#i have more planned tbh‚ but this might suffice for now

[redrocketpanda]

Hi friends. I'm having a real bad time at the moment, and unfortunately all of the people I'm close to that I turn to for support are all unavailable at the same time so I'm gonna just post some sad feelings here and hope that will suffice for my brain for now

At the start of April I was told I was being made redundant & my final day would be the 31st May. That day is now tomorrow and I haven't found another job. I had 5 different opportunities come up that looked really promising but each time they came to nothing (for various reasons)

I live on my own, am estranged from most of my family, and have no financial support from anyone has been... more stressful than I can convey. The idea that very soon I might lose my home and this little life I had built for myself has been making me feel so ill. Every night I have nightmares, I feel constantly sick, my body is in pain from all the stress, I either want to cry all the time or have to turn my emotions off so that I can get through the day.

I had a very difficult conversation with my boyfriend who said he would live with me for a little while before we planned to move in with each other properly at the end of the year, but when talking to him his financial situation isn't great or very flexible either so that may not be possible. My friends have also said I could stay with them if I need to but I'm not sure how that would work as they don't live in the same city as me, etc

I know that the only way out of this situation is to keep applying for jobs - but I feel so battered from the whiplash of the 5 other opportunities that let me down, I'm so scared that concentrating on anything has been almost impossible, and applying for jobs is exhausting

I didn't even want to get out of bed today bc it feels like there's nothing to get up for... all I've ever wanted in my life is stability - I just want a little home and a little job and to be able to go out with my friends and play gamed, and that's it - and tbh I'm worried I'm never going to get it. I'm 32 years old and my entire life has been fraught with crises' and stress and utter shit. And I'm just so fucking tired of it

[theme-park-concepts]

I know this blog has been pretty quiet lately, and reflecting on it there’s a lot of reasons for it.

One is that this whole account started as a place to chart my journey from being obsessed fan to actually doing theme park design as a career…a journey that has for the most part run it’s course for now and has led to interesting unexpected places, and - mostly a good thing - quite a bit too busy to consistently post things.

But also during that journey, partially as a consequence of it, and even more so a consequence of how the industry has changed since I fell in love with it, and maybe just a bit of how things change over time…I find myself a bit less interested with theme parks, certainly as compared to my relationship with them most of my life.

I’m not uninterested, I still follow all the news, still actively planning to visit new ones, still think it would be fun to participate in designing one…but I just feel less invested. I think partially this is because I’ve had the platform to be able to say a lot of the things I’ve wanted to say, and now having said them, I simply have less on my mind. And maybe realized how few people in the field wanted to hear them.

Having had the chance to go to school for themed design, meet and get to know many of the people involved in it…it’s satisfied my curiosity and questions in many cases, and frankly been a bit dispiriting and disillusioning in others. Meeting your heroes is a very mixed bag.

I think ultimately though one of the reasons I find myself less interested in them, is they keep getting less interesting. It’s not just that I’m not thinking about them as much as I once did, I’m not going to them either, or even wanting to go. I’m finding myself much more interested in theatre, independent immersive events, traveling, exploring local hideaways etc.

The world of themed entertainment, at least in theme parks, has just been getting less and less interesting overall. There’s some really great stuff every now and then, but so many new attractions, parks, coasters seem interchangeable, formulaic, paint by numbers, more product-like than anything anyone actually cared about or had an opinion on. And I don’t say this to diminish the work the creatives, engineers, project managers, etc are doing…the work they do continues to be stellar…just in service of or stifled by strategies, philosophies, visions that I largely don’t find inspiring. Tbh a lot of the industry very much operates that way….you get a recycled master plan, and you get a recycled masterplan, you’re all getting the same masterplan!

And the stuff that genuinely is interesting and different ends up being placed behind enormous paywalls or placed in countries that aren’t safe for me to visit largely for the glorification of a couple investors…and that’s not particularly interesting either. Meanwhile touring musical theatre shows these days you can get great tickets for like $40. And most of those shows, despite being big business enterprises, still manage to say something worth saying.

There’s a whole ass brand new theme park being built by the 2nd biggest player in the industry and I can’t be bothered to do much other than glance at construction photos…and despite knowing many people who’ve been a part of it, I can’t say any of them seem particularly excited either. Though I can’t decide if it’s the fact the park is uninteresting, or that it’s just hard to care about when the governor of the state is banning ap psychology because kids might learn about gay people.

Suffice to say, this blog isn’t going away, I’ll be on tumblr until it literally stops functioning, but I just have less to say these days.

[choicesmc]

A few questions for Sawtooth and Channing: What are their favourite things about each other?

And what are things they dislike about each other?

And how do they deal with conflict?

oooh!! Thank you!!

What are their favourite things about each other?

Sawtooth really admires how much Channing looks out for the pack. Like he’d never say it, but Sawtooth knows Channing drives himself near insane trying to be perfect for his pack. He takes his role as their Alpha incredibly seriously (and lbh he’s probably a tad more serious than the avg alpha, y’know?) Yeah, Sawtooth acknowledges that Channing can get incredibly set in his ways and, yeah, he can be an ass about tradition and takes on too much responsibility than he should but it’s all from a truly caring place. As much as Channing is frustrating, Sawtooth can be at least a little assured that it’s for a good, though misguided, reason.

Also, Channing has a really pretty face.

Channing loves Sawtooth’s unabashed stubbornness. It’s not necessarily that Sawtooth doesn’t give in easy (which he doesn’t). It’s more of an insistence on being themself, regardless of whoever or whatever is around them. You can’t intimidate him into hiding away parts of themself. His emotions are plain on his face and they rarely ever try to hide what they’re feeling. Channing sees himself in contrast to that: where Sawtooth is purely themself, Channing is so used to putting in a façade of a cool, undisturbed guy that at times Sawtooth seems to feel for the both of them. (<- i have more to say but this’ll suffice for now)

also sawtooth’s body is lean and toned and they’re always showing it off (not intentionally though, it drives Channing mad at times) <3

And what are things they dislike about each other?

OOH

okay

Sawtooth cannot stand how much Channing appoints himself leader. Yeah, yeah he’s the Alpha and whatever but, by gods, is it grating when Channing just. Decides stuff for the both of them because he can. For example, the first premium outfit in Alpha where Channing picks it out for MC does not fly with Sawtooth. It makes them intentionally act out almost as a matter of principle. I explain this a little better in [this] post

for Channing, im not sure if there’s anything in specific that he dislikes but something that does get to him is Sawtooth’s lack of affection. Channing is a huge romantic —he’s really Prince Charming once he’s dating someone and Sawtooth. Just. Isn’t. Like, Sawtooth does kisses and will hold his hand and cuddle but they don’t bring flowers or wait up after classes for him or plan special dates as surprises. It gets to Channing at times —especially if they haven’t fucked recently. But Channing doesn’t want to admit that because ‘cool, stoic alpha’ amirite?

And how do they deal with conflict?

Excellent question. As this couple is well versed in conflict, they do have a couple strategies:

Don’t get the rest of the pack involved. Since Channing is their Alpha, getting the rest of the wolves to pick a side can end up making Sawtooth feel alienated since most members will side with Channing.

Spend a couple hours apart. When they’re both seeing red, neither of them are thinking straight so if this fight is serious it’s better tackled when they’ve had a bit to calm down. If it’s not serious, they’ll probably make up once the couple of hours is over.

Alternatively, if the mood’s hot and heavy, fucking it out might actually be helpful. It’s a useful way to channel how they’re feeling and sometimes they’re more honest when Sawtooth’s fucking Channing silly.

Don’t avoid fights. (not that they needed to be told that tbh) if you e got a problem, it’s better to have a million tiny fights than one blowout-maybe-we’ll-break-up fight.

Corollary to 4, never ever suggest breaking up or taking a break mid fight. Like not even as a joke. Channing takes it seriously regardless and honestly, it’s a touchy subject for him.

thank you thank you for sending these in <3 as reward here’s a sawtooth picrew <3

made with [sushicore]

[tardigreatest]

How did you become a pro copyeditor?

Oh boy that’s a Story. HERE GOES.

I was married for 12 (!!) years. The first three years, my ex was in law school and I worked at a law firm, which I! Hated!! So much!!!

One he started working, we didn’t financially need me to work, so I… didn’t. I finished my undergrad degree and I was going to be a writer or maybe open a bookstore or maybe look I don’t even know, I have pretty bad ADHD and most of my Brilliant Plans amounted to very little.

Once we split up, though, oh shit I had to support myself. I’ve always been a huge reader and I’ve always just NOTICED things that are wrong, when timelines don’t add up or the wrong word is used or that comma doesn’t go there and I figured, idk, copyediting might be a good fit?? I did the ACES/Poynter online certificate course (more useful for making people go “oh she must know what she’s doing” than for anything it actually taught me tbh) and I did some freelance copyediting for a while, which didn’t end up being a good fit for me because 1) freelancing does not mesh well with the aforementioned ADHD and 2) turns out I don’t actually enjoy editing fiction.

Every single time I press enter the gap is bigger is this normal?????

So anyway (oh what the fuck why’s it normal now) I redirected again and decided to try to move towards a career as a paralegal. Even though I’d hated working at a law firm before, I knew enough about the field to know there are areas that I might enjoy?? And managed to land a job at a law firm as a legal assistant, and once they realized I was a good editor they started directing more editing/proofing to me, and after my first year there they made me the copyeditor for the firm.

It’s not the only thing I do, but attorneys are encouraged to send things through me at least for a clean-up and pretty much all firm marketing stuff goes by me first (often I’m the person writing it). I’m being trained to move into a paralegal role but with the goal of tailoring that role so I can continue to be the key person for editing and writing projects. Legal editing makes me way happier than fiction editing, because I can maintain a degree of emotional removal and because the deadlines are always like… tomorrow, which keeps me motivated and also forces me to Stop rather than try to make things perfect forever.

So I don’t think this is��� very instructive? As a path others can follow? Like… I’m a professional copyeditor through a combination of talent (obvious caveat re: whether or not “talent” and “intelligence” are even real; suffice it to say that, for whatever reason, I notice mistakes others don’t), necessity, luck, and pure moxie. But also I guess - there’s lots of editing opportunities in the world that don’t look like a traditional freelance or publishing house career. My job wasn’t looking for an editor but they are smart enough to lean into their employees’ strengths because they know it makes everyone’s work better.

Obviously the American capitalist landscape is a dumpster fire hellhole and I’m not going to say good workplaces are easy to find or that talent will eventually be recognized because they aren’t and often it isn’t. But there are lots of paths that can use your strengths without being the traditional way to do something.

[snackhobi]

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant. 

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail. 

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him. 

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage. 

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you. 

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline. 

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then: 

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus. 

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing. 

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano. 

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck. 

It's too much. 

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you. 

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him. 

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you? 

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before. 

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach. 

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing. 

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—" 

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you. 

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot. 

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car. 

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth. 

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice. 

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of. 

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair. 

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight. 

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 319 Spoiler Analysis: Found Family

Holy crap what a phenomenal chapter!  This arc in general has been great, but this chapter might be one of my favorites of the arc.  Not just because it focuses on Class 1-A (I’m so glad to see the kids again), but because of the growth we see in these kids in general especially Bakugo and Shoto IMO.  Like, holy shit ESPECIALLY BAKUGO!  I stand by my opinion that Bakugo is one of the best developed characters in the series.  There’s so much I want to say about this chapter and I’ll try my best to do so if my poor injured left hand will let me 😭:

The chapter starts off with the first of 3 colored pages we’re going to get over the next few weeks to celebrate 7 YEARS OF MY HERO ACADEMIA!!!  CONGRATS, HORIKOSHI-SENSEI!!!  This series revived my love of anime/manga and really helped me in some really rough spots in my life.  I will forever be grateful towards Horikoshi for bringing this series to life and blessing us with such an incredible story full of beautiful characters.  MHA may be a little overrated, but I still think it deserves all the love it can get.  

Anyway, the color page.  It shows Uraraka, Iida (who has red eyes here, so IDK why the anime gives him blue eyes though I do think they work better for him personally *shrugs*), Shoto, Tokoyami, and Bakugo after basically figuring out where Deku went.  Bakugo is shown tearing up his letter (which says something like “Thank you for being there, Kacchan”; there’s more but I can’t translate it 😭) and you can kinda see some bandage wrap around his arm where he was stabbed.  Also, both Bakugo and Shoto still have some visible injuries on their faces and Bakugo’s hands, so they’re still recovering from the War.  It’s a really pretty page in general and I can’t wait to see what the next 2 color pages are going to look like.  I also kinda want Horikoshi to take a break after this too again so he doesn’t overwork himself.  Maybe he’ll treat himself to the MHA: World Heroes Mission movie 🍿.  

So, Shoto and Bakugo have figured out that Deku is most likely with Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist.  Problem is that none of them are answering their phones.  I like that Bakugo calls Best Jeanist “Pair of Denim Pants” 😂 and Shoto’s image of Endeavor is still a very angry version of his old man.  Shoto’s still making amends with his father, but he’s still not THERE yet.  Regardless, these kids are smart enough to know that something’s up.  Especially since All Might hasn’t returned to UA either.

It’s basically confirmed by Ojiro that because classes have been suspended, our Class 1-A kids are still 1-A; they haven’t moved into their second year yet.  That clears up the confusion on whether we should still refer these group of kids as 1-A still or not.  

Now Bakugo’s showing how much of a genius he really is despite his personality.  Bakugo figures out that the Top 3 and All Might are working together as a group based on how they all connected with each other back at Central Hospital.  Also, Bakugo concludes that All Might snuck Deku’s letters under their doors while Deku started running.  Ultimately, Bakugo does know more about Deku and All Might more than anyone else does.  He’s been around his childhood friend and he’s admired his idol longer than most people have.  Bakugo understands how bad the situation is and he’s ready to take action.  

As are the other kids.  You can see how determined they are and you can see Kirishima’s black roots coming in 🥺!  Even Uraraka gets some shine here by bringing up the idea to trick Endeavor to come via getting help from Principle Nezu as Endeavor was a UA student.  It’s really interesting to see Ochako in a more serious roll than usual, but I actually like it.  I hope she’s still as bubbly as she always was at the end of the day, but she’s definitely matured and grown a lot over the corse of the series.  Even the simple things like her hair show it as it’s not as floaty as it was before.  I love it when Horikoshi shows small details like this.  It adds to the characters and stories a lot.  Also, the art in this chapter is amazing.

And now it’s Endeavor vs. Class 1-A in a much needed conversation.  All the kids are wearing their school uniforms to make this as formal and serious as they can.  EVEN BAKUGO IS PROPERLY WEARING HIS TIE YOU KNOW SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN!!!  And, I must say, Bakugo looks damn good with a tie 😳.  You can also get a decent height measurement on the kids here if you want.  Ngl, sometimes I forget that Shoto’s about 2 inches taller than Bakugo.  It’s definitely the hair.  

Shoto’s the first to step up and he scolds the hell out of his old man.  Rightfully so tbh.  Endeavor shouldn’t have ignored Shoto’s calls even though I kind of understood why.  Shoto reminds Endeavor of their plan to stop Dabi though thankfully that’s what’s pushing Endeavor forward so he hasn’t forgotten.  Shoto calls his father “Endeavor” and gets mad at him fro leaving Deku and All Might alone.  The rough translations say he called Izuku “Deku” here too btw.  Endeavor has no response.  I think this anger Shoto’s unleashing is very justified and has been burning inside him since Deku left UA.  His best friend just up and left him and his friends with nothing but a letter to kinda explain things.  Also, Shoto and the rest of 1-A (minus Bakugo) have basically been lied to for about a year.  I’d want answers too if someone did that to me.  

Bakugo steps in by putting a hand on Shoto’s shoulder (🥺) to calm him down a bit and to say his piece.  Ultimately, he thinks what Deku is doing is right, but that the way they’re all doing it is wrong.  I love Deku and All Might, but they’re sacrificial idiots.  They care more about others than they probably ever will themselves.  That’s how All Might lost his OFA in the first place.  It’s because of that that All Might doesn’t have it in him to stop Deku from going down this path.  They shouldn’t have been left alone.  Someone should’ve kept a closer eye on them.  I know the Top 3 were all worried about getting too close to Deku before, but really, someone should’ve been watching them closer on the sidelines.

The next page is a really cool drawing of Endeavor flinging his phone to the kids to catch.  The previous panels showed Endeavor with this face that’s regretful and I think he realized something: That Bakugo is right and that the kids might be better off finding Deku than he is.  So he basically gives the kids his GPS on his phone.  Those are just my thoughts, but it does look like that.  I don't think Endeavor’s just going to up and give up though.  He’s probably going to start rethinking things though.

As Sero manages to catch Endeavor’s phone, he and the rest of the kids think about how even though they’ve only known Deku for a year, they still think of him as family and cannot let him go down this thorny path alone.  They’ll carry the OFA burden with him if they have to.  They can’t smile without Deku around.  These kids truly have become a family over the year.  It’s amazing to see.  Everyone’s like a brother and sister and it’s really nice to see.  I just love Found Family stories, guys 😭❤️

And really quick, I want to focus on my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto, really quick.  As he’s thinking about Deku, he mentions how shocked he still is about Deku keeping OFA from them and how Deku thought just a letter would suffice.  He has this sad look on his face like he’s trying to say: “I still can’t believe my best friend hid this from me for so long.  Why?  Did he not trust me?”  That’s just my interpretation.  Still, I can’t imagine how upset Shoto must feel.  I think he still cares a lot about Deku enough to go out and find him, but he’s gotta feel some sort of betrayal.  More so than the other students outside of Bakugo because, again, Deku was essentially Shoto’s best and closest friend 💙😭

Endeavor is rightfully worried about letting the kids out in the state of Japan right now, but now Principle Nezu speaks up and praises the kids on growing up so well.  He’s also took into account Deku's feelings about his mission which is why he agreed to the team up.  Also, Deku’s still welcome back to UA whenever he wants thank god ☺️.  He’s a student who has to be protected.  There’s a cute panel of Uraraka and her mom crying happily after getting her acceptance letter too.  Not 100% why this is shown other than Acceptance Letter part, but it’s cute to see.  Maybe Ochako realizes how much Deku needs to be protected or something.

As for the refugees, Nezu had the security system strengthened in time for the Cultural Festival earlier, but they never used it before.  It’s call The UA Barrier.  God, how strong is this thing?  Is it strong enough to stop Shigaraki who was able to Decay the last barrier?  This seems like something that’ll be used in the final battle TBH.  

So, Nezu trust the 1-A kids to bring Deku back home.  Which is exactly what they plan to do as all 19 of them enter Kamino in a badass full page.  I actually wasn’t sure if all 19 of them were there at first since I couldn’t find Shoto for the life of me, but then my eyes saw the BIG-ASS ICE WALL IN THE BACK AND I THOUGHT “OH THERE HE IS!!!” LOL 😂 

The next panel actually does show Shoto with Momo as they capture the villain from the last chapter.  Momo politely calls Bakugo “Bakugo-san”, but Bakugo demands that he be called his insane hero name: “GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT”!  I CAN’T WITH THIS DUDE SOMETIMES WHY DO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 💥🧡

Deku sees his friend and wonders why they came.  Ochako answers because that they were worried about him, but Deku tries to convince everyone (including himself) that he’s fine.  He’s obviously not and Bakugo calls TF out on him!  He even drops a good F-bomb for good measure.  Bakugo mocks Deku for trying to act like All Might and asks Deku if he can even smile right now.  I actually really like it that Bakugo’s calling Deku out on his shit.  I think Deku needs some good tough love right now to knock some sense into him.  Who would be better to do that than Katsuki Bakugo himself?

As Deku is trying to convince everyone that’s he’s fine (while still looking like a demon btw), there’s a small focus on Iida.  Actually, a few panels this chapter have focused on Iida.  Maybe he’s remembering the time Deku saved him back when they went up against Stain.  Deku saved him then so it’s now Iida’s turn to save Deku.  Also, Iida hasn’t gotten much focus lately and I really like his character, so I’m glad he’s being brought back to the forefront again.  Also, I like hearing Kaito-san’s voice in general so I’d be happy to hear him again (thanks for that one, Haikyuu).

The final spread shows Deku telling everyone to move away while Bakugo, Iida, and Ochako get ready to stop him.  IT’S DEKU VS. CLASS 1-A!!!  WE’RE ENTERING CIVIL WAR FOLKS!!!  Seriously, though, this is great.  I was thinking that it would be just Bakugo and a few other students finding Deku.  Instead we got the whole class.  And looks like that “helping hand” thing will happen later because we got a battle to fight first.  

Bakugo’s become a damn fine leader and I love to see his growth every freaking time🧡! I like how Iida has his hand on Bakugo’s back to support him btw.  It’s weird that Shoto’s not in this page though.  He’s one of Deku’s best friends, so I would think he would be in this page along with Bakugo and his first 2 friends (Ochako and Iida).  Maybe Horikoshi’s saving Shoto for a more 1-on-1 conversation with Deku.  God, I hope that happens because I think along with Bakugo, Shoto deserves a good talk with Deku the most.  

Honestly, I’m not sure who would win this battle.  I’ve been going through scenarios in my head on who would win, but I can’t come to a solid answer.  Class 1-A has 19 versatile Quirks under their belt and they have more energy than Deku to fight, but Deku still has 6 insanely powerful Quirks that he’s been practicing for a while.  The kids could probably win if they strategize enough and use Deku’s exhaustion against him, but again, Deku has OFA and multiple other Quirks.  If he could beat Lady Nagant, one of the best snipers around, he might be able to beat the 1-A kids.  He could just escape with Smoakscreen, Black Whip, and Float if he wants to really.  That would put 1-A on another wild goose chase.  There’s also Deku’s Danger Sense which will be a pain to deal with.  Also, Deku said that he’s as strong as All Might was in his prime with Fa-Jin and OFA combined.  Only AFO and Shigaraki were strong enough to take on THAT.  Plus, we still don’t know what the 2nd OFA Holder’s Quirk is yet.  Deku might use it in this battle.  God, I have so many theories in my head now.  I think this battle will be awesome, but ultimately, I want Deku to come home 😭💚

Me reading and loving My Hero Academia: 

[stray-tori]

TPN S02E09 - Initial Thoughts (anime-only)

[ Reaction video w/ captions/subs ] we collectively have a breakdown about the pen, please enjoy it pff-

.

... hmmm... yeah I... ain’t feeling it. I think my tpn feelings overall are carrying this more than anything pff. I didn’t hate it, it was just...... mediocre... like if this wasn’t tpn, I probably would have dropped it at this point.

BUT IT IS TPN SO LET’S GIVE SOME THOUGHTS.

.

. Random thoughts I don’t want to re-arrange

when Emma was like “share your pain with us!!”, I liked how Norman turned to Ray like “Ray. help. tell her I’m right” kind of like Ray did in s1 pfff-

Norman cried the words he didn’t allow himself to say in s1 :( I’M EMOTIONAL. it might not be the icing on the cake execution wise but GOD MY HEART. And knowing he’s going to die to it’s just- (well not if the pen has something to say about it but more about that later)

where- wheres my trio hug :((( RAY HUG THE CHILD NOW

it’s interesting that while Emma got the entire emotional speech spotlight, only Ray got a reaction shot to “I won’t live long”?? equivalent.... exchange...?

I thought Norman had a seizure when he broke down in front of Emma and Ray and I kinda wish he had because while it’s good to have him say it outright (a win for communicationnn), imagine THE ANGST. “I want to live with yo- *coughs up fountains of blood*”.

So. yknow that hideout Cislo or Vincent referenced when talking to Emma and Ray. Yknow where Norman hid the children they stole from farms, making it look like demons did it? ... w-what about them? will we see them? Are they getting left behind? it would have worked for Norman’s plan, since all they had to do was stay put and wait for demons to be yeeted. But now... he’d have to take them all too. But... I doubt we’re gonna introduce a bunch of new designs and characters? Or are we? Who knows. I don’t. I have unreasonably amount of protecc feelings for those children I’ve never even seen haha- WHERE ARE THEY. I mean... the plan rn is to immediately use the gate right? or is the plan to eradicte the GF farm staff and higher ups? I guess if thats the plan it might work. Or I guess the plan is to save Phil for now???

the idea of Sonju just... slicing his arm and throwing it at demons in a loop sounds so funny to me please someone make that.

I liked that Mujika turned to the lambda kids after giving a cup to the demon children but then we didn’t see their reaction or anything and then it cuts to the temple??? that was weird. was there sth missing there? confusion.

I also like Isabella remarking "[a radio] was supposed to be there" regarding the shelter, because it further heavily implies they know of the shelters and just let them be. Which further confirms that they should have just reframed the shelter and had the kids escape from it quickly but oH WELL.

I really liked demon Emma apologizing and Norman's reaction to that. it was a sweet little moment and like, the realization of apologizing for something that she didn't do but is aware of and all that. Cycle of hatred and all that shiz hell ye. Ik the anime won't rly delve into that but I kind of relish in the angst potential of the village - sure it was undone but some were still eaten and died and transforming people back won't bring those back. So, that’s some hella terrifying implications for families; and I'm assuming Norman is aware of those so. guilt time! not that he wasn't aware it was bad but yeah- I teared up at that moment :<<

I feel like this season really does its best when it’s doing the whole two worlds/species angle. Mujika and Sonju, the village, demon and human Emma... all that stuff.

I wish we had gotten more time (god this is really the season’s downfall) thought to see Vylk talk to the GF kids more often. it’s implied he told them not to hang out there before but I would have liked to have him show up a few more times before that but yeah. Runtime very RIP.

I also feel like CW is bending over backwards to put cliffhangers at the end of episodes. that was already a problem in s1 when they had Phil come in when Don and Gilda were in Isabella's room. it was obvious it'd be a copout but they still did it. I'm just wondering why we had to have Vincent disagree with the group to this extend (and if the shock value might play a part in that). we have 2 more episodes, why are they introducing more plot threads? Just streamline it you dofuses. I just don't know what good can come of it unless it's like an ultra big brain move to help them?? (and then we're back with the forcing cliffhangers thing) - if it's actual conflict, this'll just make things more confusing and clustered, and we don't have time for that right now imo. But who knows maybe it plays into something I just don't understand yet and it'll work out somehow

.

. Animation flow kinda dead.

I felt like this episode was kind of... awkwardly executed whenever something that was a slightly dynamic movement happened?

The whole bit while Emma is walking up to Norman could have been better, but it’s passable, except that a lot is spelled out for us.

But then she takes his hand really weirdly in a far away shot with bad inbetween timing?? what is that haha-

Or him collapsing is cut really weirdly. you barely really see it, you just kinda piece it together from Emma’s reaction and her catching him.

Most facial expressions are good though, which is arguably the more important part in this scene. I feel like a better execution just would have elevated it even more.

The only one I felt was really awkward in its entirety is Barbara’s scene with the children demons. I felt like that was in particular kind of stiff and the cut between the child and her was too sudden and felt jarring. TPN anime doesn’t really do that sort of stuff a lot, so imo it’s kind of “??” when they do it. With Norman it was too, but that at least had a good transition over to it (with bg and fg panning) and nice animation. Barbara’s just kind of switched. Tbh don’t switch it out, and as the child screams, switch over to her facial expression as her own voice fades into the scream? I think that would have done it too and also be low effort.

I think it’s moreso the flow of the shots than the actual shots though? it’s a bit too fast paced and sometimes missing inbetweens (like the wild demon eating sonju’s hand is literally just 2 frames) - it’s very weird. It’s jarring, but I can’t really explain why.

I’m sorry for the staff, I’m sure the production hasn’t been easy. maybe with the bluray release we’ll get some updated animations/inbetweens.

Some appreciation though:

as mentioned, most of the facial expressions, even if the body language was a bit stiff.

the cut from the trio talking to the eye-transition of the demon and the following breath animation looked nice. Also his arm regenerating!

Sonju smirking as he cuts his arm off, what a bastard

they didn’t have to show Vylk’s arm regenerating casually while they’re talking but they did.

.

. the lambda crew

If only I cared about you guys. Hahhh it’s just... introducing characters so close to the end is just. A mess. A recipe for disaster.

Where has the anime’s “show off the younger kids” angle gone? I thought they were always pretty good at that. but they haven’t really contributed anything since the whole tidbit about the older children always eating less for them. And even then it was just Lani and Thoma.

Potentially, what segments we saw in the shelter will come back for the GF raid thematically but I’m just... EH?

.

. the cure pen

at this point, just stick a syringe part at the end of the stick and just inject it and it’s gonna solve everything probably.

I just don’t understand why that needed to happen. Assuming they go to the human world, it’d be perfectly acceptable for me for medicine to be so advanced that it’d be able to like, lessen their symptoms and significantly improve their lifespan.

Don’t just... REMOVE their struggles. It’s okay to not be normal and cured. it’s okay for their lives to be impacted by it going forward. In fact, I’d much prefer that.

(added in later) OH wait they literally spell out why the cure being in the pen is meaningful - because it opens up a path where they can live through not having annihilated all the demons - it's essentially the moral "reward" for not killing them. Since they probably wouldn't have gotten it if they did that. I still think it wasn't needed and the blueprint on its own would suffice for another pen-convinience moment but I kind of get what they're going for, I just don't think it's worth it . In their case, going to the human world (while they don't know it) means having more medical expertise at their disposal which they can then use to survive. UNLESS they're actually not welcome over there and have to hide or something, in that case... that might be hard, true. I guess I'll come back to think about this once it's over. For now, it feels kind of unearned and it wouldn’t even have to be this way in my eyes which makes it somewhat worse.

But good, let’s say in-universe you need it NOW, then at least don’t put??? the medicine??? recipe??? INTO the hologram.

What if they just checked the GF blueprint and Norman goes “hey, Vincent... do you think this [database/archive room] could have some data on our experiments?” - Norman said he tried to develop a drug to help them but the supporters who had that data were purged. but... they had Smee to help them too. But SOMEHOW, a dude from 15 years ago just HAS the cure??? (at least let Norman develop it himself and have the data be just THE DATA and not the recipe).

It might still check out somewhat??

15+ years ago, James Ratri was assumingly still the gatekeeper since the switch to Peter seems somewhat recent considering his big "era of James has ended" speech.

I guess the implication is that just like Smee => Krone => Norman, a supporter all that time ago gave random person the pen when they escaped.

When Vylk found him, he also had just the data medium of the pen (not the entire pen), so maybe the farm thought they eliminated it and that’s why they didn’t change their methods to not work with those drugs anymore? It's still a bit curious that their experimentation hasn't changed at all in 15 years but maybe that's because they keep killing the smart people instead of making them scientists to research for them :D

Somewhere since those 15 years, Smee gave Krone the pen (probably a few years before she got to GF?), which means that at that point the gate the keyword "future" sent them to, was still in tact when Smee gave Krone the pen. Maybe WM wasn't discovered yet at that point?

then WM got discovered, James was chased. He made that phonecall update and was probably eventually killed, along with the human location (and likely bunkers since they knew a radio was supposed to be there, begs the question why they didn't remove it) being discovered (the one with the future keyword) and the gate there being destroyed.

The problem is just that it can make sense when you think about it for way too long and assume things in good-faith, but it still feels unearned.

Maybe I would care more or this would feel a little more earned if we knew ANYTHING about that person? They seemed fairly young, so it’s probably not Minerva/James Ratri. The “hope” talk reminded me of the book in the shelter, but I’m not sure if that checks out either? The cookies were rotten but not completely. I know cookies hold out relatively long, but would they rly not be completely rotten after 15 years? I MEAN. Maybe not. Who knows. I tried to google it but didn’t find anything. 

But anyway. That tidbit is going into my “shelter kids OC project” I guess.

But even if the worldbuilding makes sense, I think the data set in itself makes little sense?? How did they find that pen part? Did a supporter give it to them? Why do they have the cure? Clearly their group of escapees wasn’t doing too hot (#help) and they seemed relatively young too so they probably couldn’t have worked in the farm.

Were the shelter escapees lambda escapees? but if that was the case, wouldn’t the WM group have secured the cure information more properly than in just one pen (maybe it was and those were just destroyed, to be fair) - it’s just WEIRD to put the cure for Lambda experiments on the same blueprint as the GF layout??? that makes so little sense.

Plus, why would you send them to GF, when it’s so secured and all that, and not just send them to the human support place our GF kids were sent with the “future” keyword, which had a gate. Maybe it didn’t exist 15 years ago (that the humans had control over it, that is), but even then it seems weird to me to imply to send them to GF instead of one of the other gates that existed. I mean. The “future” location’s gate wasn’t destroyed when Krone got the pen right?

I’m guessing maybe it was meant as help for escaping? But then again, why the cure? I guess if they met lambda experiments? I’m just confused.

Also: do we just accept that the layout of GUARDS and SECURITY MEASURES has not changed in 15 years???

.

*sigh* welp. Still looking forward to seeing some stuff with Isabella hopefully. Time... is not on their side and it shows. Neither run-time wise nor production wise.

[dbtskills]

Psychiatric Hospitalization 101

So you’re about to save your own life by going to the hospital- here’s what you need to know:

~disclaimer: I am not a healthcare professional nor have I worked in a hospital. I am simply someone who has been hospitalized multiple times. This is about acute, short-term psych hospitalization. My word is not law~

The Truth

First off, let me tell you the truth. The truth is that being hospitalized is one of the bravest things you can do. You have chosen (or perhaps you haven’t) to save your own life. Not to beat the physical vs mental illness comparison to death, but conceptually this is like going to the hospital with a broken leg to get a cast. You’re treating an acute wound, going to get a tune up, going to a safe place to heal. Unfortunately there is a stigma involved. It’s been decreasing recently and I think you’ll find psych hospitalization is a lot more common than you imagine. But it still exists. You can be proud of taking this step. It will be hard, but you’ve made the right choice.

When to consider hospitalization

Being suicidal is one of the most common reasons for hospitalization. Psychosis, panic attacks, and substance abuse are others. The main factor for choosing to hospitalize is whether you think you can survive the episode you’re having. If you’re even questioning it, hospitalization is probably a good idea. If you’re choosing between your life and the hospital, the hospital is always the right answer even if it doesn’t seem that way at the time.

The process

There are two ways to be hospitalized: through the ER and straight to the unit. The ER is the most common way. Occasionally your therapist or psychiatrist or other healthcare provider will be able to bypass the ER for you and get you straight into a bed on a unit. If you have this opportunity, definitely take it.  

If you go the ER route, you arrive and explain why you’re there. You’ll then be taken back into a room- sometimes a private room, sometimes a communal psych room. Sometimes your phone will be taken. A guard will be stationed near you to ensure you do not hurt yourself or try to run away. You may wait for hours. You’ll see a psychiatrist who will determine whether to commit you to the psych unit or send you home. If they decide to commit you, you’ll be wheeled to the unit.

For me, the worst part of the process is the ER. You’re often helped by healthcare professionals who are judgmental of mental illness or are too busy to enact kindness. It can be a very dehumanizing experience. You may regret coming to the hospital, but you did the right thing. Saving your life is always the right thing. It’s okay to regret it for a bit as long as you follow through.

What to pack

Your belongings will be confiscated upon your arrival but if you have a chance to pack or if you have someone to bring you stuff, consider these:

A warm comfy outfit like sweats (but without a string at the waist!!!!!! take it out or they won’t let you have them!), SOCKS, pjs. Loungewear basically. The hospital provides basic toiletries, socks, and gowns/scrubs/paper pants. They can provide underwear and pads as necessary. Pack a hair brush if you’ve got tangly hair bc whatever they give you will NOT suffice.

You may want to bring your medications just in case the hospital doesn’t have them in their pharmacy but you will not have access to them, all your meds will come from the hospital itself.

Books! Some hospitals have a small library but you can bring your own if they’re deemed appropriate by the staff. They provide stuff like coloring pages, puzzles, games, etc but it can get p boring.

BRING A WRITTEN LIST OF IMPORTANT PHONE NUMBERS. YOUR PHONE WILL BE TAKEN.

You will have to ask to have items you arrived with brought to you from your belongings bag. Occasionally they will be reluctant, but you can self-advocate your way through it. 

On the unit

If you came to the hospital in the evening you may get little sleep that first night. You have to do the intake where they ask you all the questions and you sign a bunch of forms. You must be up for breakfast the next day. That first day you won’t get to choose your own meals but you will fill out a meal card for the next day. 

Most of your day will consist of shuffling between different mental health groups. Mental Health Professionals (often social work masters students) run groups on addiction, coping skills, community resources, gratitude etc etc in addition to your stereotypical group therapy. There are 3 meals a day, snacks available, and lots of downtime. There’s also activity hour where you do crafts or play games. During activity hour in my last hospitalization I painted a cackling coffin (it was October). 10/10. 

You will have a roommate. My experience is that you both mind your own business while being kind and it’s generally okay. 

They will take your blood pressure and vitals at least once a day. It’s annoying but necessary. They may do labs and draw your blood depending on your circumstances. If you have a physical illness as well, it may be a battle to make sure you are seen and treated for that too. All I can say is be your best advocate. 

You will not have your cell phone. This will be stressful at first but hopefully nice after a bit. You can call whomever you want using the hospital phones that are on during downtime. You may have to ask the staff to dial if it’s out of the hospital area code. People can also call you if they know where you are. Do what you need to do but also don’t be the Phone Hogger bc we all want to use it too. 

Visitors are allowed during certain hours. It’s not like a regular hospital visiting situation where they can just sit by your bed for hours. It’s like once a day for an hour you can get a visitor, no more than two at a time or whatever the rules are. No one can visit or call you without your permission. Visits by loved ones are so so nice and make you feel human again. I would encourage finding someone you trust who can visit you. It can make a world of difference. 

"How can I get out faster?”

This is a hack question tbh. I know everything sucks but you are there to heal first and foremost. Generally they release you when the psychiatrist thinks you’re ready to go. The average stay for something like an acute suicidal episode is 3-5 days. That’s enough time in the dr’s eyes for you to stabilize and receive any medication changes. If you are on the unit voluntarily, you can technically leave at any time. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone insist on it though. Ask your doctors when they are considering releasing you so you can plan. They may change their answer so casually check in now and then.

Go to groups and participate in them. If you're hiding in your room all day the nurses will notice and they do write that down. There may be many people on the unit, but the nurses are keeping track and taking roll. If you can, be open, honest and compliant with your treatment team. Now there’s a part of me that goes “Fuck The System!!!! Fuck being compliant! I am my own woman and my illness is Me and not something to be stigmatized or hidden. Take me to Bitch Planet, bitch!!!” This is totally valid. You just have to decide what is more important to you- being noncompliant in the face of a judgmental system or getting back to the world. As much I want to rebel, my perfectionism and people pleasing tend to kick in by the second day on the unit. 

The aftermath & “what do I tell people?”

When you are being prepped for release, you must have appointments with your outpatient treatment team set up. If you don’t already, the hospital will schedule them for you. If there’s someone who can pick you up, utilize that. Otherwise they may set you up with a cab or something depending on the location. You will be given the bag containing your phone and other belongings upon release. 

It is up to you to decide what to tell people about your stay on the unit. You can be honest with whomever you choose, but you don’t have to be. You can say you were out of town or had a family emergency or whatever you want. It is not your responsibility to break the stigma. If you can and want to, go for it! We will all appreciate it. But you don’t have to advocate if you don’t feel comfortable. I tell many of my friends and family the full truth and then tell others that I was “in the hospital.” If they ask questions I say I don’t want to talk about it. This works better than you might think. (It surprised me how respectful people are when you say you don’t want to talk about something.) Most people won't even ask, tbh. 

It's not all garbage

It’s not all drugged up zombies and Dissociation Time: my last experience was pretty lit. We had morning “stretches” to ‘80s bops. We played Wii bowling. We discussed aliens and conspiracy theories.  In a place with such a heavy stigma on it, it was a surprisingly Shame-Free environment. It was comforting to be in a place where everyone Got It. At night we would get our meds and then drift off to bed one by one as the meds hit to goodnights of “ope, the Seroquel’s kicking in.” The variety of people on the unit proves that mental illness affects everyone, from the college student to the 75-year-old retired man to the soccer mom with 3 kids. And they each have different ways of coping, different perspectives on their situation. These other perspectives can be inspiring, even helpful and you may pick up as many tips from your peers as the actual professionals. Respect your peers, don’t be that person who’s like “why am I, Normal Person, locked up with all these Crazy People?” If you’re in there, you’re all in the same boat. Crazy is a slur and no one there is crazy unless they choose to reclaim the term.

The staff can be quite kind as well. I once had a nurse go down to the gift shop to get me a tiny hair brush for my waist-length tangled hair. He didn’t have to put in that effort but he did. This past time I had an MHP sit with me after a session and develop personalized affirmations that she wrote in my journal with her gorgeous, swooping handwriting. It’s small things like these that end up mattering most in an environment that can feel harsh. There can be great kindness there, under all the rules and regulations, you just have to be open to it.

I’ve made a wide range of friends in hospitals. Ones I’d never have even encountered in real life. Even though we haven’t kept in touch, I think of them often. My roommate with terminal kidney failure who got ECT twice a week but took the time to ask how I was. A recent immigrant from Nepal who didn’t speak any English but with whom I communicated anyway. Sandy, my homeless roommate who gave me all of her toiletries instead of taking them with her. Trevor, a young heroin addict who guarded my chocolate cake when I had a phone call. Curtis, a retired professor deep in psychosis whom we taught to Wii bowl. There are so many different lives that tangle with each other on the unit. In this way I consider it a gift, to have a window into all these different worlds that are connected by this one string. I’ll never see these people again, but I’ll never forget them either. I hope they’re all still out there, getting by.

Getting hospitalized can be one of the scariest and hardest experiences but it is also one of the bravest. You saved your own life. Even if you didn’t bring yourself in, your participation saved it. It is a chance to reorient yourself to life, to recovery. It is a second, a third, a 15th chance. It’s like a terrible mini vacation. Responsibilities are lifted so you can focus on yourself. Utilize it if you can.

Again, my word is not law, it is based on my own experiences on the inside and outside of psych units. Please please reply or send asks with your own information. I know I’m not the only one on here who’s been hospitalized. We are legion. We survived. We survive. 

**Note from Kat: I am trying to learn graphic design (is my passion™) but the struggle is real and it does NOT come naturally so if anyone wants to help hmu!!!!! Can’t pay obvi but can link!**

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is a Poem Without Words

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Okay. So this one is a long one. It’s like 10k. Many things happen. A lot of family drama but fluff to even it out. So we see the return of Javier and Horacio, briefly along with some Steve. Escobar and Valeria appear and are not viewed in great light. (Valeria is not my favorite character tbh).

Warnings: Okay. So. There is some childhood abuse talked about, nothing in extreme detail but I marked when it begins and when its safe again. There’s a brief mention of an attempted assault, not detailed just implied. Um. 

As always: “Speak” “Spanish” ‘Thoughts’

She had cleaned up the house for the most part and was satisfied with the work she had done. She had just started to sit down when there was a knock on her. She made her way to the door, answering it.

“Salcedo? What brings you here?” She asked surprised.

“Pacho wants you close by. Escobar is not happy and Pacho is worried that you may be a target,” He quickly explained.

She sighed, somewhat annoyed, “And I’m guessing I don’t have much of a choice in this matter?”

Salcedo gave her an apologetic look.

“Let me go get some things. I have 2 boxes of mail to go through so that shall be coming with us,” She tells him quickly.

She handed him the box of cards, letters and small gifts. He took it with a nod and another guard came up and took the heavier box from her family in New York. She grabbed some of her own clothes, and necessities packing them into a suitcase quickly. Once she was ready, they drove her to Pacho’s home.

She walked in, noticing the brothers were there with Pacho. She sees Alvaro sitting next to him reading a book, a notepad near him for when he stopped to write every so often.

She made her way over to the couch, taking the open seat by Pacho quietly. He continued to speak to Miguel about something, the only sign that he gave that he noticed she was there, was his hand coming to rest on her knee.

Salcedo and Córdova set her boxes near her, before taking her suitcase upstairs to her room.

While they talked, she began opening cards. Most of them were from other fighters, who wished her a happy birthday and told her they missed her.

Some had cash stuffed in their cards. Others they sent a gift, that was in the form of a fox. She lined up several trinkets, shakers, towels, and such, all fox themed.

Gilberto asked with a laugh, “Why do you have so many foxes, little one?”

“It’s a long story…” She said with a shake of her head.

She had eventually gotten through all of the birthday wishes, and all that was left was regular mail, so she set the box aside for now.

She walked over to the heavier box, laying it down flat. She pulled out a knife to cut the tape that sealed it. As she pulled open the flats, the first thing she saw was a note resting near a some brand new boxing gloves.

She quickly pulled them with an excited squeak.

“Yesss. Been needing a new pair,” She mumbled throwing a glove on to see how it fit.

She clenched her fist a few times, checking it out. Once she was satisfied, she set them gently onto the coffee table. She turned back to the box and noticed there was plain white box sitting in there as well, so she set it and the note aside for a moment.  She cleared away the tissue to find bubble wrap and it was tightly wound across the large item that was inside.

She gently cut down the sides of the cardboard box, so it was completely flat. She then gently lifted the item up and began to unwrap it one-handed.

She slowly revealed a shadow box, that had her old fight outfit, a few news articles, and her first pair of gloves pinned inside.

“The Silver Vixen?” Came Pacho’s voice as he walked up to get a closer look at it.

“That was my fight name,” She said softly staring at the items inside fondly.

She looked up, and gently waved over a couple guards, asking them to put it some place safe for her. They did, carrying it off to the side. She turned to the white box and note.

She opened the note reading it quickly.

‘Hey sis, on the off chance that you ever come back home, we figured you should have the proper gear and attire beforehand. Love you, Happy Birthday! – Jack & Andy’

“Oh lord,” She whispered as she realized what exactly was in the white box.

Pacho raised an eyebrow, looking at her expectantly.

“Well. Go on. Show us,” His voice was teasing.

She pulled the lid off, shoved the tissue paper away and pulled out a sports bra, a pair of shorts, and a silk robe, all in a dark silver. All embellished with the words “Silver Fox” in white stitching.

“You never told me you were a fighter,” Pacho noted staring at the items.

“I mean… I only did like 10 tournaments/matches,” She waved it off.

“Uh huh. And how many did you lose?” Gilberto asked with a teasing smile.

She looked every which direction, not making eye contact as she not so casually scratched her face, before holding up one finger.

“One? You lost one match?” Miguel asked with a shake of his head.

“Yeah. I did it for a year… during my last match, there was an FBI recruiter in the crowd, and he told me I should apply. So… I did,” She explained briefly, retaking her seat. “And now here I am.”

Pacho leaned over and quietly whispered, “I find that strangely sexy. I might have to see some of these moves of yours.”

She shook her head, smiling at him somewhat embarrassed.

“I’m really not that good. Just… quick,” She replied modestly.

As they resumed talking about business, she grabbed the rest of her mail at the bottom of the box.

She quickly flicked through them, determining them to be junk mail. She checked the box and saw a manilla envelope at the bottom, she grabbed it setting it to the side as she dumped her cards and gifts back into the box, tossing the fighting outfit in there as well.

She was following along with their conversation, as she set the somewhat thick envelope onto her lap.

She looked down at it, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed the address. She swallowed thickly as her hands pulled the plain envelope off, turning it around to open it.

She opens it with somewhat shaky hands, and sees a newspaper sticking out of it. She pulls it out, unfolding it. After flipping it over, she noted it was the local newspaper from her hometown. More specifically, the obituary section. Her eyes drifted down to the column smacked dab in the middle of the page.

‘Aurelia Lage, 59, passed away…’

That was all she was able to read before she dropped the paper. She stood up suddenly and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of tequila before walking outside.

Pacho, grabbed the newspaper that she had dropped, searching it for answers. He quickly found it, recognizing the last name. He sets the paper down and grabs the manila envelope and slowly follows her outside.

She was sitting on the grass, the bottle of tequila resting between her legs. Her face was pale, and she was trembling.

He slowly made his way over to her, sitting by her side. He watched her take a long drink, with a small grimace.

“Your mother?” He prompted quietly.

Blix nodded her head.

“I. I don’t know how to feel. Relieved? Happy? Numb? How does one feel, knowing that the person who hated your entire existence is dead?” She asked rhetorically.

She sighed heavily, knowing she had to finally tell him everything.

“My mother… She uh… had my sisters with her first husband. He died… and she went on the hunt for husband number 2,” She began with a scoff.

“She found him in the mayor of our fair town. A married man, mind you. He and his wife… were having trouble conceiving a child. That was the kind of woman my mother was. She saw a woman, who tried and tried to have kids, and saw it as a weakness to take advantage of,” Blix said bitterly. “They had their affair. She got pregnant, but uhh… so did his wife. His wife had a healthy baby boy… a month after I was born. Do you know what it’s like to have sibling who has no idea you exist?”

Pacho didn’t respond, he just wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in close.

TRIGGER WARNING

“Suffice it to say, the mayor left my mother. And me. The… abuse… started slowly. I would get in trouble far more often than my sisters, even if I wasn’t involved. Time outs were longer. Which slowly led to her locking me in my room… and starving me for days. My sisters… they tried to help, but I didn’t want them to get in trouble…” She took a deep breath, having to steal her nerves to explain the next part.

“When that longer worked, it became physical. I’m not going to explain all of it… but it came to a head when I was 15. She threw a vase at me. It broke against my face. I uhh. I needed 100 stitches to close the wounds,” She stuttered, sniffling as tears began to fall.

TW END

“I grabbed what money I had hidden, from doing odd jobs around the neighborhood. Ran away, once the stitches were out. I made my way to New York. Got busted with some other kids with stolen goods. Judge sent me to a group home and made me go to therapy. That lasted a month,” She snorted at the memory.

“Was about 19. Trying to find shelter from the rain. A couple of guys… cornered me. It was pretty obvious… what they had planned. Tried to fight them off. The owner of the building we were next to, heard the commotion. Scared them off. Took me in. Gave me a job at his gym. Made me get my GED. Was his best fighter for a year, before I became an FBI agent. Traveled the world. Landed here...” She trailed off.

“Met a man who, while a commitment-phobe, taught me to love myself as is. Then I ran into you… and the past 2 months? Have been the happiest I’ve been in a long time,” She stated, looking at him.

Pacho smiled softly, beckoning her to him. She slowly crawls into his lap; she goes to bury her face into his shoulder but stops.

“I’m going to ruin your shirt,” She mumbled.

“Honey. I can literally buy 20 of these. I don’t care if you ruin it,” He informed her quietly, running his hand through her hair.

She stared at him for a moment, before slowly burying her face into him, as smalls sobs began to rake through her body. He quietly shushed her, running his hands up and down her back.

She’s not sure how long she sat like, but by the time her tears became small sniffles, she was exhausted. She slowly pulled away, rubbing her face to dry it off.

Pacho slowly pulls the envelope forward, asking, “Do you want me to open it?”

She nodded her head, “It’s her will for sure, but I don’t know what else is in it.”

“How do you know that?” Pacho inquired as he gently opened it.

“The name. Whit Jacobson? He does all of the will and testaments. He also runs the funeral home and crematorium. ‘Your one stop shop, for when a family member drops.’” She mocked, her eyes rolling.

Pacho paused in his movements, “Please do not tell me… that was his slogan?”

She nodded her head, smiling tightly.

Pacho shook his head, pulling out the documents inside. She took it with shaky hands, looking it over. She noticed almost immediately… that it was off. There were large gaps between each paragraph and some sentences even cut off halfway through a word.

“Great. Now I need lawyer to help me deal with this bullshit,” She muttered annoyed.

She looked back toward Pacho’s hand as he pulled out a few stacks of photos. She froze as she looked at them. The first photo in each stack, was of one of her sisters. A small smile appeared as she examined them.

“Your sisters?” Pacho realized, noticing how they all resembled one another.

“This is Lily, Hope and Darla,” She pointed them out with a sigh. “Lily is the sweetest, Hope the craziest, and Darla, the oldest, is the serious one.”

“They sound lovely… but none of them could hold a candle to you,” He said sweetly.

She smiled shyly at that, and gently placed the photos back into the envelope, swearing to look at them more closely later, and put the will back in as well. Pacho made her stand up and led her over to one of the outside tables and told her to wait there.

A few minutes later, he walked back outside with a plate of food and two forks. He sat down in one of the seats and pulled her into his lap.

“Eat. Need to soak up some of that tequila you’ve been drinking,” He teased her handing her a fork.

She shook her head and took a few bites. The two of them quietly ate, occasionally playfully fighting over a piece with their forks.

Halfway through, he slowly stopped, pulling away slightly. She looked at him confused, setting her fork down, turning her attention to him.

“The last thing… my father ever said to me, was that I will never be a man. He told me this after he caught me with a neighbor boy. I was 16 and he threw me out on the streets,” He slowly began, a bitterness in his tone.

“I began working with the Cali soon after. Worked my way up the ranks. At one point… another guy, was pissed that I was doing so well. Ratted me out to the Gilberto & Miguel. Told them I wasn’t man enough, that I didn’t belong. Do you know what they did?” Pacho asked her.

She shook her head.

“They made me partner. All I am, all I have is because of them,” Pacho ended with a sigh.

She started to say something but stopped herself, voting to instead take another bite of food.

“What?” Pacho lightly asked.

She paused before mentioning, “That day… in the hotel? When we talked about the surrender? You made a face or.. maybe it was your tone… but I had feeling that you weren’t thrilled by the idea. It makes more sense now. The cartel. It’s allowed you to live how you want, without restraint or fear. Without it, what are you left with?”

He gave a short laugh, nodding his head. “You noticed that, but fail to notice several men eyeing you like your hottest thing they’ve ever seen?”

“I notice what’s important, silly. Those guys? In the long run, mean nothing to me. You, on the other hand, mean a great deal to me,” She whispered pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Also. Who was this asshole that tried to out you? Need to know in case I need to stab a hoe,” She half-joked.

“A Salvador, no one of importance to be honest. But I appreciate you wishing to defend my honor,” He laughed.

“I’m going to go to bed. Do you mind if I crash in yours? Don’t… want to be alone,” She said soberly.

He nodded his head, giving her a kiss. “I’ll join you in a little bit, alright?”

She smiled and stood up, making her way inside. She was on autopilot making her way upstairs, she didn’t even bother stopping by her room. She stepped into Pacho’s bedroom, making her way over to his closet. She grabbed one of his plain long sleeve button-ups. She stripped down to just her underwear and threw the shirt on.

She went into the bathroom to clean her face and do her business. A few minutes later, she had crawled under the covers, holding one of the pillows closely to her as she quickly fell asleep.

Downstairs, Pacho walked into the living room, sighing heavily.

“What happened?” Gilberto asked curious.

“She was informed in not so many words, that her psychotic mother passed away. She needs a lawyer to look at this will, it’s terribly edited and I’m sure someone was trying to pull a fast one,” He briefly informed him, dropping the will onto the coffee table.

“We will get ours right on it. Go to her. Gilberto and I will crash here tonight, and make phone calls in the morning, okay?” Miguel stated firmly standing up with Gilberto.

“Careful Miguel. It almost sounds like you care about her?” Gilberto teased.

“She’s a good girl and she’s good for you. She’s the Lady of Cali after all,” Miguel pointed out looking at Pacho, referencing her newly acquired nickname.

Pacho nodded and bid them goodnight. Alvaro looked at his brother and noticed he was fidgeting.

“You told her about our father,” He stated more than asked.

Pacho looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re fidgeting. You only ever do after talking about him,” Alvaro explained nodding towards Pacho’s hands.

Pacho had no response to that, and just smiled tightly.

“Go get some rest little brother,” Pacho recommended after a moment, making his way to the stairs.

When he got to his bedroom, he paused, staring at Blix who was in the middle of the bed, passed out. He noted with a soft smile that she was in one of his shirts. He quietly got ready for bed, and as he slid in next to her, she turned over, reaching for him.

He settled in, pulling her close, listening to her sigh happily as she snuggled into his arms. He noticed after a moment, Diego standing at the doorway.

Diego had come up after one of the guards who had been patrolling outside, overheard their conversation and relayed it to several others.

He strips down to just his boxer, and gently, hesitantly, lays behind her, wrapping an arm around her. She blearily looked at his arm, noticing the extra warmth, and just slowly held it to her.

Once she was back to sleep, Diego quietly asked, “How is she so nice? Survived all of that, and… is not bitter at the world?”

Pacho hummed, “I think she’s more bitter than she lets on. She just doesn’t want the world to see it. We can talk later. I don’t want to wake her up.”

Diego nodded his head, and the two of them slowly fell asleep.

When Blix woke up the next morning, she was slightly disoriented. Her eyes blinked open slowly, confused as to why she was so warm. She glanced down and noticed two different arms were wrapped around her waist. Looking to her left and right, she spotted Pacho and Diego, sleeping contently on either side of her.

She smiled, reaching up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. When her vision was cleared, she spotted Alvaro waiting by the door, smirking at the sight before him.

“Hey,” She softly greeted.

“Good morning. Your phone’s been ringing, I figured you should probably answer it,” Alvaro greeted, showing her phone in his hand.

She nodded, gently sitting up, trying not to wake either men. She eventually stood up, and gingerly walked toward the end of the bed, stepping off once she got there.

She whispered a thank you as she took her phone. She noticed that Steve, Javier, and Theo had tried calling her.

She calls Theo, and once he answered asked, “What the hell happen?”

“It’s a shitshow boss. Escobar surrendered but his terms are laughable. He built his own prison and DEA can do fuck all about it. But now, the embassy is under a microscope. All staff must report in to discuss the new changes. You are wanted by 1pm boss,” Theo said rushed.

“Shit. Umm. Okay. Its 9:30? Okay, I can be there by 1. I’ll see ya then,” She answered hanging up and rushing into her bedroom.

She grabbed some black slacks, and a silk blouse from the closet, tossing them and some heels onto the bed, while she raced to get herself ready. She didn’t have time to get a shower in, so she cleaned her face, threw on a dash of makeup and healthy amount of deodorant/perfume.

She threw her hair into a slightly messy bun and tossed the shirt she was wearing to the floor. She grabbed a bra and got dressed in minutes. She tossed her FBI badge around her neck, made sure her IDs were in her messenger bag, and after securing her gun into its holster, slipped it onto her hip.

She jumped into her shoes, grabbing her bag and phone, moving quickly downstairs.

“Alvaro? Please tell your brother I will be in Bogota for the day!” She called out as she passed him.

She saw Salcedo and a few others getting into a car.

“Hey, Salcedo! Mind if I bum a ride to the airport with you guys?” She asked as she caught up to them.

Salcedo replied, “Of course. Get in.”

She hopped in, taking a seat next to Navegante. They took her to the airport, making small talk.

Two hours later, and she was standing in front of the American Embassy. She made her way inside, stopping briefly to check on her team, since they were all assembled in their water closet sized office.

Her team gave her a stack of files to go through, and a few reports she needed to sign off.

She took them with her as she walked into the conference room that was crowded with members from every department.

When she stepped in, the attention turned to her.

Her director commented, “Nice to see you finally join us Agent Lage.”

She went to apologize but a random agent, one from CIA felt the need to mutter loudly, “Too busy whoring around I’d bet.”

Her eyes narrowed, and a tight smile formed on her face, ignoring the chuckles.

“I’m sorry if I am a bit late director. I was informed of a death in my family last night,” She spoke plainly.

The director looked at her with sympathy, and said, “My condolences. Please be sure to stay the full meeting. Many things are to be discussed.”

She nodded her head and turned her gaze to the man who spoke before, “I’m sorry. Were you trying to say something earlier? Couldn’t quite hear you over your mumbling? If you have something to say, say it to my face like a man. That way at least when I knock you on your ass, you can have some dignity.”

She smiled somewhat viciously when he turned red and backed away into the crowd.

She moved toward Javier and Steve who were leaning against the wall, waiting.

A few minutes passed, before the room began to clear out. Soon it was just 2 members of each department. When they all took their seats, they were informed that Ambassador Noonan has retired.

“I am to be your new ambassador and things are going to change around here,” Arthur Crosby spoke firmly.

He laid out the new guidelines, especially for the DEA. He told them that everyone will be setting up in Medellin in a new office.

He eventually turned his attention to her and Theo.

“I want the both of you to bring me up to speed about these museum robberies,” He demanded looking at them expectantly.

“Our suspect is Augustus König. He’s wanted around the world for numerous robberies. We have narrowed down a list of potential warehouses that he may be using to hideout, and store everything he’s stolen. As far as we are aware, he hasn’t sold any of the items,” Blix began speaking.

“… and… He knows who I am. We ran into each other the other day. I don’t think he’s aware of the other members of my team, but he made me well aware that he doesn’t fear law enforcement,” She concluded hesitantly.

Theo looked at her surprised.

Stechner snorted, “Hm. Was that… before or after your little trip to Medellin the other day?”

She looked at him and asked, “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“Hmm. No, just find it interesting that both you and the Cali Cartel were seen in Medellin around the same time,” He said with feigned innocence.

“Are you having me followed?” She accused her face hardening. “Ambassador, I apologize but this is something I would like addressed. Seeing as how, my lovely… coworkers here… had no qualms about leaking my dossier to said cartel, and your predecessor knew about it.”

Crosby raised his hand to stop Stechner from speaking, “Listen, all of you. The priority is the Medellin cartel and the Communists. No more spying on other agencies, if there is not a valid concern. No more arguments. No more fights.”

He stared pointedly at Blix when he said the last line.

“Now, if this König is indeed aware of you Agent Lage, then I would hope you are taking the necessary precautions to make sure this doesn’t blow up in our face. The Colombians would have a field day if they learned we were the reason for millions of dollars of priceless art was lost forever because of a minor mistake,” Crosby returned to the subject at hand, subtly warning her to not mess up.

She nodded her head in affirmation. They spoke more next steps, and toward the end her phone began to go off.

She winced and quietly answered it, “Hello?”

“Miss Lage? This is Alan Starkman, Pacho called me to look over your will?” Came a male voice.

“Oh. Um. Do you mind if I call you back in about 10 minutes, I am in the middle of a meeting?” She requested trying to end the phone call quickly.

“Sure,” He replied before hanging up.

She rolls her eyes and puts her phone back into her pocket. “Sorry. Lawyer.”

They finished up the meeting without further interruptions and as she stepped out, she turned to the ambassador.

“Uh. Sir. Just a quick note, I am having to deal with some nonsense regarding my mother’s will, and I may have to make a trip to Georgia to fix things,” She spoke quietly.

“Do what you need to do. You have my condolences as well,” He remarked making his way to his office.

She nodded her in appreciation but was internally grimacing.

She quickly called the lawyer back, who was quick to inform her that many things were off. He has it set for them to meet with Whit Jacobson at 1pm tomorrow in Georgia, with her sisters.

She thanked him for his help and said she’d meet him tomorrow at the airport.

Once that was done, she sighed heavily. This was not how she expected her day to go.

She worked on the files she had at hand, finishing them up in an hour, when Javier appeared at her desk.

“You finish?” He quietly asked.

She nodded her head, he told her to come with him.

She does so, following him to his truck. They drove for a while before pulling up to a familiar home, where the car out front was packed full of suitcases.

“Horacio has been reassigned. Figured you’d want to say goodbye before he’s shipped to Spain,” Javier tells her.

She kissed his cheek in thanks and stepped out. She walked up to the door, knocking on the frame, and calling out “Anyone home?”

She hears two sets of feet running toward her and was almost knocked off her feet when two small bodies ran into her.

“Ah! My favorites! How are you my loves?” She exclaimed picking them both up in her arms and waddling with them into the living room.

They tell her they were sad that they had to leave. “Oh, I’m very sad too. I may have to steal you and take you to Cali with me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Julianna remarked as she walked over. “I might let you.”

Blix laughed as she put them down, giving Julianna a hug in greeting.

“He’s out back,” Julianna tells her nodding her head toward the backyard.

Blix slowly made her way to him outside. He was staring off into the distance, hands in his pockets.

“Hey old man,” She greeted, lightly teasing him.

He turned around to face, a small smile on his face. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him. He returns it muttering, “Hey, brat.”

She hugged him for a solid minute, not really wanting to let go, but she didn’t want to make it weird.

She pulled away with a sigh, asking in disbelief, “They’re really reassigning you to Spain?”

He nodded his head, and opened his mouth to respond when he stopped, moving his hand to tilt her chin up. He examined her face with a frown.

“Have you been crying, little fox?” He asked concerned.

“I found out my mother died… and I have to go back home to Georgia to fix some bullshit concerning her will,” She muttered quietly, breaking her gaze with his.

He sighed softly, before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. He was one of the few people she had confided in about what had happened to her when she was young. In that moment, she looked so small and though she did her best to hide it, he could tell she was scared.

“What do you need me to do? Need me to go with you tomorrow? I’ve been told I can be quite intimidating,” He offered her.

“You’ve been told huh?” She repeated with a teasing smile.

“I appreciate the offer, but… this is something I need to face alone. You always said that my past will try to catch up to me. Well. It has,” She denied his offer with a shake of her head.

“Doesn’t mean you should go through it alone. I know we butted heads a lot in the beginning, but you’ve become a kid sister to me. If you need me, you can always call me. Day or night,” Horacio informed her sweetly.

She felt her nose twinge and lip tremble, as she tried to not cry in front of him. She couldn’t quite speak, so she just simply threw her arms around him in another hug. He chuckled quietly and hugged her back.

She stepped back after a moment, sniffling softly, trying to calm herself.

“I’ll miss you,” She whispered.

He threw an arm around her shoulder, mumbling into her hair that he would miss her as well, as they walked back inside.

She said her goodbyes to everyone and made her way back to Javier in his truck. Javier drove her to his apartment after that, and she sat somewhat numbly on his couch as he made lunch.

A sandwich and some chips were presented to her, and she took it with a soft ‘thank you.’

He sat next to her, throwing on some tv, a movie of some sorts. The two of them quietly ate, setting their plates on the coffee table once they were both done. She was vaguely aware that he had on Star Wars.

She slowly rested her head against his shoulder, he held her hand in response. She quietly told him what was going on with her family. He was quiet the entire time, listening to her. When she was finished, he didn’t react at first. He surprised her when he suddenly pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He held her close, and that’s how they sat for most of the day.

When evening rolled around, she made a few phone calls that she needed to do before tomorrow. When it came around time to go to bed, she collapsed on top of him once he was laying down on the bed.

“At some point… I do want to talk about you... about… that phone call I made… a while back. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night. I do…think about us… Probably more often than I should, given I was the asshole who called it off,” Javier voice spoke out into the darkness.

“…I think about it too… but maybe for now… it’s a good thing we are not together. We both have very different priorities when it comes to our jobs. Maybe… in the future we could talk about this more in detail,” She requested politely, even though in her head, she didn’t know if a future with Javier would happen. Not with the feelings she had for Pacho.

He nodded his head, “Yeah. This whole thing with Escobar… is… draining. I’d rather you didn’t witness any of the fallout. As ridiculous as it sounds, you’re safer in Cali.”

She thought in her head, ‘Yeah. Especially when I’m dating a Gentleman.’

They fell asleep and the next morning, she slipped out. Getting dressed in what she wore yesterday, before heading out to the airport. She met with the lawyer, an older man who was a bit on thicker side. He gave her a bag of clothes to change into, before they hopped into one of the cartels personal planes.

She made her way toward the bathroom, relieved to see there was a small shower. She cleaned herself off before looking into the bag that she was handed. As she changed, she noted that Pacho was probably the one who picked out the outfit. It was a black button-down silk shirt, with black pencil skirt that went past her knees, with a matching pair of black pumps.

She walked out feeling fresh as their flight made its course. The trip took 5hrs and soon they had landed. She grimaced with disdain at the humidity and the heat. They got into a car and made their way to Willow’s Creek, Georgia.

She made some calls on her way there and as they parked outside the courthouse, after driving into town, she let her lawyer walk in first to finish up her calls.

Minutes later, she was walking, and stopped just next to the conference room where she could Jacobson complaining that he was being scammed and what an outrage this was.

“Indeed, Whit… what an outrage?” She mocked stepping inside.

She momentarily froze when she saw her sisters, whose faces all lit up as they took her in.

“This,” She set her copy of the will down before them. “Was what he sent me. And just glancing at the original, you see that I was given forged document.”

Darla, was the first to move, taking the will into her hands and looking at with growing outrage.

“What the hell is this Whit?” Came her voice, deeper than she remembered, but with a hint of sultry.

“Whit… here. You what? Thought I was an idiot? That I would sign this blindly? Hmm?” She questioned, turning her attention to him, as he nervously stuttered.

“It’s a shame… especially when,” She pulled out her badge presenting it to him. “I’m a federal agent. It’s a bigger shame that… I had to cash in a couple of favors with the White-Collar division. Because if you were willing to screw me over…. How many other families did you do this to?”

Behind her, in the office, several agents had begun to enter and were seizing everything.

“I would nev-” Whit began to deny.

“Uh huh. It’s interesting that a man who barely makes 30k a year is able to afford a Porsche and the house you own… Are you really going to keep denying this?” Blix smiled victoriously.

An agent came in serving a warrant, arresting him. She waved goodbye as he passed her.

“Is this the original?” She asked turning around to face her sisters who looked at her in shock.

Lily nodded her head. Blix grabbed her pen from her bag and quickly signed the will with a sigh.

When it was done, she looked at Starkman and requested, “You’ll get me a copy of this, yeah?”

He nodded his with a smug smile, “There are some assets that do need to be discussed. Ladies?”

Blix reluctantly sat down across from them, and said, “Shoot.”

Lily spoke first, “Well. Um. We all discussed that the ranch and everything should go to you. You loved it the most, it’s only right it goes to you.”

Lily slid a small envelope that had a set of keys inside.

Blix smiled smally, taking them.

“The house. Um. None of us want it and I doubt that you do either,” Darla took over pausing to see Blix shake her head ‘no.’ “So, we are dividing everything among us, and selling off/throwing away furniture we don’t want. The grand piano is yours.”

“Along with all the books in the library,” Chimed in Hope, her voice bright and cheery.

“The last sort of major items are the cars. The Morgan, the Convertible, and the Mustang,” Lily ended.

Blix thought for a moment before stating, “Well. Darla should get the Morgan. It was always your favorite. Plus, you were the only who learned how to drive stick.”

They all chuckled a little at that.

“Then… the ‘stang and convertible should go to either of you. I don’t need a car, have plenty,” She said looking at Lily and Hope.

They both nodded, Darla then stated, “That’s all of the major items, like we said, we’re just going to divide everything evenly. We did, however, find one thing, that you should have now.”

Lily giggled as she pulled out a small pink bomber jacket, that had the words “Pink Lady” on it.

“Good lord where did you find that?” Blix asked mildly horrified as she took it.

“One of the boxes in the attic, we all found ours, so we hoped that you would come and get yours. Maybe give it to any little ones you wind up having?” Hope explained somewhat shyly.

Blix smiled at it and whispered a soft ‘thank you,’ before folding it gently and putting it in her bag.

“If that’s everything, I need to be going soon. Work waits for no one,” Blix noted standing up.

“Uhh. Just… one last thing… you… you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to mom’s little black book, do you? People… keep trying to claim that she owed them stuff from years ago,” Lily asked worriedly.

Blix paused at the door, sighing. She turned to them and said, “I have it. I’ll fax over a copy I made for you guys.”

She then grabbed a scrap piece of paper from her bag and put down her numbers on it.

“You can uh… call me on either of the first 2 numbers. The third is my fax. I’ll be sure to get that info to you guys, asap,” She said, pushing the paper to them, and walking out.

Her hands shook as she threw on her sunglasses, just before she made it to the door. She wasn’t sure how to react with everything. She stepped outside and made it halfway down the stairs when she saw a peculiar sight.

“Pacho,” She said, drinking in his form as he leaned against a motorcycle, looking every bit the bad boy persona.

She strolled over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, under his leather jacket.

“What are you doing here honey?” She asked with a smile.

“Checking up on my girl. How are you?” He wondered looking her over.

“Better now that you’re here,” She replied sweetly, giving him a kiss.

He kissed back and told her, “I came to steal you away for a few days. I have some business down in Florida I need to take care of. I figured you and I could have some much needed alone time.”

She smiled at that and started to answer when she heard someone clear their throat. She turned around and spotted her sisters standing, looking at the two of them curiously.

“Pacho. These are my sisters. Lily, Hope, and Darla. Guys, this is Pacho, my boyfriend,” She introduced quickly.

Pacho smiled charmingly and said hello to them with a small wave.

Lily was the first to react, throwing her hands around Blix, pulling her into a tight hug.

Blix was not expecting, giving a small “Oof!”

Hope and Darla joined in and were hugging her as well.

Pacho smiled as he noted that Blix was trying and failing to not cry. Staring at her sisters, he noted their caramel blonde hairs, and blue-green eyes. Seeing them together, he realized, if Blix had been blonde, it would’ve been difficult to distinguish who was who.

They said their goodbyes and promised to call each other.

Blix wiped her eyes, returning to Pacho’s embrace.

“So. How exactly do you expect me to ride comfortably on this thing in this skirt?” She asked with a laugh.

“The skirt shortens,” He tells her with a smirk.

She looked down at it and spotted that just above the knee was flap that perfectly covered the zipper. She unzips it without care, stepping out of it, and tossing the fabric into her bag.

It was still a bit tight but gave her legs more mobility. She moved to straddle the bike but stopped.

“Can we… make one quick pitstop before we go to the airport?” She pleaded.

He nodded his head, and she directed them to a place that was about half a mile away from town.

As he pulled up, she took in the crumbling barn in the distance, and the house that had seen better days.

“This is your grandparents place, yes?” He confirmed as they stopped.

She nodded her head, “My sisters gave it to me.”

Blix walked toward the house, hesitantly. She looked all around, remembering how beautiful it once was. It saddened her to see it in the state it was in.

She pulled out the key, and gently opened the door, brushing away cobwebs that had formed near the entrance.

The inside of it still looked the way it did when she was child, just dusty. There was only one thing she wanted from inside. A photo. It sat on the mantle, just above the fireplace. She brushed off the layer of dust that had built onto it, revealing her as a child, with a large black stallion.

She picked it up, brushing it off as best as she could, as she made her way back outside. She locked the door behind her, and then gazed fondly at the frame in her hands.

She moved back to Pacho, and shyly showed him the photo. He smiled as he stared at it.

“Aww. Look at you. So cute. Was this your horse?” He asked teasing lightly.

“Yeah. His name was Zeus. I was the only he would let ride him. He was very... peculiar. I found out later on, that they rescued him when he was a foal, and he had been starved. I’m pretty sure he uh. He knew. Kindred spirits and all,” She explained softly.

“What happened to him?” Pacho inquired curiously.

“He was sold. He uhh. Went to a farm where he became a racehorse and had many babies. He died about 5 years ago? I think? He was 20,” She stated as she gently placed the frame into her bag.

Pacho stared at her and mentioned, “You looked very happy in that photo. Now I see why my ranch made brought you such joy.”

She simply gave him a kiss and got back onto the bike with him. They rode away, Blix feeling lighter and more relaxed than she’s felt in a long time.

They drove to the airport, hopped onto a plane, greeting Navegante. It wasn’t long before they landed in Florida and made their way to a small, nondescript motel.

The plans discussed were about getting rid of the Lion and taking over Escobar’s market here in Florida. It took about 3 days to get the assets under Cali’s control, and watching Pacho work his charm was a sight to behold. In their free time, he wooed her, taking her to museums and parks. At night they spent tangled up each other, whispering sweet nothings to one another.

When the work was done, and they packed up their stuff, they had but one last thing to do. They invited Lion to their motel, where Navegante make quick work of him. Blix didn’t bother asking what he did with the body; some things are better left unknown.

That day they returned to Cali, and it was as she walked inside Pacho’s home, she realized, that this was becoming more of a home to her than her own place. Especially when she walked in to see Gilberto and Miguel standing there, waiting to welcome the both of them home.

Gilberto gave her a huge hug that she wasn’t expecting but accepted it. Her attention was directed to the side where a large pile of boxes laid and behind all of it, sat a grand piano. It was mahogany wood, in a Victorian style.

She wandered over it, gently lifting the cover over the keys. She looked at it and played a few notes. She noticed quickly that the keys needed to be tuned, as the tones were offkey as they played.

She ran her hand softly over the wood, noting the smalls scuffs that she knew needed to be worked out.

“Wouldn’t happen to know anyone who can tune a piano do you?” She asked them over her shoulder.

“No, but we could find one pretty easy,” Miguel offered with a chuckle.

“These got here fast? Is Starkman trying to impress me or something?” Blix questioned staring at all of the boxes.

“Possibly. You are the Lady of Cali after all,” Gilberto said grandly, with a laugh.

She turned to look at him in surprise, “The Lady of Cali? When did I earn that title?”

“It’s what the other cartels referred to you as, after the party. Kind of stuck with everyone here,” Miguel explained, with half a shrug.

“You made quite the impression on everyone. You are well liked,” Gilberto said proudly.

She smiled looking at the boxes. Most were notated as books and then one was marked “Blix’s Room.” She reached over into Pacho’s pocket, grabbing the pocketknife she knew he carried, to open it.

She held the knife, trying to control the shakiness she felt as she cut open the tape. A moment later, she set the knife down, and pulled the flaps open. Inside she could see several trophies, and a couple of small knickknacks. But the thing that caught her eye the most was the large, dark brown teddy bear.

She bit her lip as she reached in and pulled him out. She stared at him for a minute, memories flickering through her mind. When she first got him, the comfort he brought, leaving him behind when she ran away.

She slowly set him back inside, shaking her head.

“Umm. I’m not quite sure what to do with all of this?” She wondered turning her gaze to Pacho.

“We’ll figure it out. C’mon. Let’s go eat,” He suggested, holding his hand out to her.

She takes it, holding onto it tightly as they made their way to the table to eat.

Elsewhere, in La Catedral, Escobar was concocting a plan. Blackie had come to him with some interesting developments.

He wanted to get back at the Cali Cartel, but he had to get rid of their little federal agent. Not permanently but distracted. Away from them for a time.

He made a call to Valeria and slid the information to her.

“Sorry, Miss Lage, but this is too good to pass up,” He murmured to himself looking down at the file.

Back with Blix, she was listening to Gilberto tell a story about Pacho from when he first began, trying not to laugh at it.

Halfway through the story, Diego came in, and he looked distraught.

“Diego? What’s up?” She asked him concerned.

Diego didn’t speak, just turned on the TV that was setting in the dining room. He switched it to the channel where Valeria Vasquez was reporting.

“And in other news, I have just received info from an anonymous source. Scandalous information about a US Senator,” Valeria teased, her eyes bright.

Blix froze, sitting up straight.

“US Senator Alexander Danvers had quite the illustrious affair about 30 years ago. Now, you are probably wondering… Valeria? What does that have to do with us? Well. That affair led to a bastard child. Federal Agent Blix Lage of the FBI…. Whose stationed here in Colombia,” Valeria reported.

Blix stood up suddenly, pacing back and forth.  

“I’m going to kill him. That bastard. That fucking bastard. To hell with the DEA, to hell with extradition. I’m going to murder him. Him and that bitch,” She muttered angrily, as she paced.

“Honey? Kill who?” Pacho asked, stepping into her path, trying to get her to focus and calm down.

“Escobar! OBVIOUSLY! ‘An ANONYMOUS source?’ When EVERYONE knows she’s whore herself out to that man for any information to BOOST her career!” She exclaimed, furious.

“Can this week get ANY worse?” She murmured defeated, resting her head against his chest.

She heard her phone ring and she groaned loudly as she looked at the ID.

“Yes, Ambassador?” She greeted her voice strained.

“Get to Bogota. We apparently have a guest on their way here. This story has been running for the past hour and has made its way to US media. This is a scandal we did not need Miss Lage,” Crosby informed her.

“Yes sir. Right away,” She answered robotically hanging up.

“I have to go to Bogota. Again. Apparently… guests are making their way to the Embassy. Joy,” She relayed grimacing.

“Wait. Rewind a bit… Your father is a senator?” Miguel questioned confused.

“Unfortunately. Moved his way from small town mayor, to governor of Georgia, to US Senator. My half-brother is currently running for governor himself,” She explained dully.

Gilberto and Miguel looked at her surprised.

“Don’t get excited. That man hasn’t acknowledged my existence once. Doubt my dear lil brother even knows I exist,” She stated, cutting off any ideas that may be forming.

“When I come back from this train wreck encounter, we are going to sleep… for 5 weeks,” She said to Pacho, exhausted.

He pulls her to him, pressing kisses to her face, whispering, “Sounds like a plan.”

She went upstairs, packing a bag for a few nights, planning to stay at a hotel. She angrily threw in some clothes, slowly stopping. She closed her eyes, wishing that this was just some terrible nightmare. She collapsed to her knees, the stress of the past week hitting her hard.

She found herself crying into her hands, as silently as she could. She knew one day her past would catch up to her. She just didn’t think it would happen all at once. She was tired. She was tired of pretending she was okay. So, in the silence of her room, she cried.

Pacho made his way upstairs to check on her and stopped when he heard her sobs. He let her cry for a moment before he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her. He gently lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed to lay her upon it. Once she was on the bed, he curled up next to her, softly wiping away the tears that had formed.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked in a whisper.

She shook her head, “No. The media will probably be all over me for a day or so. Don’t want the world to find out I’m also dating a cartel member.”

He nodded once, before assuring her, “I’m here if you need me. I’ll hop on a plane to you. Just say the word. If not, I’ll be here waiting for you to return to me.”

She smiled, sniffling as she tried wiping her face off to clear more tears.

“Regretting being with someone who has so much baggage yet?” She asked in a self-deprecating tone.

“No. Quite the opposite really. I’m quite in love with my Lady of Cali,” He confessed looking her in the eyes.

She felt her breath catch at that admission, and she could feel her heart swell with emotion.

“Pacho… I only just stopped crying and now you’re going to make me cry some more?” She inquired feeling tears in her eyes again.

“Are they happy tears?” He lightly questioned.

“Yes. They are. Especially when… I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you too,” She admitted kissing him.

“Good to know. Now, get to Bogota. Deal with your shit father. Come home to me and I’ll make sure you won’t be leaving my bed for hours if not days,” He promised her.

She nodded her head agreeing, before sitting up and walking into the bathroom to clean herself up real quick. Once she was done with that, she finished packing and was off to Bogota. The brothers had paid for a hotel room for her, telling her to get whatever she wants.

So, when she checked she ordered a small sandwich and fries. It was late by the time she got in, and the ambassador called her again to tell her to be at the embassy at 8am sharp and that even the president of Colombia would be joining them.

She ate quietly, before falling into a fitful sleep. When she woke up the next day, she was not prepared to face whatever hell that was waiting for her.

She showered, got dressed, and 15 mins before 8am she was at the steps of the embassy. There were reporters and photographers everywhere. She sighed and stepped out, pushing past the crowd that was shouting questions at her.

“What’s it like to be the bastard child of a US Senator?” She hears Valeria ask her just as she was about to reach the top.

She stopped, annoyance racing through her entire being.

She turned sharply around to her, and threw back, “Valeria. What’s it like being such a mediocre reporter that you lie about your ‘anonymous sources’ when we all know who you get your info from?”

Her face fell and was filled with rage as several other reporters laughed then coughed.

“Tell Mr. Escobar I say hello,” She spat out, turning away from her and walking inside.

She made her way up to conference room, ignoring the stares and whispers that erupted all around her. She stepped inside, ignoring the 3 people who were sitting down. She greeted the president and the ambassador first. She slowly turned to look at the older gentleman that sat in the middle.

His hair was once a dark brunette that now has streaks of grey, his eyes were bright green. The woman besides him, was blonde and demure looking. The last man, as she turned her gaze to take him, was her age… and honestly, they looked like they could be twins.

“Hello senator,” She greeted somewhat dully.

She took her seat and waited for the ambassador to speak.

The ambassador informed her that they are unaware of what exactly the evidence was that tied her to the senator. As he spoke, senator Danvers cut in claiming this was all a lie, a scam. That he had no idea who I was.

His denials infuriated her.

She stood up suddenly and stared him in the eyes.

“Listen. I didn’t want this. I don’t care about you. But don’t you dare lie. You had an affair. You had me, then your son. You abandoned me without a second thought. Don’t you dare say that you have no idea who I am, when we,” she pointed to the younger man, “look like twins.”

He stopped and stared at her stunned.

“I lived with this knowledge since I was 10. Just ask your wife. She knew. She knew the whole time,” She informed glancing over at her. “In fact, she was the one who told me all about it.”

“Martha, what is she talking about?” He quietly asked her.

“Yes Martha. Tell him. Tell him how you hired me to help you work on your garden and how you told a 10-year-old that she was not only a bastard, but unwanted by both of her parents,” Blix stated bitterly.

Martha looked away, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Listen. I don’t want to start a fight or interrupt your life. I was quite content in you not being in my life. I get it. My mother… she was a leech. I understand why you left her… but you left me too. And my mother made sure… to let me know that I was not wanted,” She admitted, motioning to the scars on her face.

“I have spent the past 30 years without you. I can live the next 30 or so without you. Go back home. I don’t want you in my life,” She concluded firmly.

She stepped out of the conference room and made her way downstairs to the DEA department. She spotted Steve but no Javier, so she stole his seat.

She collapsed and sat rather lazily in the chair, slumped.

“Rough day?” Steve asked taking in her posture.

“Rough week. My psychotic mother passed, had to reconnect with my sisters, dealt with some bullshit over the will which led to an arrest for white collar, someone figured out who my father is, and he and his family are upstairs trying to deny everything,” She summarized.

“Can I hide here for a time?” She asked glancing over at him.

“Sure, if you help go through these transcripts,” Steve bargained holding a stack of papers.

“Deal,” She replied taking the stack.

She sat with him for an hour, going through transcripts and helping him find any leads.

Javier eventually appeared, raising an eyebrow at her in his chair. He pulled up another chair next to her, taking half of her remaining stack. She smiled at him, as he teasingly nudged her with his elbow. They quietly worked until Theo appeared.

“Hey boss, sorry to interrupt. Um. There’s someone asking for you upstairs?” Theo tells her.

She nodded her head, finishing the sentence she was on before standing up. She ruffled Javier’s hair with her hand and reached over to do the same to Steve.

“Bye guys. Good luck,” She said, following Theo.

Theo glanced at her a few times, when they stepped into the elevator.

“Please don’t ask,” She quietly pleaded.

“Ask what?” Theo asked acting confused.

She smiled appreciatively at him. When they got up to their floor, she paused when she sees her half-brother standing by their offices.

She made her way to him cautiously.

When she was finally before him, she greeted, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Came his voice, slightly raspy. “Can… can we talk?”

She nodded and led him to her office. “I’m sorry it’s kind of small.”

Her office barely had room for the 2 chairs and desk. He waved it off.

“So. I… I gotta say… I don’t know how to start this. Um. But I guess. The beginning is best? I’m Ajax. 30. Sagittarius. Hoping to be Governor when I grow up. And would love to get to know my older sister, if she’d let me?” He introduced, rubbing the back of his neck.

Blix smiled awkwardly, and followed suit, “Blix. 30. Scorpio. FBI agent, lead investigator of the art crimes division here in Colombia. And…I would love to know about my little brother too.”

She laughed when she realized after a moment, she was doing the same neck rub he did.

“We… have the same fidget behaviors,” She muttered.

“I hear you’re a fighter and a damn good one,” Ajax complimented.

“I hear you have a really good shot at being Governor. If I was in Georgia, I may have to vote for you,” She said to him.

“Listen. My mom…I’m sorry she made you feel that way when you were younger. My… Our dad will come around eventually. He just… was shocked to say the least,” Ajax apologized.

“Mh.” She was doubtful but didn’t say much to disagree.

They talked a few more minutes and exchanged numbers to keep in contact.

She had to have few more talks with the ambassador and president for the next three days to assure that this was not going to affect her job. Once she was finally free, she made her way back to Cali on a late flight.

When she landed, she was greeted by Diego who was waiting for her.

“Honestly, I’ve never been happier to see you. Would it be weird if I hugged you?” Blix politely asked as she stood in front of him.

Diego smirked and held his arms open to her. She hugged him, feeling relieved. They get into the car and started to drive. About halfway there she noticed something was off.

“Why are you being so quiet? What happened?” Blix questioned looking at him concerned.

“He didn’t want me to tell you… but you should know. There was an attempt against Pacho… Yesterday. Escobar’s men tried to kill him while he was playing soccer,” Diego explained not looking at her.

“But he’s okay, right?” She was worried.

“Yes. Shaken up. But fine,” He assured her.

She let that information sink in. She knew it was only a matter of time before an incident like this happened. She wasn’t quite sure what her reaction was going to be when she sees Pacho. She did know that Escobar had no idea who he was dealing with.

[purplesurveys]

1262

o1. With which one of your friends do you spend the most time? With which friend do you spend the least amount of time? Would you like to change this in any way? I don’t really get to...spend time with my friends, in that sense. For very obvious reasons. But I talk to Angela and Reena the most. Andi and I talk a lot too, but not everyday. 

Among my friends, I probably talk to my college group the least these days, but that’s mostly because 2/3 of them are pursuing law school, and the 1/3 have jobs and are as busy as I am. We’re still as tight as ever and our group chat becomes active at least once a week.

o2. What four states in the USA would you most like to visit? Which four countries would you most like to visit? States: Illinois, Louisiana, New York, Utah. Countries: Malta, Switzerland, Thailand, South Korea.

o3. If you have one, how often do you watch your favorite television show? How long has this show been your favorite? I’m not a big TV person, tbh. The closest thing to my favorite would be Friends, which I rewatch at least one episode of once a month though I used to watch it FAR more often than that, hahaha. I think I first hooked to it...I wanna say 2018?Or 2019. Sometime in between those years. o4. Would it bother you if your boyfriend hugged other females (think hypothetically if you don’t have one)? Why or why not? No. He’s allowed to have girl friends. The only reason it bothered me when it was Gabie was because we were both aware that her guy friends were genuinely into her. I never channeled my annoyance towards her though; I was definitely more pissed off at those guys for not learning how to back off when needed.

o5. If you had snow-days as a kid, how did you spend them? Do you like the snow, in general? We don’t have snow, but our equivalent would be days off school because of a typhoon. Anyway, I just spent them lounging around and mostly watching stuff on YouTube. In college I was a bit more diligent and would use the extra time to catch up on readings.

o6. Do you know anyone who does hard drugs? Would you ever befriend someone that did? Not that I am aware of. I probably wouldn’t befriend someone who did if we weren’t already close, because there’s no telling what kind of influence they would be on me.

o7. When was the last time that you were afraid for your life? Did this incident change you in any way? When I was really sick back in May. Not really, I just wanted to recover as quickly as possible.

o8. Do you enjoy taking pictures? Is it just for fun, or do you make an attempt at actual photography? I didn’t then, but it’s something I’m trying to do more often now. I’ve realized I have very few souvenirs from the last few years because I barely took photos then, so it sucks not being able to revisit memories and ending up forgetting others completely. I definitely don’t plan to take it so far as taking photography lessons; taking pictures from my own perspective and in my own style suffices.

o9. Have you ever had low self-esteem? How is your self-esteem now? Yeah, sure. I had a recent phase of it because of the breakup, but I’ve recovered from it. My self-esteem is a lot healthier and more stable these days.

o1o. When you see someone sickly-thin, what is your first thought? Nothing for the most part, but I would obviously be concerned if that person was starting to show worrying signs of malnutrition. Idrk what you mean by sickly-thin.

o11. Do hospitals make you nervous? Why or why not? Do you have any bad hospital experiences? Not really, only because I’ve rarely had to go there.

o12. What did you dress up as the last time you went Trick-or-Treating? Who went with you? I went as Sofie, my old best friend from high school.

o13. What is one thing you miss most from your childhood? What do you miss the least? The part about having less responsibilities and more time to just have fun and do whatever I want. But I didn’t really have a picture-perfect childhood either, so my list of things I don’t miss for sure trumps the list of stuff I do miss.

o14. What would be the biggest challenge involved in raising a child at your age? How to send them to a good school because I don’t make nearly enough to afford tuition for another person.

o15. If you happened to get pregnant before you were ready for children, how would you cope? Do you think your parents would support you and help you out? I don’t know, honestly; and the thought kind of scares me. I know my parents wouldn’t provide support whatsoever, so I’d have to claw my way to find it from other people who would be willing. I’d probably need to take an extra job to earn enough money to support us both.

o16. Have you ever had unprotected sex? What would you tell a young teen thinking about having unprotected sex? Yeah, but I was also with a girl, so...idk. I don’t have a lot of sexual experience either so I dunno what sort of advice to tell a teen other than ‘don’t do it,’ lmao.

o17. What are some gender double-standards anger you? All of them. < Yes.

o18. Other than the usual qualities (honesty, respect, etc), what are some attributes you want your BF/GF to possess? Patience in the sense that I tend to be sensitive, so if they crack a joke that I ended up getting hurt or offended by, or if I get triggered by something minor that would otherwise be normal for anyone else, I hope they are patient enough to ride the wave out with me. I didn’t experience that with my past partner, and was often told to just stop being sensitive.

o19. Do you still talk to the first person you ever dated? If not, would you want to? Why or why not? No, because doing so is detrimental to my well-being.

o2o. Five years ago, what was the most important thing in your life? How about the most important person? My relationship, barf. Gabie, another barf.

21. How would you describe your sexuality? Have you ever wondered whether or not you might be homo/bisexual? I’ve stopped caring about it. I say asexual to people just so I have an answer to say.

o22. Do you think that homosexual couples should be able to raise or adopt children? Why or why not? Yeah...because I don’t see why they can’t be granted that right?

o23. Think of your worst fear. What would you do if you were confronted with it right now? Hyperventilate.

o24. If you were to become a vegetarian, what meat-product would you miss the most? Have you ever been or wanted to be a vegetarian? Chicken wings or sandwiches. I’ve thought about it before, yes. It’s too expensive a lifestyle where I live, though.

o25. Do you think that someone’s sexuality is something that they can control? No.

o26. What do you like most about your favorite animal? They’re very friendly and always down to play. :)

o27. What is your favorite way to eat your favorite food? How often do you eat your favorite food item? Eating burgers by hand is always the best. I have one maybe once a month.

o28. What is something you are craving? Will this craving be satisfied? KFC’S DOUBLE DOWN. I’ll get one next week, when I get my next pay lol. The rest of my budget this week is already allotted for my mom’s birthday/JK’s belated birthday dinner tomorrow.

o29. What is the largest number of texts you have sent in a day? Do you often text this much? Ooooh, I dunno. Maybe around 200-300 in a day? My ex and I primarily communicated through text whenever we weren’t physically together, which was often as we were both students in different schools.

o3o. Do you like the holiday season? Why or why not? What could be better about it? Some parts of it I like, some parts of it I don’t. The latter mostly stems from insecurities I will feel from seeing other families on social media, who always seem to be having a better and fancier time than I am. It’s why I usually deactivate during Christmas so I don’t get to see posts that can affect my disposition.

[chocolate-parfait]

Matchup for @bigwintter

bigwintter , dear, tumbrl ate your ask away and I can't seem to be able to tag you for whatever reason. I hope you'll be able to see this nonetheless!

I match you up with... William!

You two are the embodiment of the dark academia aesthetic tbh✨

During your first encounter, you mostly keep to yourself, but Will can tell that you two are, in a way, similar to each other. It all starts with casual and sporadic encounters where the general ambiance is “Oh God, I’m talking to THE William Shakespeare”, but all that quickly dissolves through time. The writer instantly takes a liking to you, a normal reaction to your genuine love for literature, but the more he talks to you, the more he realizes there’s something more to it.

Your aura kinda works like a magnet. It’s in your little gestures, the way you carry yourself, completely at ease despite a 200 years-wide gap between your time and your new surroundings. Most of all, he’s genuinely amazed each time you give him deep and psychological insight about a recently published novel or sometimes even a piece he has written himself. Sometimes you stumble a bit and don’t exactly know how to convey your thoughts in a precise way, but this makes him all the more curious(he finds it very cute, actually). He truly wonders how come you’re able to give a fascinatingly knowledgeable answer to whatever topic the two of you are discussing, and this ignites an always increasingly burning fire deep inside of him.

He tries (unless SOMEONE cough Theo cough forcefully kicks him out) to visit the mansion more often, other times he invites you over to his residence to have a nice chat over some tea. If you feel like it, he even plans some rendezvous in the city to show you around. It’s very nice of him and he acts like a total gentleman! But... some problems may arise when he starts showing his overly possessive side.

Since you know your fair share of information when it comes to psychology and all that may come in handy to diagnose someone with being a yandere (and whatever type of mental illness Shakespeare has), you notice the signs early on, so at least you’re not completely caught off guard. As to how to act next... well, that’s pretty much up to you. You can ask Comte for protection for the rest of the month and then go back home, or you can try and talk it out with him if you prefer.

Since this is a matchup, let’s pretend you chose to stay in the past and confront him about it. You go to his house and he’s acting like usual, although there’s a glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. When you finally bring up his weird behaviors a switch in his mind flips the other way. It’s a really intense moment because as he’s explaining all the reasons why he deemed it necessary to “protect” you from others, he suddenly realizes that at the root of the whole problem there’s only his genuine affection towards you. But would he act the same way with Vincent? No, of course not. Then, there must be something else to his feelings, right? And the word he had written so many times, the main theme of most of his stories, comes crashing down on him. Love.

He doesn’t outright say it, but it’s subtle and you already know about it. Once more, you can decide whether to correspond to his feelings right away or wait a little longer, just know that you’ll be in for a lot of therapy sessions. This man needs three things: affection, a LOT of reassurance, and someone to show him how healthy relationships work. You can provide him with all three, and though he might reject the idea of change (perhaps even in a violent manner), with time and care he’ll come to understand where the boundaries of a relationship lie. Surely, there will be times in which he falls prey to his darkest thoughts, but the progress is admirable.

His recovery aside, he’s truly one of the kindest lovers out there, getting slightly rough only during horny times (he wouldn’t be able to withstand the guilt of having hurt you), and he never misses out on important dates and small details. There is a lot of unspoken understanding between you two, and with just a glance, you can convey everything that words wouldn’t suffice to describe. Regardless, he still loves composing little poems on the spot just for you (he later writes them down in a thick book that he gifts you for your birthday), pressing a soft kiss to your lips when he’s done reciting his small part.

As a couple, you pretty much have all the freedom in the world. Living in a house far from prying eyes and unwelcome visitors, you can enjoy your much-beloved solitude from the rest of the world. Even in the same house, he will eventually come to respect your wish for independence and alone-time. Though there is a lot of work behind it, you and William finally reach an equilibrium that few couples would be able to maintain for long.

Second choice: Dazai

Despite being quite the trickster, an unprovoked Dazai is a person that enjoys quiet spaces and his fair share of alone time. You two could definitely get along pretty well, but getting past the acquaintances-who-have-some-idle-chat-every-now and then phase? That could be slightly harder.

Everyone has their bad days, and depending on the person, some may want to let the whole world know about their feelings, whether others prefer keeping everything inside. Well, Dazai is definitely the second case. Just as usual, he puts on his happy mask and clown nose in the poor attempt of shifting his focus on his surroundings, but ever so often his facade slips off completely. Be it a glance, an unhappy comment or the sudden quietness, you pick up on it quite easily.

There are many strong personalities that leave their lasting impressions in the mansion. For each you could find at least 10 adjectives to describe them without you even being close, but what about Dazai? At first glance, he seems like one of the most dual characters in the vampiric group; one side of him is warm and caring, completely in the norm, but most things he says leave a certain bitter aftertaste. One could describe him as a breeze, but you had noticed that this warm spring breeze could turn into a chilly autumn one in the blink of an eye.

He’s seemingly a superficial man, but many little details convince you otherwise. Spending a whole month in the past with no one to talk to was out of the question, and mystery man here is the tragic hero that had piqued your curiosity the most so... why not give it a try? You would have to approach him first (he reaches out to people mainly when he sees they're struggling with their emotions), and with the right words here and there his fake smile will crumble away. (you don't necessarily need to be an expert speaker, he's a smart one and will understand what you mean)

Of course, he won't be giving in too easily, but he's quick to notice your genuine interest and curiosity towards him. You'll be going back in a month, so even if he let you see a snippet of who he truly was... it wouldn't be such a bad thing, right? Unfortunately for him, all the romance he has ever experienced in his life was tied to his and his partner's mental health, so with you there to help him out with his emotional state, he's quick to fall for you. (these aren't really spoilers,, its just facts about irl dazai but idk how much they decided to keep in his route tbh, I've only read a general summary)

On the other hand, it may take you some time to realize your feelings, and sometimes you wonder whether your initial reason to get close to him was just your love for psychology. With time, that will all become a secondary matter, for thus you'll start seeing him as a true friend, and perhaps something more.

Oftentimes you hang out in his room and have long discussions while sharing some tea and sweets together. Topics may vary from analysis of fictional characters to more philosophical matter, and a couple dumb jokes here and there: other times the room falls in the most comfortable of silences, the atmosphere warm and relaxed.

Dazai definitely doesn't mind your goofy side, he actually enjoys it quite a lot. You, him, and Arthur could team up and become the most annoying trio of the mansion, much to Isaac's dismay. It's very clear to the Englishman though, that you two have something going on, although you don't seem to be aware of it. He will start teasing you and dropping heavy hints until Dazai eventually confronts him about it. 

When it dawns on you, it doesn't take long before you and Dazai confess to each other and become a couple. If you're both mutually interested then why wait? Your straightforward nature plays a big part in this, despite your communication skills. Dazai secretly admires this aspect of yours, and if you question him about it, he will admit it without embarrassment and the fondest of looks.

As partners, you have a very mature relationship, and neither of you has a problem with meeting the other's needs. The Japanese writer will always respect your wishes and opinions, but every now and then, mostly at nighttime, he will crave your touch and comfort. Old habits die hard, and it's not easy to completely let go of one's past, that is why he seeks your warmth. Offer him your lap, pepper his face with delicate kisses, tenderly stroke his hair; whatever you have to offer will be more than enough for him. These are very intimate and romantic moments between the two of you, in which your bond gets stronger and stronger, although through quiet reassurance and support.

He doesn't necessarily mind PDA, but he'd rather you keep your most explicit gestures to the privacy of your rooms. Nevertheless is a man of great calm and patience, and he's a great actor, too; don't be too surprised if he decides to tease you in public. Generally speaking though, he'll stick to basic stuff like hand-holding and such.

You have dates in the most random of places! The termae, the gazebo, on the riverbank or in some obscure neighborhood of the city. He loves strolling around with you, and he'll get so lost in the feeling of your hand in his that once he snaps out of it he doesn't realize where your feet have taken you.

Another activity that you two could end up doing together is drinking. He takes you to his favorite bar, where he orders his favorite drink, cigarette in hand (he smokes only if you're okay with it) while looking impossibly hot. You can order yourself a beer and then you can have whatever discussion you feel like having. He is not one to judge, and will happily comply and talk about all topics. Whether it's a book you've read or something that happened to someone in the mansion, he will quietly listen to you as he sips on his whiskey or brandy or whatever, adding a thoughtful comment here and there.

[noethicalconsumptionunderdisney]

Ranked: Hannah Montana — Premieres

Welcome to Hannah Montana March Madness!  This month, I’ll be doing Rankings, Analyses, and reblogging various posts that I like for Hannah Montana.  Tbh, this was my favorite Disney Channel show growing up, but I haven’t really talked about it yet.  And what better place to start than with literal beginnings?  A.K.A, Premieres.  So here we go.

Before we begin, I want to explain my criteria a little bit for what I think makes a great Premiere. A Premiere episode can be merely decent or good based on the basics of quality alone: good acting, good directing, tight editing, tight script, humor and/or drama that hits where it’s supposed to. That is one of my criteria, but I like my Premieres to be just a little more ambitious than that.  The best Premieres:

Establish the tone, setting, and premise for the season

Introduce an important change, shift, or moment in the series that sets the season apart and/or make it clear to the audience why we’re starting where we are

Establish and/or re-establish the characters and characterization— the characters should still feel like themselves, and shouldn’t act too differently from how they act in other episodes, but they should still feel like they’re developing throughout the show, particularly if that development is directly related to the Important Change mentioned above

Stand out from the season in a way that doesn’t feel jarring or out of place— it should feel like a part of its own season, while also setting itself apart in a positive and memorable way

One last thing: I’m going to be listing these in reverse-order of how much I liked them: Worst->Best.  That way, I can save the best for last.  I should probably mention too that I don’t really hate any of these episodes (we’ll get into some of those later), but I will be mentioning what does and doesn’t work for me and why I ranked them how I did.

Let’s get to it!

#4: “Lilly, Do You Want to Know a Secret?”  (Season One)

This is a tough one for me. On one hand, I have so much love for this episode and so much nostalgia for it.  On the other hand, now that I’ve grown up, I have to admit that it’s lacking in terms of quality and cohesion with the season.  While it does mark an Important Change in the characters’ status quo (Lilly finding out Miley’s secret), it also feels a little too different from the episodes that come after it.  

At this point, everyone was still finding their footing, and it shows.  The actors were still learning how to act and how to get along with each other, the writers were still figuring out who these characters were, costume and setting were still being worked out, and it has one of the biggest (and funniest) editing mistakes I’ve ever seen put to air. I may elaborate on this in a deep-dive post on the subject at a later time, but suffice to say, they just weren’t there yet.  They didn’t quite hit their stride with Season 1 until their third episode (which is actually a personal favorite, but again, I’ll save that for later), and while they do keep the same basic elements of the characters and a few key details from this episode, everyone feels a little bit off here in a way that’s just too noticeable for me to ignore.

That said, judging it as a Premiere might be a bit unfair of me, because this is a Pilot episode. And a Pilot episode really only has one job, as far as showrunners are concerned: to get the show up and running and on the air.  So in that sense, I’ll always love this episode for doing what it was meant to do: setting up the show and making sure it got off the ground.  And hey, if the worst thing I can say about a Pilot episode is that the show that came after it was so much better, that’s a testament to how important it was to have a Pilot good enough to get picked up in the first place.

#3: “He Ain’t a Hottie, He’s My Brother” (Season Three)

This one beats the Pilot in terms of quality, consistency, and characterization.  The show��s been established for some time now, so the acting, camerawork, and directing work a lot better as they’ve gotten more comfortable, and it’s consistent in the sense that it does feel like it fits into its season (apart from The Big Thing that we’ll get into in just a minute).  It also does feel fairly in-character for the most part— I genuinely get the sense that if they were making Lackson canon, this is probably how it would go down.

And with that, let’s get into the shipping, because it’s the elephant in the room.  I personally don’t have strong feelings either way about Lackson as a ship, I think Lilly and Jackson would work fine together, I do personally prefer them as a friendship and pseudo-brother/sister dynamic, but I don’t have a huge aversion to them from an in-universe standpoint.  I do think there are logistical and ethical issues from a real-life standpoint given the ages of the actors at the time, but good news everyone!  None of it ends up mattering anyway!  It was all a dream.  Problem solved, right?

Yeah, no.  Here’s the thing: All Just A Dream is already an eyeroll-worthy trope in a random filler episode.  And while it’s not quite as infuriating in a Premiere as it is in a Finale, it is frustrating.  This episode Goes There in establishing a Big Change that could change the direction of the show… and then pulls an “oops, never mind!” at the last minute.  Which is really not a strong way to start your season.

The even more baffling part of choosing to start the season this way is, the episode after it is “Ready, Set, Don’t Drive,” which is both a solid episode and establishes a change in the status quo that actually sticks: Miley’s 16 now, which means she can drive herself around now.  This is good for the themes of Season 3 as Miley is gaining more independence and becoming an adult, so why not just start there?  (Then again, the episode after that is “Don’t Go Breaking My Tooth,” and she says, “I’ll be driving soon” and has Jackson take her, so was that episode meant to go before it?  I find that episode to be much weaker, so I do think “He Ain’t A Hottie” was the better choice between those two, but in terms of meeting my Premiere criteria, both of those options leave a lot to be desired.)

The other strong choice for a Premiere would be “You Never Give Me My Money,” as it deals with those same themes of Miley growing up, and she gains independence through access to (some of) her Hannah money, and that’s yet another change to the status quo that actually sticks.  So, between that and the driving episode, it’s just odd to me that they chose to start their season with an episode dedicated to a ship that doesn’t actually happen, particularly a season where a different ship later does.  (There is perhaps a little foreshadowing there in that Miley sees Lilly having feelings for someone close to her that she never expected her to fall for, and has to learn how to be okay with that, but honestly, I’m not even sure if they were 100% planning to “go there” with Loliver at this point, or if this was just something they were considering now that the characters were getting older.)  

If this were just a filler, Fanservice episode, I could probably live with that. I just wish that they hadn’t started with it, because starting your opening episode with “Just kidding, it was all a dream!” establishes a tone where nothing is real and the stakes don’t matter. (Which unfortunately, also popped up a lot in Season 3, but I wouldn’t consider that a change for the better.)

#2: “Sweet Home Hannah Montana” (Season Four)

This high up?  I know.  I was surprised, too.  But believe it or not, this episode actually works really well as a Premiere: it establishes a new setting and an Important Change (the Stewarts move into a new house, a large ranch where Miley can be with her horse and feel like she’s back in Tennessee while still being in California and getting to live with Lilly), it sets itself apart from the seasons before it, everyone’s in-character, and it stands out and feels like a First Episode of a Finale Season while still blending into the season as a whole.

There is one thing from this that doesn’t stick from one episode to the next, but I do believe it’s established in a way that we always knew that part wasn’t going to stick.  We knew Miley and Lilly were not going to spend an entire season trapped in a kiddie bedroom, and a large part of the plot revolves around them making sure they don’t.  The audience is under no false pretenses here about what is and isn’t a permanent change.  They’ve left their old house behind for good, and the new house setting is here to stay— they’re just working out some of the details.

Comedy-wise and quality-wise, I can definitely see this not being the strongest episode just as an episode. I do think the beginning of Season 4 suffered from the decline that had begun to affect the show, and it was doing its best to pull together a decent season and an ending that worked for the show and characters while dealing with a lot behind the scenes and a lot of fatigue from actors and writers alike.  While I don’t think Season 4 begins nearly as strongly as it ends, I do think this is a fairly solid and logical beginning, and does the “soft reboot” for the show that I believe they were going for.

#1: “Me and Rico Down by the Schoolyard” (Season Two)

Honestly, this was never even a question for me.  Strong as a Premiere, strong as an episode, high quality, stakes, humor, this episode starts the season on a high note, both feeling like it naturally and seamlessly blends into the episodes after it, and feeling distinctive on its own.  

Two big changes to the series are established: Miley starts high school, and Rico becomes a series regular. Not only do these mark a change for the new season, they mark a change for the series as a whole, as both of these changes are maintained from here until the end of the show (although, admittedly, it’d be hard to avoid her going to high school, so that was pretty much inevitable).

Not only do the characters feel like themselves, this is also the first time in the series Rico messes with someone other than Jackson, and establishes himself as an antagonist proper for the show.  This isn’t the first time Miley and Rico have interacted, but it is the first time she knows exactly who she’s dealing with, and she deals with him the only way she knows how: confrontation, scheming, a little help from her friends, and in the end, a moment of raw honesty.  Speaking of her friends, they’re on-point too— Oliver’s fake muscles, the callback to his “locker doctor” skills, Lilly being supportive and sassy to Miley and Oliver in equal measure, and all the interactions with the monkey are sheer perfection.

There is a “fakeout” moment in terms of the secret, but that was properly set up as well— we knew Miley bringing her teddy bear to school was still a secret, and one that would still affect her status at the school, just… not as much, and not in the same way.  While it would have been interesting to see how Rico would’ve reacted to finding out the real secret (at this point in the show), we also hadn’t established enough of how he felt towards both Miley and Hannah for it to make much of an impact yet, and at this point he hadn’t developed enough as a character for him to believably let something that big go.  Sure, maybe he would’ve in that moment, but he probably would’ve still tried to use the knowledge in the future, so ultimately, I think it’s for the best that he didn’t know the truth about Hannah after all.

I haven’t gotten into subplots so much on this list, but it works well on that level, too.  Jackson has an understandable and relatable conflict regarding the new kid, and he too has to choose between his status and his conscience.  He too struggles but ultimately makes the right choice… and a new friend.  Robby Ray dishes out good advice after a “dorky dad” moment, as per usual.  Everyone is so them and so perfectly them in this episode that I might actually count this as one of the best episodes in the series, let alone their best Premiere by a long shot.  

In any case, I can’t think of a better way to start a season, or a better note to end on for my first, but certainly not last, Ranked post for Hannah Montana, and for this blog as a whole.  Stay tuned this month, more is just around the corner.  I can’t wait to show you all!

[skeletorific]

man i just wanna throw this out there and i think you'll catch it, how do you think some of the ancestors would take an invite to a human thing like a party or a ceremony? like if it was prefaced with 'compared to troll events there's a strict no one dies policy and a be human-style nice to people you don't particularly like or care for rule as well' idk if even the first ship crew would come along, and tbh i wouldn't really fault them because it's new and spoopy and they're dead after all

Ok, so you have thrown it, and I have caught it. I am unsure if I caught it in the direction you threw it, but I have caught SOMETHING and it is something I love dearly.

So, this question: I had to think for a moment. What scenario results in every single ancestor being in the same locale, in such a capacity that they are forced to interact, not only with each other, but with humans, to the point that not only can they not kill anyone but there is literally no point in killing each other?

....

....OH WAIT EARTH C-

So yeah, everyone say thank you paradox space. There had to be at least one dream bubble out there from a timeline where the alphas got yoinked into sburb as their Alternian selves by mistake right?

So, let’s assume they’ve had a few months to settle in, adjust to modern life. Troll kingdom has issued an ultimatum to the more....chaotic Ancestors in terms of the rearranged hemospectrum. They will, to quote Karkat, “FUCKING DEAL WITH IT”. Not an easy pill to swallow for a few of them, but then, a few millenia in the dream bubbles has forcibly mellowed them quite a bit and eventually its just more trouble than its worth.

I have a lot of thoughts on this timeline (ancestors get apartments are you kidding me, the potential), but let’s return to the question at hand.

The invitation makes the rounds through a lot of ghost communities, but a particularly bold human approaches the Ancestors themselves with an invite to one of the bigger ragers being thrown in the human kingdom. The celebration of the return of the gods is always a blowout, and this year promises to be especially so, with something between a gala and a block party planned to be pitched.

So here’s why they all show up, and here’s what they do:

The Handmaid is an odd duck. Sure, there’s a certain morose pleasure in watching the cosmic plans of the man who abused her from childhood fall apart because of a handful of chump kids, but that doesn’t mean she’s happy to be back here with these assholes, and it doesn’t mean she’s looking to build a social life. She’s perfectly happy to spend the rest of her days haunting the abandoned house she found on the outskirts of the carapace kingdom and terrorize any local teens that stick their noses where they aren’t wanted. When the uni student turns up with a flyer she cusses them out but good and sends them on their way with a couple of threats to life and limb.

And then shows up anyways.

Not to socialize, mind, just to watch. From the rafters probably. Snickering at all the drama going down, dropping spiders in Makara’s drink and stealing Dualscar’s watch when he’s not looking. And maybe see if Condy gets drunk enough to want a rematch. Laws be damned. Now THIS is a party.

The Signless’s entire crew is a bit of a chain pull. The Disciple wants to go extremely badly, so of course she manages to purrsuade The Signless to come with her. The Psiionic doesn’t want to go period but he’ll be damned if he’s letting Vantas out of his sight into an unguarded area. The Dolorosa wanted to go this whole time and is the one who got Leijon all riled up about it in the first place, but pretends she’s just doing it to keep an eye on Vantas and Captor.

Once there, they’re not exactly social butterflies, but compared to the others they’re practically savants. Leijon prowls on the edges of crowds, listening for snatches of information, and enjoys constructing narratives in her own mind about the relationships between all of them. Vantas finds himself pulled into a lot of conversations just to explain his life’s work (and, to his chagrin, to destabilize a few myths he’s accrued over the centuries). He tries to keep a level head but after a few beers though he’s hotly debating politics with three or four Kankri ghosts and has to be dragged away by Captor, who’s been following him and Leijon like a kid following their parent at a family reunion. Maryam disappeared hours ago and doesn’t get back home late, looking a little bit smug but tight-lipped about her evening. All four of them avoid the other Ancestors like the plague.

Neophyte Redglare of all of them has probably adjusted the best to this new life. Unlike the others, she’s actually gotten some friends that weren’t a part of the dream bubbles, and would happily spend most of the evening chattering with them. Still, for reasons we’ll get into it later, she spends most of it babysitting Makara and doing a bit of pitch-flirting with everyone’s favorite pir8.

Speaking of the Marquise Mindfang Spineret, like the Handmaid she protested loudly she was too cool for this party and then showed up anyways. Still, its not like she’s there to socialize. Most of what she does is spot the people who look like they might be heading off to bigger and more illegal things outside the party and without a word installing herself as part of their social circle. She invites Nitram, but her matesprit is a little occupied with an old enemy. That’s fine, she appreciates a score to settle, but its not fun if someone isn’t paying attention to her antics. Fortunately, Pyrope is happy to oblige her, and Dualscar is a delightful enough lackey while he’s still sober enough to handle it (so, for about five minutes). All told, an entert8ning evening indeed ;;;)

Executor Darkleer shows up for roughly ten minutes, near the very end, and does what he’s done at most social gatherings since they left the dream bubbles: stand awkwardly in the corner, stare at Leijon, and wonder if they’re still cool. Are they still cool? Probably? Right? But who’s to say. He absconds early to go work on his personal projects and probably punch something.

The Summoner is in peak form. Like Vantas, he has plenty of questions coming his way, and while no Nitram has ever been arrogant, he’s at least a little indulgent about some, shall we say, popular headcanons that have popped up since then. He’s slamming beers to cover up the usual low level of social anxiety (a battlefield he can handle, but a soiree is another matter altogether), and its working. He’s flirting a storm through the ballroom, something Serket is probably going to give him repercussions for. Its also making him a little, uh....confrontational, shall we say. So when he spot an old, clowny foe, well...

Oh, The Grand Highblood. 

He didn’t want to come. Full stop. Picked the wriggler with the flyer up by the back of their shirt and turned them around. Damn lucky he didn’t just throw them out. He wasn’t going to show up at this meaningless little heretical shindig, bump shoulders with strangers and be bored out of his motherfucking skull to boot. The only reason he got dragged in is Peixes didn’t give him a lot of other options. So here he is. Standing like a grim spectre of everyone’s demise, sullenly scowling at anyone who approaches and snarling at anyone who opens their protein chute in his direction.

For about five minutes.

What can I say, clowns love parties.  A couple of faygos later (if you think Condy didn’t come prepared you’re crazy) and this brawny ass goat is getting turnt out of his mind on the dancefloor. Nobody knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing with his body but its definitely deeply explicit and more than a little alarming. Still, it suits the environment, and there’s this unaccountable field of manic energy that just sort of erupts around him, escalating the party wherever he goes. Redglare has to babysit him (because Peixes, Serket and Ampora sure won’t, and who the fuck knows where Zahhak is), and even still he ends up with a busted keg dangling from one of his horns. He is feeding off of this motherfucking rhapsody tonight, fellas, and the grisly bastard has more than a few sick bars in him.

Orphaner Dualscar is decidedly less enthused. Nothing quite like being a failed romantic footnote in the only surviving account of your life to kill your rep as an intimidating pirate. He’s not adjusting well to modern life, and mostly spends the night in the corner with a solo cup, scowling at any and all. For a while he joins Serket in her activities but eventually is too soused to really participate, and she ditches him. Which is starting to become a recurring trend. He spends the rest of the night trying to seduce someone, literally, anyone, just get him out of this fucking stupid party, he’s so FUCKIN LONELY GOG-

up to you if it actually works or not.

Meanwhile, Her (Formerly) Imperial Condescension.....look, Peixes can’t stay away from a party. Even a lame-ass one for guppies 3>8(. I mean, the no killing thing is REALLY fucking cramping her style, but to be frank its more trouble than its worth. Most of them just come back as ghosts and try to bonk you back. Annoying is what it is. So, fine, she agrees, no culling. 

Doesn’t mean the party can’t at least be interesting, and that’s damn well what she brought Makara to do for her. Works like a charm, too, Makara might be a grumpy basshole but he knows how to cut loose when he wants to. She’s chanting him through chugging an entire keg on his own with a small crowd of people when she spots a familiar pair of impossibly wide horns. Ohhh shit, get the grubcorn-.....wait, is that Megido in the rafters?!

No trolls or humans were (fatally) harmed in the making of this evening’s closing act, but suffice to say the building wasn’t so lucky. Two reenactments of the more legendary battles in Alternian history (which is saying something) was more than the palace could handle. In the end they were separated and sent to dry out in separate cells, Dave using his time powers to keep a handle on the The Handmaid. 

Suffice to say it’ll be a while before any of them get another invitation.

[peachdoxie]

Okay so I’m like way late in sharing my liveblog of chapter 13, but I read it earlier and took notes and here they are! Man, what a doozy of a chapter! I have a lot of things to say.

Conjoined fabrials require a careful division of the gemstone—and the spren inside. 

Like we knew this already but hearing about it directly is like. Yikes.

Other types of spren do not split as evenly, as easily, or at all. 

Gimme the lore, Branderson

Shallan had to deal with Veil’s alcohol abuse. Again. 

Yikes

He was using that time to go ride horses. 

The paranoid part of me thinks something else is going on, but also Adolin is still allowed to have interests, especially if he’s grown closer with Dalinar’s Ryshadium after losing Sureblood in Words of Radiance, as the chapter later describes.

Shallan found herself alone—and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t have a role to play.

Inchresting.

The deal is set and arranged. The spren will come.

wat

Seven years ago now—and if that timeline was correct, she must have begun seeing Pattern as a young child. Long before Jasnah had first encountered her spren.

I feel like this is important but idk why. It sort of implies that the Cryptics were the first spren to start forming Nahel bonds in the current era, but, again, why? What are the implications?

She couldn’t see those memories; didn’t want to see them. As she shied away from them, something dark shifted inside her, growing stronger. Formless. Shallan didn’t want to be the person who had done those things. That… that person could not… not be loved…

Oof but also not true

Memory loss was apparently common to these cases, but the rest of what Shallan experienced seemed distinctly different. Importantly, she wasn’t experiencing continued memory loss. So maybe she was fine. She’d stabilized.

I have the feeling Shallan does, in fact, have some significant memory losses that she’s either unaware of or so in denial about she doesn’t realize she’s in denial of them.

Besides, these fabrials did the work of a dozen people.

lmao Roshar is undergoing industrialization which is probably a bad thing

When she became Veil, the colors in the room… muted. The colors didn’t change, but her perception shifted.

Neat detail. I wonder how that would interact with the various Heightenings of Nalthis.

His pet chicken, the green one.

IT’S BIRB TIME!!!!!

“Of course, with your powers nothing is permanent, is it? You deal exclusively in the ephemeral.”

That’s kind of a recurring issue in Shallan’s life, isn’t it, the lack of permanence?

His chicken held its prey with one foot, eating almost like a person did with their hands. The thing was so strange, so alien. It stood upright, like no other beast Shallan had studied. When it chirped at Mraize, it sounded almost like it was talking, and she swore she could occasionally make out words. It was like a tiny parody of a person.

Lmao “alien.” Shallan, you have no idea how right you are. Also, I’m going to guess the bird may actually be talking to Mraize since it’s a fucking aviar

Ask a better question. “Nalathis,” Radiant said. “Scadarial. What are they?”

“Nalthis. Scadrial.” He spoke the words with a different accent. “Where are they. That’s an excellent question, Radiant. Suffice it to say they are places in Shadesmar where our Stormlight—so easily captured and transported—would be a valuable commodity.”

Okay sure just fucking namedrop the other planets in the cosmere again why don’t you

A more perfect gemstone could contain the Light long enough to go offworld, but there is still the Connection problem. This little flaw has caused untold trouble. And the one who unlocks the secret would have untold power.

dear fucking hell, Mraize.

tbh I don’t even know how to react to this revelation. It’s so simple and yet so ambitious, and it would have significant impacts not just on Roshar, but on the whole of the cosmere. Not to mention: Investiture on Roshar is renewable because when it’s used, it returns to the Spiritual Realm until it’s brought back into the Physical by highstorms or a perpendicularity. What would happen if Mraize found a way to take Honor’s Investiture and have it be used somewhere else in the cosmere outside of the Rosharan system? Would that unbalance the Shards even more?

just an absolute what the fuck. there are so many unknown Realmatic ramifications for this. what the fuck.

“I already have,” Mraize said, making a fist. “Though putting the plan into motion will be difficult. I have a job for you.”

Great, Mraize already knows how to do this incredibly ridiculous Realmatic bullshit. This is going to be bad if he gets it up and running, even if Mraize himself isn’t “evil.” It would radically change everything, and there are many bad people who would abuse that change.

“I have news for you,” Shallan said. “Sja-anat contacted me while I was away. She agreed to your terms, and is sending one of her spren to the tower, where it will investigate your members for a possible bond.”

Ah, so this is who Shallan was communicating with earlier. But how did Sja-anat use a spanreed? And what kind of spren will she send, and how has it been corrupted?

Also, Shallan and Mraize at least know that Glys was corrupted by Sja-anat. I wonder who else holds this knowledge.

“I cannot betray this secret,” Mraize said. “Let’s just say that Lightweavers fascinate me, and leave it at that. And you should not fear if I did keep someone close to you. Such a person could be an… aid in times of need. Iyatil did the same for me.”

*tosses another piece of evidence onto the theory I saw someone make that Shallan, in a very repressed persona, is actually Mraize’s spy*

“Immortality, in part. He thought he could become like the Heralds. In his quest, he discovered a secret. He had Voidlight before the Everstorm—he carried it from Braize, the place you call Damnation. He was testing the movement of Light between worlds. And one close to him might have answers. At any rate, we couldn’t risk Ialai or the Sons of Honor recovering these secrets.”

I honestly don’t know what to make of this but it seems important so

“Oh, we know where he is,” Mraize said. “He has asked for—and been granted—asylum in a city no other Ghostblood has been able to enter.”

“A place you can’t enter?” Shallan asked. “Where is security that tight?”

“The fortress named Lasting Integrity,” Mraize said. “Home and capital city of the honorspren in Shadesmar.”

OH SURE BRANDON, JUST DROP ANOTHER FUCKING BOMBSHELL IN THIS CHAPTER, I CAN DEFINITELY HANDLE IT

at least my question of “why the fuck is SHALLAN going to Lasting Integrity” is answered

“Oh, you will. And once you successfully return from this mission, your reward will be—as always—something for which you hunger. Answers. All of them.”

So like, first of all I’m skeptical that Shallan will actually succeed, so that’s one thing. And second, what’s to say that Brando will just have Shallan learn things off the page and we don’t know the answers? Either way, I eagerly await how this plot line will play out. Whatever’s gonna happen, it’s gonna involve some hella cosmere Lore.

Mraize had never been willing to speak of that, but she had to think they’d been grooming her—and her family—for over a decade.

He knew the truth about Shallan’s past. There were holes in her childhood memories. If they did what he asked, Mraize would fill them.

And maybe then, at long last, Veil could force Shallan to become complete.

The word “grooming” stands out to me here. What, exactly, were they grooming her for?

***

Anyway. Wow. What a fucking chapter. So little action, and yet so much just changed. Rhythm of War is taking on a very different look now that there’s Lore at stake.

[ladyfawkes]

Stop Calling Him ‘Horace’! - Eugene Fitzherbert Appreciation Week | Day 7: Birth Day

Sooooo.... Basically, I planned to have this pretty little fanfic finished up for today, the final day of Eugene Appreciation Week. This fanfic is extra-special, specifically it features our Eugene at ages we’ve never seen him in canon. Allow me to sum up this “plan” of mine in one word: HAAAAA!!!! Suffice it to say that although fanfic is very old-hat to me (I’ve been writing it since 1991, fgs) the world of fic-blogging is still relatively NEW to me and several of my fics and headcanons that I’ve released the past several weeks are needing to connect and soon, otherwise the whole convoluted, many-headed Medusa won’t wind up making any sense at all. I’m not exactly certain how it’ll all come together yet but I have to say that getting to spend the past week with all of you fellow Fitzy enthusiasts on Twitter and Tumblr has been some of the BEST DAYS EVER that I’ve experienced on the internet in my entire online life!!!! (And I’ve had an internet presence since 1991!!!) You’ve injected me with serious shots of Inspiration Elixir and I’ve had soooo very many ideas pass through my mind just over the past 7 days that I can’t possibly hope to catalog all of them. I haven’t felt quite this inspired in, well, YEARS.  I’ve enjoyed the heck out of sharing and exchanging headcanons, theories, ideas, essays, and even artforms. I’ve had a Tumblr account for more than ELEVEN YEARS and yet this is the first and only time I have consistently blogged and reblogged over the “heart-stopping” a time-span of 7 months **gasp** now (and counting). I’m a member of a couple dozen fandoms at least and this is the ONLY ONE that has consistently captured my interest AND managed to not scare the shit out of me so badly that I have to go and hibernate my account for the next, y’know, 3498349540 months. Until yet another worthy obsession captures my interest..... but Tangled the Series is still burning the brightest and I REALLY need it to right now, tbh. So THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everybody with whom I’ve interacted on this....I have health issues that cause me to transpose and forget names. But if you wish me to personally tag you, please tag THIS particular post and I shall tag you when I have actually finished this particular scene sequence featured in THIS ficlet. So now!!!!! Without further ado, I shall give you a teaser of the drabble-turned-ficlet-turned-short-story that will eventually feature the actual Birth Day of one Eugene Fitzherbert!!! Click the keep reading link below to see the remaining text. =)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Edmund knew from the beginning that Alexys did not like the name “Horace”. At the time, the king had told her that it was family tradition that the first-born son should receive a strong family name. Despite her pointed protests, he was utterly immovable on the subject.

The more Alexys’s belly grew, the more her dislike for that name swelled too. Shouldn’t she have a say in their child’s name, given that she was putting in all the work of keeping him healthy and strong, so to speak? Shouldn’t her family names count as possibilities too? Unfortunately, Edmund’s childhood largely consisted of his father and grandfather basically hazing him into believing that he had to “take command” of virtually any subject matter, in practically any situation. As a result, he thought of just about everything in militaristic terms. Over the past 4 years, Lexy had slowly and subtly molded her hot-headed young 20-something husband toward different healthier, less uptight ways of handling life and looking at various situations.

They had finally settled on a great couple synergy and got along very well -- except for the times they had an ongoing argument, that is. And this was definitely one of those times.

“I don’t understand why you won’t see reason, Edmund!”

“Because it’s more than just a name, Alexys! It’s a birthright. It connects him directly back to us and these names might very well be the most important gift we could ever give to our children!”

“You don’t think I know that?? Just as sure as I know this child is a boy, I am equally certain that he will not live a traditional royal life. And his name must reflect that!!”

Apparently, entertaining the possibility that any son of Edmund’s wouldn’t want to grow up a devoted soldier completely servile to the Moonstone wasn’t a possibility he was ready to face. Alexys watched as Edmund drew in a long breath, held it, his face turning interesting colors. Slowly his hands balled into fists and rather than saying anything, he exhaled one very pent-up breath and stomped out of the room. She had never before seen him so agitated. Although she also sensed the naming subject wasn’t at the core of his ire that day, she never brought it up again. Alexys hoped that whatever it was eating at him, Edmund would be able to solve it by the time their child came. And that would happen any day now.

Alexys wanted so much to tell Edmund about the beautiful vivid dreams she’d been having about their future child the past few nights. But he’d been increasingly preoccupied, sullen, and distant over the past month. It was most unfortunate and Alexys was as yet at a loss of how to help him. Now....while it’s true every good mother believes their child to be exceptional, Alexys knew that their son was destined to shatter tradition. For the first time in millennia, she knew without doubt that he would be the one to bring light to the Dark Kingdom. 

One of her dreams began with a small boy, age 4 or 5, who had floppy brown hair and very expressive round eyes just like Edmund. In the dream, Alexys and the boy were standing on a trail near the edge of a narrow rock crevasse....a location that somehow seemed familiar to Lexy....but she couldn’t quite place it. The little boy smiled up at her cherubically and reached out a chubby little hand toward hers.

“Play?” he questioned sweetly. He was happily bouncing on his feet, very subtly heel to toe, and even when he was in one place he barely stood still.

“Yes, of course!” Alexys replied, grinning in awe at this absolutely beautiful dream-child her mind was currently conjuring. She gathered up her long skirts and petticoats in her left hand and took the little boy’s offered hand in her right. As they walked, she noticed a small mole at the base of the boy’s neck and it matched exactly the one that Edmund had, only in miniature. So her suspicions had been confirmed; this was indeed their son.  They approached what Alexys recognized to be a very-scaled-down version of The Great Tree....and the crevasse was apparently a much-scaled-down version of the gorge which held the actual Great Tree. Even though it wasn’t the real Tree, it still possessed a very substantial and robust trunk. It was about 30 feet high and could easily withstand the weight of a couple dozen grown adults, if they ever had the inclination to climb this dream tree from within my own mind, Alexys thought wryly. As they reached the ground level of this miniature Great Tree, the little boy let go of her hand and latched onto the tree base itself. He turned back to her and said, “Play?” again while pointing upward. Bounce, bounce. Instantly, Lexy’s mothering instincts came out. “Uh, little one, I don’t think it’s safe to climb--” but it was clear the little boy wasn’t really listening to her. And even faster than a real toddler could climb, he scrambled up and out of her reach in a flash, giggling with childish abandon. She kept pleading with this child to stop and to come back down instead, that he might get injured, but he clearly had no intention of heeding her. Not only that, she didn’t even know his name. One thing was certain -- he definitely did not answer to ‘Horace’. Poor Alexys hoped this nightmare of a fearless toddler wasn’t an omen of things yet to come.  She fleetingly considered just tearing off her petticoats and skirts to climb and then realized it wouldn’t matter anyway; she was nearly nine months pregnant and thus not climbing anything that day. “Look!” She suddenly heard the little boy’s voice again. This time, he was speaking from some 30 feet overhead through the tree boughs. Alexys moved away from the Great Tree’s base to a better vantage point further out from the trunk. Shielding her eyes from the sun, the queen looked up at the tree to see that the little boy was now pointing out toward the opposite direction of the crevasse from where they originally came. In the distance, she could see what looked to be a miniature version of the impassable mountain range between the Dark Kingdom and the Great Tree. Just beyond was Black Crystal Valley and in the center of the valley, an exact copy of The Dark Palace, only much smaller. What happened next was nothing short of absolute surreality on toast. “Look!” said the little boy’s voice again, still giggling as he climbed even higher until it looked like he was physically standing on the canopy leaves of the fake Great Tree. Lexy’s breath caught in her throat as this little boy reached up and plucked a literal piece out of the sun -- yes, he plucked a PIECE out of the actual SUN -- straight out of the actual sky. The light emanating from the Sun and the Shard he had in hand didn’t seem to be affecting the little boy the way it was affecting Alexys. She was shielding her face from its overpowering brightness when suddenly, the little boy wasn’t in the tree canopy anymore. In the blink of an eye, he was standing miraculously in front of her. Alexys blinked incredulously and tried not to yell aloud in shock due to being so startled. She failed at not yelling, but at least the little boy didn’t appear to notice. Next, this little boy held out the Sun Shard toward Lexy. He must’ve done something to help it because now she could look toward its brilliance without being blinded.  “You can finally see my friend!” her boy said happily. Bounce, bounce. “We hug her!” he continued, holding the glowing object against his heart, rocking back and forth a few times. “And we kiss her,” and he gave the Shard his sweet toddler kisses. “And we be very soft,” he toddler-whispered, demonstrating deft touch through voice as well as action.“Now you!” he insisted, his pudgy hand offering the Sun Shard to her. Bouncy, bouncy, bounce. “I -- I don’t know. Won’t it burn me?” This dream had already gone so warped, she didn’t feel too weird for asking. Lexy was somewhat concerned with accepting the offerings of a toddler but he didn’t appear to be covered in slobber or any other mystery substances, thank goodness. Neither did the Shard. “Burn you?” the child echoed. He suddenly burst into giggles and said, “Silly Mama.” Lexy’s breath caught in her throat. Mama. He actually said it! How her mother’s heart fluttered. This….this interaction required something extra special. She oh-so-carefully got down on her knees (no small feat in her condition) so she could be level with her son. “Yes, your mama can be very silly sometimes,” Lexy acknowledged. Then she pointed toward the Shard in his hands and said, “Will you show me how?” Instantly, he came to her and passed the precious glowing object to Alexys. “Hold her here,” instructed her little boy, pointing toward his heart. Lexy was surprised to discover that the Shard wasn’t a shard at all -- and while it was very warm to the touch, it wasn’t burning hot. Pliable with only mild bit of give to it….rather like warmed sealing wax without the tackiness. Upon tucking the glowing object next to her bosom, Lexy looked upward at her boy and said, “and now I…” “Cradle,” followed by his rapid rocking back and forth motions. Bouncy-bounce bounce.  “Of course,” smiled Alexys, who had arranged both her arms to cradle this golden drop of sunlight. “Is that what you are now? Not a Shard -- but a Drop of Sunlight?” She was now talking to this object but again didn’t feel one bit silly for doing so. It seemed….alive, somehow. Slowly, carefully, she rocked back and forth while on her knees. “Sing, mama!” prompted her little boy, who was excitedly bouncing on his toes and clapping his chubby hands. A time-honored German lullaby sprang to mind and as she sang the words, the longer she sang, something rather remarkable happened. As Alexys looked down in her arms, she could’ve sworn she saw a ghost of an image, not more than a sparkling golden shadow really, of a completely different child in her arms. Only this child was much tinier and younger than the boy. This was an infant, a baby girl, one with remarkably long flowing golden hair. She appeared to have even more hair than her toddler son. By orders of magnitude more. Disembodied babygirl giggling and babbles filled the air around them. “You see her now!!!” Her little boy was more excited than ever! He clearly knows! Lexy could hear the rhythm of his feet in front of her. Bounce-bounce-bouncy bounce-bouncy-bounce. Alexys was afraid to look away, lest the wispy golden dust in her arms blow away before she could get her fill. “Who is she?” questioned Alexys in awe. “She is our friend. She is….Sun...shine. Yes. Sunshine,” the boy confirmed, tilting his head to one side as he spoke, as if he were listening for something only he could hear. ......to be continued!!!!......

[angelic-guardienne]

Gladio + s/o with thick hair hc

I’m black. I have thick hair. I love Gladio. I’ve been meaning to write these headcanons for a good while, but never felt... qualified enough, in a weird way. I’ve had my hair natural for about a year now (I can’t believe it’s been that long, wow) and I still don’t feel like I’m knowledgeable enough to write these, because there’s still so much for me to learn. 

Still. Even if I’m certainly still learning the hows and whys of my hair, I wanted to write these. Took a solid month of time, and it definitely didn’t cover everything about the Experience (TM), but that’s mostly because I haven’t experienced it myself. Namely, anything with heat because heat damage was the reason I chopped off my hair and went natural, haha. 

Buuuut that’s enough from me. I want to get this posted before I have to start getting ready for work, so. Without further ado, here are the headcanons!

Tagging: @blindedstarlight @crazykruemel @ponkita @tales-of-a-fallen-star @valkyrieofardyn @insomniacapples @kawaiinekorose @glacian-apocalypse @honey-your-bee-puns-sting @neo-queen-alinity @singergurl91 @jaysfandomcorner @commitmentroses @linxsa99 @sakuraangel1 @tiniestofqueens @bestchocobois @magictactic200

---

Gladio absolutely adores your natural hair. Whether it’s curlier or wavier (or both if you’re like me and have mixed curl patterns rip), he adores it

He’s always kinda sad when you put it up or straighten it, he loves it more when you just wear it down and out and b i g

(though that being said, it’s not that he doesn’t love the other hairstyles, he just loves it more when your hair is out. that’s his favorite style, he loves seeing you embrace your natural self)

He wishes his hair could do the things that yours can do

(he jokingly says he might get a perm and you have to shut that down in an instant cause lord knows that man has zero impulse control)

On those days where your hair just won’t cooperate, he’s defo there to lend a helping hand (once he learns how to handle your hair, of course. as soon as he’s trusted with it, he loves loves loves helping you with it)

If you’re anything like me you’ve got an army of hair products and Gladio just l o v e s the way they all smell

Sometimes you’ll catch him in your products and you’re like “what do you need curl defining cream for, huh?” and he’s just like “it smells like you” and you can get mad at him but can you really when he says stuff like that

Speaking of, he steals all of your leave-in conditioner, all the time

If you let him play in your hair, his favorite thing to do is pull on a little curl and let it go and watch it bounce back into place

It makes him giggle like a child

One time he tried running his fingers through your hair and he was actually stuck (it’d been a while since you detangled it)

Speaking of “detangling,” he tries his best to learn all the terminology 

One time he falls asleep with a book about different hair types and their care routines open in his hands. it was the cutest image ever. you took a picture and made it your lockscreen

He will eagerly sit down and watch hair tutorials with you. In case you can’t do your own hair (or don’t want to) he wants to be able to help. Besides, it’s genuinely interesting to him that you can do so many different styles with your hair

(Again, he wants to try it on his own hair but it just doesn’t hold the same)

But yeah so he can’t run his fingers through your hair and at first he was a little sad about it but once he got used to the idea, he was just like “I can’t run my fingers through it but have you felt how soft it is?”

He's… obsessed with how soft your hair can get

he's obsessed with you (and your hair!) in general but yanno

It took him a minute to really truly understand the concept of shrinkage, so if your hair was straight when you met him, when he sees it natural he's like "oh man did you cut your hair? looks nice" and you have to explain it to him

Sometimes when he wants to surprise you, he'll pick up some hair products that you'd been longingly staring at (you couldn't get them yourself since they were outside of your price range at the time) 

Whenever you decide to get some stuff to try a hair mask or do some deep conditioning, you bet he’s right there beside you wanting to try it as well. You’ll have to make twice as much cause he’s a little heavy handed

Speaking of him being heavy-handed, you have to tell him to chill out when he’s doing your hair because even though he sometimes buys your products for you, they’re still not cheap and you’d like them to last a little longer

If y’all are showering together and you’re washing your hair, when you’re doing something a certain way he’ll ask why and then he gets a mini-lesson in the shower (if you’re up for it, that is)

Like, detangling from the ends to the roots, sectioning the hair for ease, wide-toothed combs, making sure you put in the leave-in conditioner while still in the shower, cowashes, etc etc 

If you let him wash your hair for you, good lord this man’s scalp massages are to die for

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of him and he starts using some of your advice for his own hair, and then he just? never shuts up about how much better his hair feels? he wants to tell everyone about it and he does, starting with Iris

He’s very much so the type to brag on his s/o and no one is excepted from hearing him wax poetic about them, he’s such a proud boi

(Iris just shakes her head fondly and is like “if you watched hair tutorials with me back when we were younger you would have been here already, but go off I guess”) 

Whenever you wash your hair, right after you get out of the shower and are dressed again (and sometimes before that) he’s just “What are you gonna do with your hair?” 

Sometimes he’ll pull up some hairstyles he found on the interwebs and show them to you, and you’ve actually done some of them but sometimes it’s way out of your league (or it’s something you would rather go to a salon to get done). Tell him, and eventually he’ll find that sweet sweet boundary between impossible and doable for suggested styles.

Once you told him you were gonna twist your hair and he had the most adorable look on his face when he asked what a twist was 

You were a little shocked that he’d never heard of it before but you showed him and he was just stoked to see your hair in a bunch of twists after that (and boyo, don’t get me started on the twist-out. This man is lovestruck)

When it’s a styling day (because sometimes it takes a whole day), Gladio will sit with you and just hang out with you while you do your hair. He’ll cook for you, too, because he knows having your arms above your head for hours on end is exhausting. 

Styling days are also movie days, if he can stay home! (usually you plan your styling days with his days off so you really can spend the day with him) Y’all just chill out and watch movies together and once you’re finished, you guys cuddle

The first time he used a shower cap he was literally amazed. Like he’d never really given them more than a passing thought, but like…. a cap. to protect your hair from getting wet in the shower. It’s ingenious. If he didn’t wanna get it wet he tried to put it up in a bun and hopped on the struggle bus

Suffice to say, he loves shower caps

If you have a hooded dryer at home, well. He’s not a fan of constant loud noises (or loud noises in general tbh) but he thinks it’s really cool that you can have a little piece of the salon with you at home, that you can still do certain things without having to drop the money

Speaking of the salon though. 

Your stylist loves and hates him because he’s super charming and they can tell just how in love you two are and they can tell how well he treats you and all of that, but good lord when the two of you talk you move your head a lot and that’s veeeery frustrating

As soon as Gladio notices he gives you a little kiss and goes over to the waiting area but it’s really not much longer before he’s trying to text you or trying to get your attention from across the room or something like that.

If you’re due to be bound to the stylist’s chair for a long while, he’s at your beck and call and will do anything you need while you’re stuck. Snacks? You got it. Thirsty? A drink, fit with a straw so you don’t have to bend your head anymore. Entertainment? He’ll ask if you want a book or a video game. Your phone is dying? He’s got a portable battery, babey

He always checks the weather and lets you know when it’s supposed to be humid, because humid days are your worst enemy. (He hates them too, but since he started dating you he’s become more aware of their frequency)

He’s bad about the bonnet. He really is. He really tries not to say it but it’s kind of like a mushroom top. He’s so bad about it. 

If you use a satin pillowcase, you’ll have to get another one because he wants to steal your pillow. He loves the way it feels against his face when he sleeps and he wants to feel it allllllll the time

But yes, all in all, as I said in the beginning, Gladio adores your natural hair and everything that comes with it and he embraces it and loves when you do the same.