Someonetoss me a rope / And a headrest for my soul]

end credits: Go For A Walk - Lissie [Don’t want my life passing me by / ButI got time to make things right / I wanna feel, I wanna feel my life pass me by]

[skelezbian]

“I’m egging a random person’s house to relieve stress and you join me and as it turns out the house belongs to your ex and now they are chasing us as well as the police and now we’re both in jail waiting to be bailed so um you wanna talk about it?” AU with your swapfell papyrus and the reader?

request was from here

(listen…… this is Canon how the reader from bones picked clean meets the sf brothers in their universe… also i changed it a bit because egging someones house gets you 90 days in prison and a 1k fine so you just. don’t get caught) 

-

There were few times that Sans actually threw his weight around the house. All in all, he was content to let Papyrus do what he want, so long as it didn’t directly affect his work ethic. The recently-reappointed head of the Royal Guard was often tasked to shadowing the queen alongside her personal bodyguard, which left Papyrus with a very empty house and very little to do. Of course, Sans had extended the invitations to him on more than one occasion but, in the year after Chara had freed the monsters from Underground, the meetings were far too involved to hold his interest when he wasn’t directly involved. 

But Sans had come home early from an international conference and found Papyrus slothing about the house, disheveled and miserable, and officially banned him from the house. “AND DON’T YOU DARE GO TO MUFFET’S! CHANNEL YOUR ENERGY INTO SOMETHING OTHER THAN DRINKING AND PROJECTING YOUR FEELINGS ONTO RANDOM, UNDESERVING HUMANS.” Which had been the first time Sans had ever really pointed out his shitty coping mechanisms and, uh, it had stung pretty bad. Bad enough that, when he left the house, he didn’t even take his shortcut to Muffet’s out of habit. 

Almost stubbornly, Papyrus circles their house, like a dog that’d been put out for bad behavior. He cringes at the metaphor- after his failed stint as part of the Snowdin Guard, it wasn’t inaccurate to say he was often barking up the wrong tree. Yeah, he really did deserve this one. The giant barbecue stain on his shirt and the fact that he smells like a Frisco sour cocktail was definitely too much. He’d planned on cleaning up before Sans got home but…

Well. Guess it was going to be a night on the town, then.

He wanders around uselessly through their neighborhood- after a few odd glances and watching as cars slowed down as they passed him, he’d zipped up his jacket. If he had skin, it’d be crawling. There were few things that made him more uncomfortable than several people looking at him at once- sure, sometimes he’d bury his problems in a one-night stand, but that was drastically different from the burning looks of passerby.

So the usual means of channeling his simultaneous loneliness and detachment was out the window. Quite literally, considering that he’d fallen out of their first floor after Sans’ lecture, to his brother’s mild panic. He’d pulled him back up by the ankle, but Papyrus kept trying to crawl away from him (partially out of shame, but more so because he was grimy enough that he didn’t want Sans to see him like this and he was drunk enough to move on impulse), which dragged some of the foliage from the bushes outside the window into the house… He’d quickly dropped him and simply let Papyrus sort himself out. And he’d sorted himself right out the door.   

It might’ve been the leftover bourbon from the cocktail, but he ends up at the corner store, a strange feeling of euphoria in his veins. It’d been years since he pulled a dumb prank like this… Years since Undyne hadn’t attached live flamethrowers to her home just in case he did something like this. He blew six gold on four cartons of eggs and was going to wreak havoc on some poor shmuck’s house. 

If Undyne hadn’t moved in with Alphys, who he’d seen benchpress a car, he definitely would’ve tested his aim on her new house on the Surface. If only for old times’ sake. And also, maybe, to see if his best friend was still up to her old antics and making killer defensive traps like she’d always wanted to. After what he’d seen with Dogamy and Dogaressa, he was always a little nervous about bonded couples- he pulls out his phone and makes a note to check on her in the morning, after he’s taken a shower and doesn’t look skeletal ransom note covered in barbecue sauce. A real feat, balancing the egg cartons on one arm and penning a reminder on his phone while walking. 

After he finishes setting the reminder and pockets his phone, he realizes that, by walking in a straight line, he’s ended up in a part of the neighborhood he doesn’t recognize. At least, not at 11 PM, he doesn’t recognize it. In front of a dull green house with paled yellow shutters, he has the crowning realization that no one’s home. He sets the boxes down on the ground and pops one open with its creaking styrofoam sound. Picks one egg up, examining it. 

Then he throws it as far as it can go- it splatters on the leftmost window, eggshell scattering into their bushes. Papyrus can tell by the weight of his arms, how everything feels both too heavy and too light, that he’s definitely still drunk but damn if this isn’t the most fun he’s had in weeks. He laughs and tries to launch two eggs at one time, even though one just falls out of his weak grasp. 

He’s onto his fifth egg when he hears someone start walking up and, about to shortcut out of sight, he’s stopped short by your laugh. 

Your semi-hysterical, oh my God I can’t believe this laugh. “Holy shit.” You say, and he whips around, wondering who would laugh in response to seeing a strange skeleton egging their house. “Oh my god- I was just trying to get my stuff back from him, but what did he do to you?” Your laugh gets loud enough that you start snorting, then you try to turn your face away from him. He can’t help it- you surprise a laugh out of him. 

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but… “hey, you want a go? i’ll egg you on.” You start to laugh harder and he launches the one in his hand higher than he wanted it to go- it skims the second-story window and lands on the roof. When you finally calm down (after wheezing and brushing tears from your eyes), you lean down and grab one of the eggs. You toss it up into the air, like you’re testing the weight of it then, with a half-step and powerful baseball throw, launch it directly at the lower window. 

Just like every one of them before, the runny yellow yoke stains the paint and the bright white eggshell sticks to it. You turn to him, surprised and laughing, rocking on your heels. “Holy shit! That was-” You give a shaky and large hand gesture. You look fairly rattled, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Eggs-elent! You mind if I…?” 

“knock yourself out.” It’s almost more fun to watch you throw the eggs- he had just been doing it to do it, but you seemed to throw like you had some vendetta against the house. He watches as you do a baseball player’s stretch and then sling an egg over and into the bushes. It misses, and you look disheartened. He feels the need to cheer you up, if only slightly, “good idea- they won’t notice until it starts to rot.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him, and you bubble out a laugh. You pick up an egg and, to deflect from your surprisingly infectious laugh, he picks up one and aims for the porch. “Really- who are you? What’d Jason do that you’re egging his house?” 

“who the hell’s jason?” He asks, which you must’ve taken as another joke because you laugh again. 

“You’re right! Who the hell is Jason!” Your throw actually splits the yoke right in the middle of a window. You introduce yourself, running your hand across the back of your forehead and leaving some of the sticky white on it. You don’t seem to notice, or mind. 

“name’s papyrus. uh…” As much as he doesn’t want to know, he kinda wants to know what kind of douchebag must live in this house that some stranger would join a stranger to egg his house. “so, what’d jason do to you?” 

“He’s my piece of shit-” You punctuate your sentence with another egg. You finished off the carton and you shoot him an apologetic look. Wordlessly, he opens the next one and offers it to you. “-ex-boyfriend. We used to live here together-” Another egg, this time on the door. You have killer aim. “-but he broke up with me over text. And changed the locks. And kept all of my shit. Threw my clothes out on the lawn, kept my tv and my headphones and my computer…!” You trail off, as if it were a long list of things and, stars, what an asshole. 

“shit, that kind of week, huh?” That’d explain why you look terrible- he wasn’t in any position to judge, but he definitely has some sympathy for your dark circles and uneven smile. You look like you’re about the same level of strung-out as he’s felt for the past few weeks. Papyrus nods to himself, thinking. “hey, does he have a security system?” No close neighbors, and it was fairly dark…

You snort. “Too cheap. Nah, nothing like that. But he should be heading home soon, if you want to hike it soon.” 

“damn, at least allow me a finale.” To your absolute wonder and excitement, he lifts the remaining two egg cartons with magic and, like he was sparring with Sans, opens the carton and sends the two dozen eggs sailing at the house in a barrage of yellow and white. The door, completely covered with egg, looks like he’d tried and failed to make scrambled eggs. You clap for him, a fast theatrical clap that gets him to smile back at you. 

Just as he starts to see someone’s headlights turn into the neighborhood. “Shit, let’s go!” You swing your arm low and pick up all of the containers in one foul swoop and, stars, he could’ve just taken a shortcut back to his house and leave you like a deer in the headlights, but he finds himself caught up in the moment, running alongside you. He feels young and weightless and, suddenly, he understands what humans mean when they say they feel ‘out of their skin’. He pulls his hoodie over his head, knowing the headlights would’ve reflected and he would’ve been spotted immediately.

You’re in your casual clothes, however, with no chance of disguise. Without really thinking, he reaches out and pulls you closer to him, hiding you in his shadow two steps ahead. You both keep running and running until his ankle bones start to ache a little and, when he turns around, he sees that you both weren’t even pursued. He slows down, then laughs when you continue to still run. He calls out your name with a laugh, doubling over and resting his hands on his knees. “he wasn’t even chasing us…!” 

“Well! I wasn’t about to risk it! And check!” You’re as out-of-breath as he was, and just as pumped full as adrenaline. He feels your hand on his back, patting at him and laughing. “Not exactly what I was going to do when I came to his house but I guess some things are just…” You make a gesture at him. 

Destiny? He hadn’t believed in that since he was a babybones and Sans used to have the time to read him stories. He straightens his back, stretching and taking even breaths. “wouldn’t say we were meant to cross paths. just seems like jason was just due a really bad day, i just ended up being the one to socket to him.” He winks at you, and you give him that lopsided smile. 

“Still. I really… uh… appreciate it? I mean, we totally just committed a misdemeanor at the very least, but I’ll take it to my grave if you do- this was. I don’t know.” You cross your arms and smile at him- a full smile, but a shy one. It’s been a while since someone’s looked at him like that. “You said your name was Papyrus?”

“yup. i live down the street. sort of.” He just realized that he’s a lot farther from home than he thought he was. “listen, i had fun. this was… this was fun. uh. vandalizing your piece of shit ex-boyfriend’s house.” It was weird, doing this without the fog of drinks over the both of you- his well of charisma feels like it’s run dry. Not a lot to drink from when he wasn’t trying to get someone into bed, as it turns out. “so. if you want to… do it again…?” 

“Pft, I don’t think so- I think if we did this again, we’d probably get caught eventually. But, uh, if you wanted to hang out again, I can give you my number.” You put your hand out, palm-up, and he puts his phone into your hand like he’s handing over a sensitive diplomatic treaty. 

When you give it back to him, you’ve set your name as ‘Hard-Boiled’, and his head snaps up to look at you, an incredulous look on his face. “i love it.” Papyrus shoots off a text to make sure you got his number and, when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you give him a thumbs up. “well, it’s pretty late, now- i can walk you back to your car, if you’d like…?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind- I’m staying with a friend until I can get my own apartment, so I drove over here in her car.” You stuff your hands in your pockets, rocking a little on your feet. “I parked a little bit away, so I wouldn’t mind someone walking with me. In the dark. In this unfamiliar neighborhood.” 

“cut it with the ribbing, you already had me at ‘wouldn’t mind’.” Again, he thinks about how easy it would be to just… take a shortcut. But he almost doesn’t want this adrenaline-fueled rush to end. “so, about your douchebag ex-boyfriend. you wanna talk about it?” 

“You wanna listen?” You ask, sounding surprised. It kind of hurts to hear that disbelieving tone in someone else’s voice instead of his own.

“what? i may be all bones, but i do have a bleeding heart.”

[derekberry90-blog]

Not Just Another Marvel Movie: What Black Panther means to the Black community

This year marks the ten year anniversary of the Marvel cinematic universe. Iron man, being the first movie in the cinematic universe, debut in 2008. This movie was a huge success at the box office.  It proved that regular movie goers and superhero geeks alike could enjoy these vintage comic book characters being brought to life on the big screen. (I would fall in the latter category by the way, proud of it.)  The Avengers Infinity War will be debuting in May of this year.  All of the previous movies in the Marvel cinematic universe have been leading up to this one movie.  But before we all go rushing to the theaters this May (and I will be sprinting full speed), Black Panther will be released on February 16, 2018.  Black Panther is one of the most, if not the most, highly anticipated Marvel films that has been released. From memes of all sorts, to social media posts, people of color have expressed a heightened level of anticipation that has far exceeded any of the previous Marvel movies.  I would like to explain why Black Panther is not just another Marvel movie.      

So why all the fuss about Black Panther?  In order to understand why Black Panther is such a big deal, we first have to understand that movies have always had the ability to captivate and motivate an audience to think and feel a certain way.  Unfortunately, men have abused the power of cinema in order to promote fallacious stereotypes.  Early depictions of African-Americans in cinema (early 1900’s) were usually white actors who would paint their faces with black make-up.  Birth of a Nation, originally called The Clansman, was released in 1915.  In this film, African-Americans were portrayed as violent and unintelligent beasts who were sexually aggressive towards white women.  The hero of the film was none other than the Ku Klux Klan.  Many KKK members would use this film as a method of bringing in new recruits into their terrorists party.  This was one of the first erroneous stereotypes that was promoted by film, but it wouldn’t be the last.

Lincoln Perry is widely accredited as the first African American movie star.  He gained his popularity through his role as Stepin Fetchit. Fetchit was a mumbling, lethargic, disoriented dunce.  This character was given the title “the Laziest Man in the World.”  Although this made Perry a wealthy man of his day, it continued to propagate the stereotype that African-Americans, men especially, are lazy and unintelligent.  

As time progressed, the demand for African American roles in film increased.  It started with strictly domestic servant roles, but as the twentieth century began to progress, there became more opportunities for African Americans to land lead roles.  We have come a long way, and I am grateful for the progress that has been made.  But there is still a sense in which inaccurate stereotypes of African Americans is plaguing Hollywood.  It may not be done as blatantly as it was in the early 1900’s, but it is a reality that many African Americans have lamented over.  There seems to be a plethora of films in which African Americans are cast as slaves, hoodlums, and promiscuous, along with other false generalizations.

There seems to have been a turning of the tables for lack of better terms.  When African Americans were forbidden to be cast in film, white actors would wear black make-up to promote false ideologies concerning the black community.  Now that African Americans are able to act in those demeaning roles themselves, many white actors have taken to playing historical men and women of color.  This has been commonly referred to as the “whitewashing” of Hollywood.  Whitewashing takes place when white actors are cast in historically non-white character roles.  Note, this usually only takes place when the historical figure is someone distinct or accomplishes some type of major feat. On the contrary, when Hollywood is in need of someone to play the role of a slave, an African American actor is always available.  

All this brings us back to why Black Panther is such an enormous deal for the African American community.  Black Panther is the first of its kind.  This is in no way meant to throw shade on the many brilliant black movies that have come before it.  We have had Black superhero movies before.  As a child, I wanted to be Blade! I use to run around the house wearing sun glasses, my father’s oversized sports coat, and a fake sword taped to my back (don’t judge me).  This is not the first movie with an incredible black ensemble cast.  This is not the first movie to be directed by an African American.  This is not the first movie with a predominantly African American cast that has had huge success in the Box Office.  And this is certainly not the first critically acclaimed super hero movie to be made.  But this is the first movie to have all of these elements rolled into one.  Super hero films, particularly Marvel, have been dominating the box office for the last ten years.  The demand from audiences for Hollywood to produce excellent superhero films is higher than ever.  So for a predominately African American superhero movie to be released at a time such as this, is literally history in the making.  T’Challa, played by Chadwick Boseman, is not a slave, pimp, drug dealer, or thug.  T’Challa is the King of a fictional country in Africa called Wakanda.  He also possesses superpowers and uses them to protect the weak and defenseless.  Instead of degrading the women around him, he places them in positions of authority and allows the strong black women in his life to be his greatest support and protection.  What an amazing film for young African American kids to see!

This is why so many African Americans are standing in solidarity to support this film.  Frederick Joseph launched a GoFundMe to pay for young students in Harlem to go see Black Panther.  He set a goal to raise $10,000.00 and ended up raising $30,000.00. That is incredible! People from all shades and cultures donated to this amazing cause. Ron Clark Academy, a middle school in New York, will be taking all of their students on a field trip to see the Black Panther film.  One of the teachers caught the students reaction on camera and posted it online.  The video has sense gone viral!

I don’t believe that our love for superhero movies is a coincidence. We are captivated by the dichotomy between someone with immense power, but who also has a side of humanity that we can relate to.  And we love to witness this hero rise above all adversity, and defeat the antagonist of the story.  Unbeknownst to many of us, this desire is placed in each and every one of us by God himself.  The Bible says that God has placed eternity on man’s heart (Eccl 3:11) and we all know deep down that there is more than just this life.  We like to believe that we are the superhero’s of our story.  But the fact of the matter is that we are the helpless civilians who need saving.  The antagonists in our story is sin, the devil, and death.  The bible says that we are born with a natural inclination to run towards evil. We don’t need to be taught how to lie, steal, or disobey our parents as children.  We all learn sin on our own, because we come into this life spiritually dead in sin.  Thus the devil has the power of death (Hebrews 10:14) and would like to see each and every one of us destroyed.  The bible says that because we sin, we all deserve the eternal wrath of God (Romans 6:23).  There is nothing we can do to save ourselves, but thats where the true hero of the story steps in. One with limitless power, and yet can relate to us in our weakness.  2000 years ago, God became and man and lived the perfect life that we cannot live.  At the end of his life he received a cross. He didn’t die because he sinned, but rather he died because he became the sin bearer.  Jesus Christ, God the Son, took the full wrath and punishment from the Father on the cross that we deserved. He was the substitute for us all who would believe.  This is how Jesus defeats the antagonists: sin, satan, and death.  But three days later something revolutionary took place.  Jesus rose from the dead in a new glorified body.  And now he offers victory over death and a relationship with God to all those who will place their trust and faith in what He accomplished on the cross. As excited as I am to see Black Panther this Thursday, I am even more excited to see the Lord Jesus at his return.  How about you?

[thetrumpdebacle]

President TrumpDonald John TrumpHouse Democrat slams Donald Trump Jr. for ‘serious box of amnesia’ after testimony Skier Lindsey Vonn: we don’t wish to paint Trump during Olympics Poll: 4 in 10 Republicans consider comparison Trump advisers had wanton exchange with Russia MORE’s initial year in bureau has constructed a relentless tide of controversies.

Trump’s eagerness to gibe domestic norms has angry his critics, even while it has gay his supporters.

In a pointer of only how scattered 2017 has been, some inclement episodes that would have been huge stories underneath other presidents do not even moment a Top 10 list below.  

We found no space on a list for a Trump debate to a Boy Scouts in Jul that drew widespread critique for a sincerely domestic nature; nor for his idea that TV anchor Mika Brzezinski was draining from a face due to cosmetic surgery; nor for his poke during Sen. Elizabeth WarrenElizabeth Ann WarrenOvernight Regulation: Net neutrality supporters envision tough probity conflict | Watchdog to examine EPA chief’s assembly with attention organisation | Ex-Volkswagen exec gets 7 years for emissions intrigue Overnight Tech: Net neutrality supporters envision tough probity quarrel | Warren backs bid to retard ATT, Time Warner partnership | NC county refuses to compensate release to hackers Avalanche of Democratic senators contend Franken should renounce MORE (D-Mass.) as “Pocahontas” during an eventuality honoring Native American veterans.

Here are a 10 biggest Trump controversies of a year.

  The banishment of James ComeyJames Brien ComeyTrump: Dershowitz talk on ‘witch hunt’ a ‘must watch’ Comey after Trump tweet: FBI is honest, strong, eccentric Former ethics director: Trump’s twitter on Flynn would have finished past administrations MORE

The preference to glow FBI executive James Comey was a biggest self-inflicted wound of Trump’s initial year.

It led directly to a appointment of special warn Robert Mueller by Deputy Attorney General Rod RosensteinRod Jay RosensteinDOJ unsuccessful to talk FBI confidant before it filed charges in Russian arch temptation box Deputy AG Rosenstein: Charlottesville marchers advocated ‘racism and bigotry’ White House could use ethics sequence to bushel special warn on Russia: news MORE — and to a universe of pain for a president. 

Top aides have been indicted, a Russia examine has hung over his initial year in a White House and a boss himself faces questions about either he blocked justice.

Comey delivered thespian testimony to Congress after a firing. His difference were carried live inhabitant by during least a dozen TV networks.

The widespread guess — yet Comey did not categorically contend this — is that a FBI executive was dismissed since he refused to behind off an review into former inhabitant confidence confidant Michael Flynn.

“It’s my visualisation we was dismissed since of a Russia investigation,” Comey said.

Trump was reportedly suggested opposite banishment Comey even by some of his many brave aides, including then-chief strategist Stephen Bannon. He went ahead, and a reverberations dominated a rest of a year. 

They will relate into 2018.

  Charlottesville

Trump’s greeting to a convene by far-right activists in this Virginia city dominated August, and led to some of a strongest critique of him from within his possess party.

The “Unite a Right” convene stretched over a weekend of Aug. 11 and 12. Among those attending were unashamed white supremacists, neo-Nazis and anti-Semites. They had come to a city to critique a due dismissal of a statue of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee from a park.

Predictably, there were clashes between those attending a convene and left-leaning groups opposite to them. A protester, Heather Heyer, was struck and killed by a car driven by a male reported to have far-right sympathies. According to police, a ramming was an conscious attack.

Trump essentially pronounced that there had been “hatred, prejudice and attack on many sides.” The response, suggesting a dignified equilibrium between neo-Nazis and those who protested opposite them, caused a furor. 

The debate deepened serve when, during a successive appearance, Trump pronounced there were “very excellent people on both sides.”

In further to a snowstorm of Democratic and magnanimous criticism, Republicans including former Presidents George H.W. Bush and George W. Bush, Sen. John McCainJohn Sidney McCainGOP strategist donates to Alabama Democrat Meghan McCain knocks Bannon: ‘Who a ruin are you’ to impugn Romney? Dems direct Tillerson finish State employing freeze, deliberate with Congress MORE (Ariz.) and 2012 presidential hopeful Mitt Romney all publicly dissented from Trump’s position.

  Travel ban

Trump had been in bureau for only a week when he sealed an executive sequence that led to protests in streets and during airports.

The initial chronicle of a transport anathema that a administration attempted to order criminialized many travelers to a United States from 7 nations with majority-Muslim populations.

Trump and a administration argued such a pierce was required to strengthen a United States from a hazard of terrorism. But it ran into evident authorised challenges. Lawyers argued there was transparent eremite animus and discrimination, a indicate that they reinforced by highlighting Trump’s campaign-trail guarantee to order a “total and finish shutdown” of Muslims entering a United States.

The initial chronicle of a anathema became bogged down in a courts, as did a second iteration.

But a White House finally got a feat in early December, when a Supreme Court authorised a third chronicle of a anathema to go into outcome while authorised hurdles to it are ongoing. 

  Taking a knee in a NFL

Trump has had a quarrelsome attribute with the NFL dating behind to a 1980s, when he was a distinguished banker in a opposition United States Football League.

But he kicked things into a totally opposite rigging this year, hammering players who opted to take a knee during a personification of a inhabitant anthem in protest of secular injustice.

Trump put himself precisely in a center of a emanate during a debate in Alabama in September. Campaigning for obligatory Sen. Luther StrangeLuther Johnson StrangeGOP sen: ‘Just a fact’ Moore will face ethics censure if inaugurated Trevor Noah: Trump contingency be ‘morally degenerate’ to behind Roy Moore Moore gets boost from Bannon in final days of debate MORE (R-Ala.), who would go on to remove a GOP primary, Trump pronounced people would “love” if NFL owners reacted to a actor holding a knee by saying, “Get that son of a dog off a margin right now. Out! He’s fired!”

The outburst essentially constructed a larger grade of oneness among a players. Trump, though, was retiring as ever to behind down, and strike a players and owners several some-more times, generally around Twitter.

It was not transparent who won a quarrel politically, yet Trump has regularly remarkable a decrease in TV ratings for a NFL.

  “Little Rocket Man”

Trump’s unusual proceed extended to a general arena. 

His supporters see his negligence for tactful niceties as a prolonged overdue pierce toward American assertiveness. His detractors courtesy it as forward and dangerous.

The many transparent instance came in Trump’s ongoing argument with North Korean personality Kim Jong Un. In a debate to a United Nations in September, Trump called Kim “Rocket Man” — a coexisting anxiety to North Korea’s barb module and a Elton John strike mostly played during Trump rallies during a 2016 campaign. 

During a same speech, Trump pronounced that a United States would “totally destroy North Korea” if it felt it had to do so.

In response, Kim called Trump “the mentally demented U.S. dotard” and threatened to make him “pay dearly” for his rhetoric. 

Trump called Kim “a ill puppy” — and mutated his nickname to “Little Rocket Man” — on successive occasions.

  A argumentative upraise call

Trump had already shown during a 2016 debate that he had no remorse about tangling with a kin of U.S. infantry killed in combat, if they criticized him.

Last year, it was Khizr and Ghazala Khan, a kin of a U.S. Army officer killed in Iraq in 2004. The Khans seemed during a 2016 Democratic National Convention in support of Hillary ClintonHillary Diane Rodham ClintonGrassley blasts Democrats over rejection to examine Clinton GOP lawmakers bring new allegations of domestic disposition in FBI Top intel Dem: Trump Jr. refused to answer questions about Trump Tower discussions with father MORE.

This October, it was a family of Army Sgt. La David Johnson, one of 4 U.S servicemen killed in an waylay in Niger.

The quarrel began when Rep. Frederica WilsonFrederica Patricia WilsonThe scarcely 60 Dems who voted for impeachment House rejects Democrat’s fortitude to cite Trump Mullen: ‘Sad moment’ when Kelly shielded Trump over call to depressed soldier’s widow MORE (D-Fla.), a crony of a Johnson family, told a internal NBC News associate in Miami that Trump had told Johnson’s widow, “you know, he must’ve famous what he sealed adult for.” 

Wilson indicted a boss of carrying been unresponsive and pronounced that Johnson’s widow, Myeshia Johnson, had pronounced that Trump did not seem to remember her husband’s name.

On Twitter, Trump insisted that Wilson had “totally fabricated” what he had said. Members of Johnson’s family, however, stood by Wilson’s account.

The debate followed on a heels of a associated Trump flap, when he claimed, inaccurately, that former President Obama and other past presidents “didn’t make calls” to bereaved relatives.

  Indictments

The Russian examine led by Mueller began delivering a many critical problems for Trump in late October, when former debate authority Paul ManafortPaul John ManafortJudge warns Manafort not to plead box with media Manafort concerned in drafting op-ed fortifying his Ukrainian work: probity papers Trump went off on Manafort for suggesting he should not seem on Sunday shows: news MORE and his associate Richard Gates were indicted on charges associated to income laundering.

A lower-level debate adviser, George PapadopoulosGeorge Demetrios PapadopoulosMueller group questions how many Trump knew on Russia contacts: news Papadopoulos lied to FBI out of faithfulness to Trump: news White House was not wakeful Clovis testified before grand jury: news MORE, was also indicted. The bigger hazard for Team Trump in that instance was a explanation that Papadopoulos was auxiliary with prosecutors.

The biggest news of all came in December, when Flynn, a former inhabitant confidence adviser, pleaded guilty to fibbing to a FBI. 

Flynn, too, struck a understanding with Mueller’s team. 

Flynn’s flip is a singular many dangerous component so distant for Trump and his closest confidants.  

   Kirsten GillibrandKirsten Elizabeth GillibrandDemocrats spin on Al Franken Report: Franken will renounce Thursday Minnesota’s largest journal calls on Franken to renounce MORE “would have finished anything”

The boss reacted explosively after Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-N.Y.) pronounced he should renounce in light of a accusations of passionate attack and other bungle that have been intended opposite him by some-more than a dozen women. 

“Lightweight Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, a sum attendant for Charles E. Schumer and someone who would come to my bureau ‘begging’ for debate contributions not so prolonged ago (and would do anything for them), is now in a ring fighting opposite Trump,” he wrote on Twitter.

The idea that Gillibrand “would do anything” for debate money was widely seen as a passionate innuendo. 

But White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders shielded a president, arguing during a media lecture that “only if your mind is in a gutter would we have review it that way.”

Other womanlike Democrats, including Warren, came to Gillibrand’s defense, as did a series of media figures.

Gillibrand herself indicted Trump of “a sexist allegation attempting to overpower my voice.”

  Sean SpicerSean Michael SpicerSpicer: CNN ‘doing a disservice’ by boycotting White House Christmas celebration DNC attorneys authorised to overthrow Spicer over choosing night participation in Trump Tower Sean Spicer to decider DC dance-off MORE and a coronation crowd

Then-White House press secretary Sean Spicer set a tinge for many of what was to come on a initial full day of a Trump presidency, lambasting a media for their coverage of a prior day’s inauguration.

Among his criticisms was that a media had not famous that “this was a largest assembly to ever declare an inauguration, period, both in chairman and around a globe.”

The in-person throng during Trump’s coronation was significantly smaller than a assembly for Obama’s homogeneous eventuality in Jan 2009, as detailed justification done clear.

Spicer also got several other contribution wrong in his broadside, though he continued to mount by it as prolonged as he served in a White House.

After he left, he was asked by a New York Times if he regretted a episode.

“Of march we do, absolutely,” he replied.

  The Mooch is loose

There has never been a White House communications executive utterly like Anthony ScaramucciAnthony ScaramucciScaramucci labels Bannon a ‘loser’ Scaramucci slams contributor who available Bannon, Priebus tirade: ‘Very bad actor’ Scaramucci resigns from college house after lawsuit threats MORE.

The banker and Trump crony — “The Mooch” to fans and foes comparison — was allocated by Trump on July 21, and fired 10 days later.

Spicer quiescent as White House press secretary on a same day Scaramucci was tapped by Trump. Spicer was shortly followed to a exits by his crony and fan Reince PriebusReinhold (Reince) Richard PriebusScaramucci announces sum for news site Trump: ‘I call him chief’ John Kelly Scaramucci going on Stephen Colbert’s uncover Monday MORE, Trump’s initial arch of staff.

There had not been any time for that tumult to settle down before Scaramucci gave a scurrilous on-the-record talk to The New Yorker’s Ryan Lizza, in that he pounded Priebus and Bannon in wanton terms.

There was no approach behind from there. The attainment of late Marine Corps Gen. John KellyJohn Francis KellyMORE as arch of staff spelled a finish of Scaramucci’s brief and vigourous tenure.

The Memo is a reported mainstay by Niall Stanage, essentially focused on Donald Trump’s presidency.

  via The Trump Debacle