#i want to make a few chicks but i want to try different techniques with them

[cozylittleartblog]

VERY important update

a mother

the baby's name is frankie :)

[matthewtkachuk]

feel something pt 5 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.9k

A/N: I have finally delivered more than three lines of JJ content, yall are welcome. Also a little baby bit of angst, but that’s the name of my fic game. I just love Chick sm, protect my small bean 2k20. 

series masterlist

(gif NOT mine - if its urs pls let me know so i can credit!!! found on the google)

You don’t know how Chick knows, but she does.

That night, she crawls into bed with you, desperately seeking your comfort as her worldview crumbles around her. You can relate, you were about her age the first time you realized that most kid’s parents don’t scream at them like they’re the scum of the earth. The major difference being you were the oldest and you didn’t have anyone to comfort you. With that thought in mind, you make a promise to yourself that you will never let Chick feel a quarter of the shit you went through.

You let her curl into you, arms clutching you tightly, head tucked into your shoulder. One hand of yours smooths her hair, the other holding her just as closely. “Sister day tomorrow?” you ask her quietly. Her only response is a slight nodding of her head against your neck, so you ask, “what do you want to do? The whole day is your choice.”

“Surfing and gumbo.” She mumbles and you can’t help but smile. If your baby sister is one thing, it’s predictable.

“Sure thing bub. Bright and early tomorrow,” you warn her, left hand fumbling to grab your phone from under your pillow before setting an alarm for six am.

She’s out like a light, no response to you. You close your eyes tightly, heart breaking for your little sister. You have trouble sleeping that night, every shifting movement and slight sigh that escaped Chick had you on high alert. Add on to that the guilt of the prior night, the warmth you felt when you thought of having Sarah back and the confusion of what was going on between you and JJ… you didn’t sleep for longer than half an hour at a time.

Six am came early that next morning, predictably right when you thought you might finally be falling asleep. Despite your exhaustion, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with your baby sister. You changed quickly in the dark, letting Chick sleep in an extra ten minutes as you flicked through your bathing suits looking for a bikini top that was a little more secure to withstand some choice waves if you caught any.

“Rise and shine, Chick!” You cheerfully shouted, flicking on the light. She groaned and raised the comforter over head, but you laughed and tore it right off the bed. “C’mon you’re the one who wanted to go surfing and you know the morning is the best.”

She grumbled a bit, but quickly darted to her bedroom to change. You met her in the hallway, smiling to yourself when you spotted her wearing the pink and blue rashguard you had gotten her for her birthday. “Alright, let’s go!” you cheered and raced her down the steps, quickly grabbing your keys from the little bowl that sat on the console table in the entranceway.

“And where are the two of you going?” Your mother sat on the front porch swing, sipping on a large cup of what you assumed to be coffee, raising a single eyebrow at your bikini and jean short combo.

“Sister day,” Chick replied before you could, “Surfing and gumbo.”

Your mothers harsh gaze softened upon gazing at her youngest daughter, smiling before waving the both of you off, telling you to have fun. You grinned at Chick and hopped into your jeep, handing her your phone to queue up a spotify playlist. The two of you goofed off and giggled the whole way to the beach, almost as if the events of the past week hadn’t happened at all.

Upon arriving at the beach, you hopped out of the driver seat and quickly took down your boards from the roof rack, handing Chick hers before setting off onto the beach. You had chosen to drive into pogue territory both for the convenience of hitting up the Wreck after and to avoid a certain kook who had made a certain confession. Plus, it was nice to be judged based on your surfing ability (or lack thereof) rather than how expensive your surfboard was.

Entering the water always felt like coming home. From the first toe dip until you were waist-deep in the ocean, it was like your entire body came alive. There was no feeling like it, when you were a kid your dad had joked that you were a mermaid. You used to spend all day in the water, coming out all pruny and honestly slightly dehydrated, but so, so happy. You and Chick paddled side by side into deeper water, and you sat up on your board to let Chick take the first crack at it. You can’t help but giggle when she wipes out approximately five seconds after popping up. She sputters and throws you an offended glance as she resurfaces.

“Let’s see you do better then,” she yelled at you with as much sass as she could muster so early in the morning.

You grinned at her, eyes watching the rolling water waiting for an appropriate wave. Finally spotting one, you started paddling to try and catch the wave before it breaks. Hopping up on your board by pushing your body up and tucking your feet under you, you stood on your board knees bent and arms relaxed, with your torso leaned forward to help balance. You couldn’t help showing off for Chick; angling your board across the wave, you leant into the turn before shifting your body weight to your front foot, letting your board slide down the face of the wave in a tail slide. You heard Chick whoop, cheering you on, causing your grin to widen.

Returning to her, you both floated on your board side by side for a few minutes, watching the waves crest and break. “Alright little Chick, your turn again, unless you want to ride the white water, I won’t judge.” She gave you a look and you just grinned at her again.

She started paddling towards a smaller wave than the one you rode, and you couldn’t help but cheer when she managed to stand on her board and ride the wave straight in. You hooted and hollered with no care in the world, celebrating your baby sister not eating shit. She was laughing on the shore line as you paddled back towards the shore to meet her.

“Not bad tail spin, y/l/n” you looked up to see JJ Maybank staring at you.

“Oh! Uhm, thank you,” you mumbled, suddenly self-conscious as his gaze traced your body.

“That was a pretty bad wipeout earlier, pretty brave of you to ride that wave after that Little y/l/n” he complimented Chick. At least, you think it was a compliment, it was a little back-handed after all.

Chick being Chick just grinned and said thanks.

“Are you goofy foot naturally, or do you just do it because y/n does?” he asked her seriously.

She looked at him in confusion, “Goofy foot?”

“He means which foot you put forward. I lead with my left,” you explained. A look that was suspiciously close to shock briefly flashed on his face, before he recovered and grinned.

“I don’t know, I guess I just copied y/n,” she admitted, face reddening a little.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Little y/l/n, but why don’t you try putting your right foot forward instead and see if that’s more of a natural stance for you.” He advised her. She looked to you, and you just smiled and shrugged at her.

“Alright, watch this you guys!” She shouted and headed back into the water.

You sat down on your towel, watching Chick take JJ’s corrections seriously as she chased a few waves. “Thank you,” you said a little reluctantly to the blond sitting next to you, his eyes trained on your sister.

He broke his gaze to turn his head to you, “’Course, gotta unteach her your bad habits.” You gasped and shoved him playfully. “Just kidding, your technique is basically perfect.”

It was your turn to turn a little red. You weren’t used to compliments without any ulterior motives. “Thanks, but it’s not that good.”

“What are you talking about? You’re amazing out there.” He complimented you again, causing your cheeks to get redder.

“Oh, look at Chick she’s going for that wave,” You pointed out at your sister, hoping to deflect some attention to her.

“She’s a quick learner,” he commented. You smiled, more than a little proud of your sister.

“She gets that from me,” you bragged, and he laughed, throwing his head back. Your mind briefly wondered what it would be like to run your fingers through his wavy hair before you snapped out of it. “You know, I think this is the longest you’ve gone without calling me princess.”

“I could call you princess if you want, princess,” he smirked at you, but you shook your head quickly.

“Y/n is just fine,” you told him as Chick came running at the two of you.

“Did you see that?” She yelled, “that was awesome!” She stuck her board in the sand before launching herself at you. You laughed, catching her on your lap, listening patiently as she babbled on about how amazing that felt. JJ found himself watching you, thinking this was the most expression he had seen you show, with the exception of your high freak out which he tried not to think about in all honesty. Chick seemed to remember JJ was there, turning to him and thanking him profusely before inviting him to the Wreck with the two of you, “We’re going to get gumbo next, you should come with!”

You sputtered, sure that JJ had better things to do than hang out with you and your little sister, “Oh, I’m sure JJ has other pl-“ you started to tell her but he quickly cut you off.

“Nah, I’ve got no where to be, count me in.” He told Chick, smirking at you causing you to roll your eyes slightly.

“Alright alright,” you sighed before pushing Chick off of you, “dry off a bit first I don’t want you dripping all over my seats.”

JJ had no problem sliding into your backseat, sitting in the middle and leaning forward so that his upper body rested against the center console. You found his closeness a little distracting but you would never admit that, so instead you snapped at him and told him to “put on his seatbelt or you would slam on the breaks so hard he would go through the windshield”. He had grinned like he knew the real reason you wanted him to sit back, which only served to irritate you.

You couldn’t help but think what your parents would say if they knew a pogue was sitting in the back seat of the car they bought you. The more you thought about it, you realized you didn’t really care what they thought. JJ had been kind to Chick and you were just returning the favor. That’s it.

“So what is Chick short for?” JJ asks through a mouthful of french fries, several minutes later sitting across from you and your sister at the Wreck.

“Chicken nugget,” you answer gleefully, stealing a fry. You laugh at JJ’s wide eyes, practically seeing the thought bubble over his head as he considers the stupidity of kook names. 

Chick laughs, throwing a fry at you, before responding to JJ, “No it’s not. It’s not short for anything, and it’s not actually my name”

“I came up with it,” you tell him proudly, “Our parents wanted me to be a part of the name decision and let’s just say I was a really creative four year old.”

JJ laughs loudly at that, tipping his chair back on the back two legs. You’re about to tell him off, when Kiara appears out of nowhere to shove his chair back into a regular position. She looks a little confused at seeing JJ hanging out with you and your sister, but she doesn’t look shocked. “I told you not to do that, JJ. It scuffs the floors,” she huffs impatiently at him, before turning to the other side of the table where you sat by chick.

Before she could say anything, you realized this was probably your best opportunity to try and mend the fence you had smashed through with Sarah. “Hey Kie, do you think we could talk?” You asked her timidly. For a second you were afraid she was going to tell you to fuck off, but her eyes flickered towards Chick and she must have thought swearing in front of a thirteen year old wasn’t a good look.

“What about Chick?” Was all she asked, causing you to pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at JJ. The corner of his mouth upturned a little as he shrugged and said he could handle your sister for a few minutes. She threw a French fry at him for that and shooed you and Kie off.

Kie didn’t bother taking off her apron, leading you out to the back alley before turning to you sharply, “You wanted to talk? So talk.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For how I’ve acted this week and… how I acted before. I’m so sorry that I just followed Sarah instead of trying to stick up for you. It’s just she’s been my best friend since birth and I was scared to lose her, which is really stupid because I ended up losing her anyway-“

“It was really shitty of you,” Kie admitted, looking you in the eye, “I thought we were friends and you dropped me like I was last year’s Gucci or something.”

“I know, and you don’t know how badly I’ve regretted not sticking up for you. You were just like such a good person and such a good friend and I really did you wrong,” you think she’s starting to break a little, her eyes have softened and she’s almost got a smile on her face. “Seriously, Kie, I’m so so sorry –“

Kie cut off your rambling by throwing her arms around you, surprising you completely. “I really missed you.” She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, “but if you ever do me like that again I won’t be so forgiving next time.” You laugh and hug her back tightly, promising her you won’t hurt her again.

“About that stuff you said about your parents…” she awkwardly trails off, but you just shrug a shoulder at her as if to say ‘what are you gonna do’. “Just, I’m sorry and I hope you know you can always come to me if it gets bad like that again.”

“I will,” you promise, before linking arms with her and leading her back to the table where surprisingly JJ hasn’t done anything too stupid in Chick’s presence. The four of you split the French fries on the table, laughing the afternoon away and it all feels… so normal. The empty feeling in your chest is replaced with a feeling of warmth spreading through your bones.

You’re sitting around a fire with the pogues as a boneyard party rages on around you. Despite their initial misgivings about the Kook Princess, and your initial underlying resentment towards them for being good enough for Sarah when you weren’t, they’re nice to you. Welcoming, even. You wouldn’t call it friendship, despite hashing it out with Sarah and Kie, you’re not naïve enough to think a few conversations make you one of them. But the lack of the term princess being spoken aloud is a start.

As you tip your head back and empty the last few drops of your red solo cup, you see Sarah’s eyes flicker to you. She thinks she’s being subtle, but you’ve never known any Cameron, even one with pogue instincts, to be subtle. Sarah is more bull in the china shop than discrete. You know she hasn’t really been drinking tonight, nursing the same cup for over half an hour at this point. You feel a little bad that she’s not enjoying all that a boneyard party has to offer, but there’s another feeling in your chest that you can only describe as “the warm and fuzzies”. Knowing that Sarah is going to do anything she can to show you that she still cares about you is touching.

“I’m gonna go grab a refill, does anyone want?” You offer the group.

“Do you want anyone to go with you?” Sarah asks, she figures she can’t offer to go with you or you might notice her still full cup. You watch her not so subtly look in JJ’s direction, but he’s got his eyes cast out towards the sea, watching the waves crash onto the shore.

“I’ll be fine, Sarah. The keg is just right there,” you point with your now empty cup. “I’ll be right back.”

Carefully navigating the Boneyard is a little difficult in your current state of inebriation, but you reach the keg just fine without any major issues. The major issue shows up just when you’ve finished filling your cup from the keg and stop to take a long sip.

“Really, y/n? A pogue? A fucking pogue?” Rafe Cameron spits at you and glares, “You chose a dirty pogue over me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t choose anyone?”

“Oh really? Because I saw you y/n. I saw you with him.” He accuses.

“What are you talking about?” You repeat, your annoyance growing with every word that leaves his mouth.

“JJ fucking Maybank. I saw you having lunch with him and Chick.” He all but growls. Oh. That’s what he’s fucking mad about?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You laugh humourlessly, “I bought him fucking French fries because Chick invited him to lunch after he taught her a few tricks on his surf board. Not that it matters, what I do or don’t do and who I do it with doesn’t fucking concern you!”

He pauses thoughtfully, obviously enjoying the thought that it wasn’t a date, but he can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at JJ. The way he thought you would look at him. “I thought we had something.” He admits quietly.

“Had something?” You ask incredulously, “What the fuck Rafe, all we had was you giving me fucking cocaine and fucking me a couple of times.” You think you see a flash of guilt, but regular Rafe is back in a second.

“Right, when you let me fuck you the day after you let Topper have you, like the little slut you are.” He answers darkly. Your mouth opens in indignation. Rafe is the fucking worst. His moods are giving you whiplash, yesterday he’s telling you that he cares about you and today he’s calling you a slut? So, yeah fucking your way around Figure Eight – not your proudest moment, but you were fucking spiraling. And you know Rafe isn’t innocent, more hookups than he can probably remember. Fucking hypocrite.

You’re on him in a second, perfectly manicured nail pressed right against his chest as you yell back, “Fuck off Rafe, you have no right to say anything to me, you don’t own me!” You almost can’t control your anger, you’re practically vibrating with it.

“He can’t give you shit, you know that right?” He raises a lone eyebrow at you, taunting you with his smirk.

“I don’t want anything from you or anyone else, got it? Leave me the fuck alone.” You spin on your heel, but he grabs your wrist as you turn to go, and you audibly gasp and wince. He lets go of you immediately, before gently cradling your wrist in his large hand. His face turns red as he takes in the hand sized bruise forming around it, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Rafe’s moods are giving you whiplash – angry to gentle and almost caring and back to angry again.

“Did he do this?” He asks you slowly, dangerously. You resist the urge to snap your wrist back, knowing it will only bring you more pain. You look up at him, confused, so he clarifies, “Did that fucking pogue put his hands on you?” You’re stunned, JJ would never put his hands on you, in anger or otherwise. He’s just being nice to you because he can relate to your struggles with your shitty parents.

“What? No Rafe, calm down JJ didn’t touch me.” You reply, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.

“I’ll fucking kill him, I swear to God. He put his fucking hands on you?” He lets go of your wrist in order to pull the snapback off his head and run his other hand through his hair.

“JJ. Didn’t. Touch me.” You repeat, slowly and clearly as if you can push the words into his thick, dumb skull. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you keep going. “The only one who has ever put his hands on me in anger is you Rafe.” You wave your hand over your shoulders that he gripped so tightly they had bruised days ago. His face falls, and he reaches a hand out to you, but you shake your head. “Leave me and my friends alone.”

Maybe friends wasn’t the right word to use, but it rolled off the tongue a lot easier than ‘Sarah, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s friends including your old best friend and the guy he’s jealous of for no reason’. No reason because there’s absolutely nothing going on between you and JJ (although maybe you want it to) and even if there was, it doesn’t have anything to do with Rafe.

You’re holding your wrist to your chest subconsciously as you return to the pogues. Pope notices first, his high level of intelligence also lends itself toward being very observant. He elbows JJ hard, the blond turning his head to give his friend a look that practically screams ‘knock it off’. Pope does it again, before gesturing to you with his eyes.

“What happened?” Sarah asked before anyone else could.

“Nothing, I just had a little run in with your brother,” you murmur, shaking off the pain in your wrist as if to prove that you’re fine.

“What?” JJ asked, quickly standing up but you pushed him back down into a sitting position, wincing at the dull ache that resulted in your wrist.

“I’m fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really sure where this dynamic had come from, “he’s just… persistent.” JJ grumbles something about kicking Rafe’s ass, but you’re pretty sure that’s the default setting for JJ’s thoughts on Rafe.

“He’s a dick,” Pope stated matter of factly. You tapped your red solo cup to his in a cheers motion.

“You won’t hear me disagreeing.”

The rest of the night, you sit there with the pogues mind mulling over a million thoughts at once. Occasionally they try to bring you into the conversation, but you just briefly answer before settling back into your thoughts. You can’t stop thinking about the words your father called you or the feel of his hand striking your face. You also can’t stop thinking about Rafe and his moods and his possessiveness. After his confession, things make a little more sense but you still feel like you’ve got whiplash. Lastly, you think about JJ and how quickly he hopped up off the log to go defend your honour or protect you or whatever. Looking out at the dark horizon, you’re just really, really confused.

You don’t realize that JJ is thinking about you too, watching the way the flame of the fire danced across your face, contemplating the feelings he feels growing towards you.

[wickedobsessed101]

Fanfic Writer Asks

[SOURCE: criminal-minds-fanfiction: Most of the writer ask posts I come across are only like ten or so questions long so I thought I’d try to make a longer one because we like talking about our writing! Feel free to reblog!]

I’m answering all of these b/c I love Q & A’s about my writing, both for my fics and other things.

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction? It was 2013, so I was 14 years old. I’m now almost 23.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one? I’m mostly in the Wicked Musical fandom, but I like to read for other fandoms, like Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Chronicles of Narnia, ect.

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer. OCs, but I’m more than willing to create an OC for someone based on characteristics they give me.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for? I love me some fluffy romance and hurt/comfort, but I also love some angsty drama.

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi-chaptered stories, which would it be and why? OMG, don’t make me choose! They’re all my babies! I love all my children equally! They all hold special places in my heart.

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why? Goodness, most of my stories prior to 2017, because I was in high school and had no idea what I was doing because I was just getting my feet wet with writing.

7) When is your preferred time to write? Anytime really. The latest I’ve stayed up writing a fic was 4AM. *Glares at ‘Threads of Truth’*

8) Where do you take your inspiration from? Where ever it happens to come up. I’m not picky. Movies, music, people I’ve seen on the street, random thoughts that enter my head, anything.

9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote? In ‘Threads of Truth’, it’s a tie between Villy’s first date, and an argument that happens in an upcoming chapter. And that’s all I’m saying about that.

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind? In ‘Play The Game’, I liked the epilogue ending that I gave Elphaba with her family, even without Fiyero. I like writing her with kids. Another ending would be with the Fiyeraba still together, but I’m satisfied with the ending it has.

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it? I’ll go back and fix typos that are pointed out, but I don’t change plot stuff. Like, I wrote what I wrote and I will amend my technique in future stories.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why? Other than my OCs, because I get to fully create them and my lowkey babies, I’d have to say G(a)linda. She has so much potential and she’s so much fun.

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why? Boq. Not because I hate him (I don’t!), but because I don’t normally know what to do with him. If he’s not with Nessa, he’s literally just standing there like a brick wall. No offence, Boq!

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories. [Ask me about a specific story(ies)]

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names? I usually change consonants and vowels to already existing names, or add unnecessary letters because... reasons.

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx? [Ask me about a specific story]

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on. “Hopefully, this will soak up any more leaks.” (Upcoming Wicked fanfic)

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them? Yes, 2. Both of them are a few years old and I’ve grown as a writer since then. Maybe one day, I’ll edit them and repost, but not anytime soon.

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to? Not everything can have a sequel, y’all! XD

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently? Yes! Around 60% of them.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire? @vinkunwildflowerqueen @raven-curls @mylittleelphie @weaselspeedfanfic Ultimate Queen of Cliffies

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it? This goes back to Question #6; most of what I posted prior to 2017.

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence? Silence. I need to focus.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes? I can’t write it. They’ll make out, and then be pregnant in the next chapter. Y’all can do the math for yourselves.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story? YES! Yes, I have! Both sad tears and tears of joy. I’ve also cringed from second-hand embarrassment at the things the characters do and say. I’m not in control of their actions all the time. Sometimes they tell me what they’re gonna do, and I’m like, “Well, alright, then.”

26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write? [Ask me about a specific story]

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow? I write bullet points of things I want to happen in a chapter on the Word Doc, or in the story as a whole, and I try to keep those bullet points in order. And the Notes App on my phone holds a lot of my ideas, and sometimes full scenes.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction? That I’d become obsessed with writing and continue doing it for almost ten years, as well as expanding to writing plays and musicals.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like? Yeah. I’m not gonna say which one, but just know there’s one... or a few.

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at? Yes, and I’m still not gonna say which one(s). I want all the love!

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec, not the answerer) Yeah, sure!

32) Are any of your characters based on real people? Yes. Villy Doiir from ‘Threads of Truth’ is based on 4 people I know in real life, all mixed together into one wholesome, mother figure/ mentor. Perhaps that’s why I like writing her so much.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten? All reviews keep me going, no matter the length. But I love it when people review saying that they picked up on little references that were really just for me. It makes me feel like we’ve shared a moment.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten? A guest reviewer once said, “You tend to write Fiyero as an abusive person”. It wasn’t harsh, just... NOT TRUE. Especially for the story they were reviewing.

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest? Close to my chest. I’ll share it with the world when I’m ready.

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s? NOPE! You’ll just have to wait and see! LOL!

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written? I... really don’t know. My stories all have their funny moments.

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it. I’m very busy, and collabs aren’t really my thing, but I’m always willing to lend an extra pair of eyes pre-posting.

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person? I’ve written one story in the first person and it was fun to get into the character’s head, but I love third person, cause I like knowing what everyone is thinking. Second person makes me feel a certain way and that don’t really like.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction? IRL, no. It’s not something I bring up over dinner. I’ll talk about my plays and musicals, but not fanfiction. I like keeping my fics for the online peeps and my more personal writings for the RL peeps.

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written? My OC, Princess Hannalyn, from ‘A Royal Romance’. She was so much fun!

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx. I haven’t done a song fic.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it? Not fully, but they’ve had little inklings, but certain details were still a surprise. And I’m not mad about it.

44) What is the last line you wrote? “I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other.”

45) What spurs you on during the writing process? When I’ll have one idea, and it spirals into many others, and when the characters write themselves. It makes it so much easier for me. Sometimes they tell me that they’re about to make a bad decision, and I just go along with it. They need to learn and grow somehow.

46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it? [Ask me for a specific story]

47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about? [Ask me]

48) What’s your favourite trope to write? I love a good Royalty AU (not fully AU ‘cause of our princey-prince, but still) and Holiday AUs. And I’ve never written a Coffeeshop AU, but I LOVE reading them. I’ll read anything. I’m not picky, and I love to see what ideas others have.

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about? Yes, and both of them were Gelphies: 1 - “Easier Said Than Done” by mecelphie - It’s part of a long, wonderful series of Elphaba and Glinda together at Shiz and how their lives evolve together and has many lovable OCs. 2 - “The Thropp Diaries” by denpa wave chick saki - It’s first-person Elphaba POV of the book. It expands on lots of mentioned moments and we get to journey through Elphaba’s thoughts.

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? I’d have to say fluff, so I can get my escape from reality. But it’s hard to write pure fluff without a little bit of conflict.

If you wanna read my stories, they’re all right here: Fae’sFlower

[starstruckmyths]

Steve's body is so dextrous since the serum but he only ever used that ability for fighting. Years later when his heart is at ease he decides to learn something new to do with that physical perfection not everyone has. He takes on ballet /gymnastics (your choice) and finds that he thoroughly enjoys the rhythm, the balance, the all different way of displaying strength and that he got more than one gift for artistic abilities.

Did- did you hack my computer and read my history?? Just be honest, nonnie, I promise I won’t be mad. 

Dancer!Steve is one of my utmost favorite things that I put into my stories, and also exactly in the way you described it, just-- wow. I love Steve displaying these little things he can do without much conscious thought. I love it when Steve stands on the tips of his toes like a dancer, swirls around a battlefield as if he’s a princess in a ballgown, or uses his flexibility to dodge attacks. 

Allow me to write a piece about this, because I lovethissomuchohmygoodnessthankyousomuch

|X|

There was something about the way Steve Rogers looked. 

At first sight there was much to see, but little to think about. There was his firm, broad shoulders only just able to fit through a door, and his large chest that had more than a few drool and mutter in envy. But upon closer look, there was so much more to find. 

Upon closer look, it was no longer about the things that could be seen, but about the things that could not.

The first time it happened had been in the comfort of the Compound. It had been so fleeting and so quick, barely something to be noticed, but she did. Natasha was always one to study her partners sparring, because they appreciated her sharp eye taking in the details and telling them what to improve on. Today, it was Steve and Thor, a friendly sparring much for fun. 

Punches fell, feet kicking and arms swinging. It was a play of mostly strength instead of technique, so Natasha could hang back and eat her bowl of mixed fruits, occasionally calling some worthless, general stuff to the boys like “Keep your enemy in sight!” or “Watch that punch”. Then, just when she put up a red grape to her mouth, it happened. 

‘It’ was not some groundbreaking, awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping phenomenon, but it was what was behind it that had her still in her movements and keep her eyes wide open. Steve had just used one of her moves. 

It wasn’t the kind where she would climb her enemies and choke them out with their thighs, mount their shoulders or swirl herself around their bodies, it was a simpler one, but it still had her mind work over-hours to keep up with the implications of it. Steve had just displayed a skill of agility she had not even been aware he had. 

When Thor had hauled his fist towards Steve for a punch, Steve had bounced over to the side, kicked up his right leg from the floor, hooked his knee around Thor’s left bicep and shoved his weight onto the arm, forcing Thor towards the ground before turning and kicking out his other leg. 

They soon jumped back up to their usual kick, shove and punch, but Natasha had seen it, and she played it out in her head many times more.

Interesting. 

As soon as the two blondes were done knocking each other on their ass, she intercepted Steve before he could reach the bathroom. He did not even stink, and his sweat seemed to be at a minimum. It was not the first time she had envied him, and certainly not the last, but that was not what she was here for. 

“Nice kick,” she said, falling in stride beside him. 

Steve came to a halt, eyebrows raised in slight question as he hummed at her. “Hmm?” 

“Towards the end,” she explained, brushing a strand of fiery red from her eyes as she nodded her head towards the ring, “I saw you use your leg to stop Thor’s punch. Even I struggle with that one often. It takes good timing.”

“Oh, yeah.” Steve gave a vague shrug of his shoulders. “It’s easier when you’re a super soldier. I just got good reflexes, I guess.”

Something of a huff left her lips, and she felt tempted to roll her eyes. She did not think he was avoiding her question, Rogers often had a tendency to pick out the wrong parts of someone’s question or statement, not quite understanding where the emphasis lay. “You really got your leg high and stretched, makes one wonder if you do yoga.”

Steve laughed at that, the bright smile lighting up his eyes. “Not yoga, no, I’m afraid that’s not for me. I, uhm...” he stopped himself, and Natasha could see the red flush in his cheeks. 

“You, what?” Natasha asked, her own mouth curling to a laugh as well, “Come on, you can tell me. You know Clint has only mastered various ballroom dances because he once dated the instructor, right?”

Another laugh bubbled up, and Steve picked a little at his water bottle, giving another shrug. “I’ve been dancing, is all,” he said then, looking back up into her eyes, “Saturday mornings is gymnastics and on Wednesday nights I dance. I often see you do all these complicated moves with your body, and I guess I wanted to give it a try. ‘s when I discovered I have really good balance and reach.” 

The gaze in his eyes turned into something so fondly. “I picked up gymnastics first and noticed I’m very flexible. That’s when I got into dancing too. It’s nice to put my strength to something... not lethal, you know? To do it for myself.”

Natasha had her arms crossed before her chest, and she had to work hard to keep the gooey-eyed expression away from her face. So that’s what he was into on Wednesdays, she had been wondering why he never wanted to do something with the team then. Ha, Tony owed her fifty dollars for betting it was a chick. 

Something about his words just felt right, as if he had been a set of loose pieces to her that only just now clicked together. She supposed he did have the frame of a dancer, something trained and elegant. It was to be found in the sloping curves dipping towards his narrow, tapered waist, his somewhat wider hips, and the curve of his back. 

“I understand completely,” she answered, not failing to miss the little spark it set aflame in her eyes. “If you want, I could give you some classes in ballet, to see if you might be into that.”

Steve nodded his head, the smile on his face widening. “Yeah, it’d really like that.”

|X|

[trainthief]

hey i'm one of those aforementioned "only-heard-blake-shelton" people - do you have any recs for better country music? i like finding new music but country is hard cause i don't really know where to start

I think the best way to explore any genre is to abandon the feeling that you’re obligated to develop an academic-level base of knowledge in the different foundations and aspects of it. If that’s something that actually interests you then by all means go for it, but despite how pretentious and rude people can get about music, it is at its heart just a form of expression - and while knowing which specific sounds might have influenced others can enhance the listening experience for some people, it’s not like there’s a prerequisite course load you need to take before you can start telling people you like country music at parties. 

Anyway, that point aside, here’s some basics: country itself is a really broad concept, and was initially defined more by its ideology and source than any specific structural musical qualities that it tended toward (although its creation was most heavily influenced by Irish, Mexican, and African musical traditions). The common use of instruments like guitars, banjos, and fiddles is more to do with the ease of accessibility and portability for poorer Americans of the late 1800s, who - especially in the West - tended to be at least somewhat nomadic. Thematically speaking, it was most often centered around the experiences of blue-collar workers, including but not limited to cowboys. Subsequently, it has suffered under the combined efforts of corporations and politicians to market a parody of rural America’s own culture right back at them, and that’s why - especially if you’re only in your 20’s or younger - it’s very possible your knowledge of it is defined by commercialized Bro Country (which in my opinion is almost always antithetical to the actual spirit of country music itself, and also from a musical perspective tends to be uninteresting bullshit). 

As far as subgenres go, the ideas quickly become so vague that it’s really up to the listener to decide how they want to categorize their music. Region and era can influence sound quite a bit, so that’s one way. Subject matter is another. Actual musical structure is a further one. I’m not going to bother and try to give you a comprehensive idea of all the options, because that’s impossible to do in anything shorter than an essay. Instead I’ll just fill you in on some of my favorites, and some song suggestions to go with them: 

Country Music You’ve Been Listening to This Whole Time Without Knowing It: this is an easy one to start with. Lots of folk music is also country music, whether you were aware of it or not. James Taylor, John Prine, John Denver, Bob Dylan…. You’ve been here this whole time. 

Outlaw Country: Tends to be either dark or mournful, but regardless it’s dramatic and fun. Usually framed around some fictional crime the singer has committed, which they have either been sentenced for or are on the run from. Good examples are Kate McCannon by Colter Wall, Mama Tried by Merle Haggard, Late July by Shakey Graves, Gallows Pole by Willie Watson, and Hell’s Canyon by Lost Dog Street Band

Spirituals: I’m definitely not going to tell you how to feel about religion itself - but given that music has been such a deeply rooted part of spiritual expression for as long as we’ve recorded history, and has very often evolved in tandem with or in response to religious movements, I think you’re really cutting yourself off from some good tunes if you try to ignore it entirely. Johnny Cash’s later stuff, especially, has the same dark overtones of his earlier Outlaw music but with the addition of gospel stylings and a religious severity that comes together in a way that’s honestly just straight up sexy to listen to. Ain’t No Grave and Redemption Day are probably the best two examples of this. On the other side, there’s the simplistic and heartfelt kind of spiritual country found in stuff like Hank Williams’ I Saw the Light, or I’ll Fly Away as performed by Gillian Welch, which I find really moving. 

Honky Tonk: On the subject of Hank Williams, honky tonk is really fun music, and I deeply resent the fact that it’s been incorporated into the classist caricature of rural stupidity. At its heart, honky tonk was just designed to be a good time, and the vocal techniques it employs are actually really difficult to master, so it deserves a lot more respect. Hank Williams, in particular, also tends to use it to get right at the heart of subjects I really enjoy (although don’t confuse him with his son Hank Williams Jr, who writes Bro Country and unfortunately seems to be a terrible person). Anyway, Mind Your Own Business is one of his (and one of my favorite personal anthems), and Wealth Won’t Save Your Soul is a powerful one too. Regarding more modern honky tonk, my favorite up-and-coming musician is named Nick Shoulders, and I’d recommend his songs Rather Low and Snakes and Waterfalls. 

Nice Comfortable Country Music Sung By Ladies: this is definitely a genre specific to just me, but it’s a type of music I grew up listening to a lot as a kid and I really love it. Like the title says, it’s just country songs by various very talented women who make you feel like you’re warm and at home. I Have a Need for Solitude by the great Mary Chapin Carpenter, Across the Great Divide by Nanci Griffith, Traveling Alone by Tift Merritt, Angel from Montgomery by Bonnie Raitt, Hammer and a Nail by The Indigo Girls

Poor Boy Blues: again, not a definitive stylistic subgenre so much as it is an opportunity to show off a few different songs of a few different styles that all follow a common and relatable theme, specifically one that is important to the overall genre itself. Dead End Street by Blake Mills, Crop Comes In by Chatham County Line, Thirteen Silver Dollars by Colter Wall, My Rifle My Pony and Me by Dean Martin, Cowpoke by Dave Stamey, Automobile by KALEO

Love And Heartbreak: have you really lived if you haven’t rocked out to Cowboy Take Me Away by the Dixie Chicks? No, you haven’t. You’ll also be happy to hear that I recall a poll that listed Cowboy Take Me Away as being the number one song every cowboy will sing along to on full blast whenever he’s alone. Anyway, there’s also Buddy by Willie Nelson, Crossing Muddy Waters by John Hiatt, Morning by Jim Ed Brown, Every Time I Hear That Song by Brandi Carlile, Gentle on My Mind by Glen Campbell, Kathleen by Townes Van Zandt. 

Experimental: if you’d like to get a little weird with it, I’d recommend The Gold is Deep by The Dead Tongues (which uses some really ambient reverb and a small church organ for a more psychedelic sound), or Familiarity by The Punch Brothers (which compositionally borrows a lot from modern classical chamber music with its rhythmic systems and pacing). 

There’s lots more we could get into here, like bluegrass, slow dancing music, spaghetti western soundtracks, and the fact that not all country pop-rock is bad, but I’ll stop myself here…. If you’re looking for a more general source for a lot of country all at once, here’s my favorite of my country playlists. Hope that was helpful! 

[lavendersuh]

“how much do you hate me?”

pairing: fuckboy!mark tuan/reader

genre: college!au, childhood neighbors, enemies to lovers, fluff, mild angst

word count: 2.3k

a/n: you should know how much i love enemies to lovers ok i really really love it,,,, this is based off the drabble prompt “how much do you hate me?” “not enough to say no immediately what do you want” enjoy! xx

“How much do you hate me?” 

The question came from behind you, as you sat reading a textbook and munching on an apple between classes. You spin around to see Mark Tuan, resident fuckboy on campus, smirking down at you. 

He wasn’t just the resident fuckboy, but he was also your childhood neighbor, the boy that you watched grow up beside you. It still baffled you that somehow you both had managed to choose the same college. You, for the creative arts program, and he, for the fraternities. The lives you led were different, yet somehow had always paralleled each other.

You were never really friends with Mark, despite your mothers putting you in the sandbox together at a young age. Pulling your pigtails at the age of six didn’t necessarily leave you with the best first impression of him, and that animosity followed you as you both grew up. Arguments ensued throughout the occasional dinners your families would hold together. It always left you frustrated, wishing you had a grumpy old man as a neighbor rather than the increasingly attractive boy you were stuck with.

Awkward teen years and the constant bickering warranted a bit of anger when you realized he chose the same college as you. Would you ever escape this man?

You close your book slowly, as he sits down next to you. It’s early on a Saturday morning, so the library is mostly empty. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Not enough to say ‘no’ immediately,” you say, “What do you need?”

He beams at you and you notice how much he’s changed. You have only seen him in passing glance in one of the dining halls since arriving on campus, and his hair is more blonde since the last time you saw him in the beginning of summer. He wears a hoodie with his frat logo on it, with sweatpants and a hat.

“You know me so well, Y/N.” he says, “I need you to kiss me.”

You immediately recoil, “What the hell?”

He laughs, “Not right now, but tonight at a party my frat is hosting. I’m trying to hook up with this girl and I want to make her jealous.” 

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” you exclaim, before pausing, “What’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you helped one of your lifelong, childhood friends get laid by a senior?” he throws you a convincing smile, “The fact that you’ll have kissed your high school crush?”

You go to stand up, packing up your books into your bag, “I am not helping you seduce a girl, I don’t care if she’s a senior.” You look back at him, “And I didn’t have a crush on you! Where did you get that dumb idea?”

“Your mom told my mom,” he mentions, “You know how they love to gossip.” 

It was true, your mothers both were quite the little gossips. But the fact that you did, indeed, have a crush on Mark was something you never told your mother. It was a secret you would keep to the grave. He would never had let you live it down.

He goes to follow you as you descend the stairs, leading out to the Quad. You continue to bicker with him as you make your way back to your dorm hall, and it feels all too familiar. Arguing with Mark is a sport, and you were a pro.

“I do not support using manipulation to get someone into bed with you. Just tell her you want to fuck! What is with guys and zero communication these days, Jesus.” you huff. 

“If I do that she might think I want more than just a one time thing!”

“Then communicate that you just want to hookup!”

You reach your dorm hall and just as you are about to slide your ID and open the door, he slides between the door and you. 

“Ok, listen, what if I sweeten the deal?” he reasons, “How’s $10 and some free booze?”

You sigh. He has always been stubborn. 

“How about $30?” You’ve always been stubborn too. 

He rolls his eyes, but holds out his hand, “Fine, deal, be there at nine, okay?”

You grasp his hand in a firm handshake, “Can’t wait,” the sarcasm drips off the words. 

It would certainly be an interesting night.

By the time you got to the frat house at ten, the party was in full swing. People littered the front yard, and as soon as you walked into the house, you were met with heat and smoke. You’d never been to this house before, but the kitchen was easy to find. Grabbing a beer from the coolers lining the wall, you cracked it open, wondering where Mark was.

You wandered around a bit before seeing a head of blonde hair coming toward you.

“Hey, you made it! I honestly didn’t think you would show up,” he chuckles, a beer in his own hand.

“I came from the booze and the grocery money,” you grin at him. You never were a lightweight, but the taste of alcohol already begins to loosen you up a bit. “So, where’s this girl you’re trying to make jealous?” 

“Not sure yet!” 

You whip your head around to look him in the eye, “What? You don’t have someone specific in mind? Why am I even here?”

He laughs, guiding you through some of the crowds of dancers, “I’m trying out a new technique. You know how chicks get jealous.”

Your face morphs into disgust. Of course he thinks like that. 

“Have you always been this shallow? This inept?” you ask.

“Hey, look who’s following along with my plan, eh?” 

You huff, and take a few more swigs of the beer in your hand. Mark stays next to you, nursing his own drink, watching you curiously. It’s been so long since you’ve really talked to Mark, yet the bickering dynamic feels like you talk everyday. 

It takes a few moments, of drinking and taking in the sights of the party around you, before you come to a decision. Taking the last gulp of your last drink, you muster up your courage and look at Mark. 

“Alright, I’m starting to get tipsy, I'm kind of curious to see if this will work. Find your target, let’s go.” you tell him.

He grins, “Give me ten minutes, I’ll meet up back here.”

With that, he’s off, and you go to grab another drink. At least there’s booze, you think. You find your spot back along the wall and try to find Mark in the crowd. Eventually you spot him, talking up a pretty brunette, who isn’t as into it as he would probably like. 

Watching him flirt relentlessly with the girl brought back memories of high school. Of hugging the wall at parties, watching him flirt and go for the girls in other classes. It was odd watching the shy neighbor boy transform in such little time.

Whenever you crossed paths with Mark nowadays, it always made life interesting. While he constantly drove you insane, you also felt nostalgic for the simple high school days of dumb arguments.

While you are caught in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Mark approaching you. He swoops his arm around your waist, taking you on a trip through the crowd. He nuzzles his nose next to ear, sending a chill down your spine. 

He whispers in your ear, “Let’s find a place to start the show, eh? She’s hanging with her friends in the living area.” 

He leads you through the house, finding a bookcase in the back of the living room. As he spins you around to lean against the bookcase you catch a glimpse of the brunette he had been talking to. You can’t help but stare at her, as she takes quick looks over at the two of you.

Mark moves in close, his arms coming to rest on either side of you, “Hey,” he catches your attention, drawing your eyes from the girl, “if you get uncomfortable or something, let me know.”

Was Mark being caring? Since when? Wasn’t this the fuckboy that would tease you for paying attention to your studies rather than finding friends? Wasn’t this the very man using you to get in another girl’s pants?

You nod, catching the dark look overtaking his eyes. He glances down at your lips, before leaning in, capturing your lips with his own. 

A warm feeling spreads through you, as he grips your hips and you bring your hands up to encircle his neck. His mouth is warm against your own, and you find yourself not hating this as much as you thought you would. 

You’re still curious, wondering whether the girl is looking over at you, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes and check. Might as well just live in the moment, right? 

You don’t know how long it is before Mark is removing his lips from yours, but as you open your eyes, he rests his forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. 

“Not bad, neighbor,” he comments, sending you a smirk that could probably leave you swooning if not for your pride.

“Ditto,” you reply, through it comes out as a sigh, as you still try to catch your breath. 

He pecks you on the lips once more before fully retreating from you, “Time to see if the plan worked,” he mentions, stepping away. 

You clear your throat, suddenly sobering up, from both the alcohol and Mark. “Right, go get your girl.” 

He throws you another smile before sauntering casually in the direction of the brunette. You look away, suddenly feeling sick at the thought of watching him hook up with someone. 

You weave your way back into the kitchen and manage to score a glass of water. You aren’t really sure how much longer you want to stay. You vaguely recall Mark owing you $30, but you don’t care all that much. 

Deciding you want to leave, you abandon the glass, walking towards the door. Why, surrounded by so many people, do you suddenly feel so alone? 

You stumble out of the frat house and into the cool night. It’s quieter out here, despite the background sounds of the bass and the occasional holler from someone on the lawn. 

The walk home is sobering, to say the least, as you make your way back to your dorm. It’s never been fun walking home from parties, especially when you are all alone and not very drunk anymore. 

You pass other parties, and crowds of people laughing, but you just want sleep, you just want warmth. Coming out tonight was not your finest idea, but you’ve found when it comes to Mark, things always shift from what you planned.

You aren’t sure why you suddenly feel so sad. Is it because Mark is so easily able to find someone to spend the night with? So easily able to talk to others and make connections?

Deep down, in your traitorous heart, you fear it isn’t Mark’s people skills you want, but Mark himself.

You sputter, shaking your head to yourself. That’s crazy, you think. It’s Mark.

By the time you make it back to your dorm hall, you finally accept that it probably is just Mark. You shove that down though, suppress it. That would never happen.

You laugh to yourself, walking up the steps to the front entrance. Blaming all these ridiculous thoughts on your tipsy mind, you don’t hear someone calling out to you until they get closer.

You spin around, only to find Mark staring at you from the sidewalk. He looks out of breath, like he just ran here. He climbs the steps, two at a time and before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, winded and with a wild look in his eyes. 

“Mark?” you ask, confusion evident in your tone, “What are you doing here?”

He’s still breathing heavy, and looking at you like he doesn’t even know the answer. “The girl- she- I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about- and then-” he pauses, taking a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. 

He tries again, “She wasn’t what I was looking for.”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Oh, so you want me to help again? I’m kinda tired-”

“No! No, I-” he cuts himself off again, “Jesus, I’m so bad at this. I finally got her all alone and it didn’t even matter. I didn’t feel like kissing her, or doing anything.”

“Why?” you ask quietly.

“She wasn’t you.”

You are startled at his words. Shell-shocked. You wonder if you already made it up to your dorm, and were fast asleep, dreaming up this whole situation. 

He steps in front of you, taking your hands gently in his.

“I know we have fought for as long as I can remember.” he tells you, “But kissing you felt right. Tell me you didn’t feel the same. Tell me to stop and I’ll go; I’ll never speak to you again.”

“I-” you can’t find words as you watch him lean closer and closer. 

Because the truth was, something about it did feel right.

“How much do you hate me?” He asks, tilting his head as you feel his breath dance across your lips.

“Not as much as I want to,” you whisper back, pressing your lips to his, letting the emotions of hate and anger flow away has he kisses you back. 

You think back to the days of your adolescence, when your mother would tease you about your bickering with Mark, saying you acted like an old married couple, joking about how eventually the two of you would start dating. You used to think your mom was crazy. But now, with Mark leaning into you, and fireworks exploding in your chest, you wondered if she’s been right all along. 

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 27

The Coven was invading tomorrow.

But if all went well, they were going to bring them down tonight.

After Jay attacked Antiquam, they realized they could not keep their cover of staying in the Coven. Jay, Aziz, and her headed out to Uma’s ship for hiding when Antiquam inevitably revealed that Jay was no longer hypnotized.

Though dangerous, Jade, Uma and Calix stayed as Antiquam wouldn’t be able to prove that Jay had any help from breaking Jafar’s control. So they still had their own infiltraitors in the Coven.

At that point, it seemed like they were on the sidelines. The sidelines of an impending disaster that they could do nothing to stop. Literally as they still had no tangible plan to stop the Coven.

Then Celia, the shadow man’s youngest daughter who hadn’t been in the loop for most of their infiltrating and espionage troubles, came up with a brilliant plan.

It was obvious in hindsight. Villains were paranoid because they expected backstabbing. But until Celia had suggested it, they never thought they should sew the seeds of dissent. Uma had thought it too obvious. The others hadn’t thought of it all. But Celia suggested that only select people plant the seeds. She, for one. Jade too. They were presumed to be completely loyal to the Coven and so would more likely be believed to be speaking from genuine concern than from causing trouble.

And Celia could plant the idea in the heads of Ginny and Zevon which would then bring out Mother Gothel and Yzma’s worries. And so without the united focus in hatred, which Circe told them was vital to the spell, Coven would turn against itself and bring its own ruin.

And then on Uma’s signal, they’d come in as magical backup.

Jordan sighed. Even though she told herself that she had chosen Uma as a better leader, that she knew what she was doing, and she was okay with no longer being the hero, it stung to be stuck as backup and not be in the front lines of the plan or the fighting.

Especially when it meant, waiting in Hook’s office, away from the crew that disliked them anyway, waiting for word from Uma since their presence was too obvious to be wandering around the Isle. Although, as Jordan looked at her fellow Agrabahians, with their dirtied faces, ratted hair and ripped clothes, she thought the Isle had made its mark in turning Jay and Aziz into two more villainous-looking residents.

Right now, the two were chatting it up about some tourney strategy or parkour technique, she wasn’t sure. It was something athletic which Jordan tended to zone out and think for herself. And when her thoughts got too deep, she’d admire, well more like wonder, Hook’s knicks knacks decorating his office. What possessed him to spear a codfish over his desk. Seriously? It didn’t look grand or particularly impressive since it was medium sized and covered in green flecks that Jordan suspected it to be mold.

Was it a pirate thing? Like when that CJ chick purposefully made herself smell like rotten kelp? Was it a villain thing for their decorations to be as vile as their hearts?

She wondered if she could ask Jay this or it would be considered too offensive. Maybe a few months from now when-

A quick “knock knock knock” signalled their attention, announcing Uma’s arrival. And with her came the usual suspects of Gil, Harry and Calix. As well as some more recent additions of Celia, Jade and Lala.

Which Jade was all too happy to explain as she jumped in front of Uma, her arms opened wide, “Guess who got us another fighter on our side?”

Lala stiffened and crossed her arms at Jade’s enthusiasm, refusing to look at the girl who was trying to hook her arm through hers, “I finally convinced her that we’re already miserable with her moms so why not join the winning side. It’s not like our lives could get worse if we lose.”

Everyone looked disbelieving at that statement. After all, their lives could get worse if they lost, they could be dead.

Jordan didn’t think anyone else noticed, but she paid attention to the extra bright smile Aziz had at hearing the news. And unless she was just imagining things, she could swear that Lala had looked at Aziz first to see his reaction before looking anywhere else.

It was for a moment but it was there, and even though Aziz still insisted he didn’t have feelings, Jordan knew. And unlike her previous, and in hindsight, very bad overreaction to it, she didn’t mind it as much. After all, a girl that made Aziz feel better about his Jay inferiority complex (when all of Jordan’s pep talks hadn’t worked which kind of stung) couldn’t be too bad. Even if she was the daughter of a villain.

“Uh great. Thanks, Jade.” Uma made her way back to the center of the room as everyone squeezed against the wall or in Celia and Gil’s case sat on Captain Hook’s desk, listening intently to whatever Uma had up her sleeve.

“Okay people. We have five hours to get through this so here are the assignments.” Uma began, “Harry, Gil, gather up the rest of the crew and take position around the castle. When I signal, you shoot the bow through the window and begin the seige.” “Celia, since you’re not needed for the Coven’s spell, you can gather the rest of the Anti Villain Club, and the volunteers.” “The volunteers?” Jay questioned with, in a very un-VK move, a raised hand.

“The Anti Villain Club and I have been soliciting volunteers from the regular citizens of the Isle to fight against the Coven in exchange to getting off the Isle,” Uma promptly explained before moving on.

“Calix, Jade, Lala and I are expected at the ceremony so you three,” She nodded to them, “Will sneak in through the Underground entrances and will get into the room, at the top of the tallest tower, and help end the fight. Got it? Let’s go.”

So they split up, Gil and Harry heading toward the starboard, (or was it stern?), Celia to the alleyways and the rest of them were back to trudging through the jungle to the castle.

Jay, and Jade strode side by side each other, pausing to show off a parkour move as they talked, predicting how their family members would react to their arrival. Aziz and Lala walked in companionable silence, hacking away at tangled brush, but Jordan wasn’t paying attention as she had been before.

Jordan walked up to Uma’s side, a choice that the sea witch hadn’t appreciated Jordan could see by the forced way Uma kept her eyes straight ahead. But Jordan had a question that had been burning in her after watching Uma’s leadership skills the past weeks.

“So… where did you learn how to lead like this? I mean your mom was just a witch so why haven’t you focused more on your mystical side,” Jordan cringed realizing how it sounded and began backtracking, “Not that I expect you to be like your mother. No one is exactly like your parents. I don’t mean that. But just- you know.. Does it come naturally? Did you learn it from someone?”

“I’m Ursula’s daughter, but  do not let her define me. I make my own legacy.” Uma ducked under a stray leaf, “To give my people a chance, to get off this Isle and live better lives. And if I wanted to make that happen, I learned to lead. On the Isle, you learn what you need to. ” Uma grunted before walking faster and farther ahead.

Though Uma probably hadn’t meant anything by it. It was probably a “there-I-answered- now-shut-up-and-do-what-you-were- ordered-to-do” answer to get Jordan to go away.

Even though it offered no advice on leadership,it got Jordan to thinking. So many of them, all of them really, had their issues with the heavy legacy that their parents set before them. They were all defined by them, especially when it was announced “Name, son or daughter of-.” It was part of life. A more difficult part of life when their legacy was founded on greed and vileness and evil like the Vks.

But even though they were defined by their parents, these Vks tried their best not to let it control their lives. They lived day to day, in the present. Mainly it was for survival reasons, but it could work personally too, Jordan thought.

She had been defining herself solely by her parents. Not trying to live up to them. By rebelling to be the exact opposite of them. It is always in some relation to them or what others’ preconceptions of genies were supposed to be.

And she did the same. Judging people with her views of mortals, which were mostly right, but didn’t make her happy. It just made her miserable to know she was surrounded by so many jerks. And it kinda made her self-absorbed. Musing and complaining about how people only wanted to use her. She had been so focused on that during her time here, she had missed Aziz’s personal turmoil; She had been distrustful and uncooperative with Jay; She focused on her personal safety and her fear of the other Coven members taking advantage of her more than saving the kingdom.

But what if she took a page from the Vks book.

Just live in the present, and not focus solely on the resentment of the past.

It was a new way. Instead of expecting the worst, she could let people come into her life, if they were just using her, cut ties and let it go because she had Aziz, and Calix, and maybe Jay and Lonnie and the rest of her family. They cared for her.

And she should let go of her biggest resentment. Her parents for leaving her. For so long she saw it as evidence of their lack of love for her, and while it hurt, it didn’t lessen their love. And she hadn’t let them in because they didn’t love her like the other parents loved their children. They weren’t what she wanted. Which wasn’t fair. They weren’t like others, they were genies.

So if she survived this, she was going to stop with the sarcasm and the irritation whenever she was with them. But she was also going to have that talk with them, a serious talk even though they disliked those things, because as she had experienced with Jay and Aziz, a talk could go a long way in resolving their differences.

She was going to focus more on what she loved. Her show, mabe even add some improv sketches that she had refused to do because it was too similar to her Dad’s antics. She had no reason to hold back just because someone would compare or judge. People would always judge you so there was no point trying to prove them wrong. Just follow your instincts, do what is right because you know is right, and YOLO. YOLO because even though she lived forever, she should do more in enjoying what she had. Enjoy life.

And if they didn’t like her for it, fuck em all.

And there, right in that muddy path with jungle palms blocking sunlight as if to suffocate them all with the smell of moss and the hot humidity; Stuck on an Isle where semi rotten trash was considered high dining and you were praised for your bloodlust and kindness of any kind was a weakness.

Jordan felt a peace with the doubts that had plagued her for.. for maybe her whole life.

It was the most inappropriate place for such a realization but it was perfect too. The Isle was loathsome and the bottom of the barrel, but rock bottom was where you find your greatest strength.

Jordan smiled, remembering how Calix had thrown her own story tropes back in her face that every adventure had heart to hearts and personal revelations before the final battle.

She didn’t know about anyone else, but she was having hers. Even though she was not the leader, even though she wasn’t going to be the hero to save the day. She felt changed and it felt so good.

But she couldn’t bask in the glow of her personal growth for long. For as her newfound maturity reminded her, there were bigger things at stake right now.

Tonight was the night. The Coven was going down.

[weshallc]

BERNS NIGHT (Revisited) 

Call the Midwife AU Crown Jewels fic (this one actually has Bernie in! She must have been in panto or something in January missed a few chapters)

CHAPTER FOUR: There In Thy Scanty Mantle Clad.

“There, in Thy Scanty Mantle Clad, Thy Snawie Bosom Sunward Spread.” To a Mountain Daisy by Robert Burns 1786

"I Hear Your Footsteps in the Streets, it Won't Be Long Until We Meet. It's Obvious." Oblivious by Aztec Camera 1983

 “Ouch, be careful!”

“Well stand still, Paddy,” Trixie scolded, “and I won’t accidentally prick you.”

“Is this really necessary?” whined the publican, not for the first time that hour.

“You want it the right length, don’t you?” admonished the determined dressmaker.

“That’s too short.” Paddy grumbled, swaying unsteadily on the rickety foot stool.

“No, it’s not.”

Patsy interrupted the squabbling confirming the kilt should hang from the top of the hip and finish at the top of the knee.

“This one is too high.” Paddy fiddled with the waistband.

“No, it’s not! It sits at the navel.” Getting up from her knees, Trixie playfully poked Paddy in the belly button.

The temporary male model wasn’t amused, and Delia felt some sympathy. “Right Doc, take it off now, so Chummy can alter it.”

Paddy hopped off the footstool, the green and blue checked woollen garment swaying around his thighs. He grabbed his jeans and headed out of Patsy’s studio towards the downstairs loo. Patsy, Delia and Trixie didn’t wait until he had closed the door behind him before they burst into giggles.

 Saturday 25th January 2020

Bernie wouldn’t want anyone to accuse her of being ungrateful, but she would have much rather spent her birthday at work. To be back in Poplar-on-Tweaven working behind the bar with Paddy rather than traipsing around Newcastle city centre with Trixie.

Saturday’s were usually fun at the Crown. Sundays you could always predict to be busy, due to the temptation of Violet’s Sunday lunches and the let’s have a nice day in the country crowd. Saturday’s were more unpredictable a lot depending on whether there was a match on. The football crowd had made Bernie nervous at first, but she had taken her lead from Val, who seemed to know the right mix between flirting and being one of the lads. She even surprised herself with her knowledge of the offside-rule and recognising a few players when they came in during the off-season.

“So, what about this one?” Trixie’s irritated voice broke through Bernie’s wistfulness. They were standing in Fenwick’s department store. Her friend was holding up a black mini dress bearing a large faint gold and red criss-cross pattern.

“Isn’t it a bit tartanie?” Bernie screwed up her nose.

Trixie tried very hard not to give anything away. “What’s wrong with tartan, your Scottish, don’t you just love tartan?”

Bernie bit her lip and tried to keep a level of calmness in her voice, “I am not that kinda Scottish.”

Trixie clanged the hanger back onto the rail in frustration. Bernie felt a twinge of guilt for exasperating her well-meaning friend.

“I will probably just wear my good jeans and a sparkly top, Trixie.” Bernie tried to reassure, with little success.

“But, Paddy is taking you out somewhere nice tonight, surely you want to look the part?”

Bernie took a deep breath, “The part?...the part of Paddy’s date! I am thinking jeans and a nice wee top will do just fine, Trixie.”

 It was several hours later, Bernie was looking at herself in the oak Cheval mirror in the corner of her bedroom. The little black dress with the red and gold criss-crosses did look quite nice on and it did have pockets, so that was a bonus. She heaved up her 40 denier black tights one last time. Why did they never make the small, small enough? She smiled, knowing if Chummy were in the room she would ask why they didn’t make extra large, extra enough.

A frown reflected back at her as she fiddled with her hair. Trixie had insisted on styling it with a mountain of product she had brought back from Boots. As a result, it now seemed to flick out in all directions. The would-be stylist had been very pleased with the finished article, and Bernie had smiled and made positive noises. She really wanted to put a brush through it and tie it back in a scrunchie like she did most days. Trixie’s sixth sense clicked in and she growled, “Leave it.”

They set out, tottering the short distance from Bernie’s cottage to the Crown Inn. Arm-in-arm, more for stability than out of friendship. Trixie in nine months of living just outside of Poplar had still not mastered walking on cobbles in heels. Bernie more used to ankle boots and trainers had let Trixie talk her into buying a pair of black below-the-knee boots in the January sales. Until today, the labels hadn’t been removed. She was convinced the young saleswoman and her friend had been in collusion. Eventually the overwhelming smell of leather, shoe polish and sweaty feet on an empty stomach had rendered the usually stubborn Bernie vulnerable. Well-honed sales techniques and Trixie’s promise of a Greggs’ vegan sausage roll to offset the purchase of leather eventually triumphed. These boots were definitely not made for walking, Bernie decided. She was however glad of the extra fabric as the north wind whistled around her shorter than usual hem line.

As if sensing her friend's awkwardness, Trixie squeezed her arm a little more tightly. “You look amazing, just don’t scuff those killer, fuck-me boots on the cobbles.”

This warning unsurprisingly had the opposite effect than intended, as Bernie stuttered to an abrupt halt and dropped her friend's arm.

“What?” Bernie shrieked in horror. Trixie grabbed back hold of her stabilizer and dragged her along, laughing so infectiously that Bernie couldn’t help but succumb.

“Why are you so tarted up anyway for a night in the Crown?”

“It’s your birthday and I thought you would be having a drink before heading off with Paddy. Just because it is a country pub doesn’t mean everyone has to always wear wellies and a jumper with a hole in it.”

Bernie’s mock indignation at Trixie’s jibe resulted in a snort as she tried to hold in a laugh. They were still sniggering as Trixie lunged forward and steadied herself by slapping her hand heavily against the inn’s bay window. She pulled herself up and then slapped her hand against the window one more time. Bernie, who was still giggling, just shrugged at her friend's clumsy behaviour.

“Bit slippy there, have to tell Paddy about that.” Trixie straightened up and smiled nervously.

“OK.” Bernie nodded somewhat bemused as she pushed open the large wooden doors of the old inn.

 Bernie later couldn’t recall if it was her eyes that first alerted her that something was different; the darkness giving the game away. Or it could have been her ears as they picked up the deep drone of the bagpipes. Maybe it was neither. Her skin tingling with goosebumps was more than likely the first sign that all was not as it should be.

After that initial physical reaction, her mind seemed to give up trying to make any sense of anything. It all became a blur. She remembered Trixie pushing her in the back and into the bar and placing something around her shoulders. There had definitely been cheering and then a very tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday accompanied by the bagpipes and a small band.

The pipes - bashful Kevin and his wee dog. At first she had thought Paddy or somebody had bought her a pet for her birthday. The poor wee thing was used to sitting and looking cute outside the town hall. Raising a paw every time someone dropped a coin in Kev’s mug. The animal had become a little overwhelmed by the commotion and sheer volume of people. Realizing that the lady who had just come through the door must be somehow responsible for the change in ambience; he could not resist jumping up at the new arrival with great enthusiasm. His owner was horrified, but unsure what was more important; to reprimand his charge or keep playing. Fortunately, the situation was resolved when a large pair of hands gently scooped up the tiny mongrel and calmed him down by whispering in his ear and letting him lick his face.

Bernie remembered Violet telling Reggie to take the excited guest through the back for a biscuit. The commotion had given Bernie time to take it all in, the low lighting, the table centres made up of thistles and blue and purple hyacinths, each with a thick white candle, flames dancing a jig on every table. The black, royal blue and red tartan tablecloths and a larger trestle table covered with a different checked pattern, a lighter blue and green with gold.

Bernie wasn’t given long to take it all in, as she was overwhelmed by hugs and kisses. Mostly from people she knew like the Noakes’, Fred, Jane, Phyllis and Julia along with a few she didn’t know, which was a bit disconcerting. Along with the displays of affection, cards and packages that were also pressed into her. Finding it very difficult to accept all the hugs from her friends and free herself from those who weren’t, Bernie found it impossible to balance all the gifts too. Fortunately Trixie had been prepared for this and took on the role of a lady-in-waiting, as if Bernie had suddenly been crowned the Princess of Poplar. The village's newest resident relished her role as best friend, relieving Bernie of her burdens as swiftly as she received them. Trixie may have had a colourful life, but she did like to be of use.

It was Val who finally rescued her from the wall of wellwishers. Taking Bernie by the hand, she took her behind the bar and up the stairs to the living accommodation. “Are you ready for your present?”

Exasperated by the recent unexpected events and not knowing what to expect next, Bernie just shrugged her shoulders. Secretly she was enjoying the calm of the Turner flat and not being the centre of attention. Val gave her a quick squeeze and told her, “Happy birthday, chick.” Opening the door to Paddy’s living room she added winking,

“You’re welcome.”

[misc-headcanons]

NS.FW Kid/OC Scenario: The Old-Fashioned Way

"Remind me again why I can't just use my Devil Fruit to make us both orgasm instantaneously?" Minerva crossed her arms while she looked up at Kid from his bed. He was at the door to his quarters, locking it to prevent any of his other crewmates from interrupting him--well, interrupting the two of them. 

The first time he'd tried to make a move on Minerva, she'd returned his sloppy kiss and used her Devil Fruit to stimulate his brain as she ran her fingers through his hair; just as he'd started to unbuckle his belt, he'd felt an orgasm jolt through his body out of nowhere, causing him to fall back and nearly black out from the sudden-yet-pleasurable shock. When he managed to form words again and ask what the hell she did, she simply shrugged. "I figured we could save time if I simply gave you an orgasm now," she'd replied matter-of-factly. "Why spend a long time trying to get to a result that I can give you instantly?"

Kid had stared at her, confused. He'd appreciated how efficient she was as a crewmate, but...come on, part of the fun in fucking was the buildup to it! Yanking clothes off each other, leaving all sorts of marks on each other, making her voice get louder and louder as she begged for him to make her cum…

From then on, any time he'd tried to sleep with her, she'd cut him off by making him cum instantly using her Devil Fruit and then continuing about her business. After a month of this, he'd decided he'd had enough and had pulled her into his quarters, leading to where we are now.

Kid strode over to her and threw his coat off onto the floor before scooping her up in his arms. "Because," he insisted, kissing her neck as she shivered and tried to stifle the pleasurable sigh coming from her lips. "I'm sick of cumming in my pants all the time when you do that weird brain thing. And I wanna show you how fun fucking the old-fashioned way can be." 

Minerva raised an eyebrow as he tossed his metal arm aside on top of his coat. "Eustass, you're going to scuff your prosthetic if you toss it so carelessly," she scolded. His remaining hand traveled lower and lower to cup her backside. "How many times have I--"

Kid cut her off with a rough kiss that muffled her surprised squeak and the moan that came afterwards. Minerva wondered if all embraces between couples were so primal as his tongue snaked around her mouth; sometimes it felt like he was trying to eat her face whenever he kissed her, and this time was no different. When he pulled away to bite at her neck and collarbone, she felt lightheaded and laced her fingers through his hair. As nice as this felt, she didn't want to spend time doing something so "frivolous" when she could be doing something more productive on the ship. 

Just as she was about to use her Fruit, Kid swiftly pinned her arms above her head and towered over her. He used his own Devil Fruit to keep her pinned with his prosthetic metal arm while his other hand tilted her head up to face him. He frowned at her disapprovingly. "Oi, what did I just say? No brain shit this time," he said. "Never thought I'd have a chick get me to say this, but I actually want to take it slow." 

Minerva rolled her eyes, but there was a small curious smile that turned up the corners of her lips. Truth be told, she'd never done this the old-fashioned way before; it would be interesting to explore something new, even if she wasn't so used to learning something in such a "hands-on" way. She relaxed her arms and looked up at Kid. "Alright, alright," she conceded. She shifted her weight and pursed her lips. "But if we're doing this, I want to be the one to take off my clothes. Knowing you, you'd just rip them off."

Kid smirked and released her arms and kissed her neck again, and Minerva bit her lower lip as he traveled down to her chest. She reached down and removed her blouse, revealing a simple dark bra underneath. He cupped one of her breasts and felt her breath hitch as her nipple hardened through the fabric. "You know me pretty well," he teased. Before Minerva realized what he meant, he hooked a few fingers underneath the center of her bra and easily tore it, exposing her bare breasts.

Minerva's mouth dropped and she glared up at him while smacking one of his shoulders. "I specifically told you not to tear my clothes, you brute--Ah!"

Kid cut her off when his tongue swirled around one of her pert nipples, and she moaned at a higher pitch than before. His other hand lazily kneaded her other breast, and he felt her hips rise up a bit as she rocked against him. "You say I'm a brute like it's a bad thing," he said with a smirk. He quickly undid his pants and Minerva followed suit by tossing her ruined bra aside and shimmying off her shorts, leaving her in a pair of noticeably damp underwear. She glanced at the tent in Kid's boxers and her face flushed as he palmed himself a bit before leaning down to prod at her underwear with his fingers. "See? I told ya this was better," he said smugly. He pulled her undergarments aside, and when he pushed one of his calloused fingers inside of her, she gasped and sighed. Her own hands ghosted over her breasts as Kid explored her with his fingers, and her hips rocked back and forth.

"Ah, Eu-Eustass," she murmured, clenching her thighs in anticipation every time his fingers curled and grazed a particularly velvety spot inside of her. She knew enough about anatomy to realize just where he was focusing, and one of her hands trailed down to her clitoris to add even more stimulation. "Right there, p-please…"

Kid smirked and nudged her hand aside, and she whined in frustration. Why would he not want her to focus there? When he quickly leaned his head down to circle her sensitive button of flesh with his tongue, she forgot any sense of annoyance or indignation as she bucked her hips; her own strokes had been soft and feather-light, and the sudden roughness of his tongue against her left her seeing stars. Normally he wouldn't care about getting a lover "warmed-up" before fucking them, but...Minnie was different. She wasn't a fuckbuddy, and the whole point of this was to show her how satisfying sex could be when you took some time. 

Even if his oral technique was sloppy and all over the place, he definitely didn't hear any complaints from Minerva. She'd used her Devil Fruit on herself countless times before when she needed to relieve some stress, and was familiar with the burst of pressure and pleasure that came with an orgasm. Still, this newfound sense of pleasure bubbling up inside of her was new; she'd experienced a climax before, but this sense of buildup and tension coiling in her was brand new. Even if it was taking longer to reach that inevitable conclusion, these new sensations left her breathless as she begged for him to keep going.

As he pumped three of his fingers inside of her while his tongue swirled around her clit, she snaked her fingers into his hair and dug her nails into his scalp. The sensation made him moan against her, and her eyes rolled back slightly. "Eustass," she panted, "I'm s-so close to...Ah, please, keep...Oh, Eustass…"

For someone who was normally so eloquent, she was having trouble stringing a full sentence together. Kid chuckled to himself and slowly removed his fingers from her aching cunt. Minerva let out a desperate shiver, and her already-warm cheeks felt even hotter when Kid wiped her juices off of his chin before licking his hand clean, refusing to break eye contact with her. Normally she would have been embarrassed at such a shameless display of lewdness, but all she could think about now was how empty she felt without his hand inside of her. She bucked her hips impatiently. "Eustass, please," she sobbed, reaching up to grip his hand and bring it back down to between her legs. 

Kid slid off his boxers, and Minerva's eyes widened as she looked down at his cock for the first time. It was a bit odd that she'd made him climax so many times in the past without ever seeing a glimpse of it, and she hadn't realized just how large it was. "Y'know, usually I hate when ya call me 'Eustass' instead of Kid like everyone else," he muttered with a small devilish smile. She looked up eagerly at Kid, and as he lined himself up with her entrance she felt the head twitch slightly. "But hearing ya say it like that isn't as annoying as it usually is." He leaned down to kiss her, and she gasped through her nose as she tasted herself lingering on Kid's tongue. He stroked himself as he kissed her, wanting as much lubrication as possible to avoid making her hurt too much when he finally entered her. Keeping himself from just shoving his dick inside of her was torture, and he growled impatiently a bit as he tried to restrain himself; self-control wasnt really in his nature, but he knew it'd be worth it in the end. 

Minerva wrapped her arms around him to pull him closer, and she let out a small shivery giggle. "If it bothers you so much, we c-could compromise then," she teased, stroking his back with her fingers. "Why don't I call you...Captain?"

Kid stared down at her, and that dam inside of him broke the moment he heard her call him 'Captain'. He entered her with one slam of his hips, and Minerva gasped sharply before moaning at this newfound sense of fullness. His pace was fast and rough, and to his surprise she wasn't asking him to slow down or be a bit more gentle; in fact, she was begging him to keep going. She gripped the back of his head with one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other, and when he grabbed her hips just as harshly he felt her walls tighten around him. He left a series of bites and harsh bruising kisses on her neck and collarbone, and he relished in how her moans grew louder and higher. 

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he growled, the head of his cock brushing against her cervix. Minerva hiked her legs around his waist, desperate for Kid to hit that particular spot inside her over and over again. As he thrusted into her at this new angle, he looked down at her expression. She was normally so cool and composed, but now...now, she was a mess. Her lips were parted as she panted and moaned every time he hit that sweet spot inside of her, unable to talk or even think about anything but the pressure building inside of her. Her eyes crossed a bit every time his cock met her cervix, and a trickle of her (or was it Kid's?) saliva fell down one of her cheeks. Her purple hair, normally neat and tidy in a ponytail, fanned out behind her and stuck to her forehead with a thin layer of sweat. 

Minerva managed to realize in her cloudy haze that Kid was looking down at her, and the corners of her open mouth turned up into a small smile. Normally she'd be mortified to be seen in such a state, but with how good she felt right now, she didn't care at all about how foolish she might have looked right now. Her chest rose and fell as Kid's pace quickened, and she rocked against him to match his speed. "Mmm, Eust--ah, C-Cap...t-tain…" She blushed deeper as she said the 'wrong' name once again. "S-sorr--ah, C-captain…"

Kid used his Devil Fruit to reattach his prosthetic arm and push her thighs forward until he had her in a mating press, and he felt her walls get even tighter around his cock. He left another series of bruising kisses and hickeys on her other shoulder. "Call me whatever you fuckin' want, Minnie," he groaned, feeling himself getting closer and closer to cumming. "Fuck, fuck, you're so fuckin'..."

As he feverishly pounded into her over and over, she raked her nails against his skin and he made sure to look at her as he felt her getting closer to her own climax. "Eustass," she moaned, "I...I…" He slammed his hips against her as fast as he could, and he felt her tighten and squeeze around his cock as her voice became more frantic. "Eustass, y-yes, I'm about t-to--Oh, yes, Eustass, yes, yes, yesyesyesyesyes--Ah, fuck, Eustass~!"

He groaned loudly as he came inside of her, continuing to fuck her through her climax and his. A wave of pleasure roared in his ears and when it had finally subsided, replacing the sound of his own heartbeat with Minerva's heavy breathing and incoherent murmuring, he buried himself to the hilt inside of her and looked down at her again. Her chest rose and fell as she panted, and her eyes were half-lidded. Her face was flushed and radiated warmth like the rest of her body, and he could feel her hands trembling on his head and shoulders. 

With his cock still inside of her, he guided her legs back down onto the bed and rested his head in the crook of her neck for a while. He sighed contentedly, almost purring against her. Minerva shifted around a bit underneath him, and bit her lip when she felt a small amount of Kid's seed drip out of her around his softening cock. "Er...Eustass…"

"Mmm?"

"Why haven't you...er...pulled out of me yet?" She wasn't used to having sex like this, and had no idea about what was typically done afterwards. Her anatomy and biology textbooks hadn't mentioned anything about what was typically done post-coitus. 

"Feels good," Kid muttered. He nuzzled her neck, and she let out a small sigh of agreement. He felt his eyelids lower a bit, and he struggled to stay awake; he tended to fall asleep immediately after sex, but as nice as she felt around him, he didn't want to fall asleep while he was still inside her. A few minutes of silence later, he slowly slid himself out of her. Minerva's eyelids fluttered and she let out a small moan as she felt more of his seed trickle out of her now that she wasn't completely stuffed. 

Kid groggily reached up with his arm and held her against him as he lay on his back, and Minerva rested her head on his chest. As he fell asleep, he absentmindedly stroked her hip and smirked. "See? This is way more fun than your brain thing," he said smugly.

Minerva let out a small "Mmm" to agree with him. "I admit, it has its...advantages," she said slowly. She rested one of her hands on Kid's. "But now I'm curious to see what would happen if we tried combining both methods." She cuddled up to him and smiled with her eyes closed. "I wonder what would happen if I made the two of us climax like this over and over in a short span of time while you're still inside me…"

The thought of that alone made Kid's cock instantly perk up a bit, and Minerva felt it poke against her backside. "Buuut, I'll save that for another time," she said with a smile. "We're both a bit too worn out for some of the experiments I have in mind."

Kid heard her breaths become more and more heavy, and so did his eyelids as he fell asleep with a small grin on his face. If this is what it felt like to fuck her before these 'experiments' of her started, he was more than happy to help out with her research.

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Smug (Mitch Marner Imagine)

Finally posting the first part of the Mitch imagine! It’ll be four parts, but I won’t make any promises on when the next part will be out, because that seems to curse me.

Rating: T

Pairing: Mitch Marner/Reader

Words: 1544

Warnings: None

Requested: yes/no

Summary: You meet Mitch Marner at a birthday party and, well, you’re not quite sure if he’s an asshole or not.

It’s your best friend’s birthday, is why you’re here. Well, at least insofar as you tell others. A good part of it is that you love skating with your whole heart, but you’re not quite willing to tell anyone else that you’ve loved ice skating since you were a kid (even though you’d fallen out of form over the years) and the chance to skate at the Ford Performance Center, where the Marlies and Leafs practiced, was a dream come true. It was easier to just say that you were there for Nathalie, not that you’re a hockey nerd and are excited for the opportunity to skate on the (not-so) same ice as professional teams.

No matter what your reasons are, you step onto the ice with a confidence that may have been a little unfounded with how out of practice you are. You’re still doing better than the rest of the party, finding your legs much quicker than anyone else. You’re not a pro by any means, but you’re much better than the majority of the group. You’re more than aware that Nathalie is a great skater, but both she and yourself are hanging back to help the others. You offer a hand (or two) to those who haven’t skated before, or who have far less experience than you.

You spend a good fifteen minutes, at least, helping the rest of the party find their balance, smiling and laughing along the way. Most of the group are doing slow laps of the rink, chatting and generally having a good time. You, on the other hand, are speeding around the oval, delighted to finally be back on your blades. The wind created by your speed whips your hair around, the pumping of your arms and legs making you acutely aware of the flow of blood through your body. Your heart is soaring, delighted to be back where you belong, where you feel most at home.

Later, you’re helping Nathalie’s niece figure out how to stop without running straight into the boards when it happens. It goes like this: Maria is skating toward you as you glide backward, instructing her on proper stopping technique. You stop a couple feet from the wall, and she tries to put your advice into practice as she nears you, but doesn’t quite succeed. Rather than falling, she continues in a straight line directly at you, and she looks scared, so you decide to stay in place and let her run into you rather than the unrelenting wall. Which is how you’re sent backward with all the force of an eleven-year-old skating full tilt into you. You’re only a foot or two from the wall, but you’re propelled back enough to hit it pretty solidly, except the wall says “oof” and you’re pretty sure they don’t have talking walls. Or walls with arms that wrap around you like yours did Maria. Meaning someone had gone behind you at the exact wrong time, and you hope it’s your friend Roger, because hitting anyone else like that would be embarrassing.

All of this happens in the span of a few seconds, so you don’t have much time to react when you look back to make a joke to Roger and instead find a complete stranger standing there saying “woah, careful there”. Except it’s not a complete stranger, is it? Maybe? Is someone’s stranger-status entirely dependent on whether you’ve ever actually met them in person before? Whatever the qualifications for being a stranger are, the person who just slammed into the boards definitely isn’t one of your friends, because it’s Mitch Marner. Like. The Mitch Marner. Whose smile falls from his face the second you make eye contact, replaced with a flash of something to quick to name, before coming back as more of a smirk than anything.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say, mortified. Of all the people in the world that you could literally run into. Jesus Christ. Maria wriggles out of your hold and skates away, throwing a quick “sorry, mister!” over her shoulder as she abandons you. Traitor.

“Can’t believe I’m getting boarded even on my off days now,” he says. He’s clearly joking, but you’re embarrassed and feel bad and what if you end up being “that chick who hit Mitch Marner”?

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, turning fully toward him, “I was trying to teach her how to stop and didn’t even realize you were there.” He looks over your shoulder and you follow his gaze to where Maria has just successfully stopped herself without the assistance of the wall.

“Looks like she’s got the hang of it to me,” he quips, laughing brightly when you whisper an awed “son of a bitch” under your breath. You turn back to him, ready to apologize again— third time’s the charm— but he just shakes his head when you open your mouth, so you close it. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do in this situation, so you go with your first instinct and shove your hand out toward him so firmly he startles.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you say, because you’re a stupid idiot who doesn’t know how to act around cute guys. Fortunately, he just smiles and shakes your hand, all firm grip and rough calluses and gleaming white teeth. It’s kind of breathtaking, really.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Mitch,” he replies. His hair is slightly tousled, like he just woke up from a nap, and shines in the overhead lights. As much as you’d hoped it was just editing magic, his eyes are as clear, bright blue as in the photos and videos. His lips are pink where his smile has turned closed-mouthed and almost… smug? Only when you take in the full smug expression on his face do you realize you’re still holding his hand. How long have you been holding it? How long have you been just staring at him point blank, blatantly checking him out?

“Sorry,” you say yet again, tearing your hand away just as quickly as you’d offered it. The second you let go, your hands are suddenly freezing. You should have worn gloves.

“It’s okay,” he only looks-- well, he doesn’t look more smug so much as wolfish, “It happens more than you’d think.” Is that supposed to be comforting, or is he just full of himself? You want to say that you can’t imagine an entire city worshipping an asshole, but a Leafs player could murder someone and Toronto would probably still treat them like a god. But he just. Doesn’t seem that kind, y’know? Unfortunately (or fortunately?) you don’t have any previous experience with him to judge off of, so you’re just going to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he’s trying to be reassuring.

“Well I didn’t think it happened at all, so,” you say, not above chirping him a bit, “I’d hope this is more than I thought.” Was that mean? There’s a difference between banter and bullying, and you have trouble navigating it sometimes. He looks shocked for a moment, before laughing so hard he throws his head back and grabs at his sternum.

“You’re pretty funny, eh?”  he replies after he finishes laughing, “I like that in a girl.” What the fuck does that mean?

“Well, I like a man with a positive plus-minus,” you say, gently slapping his diaphragm with the back of your hand. He clutches that spot with both hands, looking overly-wounded, giving you big puppy-dog eyes.

“Ouch; harsh,” he says, playing it  up for a moment before he smiles again. God, that damn smile is going to be the death of you.

“I’ve got to go greet the birthday girl,” he says afterward, looking a bit… hesitant? It’s only then that you realize running into him made you the first person he met here, and you feel kind of bad, because Nathalie is a huge Leafs fan and loves Marner.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you say, because you can’t stop fucking apologizing, “Nathalie is over there.” You point toward where she’s spinning on the ice with one of her sisters. What you’re expecting is for him to skate on over to her. What you’re not expecting is for him to take one of your hands in his own and looking so deeply into your eyes that you feel hypnotised.

“Come to a game some time,” he says, not quite an order. His big blue eyes are fixed on you and you’re helpless to do anything but nod. You don’t really know what he thinks will happen if you do come, and you’re not sure he knows you live in Toronto, which means you’ll absolutely be at a game at some point. But he asked, and well. You don’t really have any reason to refuse.

As he skates over to an ecstatic Nathalie, you can only watch him go. He doesn’t have all his pads on, so you can see the flex of his thighs and the curve of his ass, which you are absolutely refusing to acknowledge. He’s charming, sure, but you’re pretty sure he’s an asshole, and you don’t have time for that in your life. But if he asked...

[the-omni-princess]

Blood Bound [Chapter Four]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Vampires and witches have been known enemies since the dark ages. Backstabbing, secrets, and magic turned supernatural brethren again each other. As a natural-born witch, you grew up on these stories, your own monsters under your bed. What happens when one of those sworn enemies claims that you are his blood mate, the vampire equivalent of a true mate? Will you give in to this man out of time? Or destroy him for the sake of your Coven?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: witchy and vamp stuff, blood, minor injuries, nightmares, illusions/flashbacks of assault and death and terrible living conditions.

A/N:

So! This chapter was written (and inspired by) for @moonstruckbucky ‘s challenge, the #halloweenhauntsauchallenge

My prompt (bolded) was “Magic is really very simple, all you’ve got to do is want something and then let yourself have it.” (from Halloweentown)

Enjoy!!!

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[Series Masterlist]  [My Masterlist] 

[Playlist Inspired by the Series]

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Previously….

A few realizations hit Bucky one at a time, time seemed to slow around you. Firstly, the necklace that was now exposed and pressed against your collarbone, had a mint leaf charm. His free hand ran across the charm, dread and recognition creeping up his throat, burning him from the inside out. Mint.

Secondly, was the fact he never told you his last name. Sure, you could have researched it, but no one but his small family back at the motel knew his nickname. No one except maybe….

The final realization came when you opened your eyes, the wind and sparks surrounded the two of you, pressed together tenderly, satisfaction settling deep into his bones. He felt a chill run down his spine as he connected the final dot. What was I saying in my vision? You looked up at him with the utmost adoration, the haunting familiarity made him gasp softly. Your eyes had swirled into a different color with your powers surrounding him. You had kaleidoscope eyes.

-

Here, with your face in his hands, Bucky felt the entire world finally start to make sense. All the pain, all the loneliness, it all would be worth it. You were the missing piece of his very existence. His little witch.

“Theo?” He murmured, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice. Every single sign pointed to this one conclusion, and yet-

“Who the hell is Theo?” Your face scrunched up in confusion, and he couldn’t help but notice how cute you were with your nose creased up like that, despite his heart dropping at your words. “And why are your eyes like that?” You mumbled absentmindedly, your hand raising to touch his cheek.

Sparks flew from your fingertips, crackling around his skin. He shuddered, tilting his head towards your fingers. “Like what, little witch?” He smiled warmly, letting himself get lost in your glowing eyes. His little witch was somehow alive, and even though you didn’t seem to remember him, some part of you did, at least enough to trust him. Even though he himself couldn’t remember everything, here he was, getting lost in the swirling colors in your irises. He had a second chance, in the form of a second life.

“Your eyes… Bucky, they’re golden and black,” he sighed softly, feeling a warmth settle into his chest from hearing you call his name, the words beyond them being lost. Until they practically hit him in the face. The words. Those words he spoke as Theo died in front of him. Another realization. But this time it was a mutual realization.

You gasped softly, pulling away from him, the spell around you broken. The wind froze, and the electricity died out with a fizzle. His eyes swirled back to crystal blue, making you gulp faintly. His utterly pained expression as you took a step away made your heart clench. “Y-you… you’re a witch!” You cried out, terror creeping up every muscle and nerve in your body. “But a vampire… oh god, you are – were –  a natural-born witch.”

You took another step back, your feet getting caught in a tree root. You screeched, falling backward as a sharp pain shot through your ankle. You tensed, waiting to feel the dense undergrowth of the forest, but instead, you only felt the small shiver of cool skin. Slowly, you pried your eyes open, another yelp stuck in your throat. Bucky had not only caught you but was already sitting you down on a thick fallen tree. He moved fast, a blur as he grabbed your blanket, wrapping you up in it.

“Always so clumsy, little witch,” he muttered, adoration in his eyes. He stilled, take a shallow breath as he looked down at your foot. “And you’re bleeding.”

His hands were shaking, and as his eyes went red, your natural reaction was fear. “P-please don’t,” you placed a hand on his chest, and his eyes snapped up to yours. It made sense now. The swirling winds, the unpredictability. Two supernatural creatures rolled into one, and he was tied to your very soul.

He calmed to your touch, willing himself to not be the reason for the fear in your eyes. Wordlessly, he ripped off a piece of the bottom of his shirt, kneeling and pulling your ankle up. You could start to feel the warm blood drip down your foot, your ankle twisted from the fall. “Why don’t you drink from people casually? It’s not written in any of the books about vampires, and I’ve never been able to, ya know, ask one before. Like why don’t ya just find some chick and drink up without killing her?” He wrapped up the cut, using the fabric as a makeshift gauze as you rambled on, calm again at his presence. Once he was done, he stood back up, a little wobblily, but standing none the less.

“Drinking blood from someone without killing them is the uttermost form of trust. It’s telling the vampire you don’t just trust them to not kill you, but that you’d gladly die to help them. Some vampires get a little cocky about that idea.” He took a step closer, before sitting beside you. “Why aren’t you wearing any shoes in the middle of the woods?” He wouldn’t look at you, still trying to distract himself from your blood. His own personal drug.

“Where did a vampire learn proper wound technique?” You shot back, giving him a look.

“The civil war,” he deadpanned, now meeting your eyes out of pure spite.

You turned slightly towards him, “The American Civil War, huh? How old are you really? And are you going to explain who Theo is? And why a vampire, who is supposed to be coordinated and perfect, stumbles all over the place?” You went quiet, before adding in a small voice. “And how you’re a witch…” Your hands gripped onto the bark of the fallen tree, letting the course texture distract you from your swirling thoughts.

He sighed softly, running his hands through his hair nervously. “Well, first starters, yes. The American Civil War. Theo is a long story, and so is the lack of coordination.” He closed his eyes, unsure how to tell you the next part of his sentence, without freaking you out. “And I can’t remember when I was born.”

“Wait, sorry, hold up. You can’t remember when you were born?!” You asked incredulously, eyebrows up, and turned towards him in shock.

He nodded slowly, letting himself turn back towards you. “I was born in the 1660s I think… And turned in 1702. I can’t remember exactly when I was born because of the way I died messed up my memories.”

Your head tilted unconsciously towards him, nose scrunched up again. “How did you die?”

“You sure you want to know, sweetling?”

“Everything. I want to know everything,” you laid your hand on top of his on the bark of the tree, looking up at him. “Whoever this Theo is, how you died… you… I want to know about you.”

His eyes were zeroed in on where his hand was pressed against yours. They trailed upwards, locking onto your birthmark on your inner wrist. He took a deep, and technically unnecessary, breath, calming himself faintly. “I was raised in the Colonies, I cannot exactly remember it all, but there was always this girl. Theodosia, my Theodosia. She was a witch, I know that, and I guess I was too.” His eyebrows scrunched together, taking a gulp of air before continuing. “I-I… I cannot remember who exactly, but someone was after us. They were suspicious, and they….” His lip trembled, and, quickly getting the hint something happened to her, you gently rubbed your thumb into his hand. Any remaining fear of him left as he choked out a sob, having difficulty swallowing as he spoke, “I ran, god, I ran. I-I cannot remember exactly when, but they found me. They found me and killed me in those wetlands, during Queen Anne’s War, and Steve found me. Vampire venom… well, it could only do so much. The damage, it took my memory, and balance at times. Venom turned me, saved me from death and cursed me to an eternity of pain.”

“Eternity must be lonely,” you whispered softly, gently lacing your fingers with his, tenderly leaning your head against his shoulder. “At least you have someone to spend it with.”

“And Sam,” he was quite shocked to see you leaning against him, but the yearning in his chest was finally settled down, sated at your touch. “They are my family. I got lucky in some ways, though I would not wish this curse upon my most hated enemy. The very meaning of life is the end. How a human spends their short lives on this planet, that… that means something because it can end. It does not end for a vampire. It’s awfully hard to kill a vampire.”

“So, you forgot you were witch, huh?” You teased faintly, smiling softly up at him.

He cracked a smile; silently grateful you were trying to keep the mood light. “I did not even remember Theo for years, until-” He tensed, taking a breath, unsure how to continue. You squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to continue. “Until you came back,” he whispered softly.

“Came back?” You scoffed, making his shoulders fall, disappointment was written on his face. Witches, looming darkness, a dead coven, hell even a vampire being blood bound to you, you could accept. But the idea of reincarnation? Not likely. Or was it? This entire ordeal was utterly exhausting to think about. Naturally, you quickly diverted the conversation. “Why don’t I reteach you how to be a witch?”

He looked over at you skeptically, “Is that a good idea?”

You shrugged, “Considering the unchecked windstorm we had twenty minutes ago, I’d say you need a bit of practice.” You looked up towards him, gently pushing a stray brunet curl out of his eye. “And all that power? I’d say you’re a natural-born,” you whispered.

“Is there a difference?” He tilted his head faintly towards you, seeking out your warmth.

“Magic has rules, it takes energy from the witch to give off energy. Smaller things like Natasha’s mood changing power, only take a small amount of energy. Larger things, such as Wanda’s telekinesis, take larger amounts of energy. Natural born witches have stronger power with less energy, we were born with the Gift, instead of learning it.” You paused, your fingers gently holding the mint charm of your necklace. “That’s why the Council doesn’t like Naturals, we’re stronger.”

“Show me,” you looked up to see how close he was. Now, with your head tilted towards him, your lips were only an inch or two away from his.

You quickly turned away, blushing as you nodded. Holding out your palm, you let the electricity flow through you. Small crackles of blue and white sparked around your fingertips, running up and down your hand. “Magic is really very simple, all you’ve got to do is want something and then let yourself have it.” You let the sparks die down, looking towards him. “Of course, there are specific spells, but that’s the main part of it. You can try it if you want, you seemed good at controlling the wind,” You gently took his hand in yours, not noticing the slight blush explode on his cheeks as he followed your lead, right hand facing palm up. “Now want it,” you murmured.

He gulped, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Just want it.” But he was distracted. His thoughts weren’t of the winds as you thought they were, they were on you. He was focused on having you remember. Yet as the winds began to pick up, he knew you weren’t remembering it quite yet. His eyes opened, and the breath got knocked from his lungs. You were smiling, the wind picking up your hair slightly, a small wall of wind spinning around the two of you. You were utterly enchanting and mesmerizing. He smiled warmly, biting down his excitement as he let the winds die down. He honestly didn’t think he could do that, but you kept pushing him just a little further.

You yawned loudly, your eyes struggling to stay open as the wind died down completely. Bucky tenderly pushed a stray curl of hair away from your eyes and behind your ear. “Let’s get you back to bed, little witch,” he gave you a lopsided smirk as he stood, easily picking you up bridal style. You yelped, clinging to his shoulders, which felt familiar. “Do you trust me?”

You looked up into crystal blue eyes, “With my life,” you murmured. He shot a devilish grin back down at you, making you instantly question that trust.

He sped to your cabin, jumping up and easily landing on the second-floor balcony of your bedroom. You were clinging to him, face buried in his chest, shaking from the speed he ran through the woods and clearing in. He opened the door and stepped inside your bedroom, closing the door with his foot before laying you on the bed. He sped away from a moment before speeding back beside you, laying a new blanket on top of you. Sasha jumped onto the bed, the calico giving Bucky barely a look before nuzzling into your side.

“You admitted to having balance issues and then go and pick me up, make up your mind,” You were already half asleep, yawning again as you curled into the bedsheets. Your limbs felt heavy but managed to grab onto Bucky’s hand before he left. “Stay… please…” you murmured, your eyes slowly closing.

As you slipped into unconsciousness, you could feel his weight dip into the mattress as he kissed your forehead tenderly, whispering, “Always, Sweetling.”

-

Running. Running. Running. Can’t escape, can’t run fast enough. Going to get caught, going to-

The mantra repeated on a loop in your head as you ran through the colony. The door to your cottage just out of view. You could almost cry in relief as you saw it getting closer. Pulling your skirts up higher, you sprung forward just a little harder. Ripping the door open and slamming it closed, pressing your back against the wooden door. Home. Home was safe. But Bucky wasn’t home. Home wasn’t safe.

A calm knock on the door made you jump, rushing away from the entrance as it opened. The man stepped forward, a sick grin on his face. “Ah, there you are witch,” he grinned.

You cried out as two men entered beside him, grabbing onto your arms. “Please! Please, I’m not a witch!” Lying. That’s what you were doing. Lying. Trying to save yourself. It wasn’t working. Rough arms grabbed onto your skin, pushing, prodding. You were doomed.

Alone. Freezing. The cold iron of the jail cell you were roughly tossed into set a chill deep into your bones. Alone. Terrified. He was only supposed to be gone for a week, just a simple trip to a nearby village to retrieve herbs from a friend. And yet, here you were. Utterly alone.

Deciding to keep the last bit of your pride was a difficult feat. As with all suspected witches, you felt defiled. Ripped off your clothes, the villagers trying to find Satan’s mark on you. A small scar on your wrist gave them enough “proof” to toss you in front of a judge. That and the book of naturally made ointments hiding in your room.

You couldn’t quite understand what was going on. As you clutched onto your lucky mint leaf in your pocket, you tried to plead your case, but the man in front of you didn’t seem to hear a word, pointedly ignoring your petitions. He instead chose to listen to every person you knew from birth turn on you, accusing you of witchcraft. Selling yourself to the devil.

It would be fine. You knew this judge, and he knew you since birth. He wouldn’t sentence you to the gallows, as he shared the same secret as you. Witch. Soon James would be home and it would all be alright. You’d be snuggled up in bed in his arms and the world would right itself once more.

That was a feverish dream. But it wouldn’t be your reality. “Theodosia Ann Barnes, you are guilty of being a witch and are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead. May God rest your soul.” Did you hear that right? Theodosia?

Days. Weeks maybe? Who knows how long you were in this dusty, cold, crowded cell. As they corralled you and the other 17 girls into the woods, leading you on a march of death, your mind was going wild. You’d never see him again. As the wind picked up, so did your heart. Bucky. That’s all that mattered. He was here, and they couldn’t get to him now.

Calm, and embracing death as you stood on the stool, you closed your eyes. Grateful that at the very least, the last thing you saw in this life, were icy blue eyes. Resigned to the end, you felt at peace as the stool was kicked away.

-

You woke up frantically, crying out, clutching your chest blindly. Bucky was already beside you, startled by your hysterical crying. You quickly attached to him, sobbing into his chest, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead and the back of your neck.

He simply cooed, running his fingers against your head to fix your hair, his free hand running up and down your back in soothing circles. He let you sob, never questioning why you broke down.

“I’m really her, aren’t I?” you whispered softly as your cries quieted down, the weight of those words finally settling between the two of you. “How can I be her?”

“Me.” He replied in a hushed voice. You could hear him gulp, gently holding you tighter, not that you minded his unnaturally cool skin against your heated body. “You said magic is about want. When Theo died in front of me, all I wanted was our future together again, I wanted her back. I don’t think I did the rebirthing spell correctly; I must have changed it into a literal rebirth spell, though I can’t exactly remember.”

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to move too far, craving to stay in his arms for a moment longer. “But why now? Why be alive now? Hundreds of years after those damned Trials? Do you think all of this is connected somehow? I can’t be Theodosia Ann Barnes, that’s not possible!”

“You’re a Natural, and Bound, that’s not supposed to be possible anymore either,” He murmured. “Besides, I never told you her full name… or when she died.”

You stilled, eyes going wide as you quickly pulled away from him. His hands fell down to your hips, attempting to keep you close. “M-my dream,” you tried, “They took me- took her- while you were gone.”

“She-“ he cut himself off before correcting, “You, were supposed to be safe. Mint to keep you safe and remind you of me,” his voice lowered, a hand rising from your hip to expose the mint charm necklace you wore. “You had this then too when you were younger. I just didn’t see it then.”

“That thing after us, the thing that killed the other Coven… it’s because of me isn’t it?” Your hands were shaking, terror seizing you.

“I think it’s because we found each other. Bound,” he hesitated, “Witches, Naturals as well, are powerful.”

“Powerful enough to start a witch hunt in the middle of a peaceful colony to kill?” The details of your dream were slowly starting to come back to you. Why would the colony turn against you-  no, her - like that? None of it was making sense.

You yawned, letting Bucky lay you back down under the covers. “Sleep, Sweetling.”

At the nickname, your mind swirled, as did the longing in your chest. “Stay here, Angel Eyes,” you whispered softly. “You promised.”

He visibly tensed, his own longing filling and clutching at his heart as his memories swam behind his eyes. He relaxed faintly as he laid beside you, letting you bury yourself in his protective embrace. Sleep came much easier after that.

---

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Permanent Tags:

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For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Vlog #16 - Would You Rather

Moyo began the vlog in English, because he was better at it than anyone else in the group.

“What’s up, guys? Welcome back to another thrilling vlog from your favorite Broerrs.” The rest could be in Flemish.

Robbe, Jens, and Aaron burst into cheers in the background. Robbe winked at the camera, but not really, since Sander was the one trying to steady the tripod in front of the group. Something on its left side had broken last time they used it. Sander winked back.

“We’ve been reading your comments,” continued Moyo.

Jens made a face of disgust. “Honestly, sometimes I regret it.”

“We regret it a lot. Sometimes.”

Robbe knew exactly the comment they were referencing. Someone with a long, unpronounceable username decided that they wanted to be with Jens… biblically, if you will. Minus the religion. He felt scandalized to have read it. In the description of this new video, he’d include a politely worded plea to never type and send anything like that ever again.

“But we’re listening to the people, and you have spoken. We picked the next challenge. It’s time for WOULD—”

“—YOU—" said Robbe.

Jens finished the title. “—RATHER!”

Aaron sulked on the end of the couch. “What am I supposed to say?”

At this point, Moyo and Robbe would edit in a cut, some music, and a tiny little animated title to introduce the game. Sander already had a few ideas he told them he’d be willing to draw if they wanted. The cuts were the best part.

“Alright. We actually have a special guest with us today. Here, I’ll take the camera…”

Sander and Moyo traded places. Now Moyo sat behind the tripod to keep everything stable. Sander sat down in Moyo’s spot in the center of the couch. He looked even more like himself than usual—the Bowie shirt Noor bought him for Christmas, black jeans cuffed at the bottom, Docs, and a leather jacket to tie the ensemble together. Definitely more punk rock than anyone else in the frame. At Jens’s suggestion, he’d gotten his left ear pierced a week ago. The proper time had yet to elapse before he could change posts, so the same black stud with which the parlor pierced it remained in his ear.

Besides the factual part of his appearance, he made Robbe feel like his heart had jumped from a hundredth-floor window and began the freefall of a lifetime.

“This fine specimen…” Jens gestured to Sander with a dramatic flourish. He twirled a finger around a strand of Sander’s bleached hair. “… happens to be the boyfriend of our very own Robbe Ijzermans. He’ll be an honorary Broerrr, for this vlog.”

“Only this vlog?” asked Aaron.

“We’ll see how it goes.”

Sander waved at Moyo. “I’m Sander. I’m—”

The boys talked over each other, finishing the sentence for him.

“—blond.”

“—TAKEN.”

“—sexually active.”

“—a much beloved children’s movie character.”

“Oh, oh! I’ve got it. A distant relative of Queen Elizabeth.”

The edits with this portion of the video would be hilarious for sure.

“—an art student in university and Robbe’s boyfriend,” said Sander. “I’m honored to be here with the Broerrs today.”

It had been Moyo’s suggestion to add Sander to the vlogs. He’d approached Robbe after class and tried to bring up the subject naturally, citing something about how Sander hung out with them all the time anyway, and it would make sense to include him. Robbe knew it was another peace offering. Ever since he called Sander gross for liking both boys and girls, he’d been trying to make up for it over and over again.

The truth was, Robbe forgave him at the slightest sign of repentance. He wasn’t one to hold grudges. It did feel good, though, to know that Moyo truly regretted his past actions and made a conscious effort to avoid similar ones.

“We asked you guys to send us your burning would-you-rather questions, and you did not disappoint.” Jens shook a hat in front of the camera. “An impartial third party—”

“Jana!” yelled Aaron.

“—picked out the best ones and put them in this hat. Each of us is going to pick one out to read, and then everyone has to answer it. You’re not allowed to not answer. And yes, you have to explain your reasons.

“I’m going first. Question one.” Jens cleared his throat to begin. “Would you rather your shower always be freezing cold, or always be the perfect temperature with bad water pressure?” He barely needed any time to think. “Cold shower. It’s good for your skin.” He turned to the others around him. “What say you?”

Sander took Robbe’s hand and set it down on his knee, for no apparent reason, and it made Robbe blush. “I would say we’re the warm shower type.” He was right. Robbe took a cold shower approximately one time in his entire life, and it was when he had to wash the blood from his clothing after— no thanks. He liked the temperature scalding.

“Warm is the way,” Aaron agreed. “Water pressure makes no difference.”

“Disagree.” Even off-camera, Moyo needed his opinion heard. He balanced the tripod as best he could and ran to sit on the arm of the couch, his shoulder brushing with Robbe’s. “I’m with Jens. Cold water tightens your skin or something. Young skin. Fuck yeah.”

Sander laughed. Robbe would never get tired of hearing that laugh. “I’d rather be warm than have young skin. Comfort above appearance.”

This reply made Jens scoff. “You can afford to say that, because you’re beautiful.”

Another cut there, probably. Sander could animate a little picture of a shower or something. Damn, it was really going to pay off to have a boyfriend capable of high-level art techniques.

He decided he liked seeing Sander and the boys together like this. Two worlds he’d suffered to keep separate, now colliding. Instead of the death of the universe, though, all that happened as a result was good-natured banter. They looked comfortable with each other, no tension or withdrawal whatsoever.

Aaron drew from the hat next. “Would you rather speak every language but not understand them spoken to you, or understand every language spoken to you but not be able to speak them? Did I say that right?”

“Yeah,” said Jens. “It’s just badly worded.”

No one had a fast answer to this question. In the final edit, they’d need to cut out a good chunk of footage, because everyone argued over each other in a fashion so violent it couldn’t be understood. At one point, while trying to make the point that speaking and understanding could only exist in tandem and therefore the question was irrelevant, Jens noticed he was wearing the same earring as Sander. They halted the disagreement to talk about it. Two minutes of unusable content.

Robbe answered first. “Understand. I think it’d be cool to know if people were talking shit about me in the grocery store.”

“Speak,” said Moyo. “Because chicks think it’s hot.”

Jens went for logic over desire. “Understand, so I could go abroad and not look like an idiot when people talk to me.”

Aaron, clearly at a loss, just nodded. “Yeah, I think whatever Jens thinks.”

Sander took the question deeper than the others, which made Robbe proud and concerned at the same time. “Speak, because it doesn’t say that I wouldn’t be able to understand written messages. As long as I can speak it, it means that I can translate it in my head, which means I can ask people to write things down for me.” He thought for another second before continuing, “It wouldn’t work the same way with understanding, because you wouldn’t necessarily master the pronunciation just because you can listen to what other people are saying.”

A comprehensive answer. Aaron stared in awe. “Robbe, you’re dating a genius.”

“Yeah.” Robbe squeezed Sander’s hand in between them. He could feel his heart melting inside his chest. “Clearly I’m not smart enough for this linguistic master.”

“Je t’aime encore,” Sander whispered, quirking his eyebrow. He planted a kiss on Robbe’s lips.

This inspired Moyo to lean sideways and fall off the arm of the couch so that he landed across Robbe and Sander, his head in Sander’s lap. “Aw, ce qu'est un bon petit ami!” He broke into the largest smile Robbe had ever seen and gave Sander a fist bump. “I didn’t know you knew French!”

“Oh, well… yes.”

“We’re French buds now. Everyone else can go home. When we want to communicate in secret, we’re going to do it in French.”

“Gladly.”

“I’ve been telling the others to learn French and they haven’t listened—” 

Robbe didn’t fancy the idea of Sander hiding anything else from him via secret messages in other languages. Besides, this footage probably wasn’t any good for final production. “Okay, guys, shut up. My turn.” 

Moyo didn’t bother to mix the slips in the hat before passing it to Robbe. He picked the one on top. “Would you rather have no one attend your wedding, or no one attend your funeral?” There was an obvious answer to this question. Jana shouldn’t have picked this out of all the submissions they received, especially since Robbe swore he saw one about having oatmeal poured up your nose. “Funeral. It’s not my problem if I’m dead.”

Jens looked this way and that. “We’re probably all in agreement.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Actually,” said Sander, “I’d say wedding.”

Leave it to Sander to pick the unpopular answer. Robbe imagined the animation they’d put beside Sander’s head; a thumbs-down would convey the emotion pretty well. “Give your reasons, then.”

“No one showing up for your funeral means that no one cares that you’re dead.” He squeezed Robbe’s hand again. “I want people to miss me.”

“You’re a better person than all of us, then.”

 Moyo’s turn came next. He had yet to move from his position across Sander and Robbe. Robbe took this as the ultimate gesture of ‘I’m okay with your sexuality and your boyfriend, and I’m still comfortable with you.’ It made him happy enough to ignore the fact that his leg was in an awkward position and now he couldn’t fix it.

“Would you rather throw up every time you saw a bird, or burp after every kiss?” Moyo took a second to consider. “Well first of all…” He reached out to tilt the camera downwards, centering himself in the frame. It ruined everything Sander had done to keep the tripod level. “…birds aren’t real. They’re drones from the government to spy on people and, in the case of rebellion, kill them. From America.”

Jens nodded enthusiastically at this idea. “So before we answer it, does this question refer to government drone birds, or only the mythical real birds?”

“All birds,” said Sander. “Real or fake.”

“And are we counting flightless birds as birds?”

“Why would we not?”

Moyo stroked his chin in contemplation. “All birds... then the kiss one.”

“You don’t get kissed enough for that to be a problem,” Aaron reassured him. This earned a punch in the chest.

Sander and Robbe shared a look. “Throw up when I see a bird,” said Sander, confidently. “We make out too much for the other one.” When he met Robbe’s eyes, Robbe felt his vision tunnel until nothing but Sander remained in his sight line. He was too fucking in love for his own good. “Imagine if every time we kissed I had to stop and burp!”

“Nasty.”

They went around the group again, each choosing a question and answering it. The highlights were pretty obvious, even as they filmed it. All the earlier questions were gold compared to the later ones. Robbe wasn’t there to see Jana weed through the options, so he didn’t necessarily know that she had. For all he knew, she’d just picked the first thirty comments and threw them in the hat.

He passed the time by analyzing the way Sander reacted to different statements. He expected his boyfriend to be shy, or awkward, or even just a little guarded. Instead, Sander was an open book. He laughed with his full chest, made faces when the boys said things he didn’t like, went so far as to slap Jens on the shoulder when Jens mentioned prioritizing breakfast over his attendance. Like a member of the squad. 

Yes, these were two worlds. But what if they could be mixed into one? 

“Okay, Last question, last question.” Moyo held the hat out in front of Sander. “Sander’s going to read this one, so it better be good.” He shook the hat a couple times to mix things around, even though there was only one slip of paper left. Sander reached inside and grabbed the remainder.

He read it. “Would you rather not have sex with a goat but have everyone believe you did, or have sex with a goat but no one will ever find out?” He paused, mumbled through the words over again, and looked into the camera. “What kind of crack do you guys smoke?”

“Pick one,” Moyo ordered.

Jens leaned in close, so his face took up the entire lens. “This is how we determine if he’s worthy of our Robbe. What he answers right here.” He sat back in his chair. “There’s a correct answer, Sander, so choose carefully.”

Robbe imagined the final YouTube version would include an edited still of himself and Sander with a question mark dangling in between them. Some fire emojis, perhaps.

“How can there be a right answer?”

In lieu of a sophisticated reply, the other boys began to chant, “Choose, choose, choose choose.”

“Alright, alright.” He held up his hands to signal for a grand pause. “I’d rather not fuck the goat.”

The group dissolved into a chorus of laughter. Robbe was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to see whatever graphic Moyo selected in the final for this part. Actually, it might just be a goat emoji. He still wouldn’t want to see it in the context of this conversation.

“So you want everyone to think you fucked the goat?” Jens used his newscaster voice and offered an invisible microphone to Sander, who pushed his hand away.

“Well no, but if it’s that or actually fuck the goat—”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “I’d fuck the goat.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. It’d be a one-time thing. If I didn’t fuck the goat, I’d never be able to live down fucking the goat. So y’know, lose-lose.”

“No, but if you fuck the goat then you’ve fucked a goat.”

“It’s a no from me.” Jens held up his hands in surrender. “Let people think what they want.”

Moyo tilted his head back a little more so he could make eye contact with Jens. “Yeah, no from me too.” Robbe noticed that Moyo’s head must be digging into Sander’s thigh, but Sander seemed unbothered.

“Either way, you get the consequences of having fucked the goat.” Aaron tried to justify his previous statement. “It’s a matter of physical versus social. I think I can deal with the physical, but I know my image can’t handle the social.”

Sander blinked incredulously. “ You’d prefer bestiality over a rumor? What the fuck...”

“Please stop talking about fucking goats,” Robbe interjected. “I’m getting mental images.”

Sander tilted his head until it rested on Robbe’s shoulder. He looked up at his boyfriend with a tiny mischievous smile. “Do they turn you on?”

At this point, Jens decided that the vlog needed to be over. He hopped up from the couch and announced, “Well, this has been a great time. Don’t forget to like and subscribe to this channel to see more of us losers and—”

Robbe cut him off. “The only loser today is Amber, who may have just found out her boyfriend would fuck a goat.”

“Not in just any circumstance—” Aaron protested, but Moyo spoke louder than him.

“Peace out, dudes.”

He clicked the camera off. 

[bentonluna]

Anxiety - what is anxiety and How to overcome anxiety?

Many people suffer from anxiety that is an obstacle in daily life. If you regularly experience anxiety disorders in a certain area, it is important that you understand where this comes from and that you should do something about it.

 anxiety does not resolve itself that way. What exactly is anxiety and why do I suffer from this and another not? Where does my anxiety come from? What are the symptoms? How do I deal with a panic attack? How do I overcome my anxiety? In this article, we answer all your questions about anxiety.

Our psyche has 4 core emotions:

●     Joy

●     Anger

●     Grief

●     anxiety

 These emotions are the basis of everything we feel. anxiety is a feeling that points to danger, which puts us into action immediately. Think, for example, of a cyclist crossing unexpectedly. Your first reaction will be to hit the brakes hard. anxiety also ensures that we are alert, for example when we drive along an abyss. So, anxiety disorders belong to us just like joy and have an essential function.

what is anxiety? The definition of anxiety according to Wikipedia :

What is anxiety? Anxiety is an emotion caused by a perceived or experienced threat and which usually leads to avoidance or avoidance. Anxiety is considered a basic survival mechanism, in response to a specific stimulus, such as pain or threat of danger. The latter can lead to a fight-or-flight reaction in the event of a confrontation with that stimulus or its avoidance. In extreme forms of anxiety, rigidity can occur people are then, as it were, 'paralyzed by anxiety'.

How to overcome anxiety?

Stress is often a result of anxiety. How can you confront and eventually overcome these kinds of anxiety? The following 20 ways can go a long way. Here we go:

1.  Attention

Pay conscious attention to your anxiety and remember thereby especially well that you do not anxiety you. It is a feeling that you have and can observe. Sometimes feelings of anxiety disorders are so intense that it seems as if you are completely stuck in them and cannot get loose. But know that you can distance yourself from it and put it in a perspective.

2.  Be specific

Find out specifically for yourself where exactly your anxiety comes from. What images do you see in your head? What thoughts come up? Where can you feel it in your body? The point is that you carefully turn your gaze inside and discover what is inside you during an anxiety attack.

3.  Be curious

Think of yourself as your own test subject in a study of anxiety. Be curious about what drives you, what happens when you are anxious, but above all do it at a safe distance. You actually put yourself under the microscope.

4.  Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT)

This is a method of calming yourself. You tap certain meridians with your fingertips and say a few affirmations out loud. This way your body can release the tension and stress you feel during an anxiety disorders attack.

5.  Hypnotherapy

Through hypnosis, you can give negative thoughts to another place. It is not so much that the anxiety has to disappear completely, but it is a nice way to relieve the pressure of the kettle by putting all the thoughts that often float around it in a different context.

6.  Haptonema

anxiety is stored in your body. You can feel it in your body, the stress, or the tension. A haptonome takes the time for you, and through touch, you can go step by step towards anxiety. And instead of pushing away, stay with the tension.

7.  Talk about it

With anxiety, it's very easy (and tempting) to keep walking around on your own and pretending to yourself and the outside world as if nothing is wrong. But it really helps to talk about it regularly with friends, family, your partner, or a professional coach or therapist.

8.  Write about it

If you find talking a little too difficult, make sure you write about it. You can do this whenever and wherever you want. It can be a whole page or a single word. By the way, writing is always good, even if you can talk about it well. Try to express your feelings in as many ways as possible, both verbally and in writing.

9.  NLP

NLP stands for Neuro-Linguistic Programming. This is about the way (s) in which you can influence your mind in such a way that feelings of anxiety can be controlled and reduced.

10.              Read about it

Reading a book or article about anxiety can provide you with new insights about your own experiences. Your own anxiety may not be resolved immediately, but it takes you at least a step further. And reading other people's words makes you realize that you are not alone in struggling with anxiety or pain.

11.              Watch documentaries

Watching a good documentary can have the same effect as reading a book about anxiety. It can take you a step further and make you reflect on yourself.

12.              Watch your diet

It may sound a bit strange, but nutrition not only has a huge impact on your body. It also influences your mood. An excess of sugar and bad fats can seriously get you out of balance. Eat healthily, this keeps your body healthy and helps you deal mentally with difficult situations.

13.              Be positive

Force yourself out of the negative stream of thoughts and fill your head with positive visions of the future that will become reality when you have overcome your anxiety. It is sometimes easy to get stuck in negativity because you know that world so well. Try to escape from that and create a sunny world in your head.

14.              Practice yoga

Yoga is a good way to let positive energy flow through your body. An effective routine not only makes your body supple but also your mind. Calming yoga helps in the short term to let go of all negativity in the activity itself, in the long term you will notice that it has a lasting stabilizing effect.

15.              Ask questions

On your mind, your heart, your soul, your loved ones, perhaps a higher power; it doesn't matter who or what you ask your questions to but ask them. Only by asking questions can you find answers and find out the causes of your anxiety.

16.              Breath

Your breathing is a powerful means of releasing you from anxiety. When we are anxious it often becomes very irregular and superficial; the breath almost literally catches in your throat. Just let it go completely. Breathe in and out deeply and focus purely on the physical act of breathing. This ensures that you stay in the here and now and can observe yourself better.

17.              Visualize the future

Visualize a future in which you are anxious less, in which you are no longer bothered by irrational negative emotions. The more you imagine the future, the more you will act to actually realize this future for yourself.

18.              Religious? Talk to God

Make regular contact with your God, present your anxiety, and trust that He will take care of it. Know that He will be with you in dark times and that He will give you the strength to continue.

19.              Be grateful

Gratitude is a powerful weapon to fight an emotion like anxiety. Be consciously grateful for everything that goes well in your life, the positive things, and dear people around you. Fill your heart with this gratitude and consciously stay close to this feeling.

20.              Take a break

If you feel an anxiety or panic attack coming on, take a break immediately. Have a cup of coffee, go outside, and go for a walk or contact a friend. It is necessary to distance yourself. Sometimes you need a relatively long break if the anxiety is deep and started at a young age. Then you may have to distance yourself from a job or a relationship for a longer period. In any case, do what is right for you. Only you can determine this.

Conclusion:

I hope you now understand what anxiety is. And How to overcome anxiety? That is the list that you can get started with today. You do not have to try everything at once. Choose one or two tips that you find interesting and put them into practice for a few days. Something not working. Then try something different. Do you notice a positive difference? Then go ahead with it. Good luck! Chick here to another article.

[fraudulence-paradox]

5/25/16

        I had a dream about her last night. One I’ve had before actually. For some reason I’m in K----y’s house and her mom tells me she’ll be right out. Her voice is normal, but somehow I can tell something is wrong. I’m just never sure what. The backdrop is all wrong too. I know I’m in her house, but something is wrong. The whole scene makes me uneasy. It may be the impossible geometry of how we’re standing on muddy dirt, even though I’m sure this is her living room, it may be how K----y always just appears, like the birthing of an orc, out of the shadows, likely from the mud, but this is where the dream always goes awry. I remember a text I received from her a few years back (in real life) where she told me that she’d gained some weight and didn’t want me to see her (I don’t really believe this—and even if it were true, I don’t think it would matter to me—but it stuck in my head somehow), but lo and behold, here she is in the dream. I think this is my subconscious’s way of making it okay that I’ll likely never see her again, because when I do in my dream she’s always hideous. In the particular dream I had last night, she is tall, and pear shaped. Shirtless, for some reason, but where there were well-proportioned breasts, there are scars, and clumps of cellulose. Her entire torso looks like a chewed up pile of pale gum. There are scars covering her. Stretch marks, and what appears to be evidence of a mastectomy. This monstrosity, perched on top of two proportionate, yet asymmetrical legs, which appear to be made of only cottage cheese, and opaque flesh-toned trash bags, as if someone filled two empty bread containers with different amounts of milk, and let them sit in the sun for days, until they finally became rancid enough to solidify and support the weight of the monstrous torso. Yet on top of this mess is her face, normal; untouched.

           At this point in the dream I still want what I presumably came to her house for. I want to have sex with her. With it. It disturbs me, but I wouldn’t say I have no idea why my brain makes this. I think it has something to do with our incredibly bizarre, wonderful, and first relationship.

           K----y was my first real girlfriend, after the whole Kr---- fiasco, it was nice to find a girl who wasn’t as manipulative, and seemed to really care about me. I was her first boyfriend too, which meant neither of us knew what to expect. K----y was my first everything. First kiss, first fuck, first hand holding. Our first kiss was in a movie theater, where we went to see The Lorax, our first date. I was 15, she was 14, so neither of us could drive. I remember her father picking us up, D--- I think his name was. He was a really cool guy. I don’t know if the stories he would tell while we were driving were true, or meant to impress or intimidate me. But they worked. Quite honestly, I would be absolutely fine with becoming like him. He seems to have done everything in the world. He has a job doing something secret for the government, I’m not sure what. His cover is that he’s a psychologist for the military, but I think it has something to to with government torture techniques. K----y told me once that for a year, while he was stationed in “Florida”, he kept telling her and her family about these cool lizards he kept seeing. K----y later learned that these lizards were only native to [redacted]. He was likely speaking in some sort of code to let his wife know where he was without officially breaking his clearance. K----y also told me once, that she had a distinct memory of being at the natural history museum with him around 2008, looking at dinosaur bones, when he received a call. It’s nature was regarding [redacted] being declassified, and how he and a lot of others may be in the public eye for something in them. I’m not sure if the papers were ever made public, but I put the pieces together.

           D---- R-- played piano, but only knew how to improvise, played Anne Frank’s father in his high school show, and told me that’s when he learned how to cry on command. He took K----y and me to the spy museum a few times, and told us how to best memorize your lore. He inexplicably knew Morse-code and several other ciphers by heart, and there was a lot about his life even K----y wasn’t allowed to know about. When he was young, he was heavily involved in a “ministry” that required him to cross the Mexican-American boarder several times a month to do god knows what just south of California. He also told me once that he was one of very few people in the world who knew the exact whereabouts of [redacted]. He was a sketchy dude, but in all the right ways. Basically, he’s what I hope to use my CYSE degree to become.

           But he picked us up that day, and drove us to the theater. It was my first time ever talking to him, so he didn’t try to impress me too hard. I guess he used his psych skills to deduce that the first time meeting your girlfriend’s father is intimidating enough without bragging about how dangerous and well connected you are. We got to the theater, and K----y and I took our seats. I have no memory of the movie whatsoever. Likely because I was so concerned with how sweaty my hand was, and how it was locked in hers, so I couldn’t wipe it off. Coincidentally, this was the same movie theater that several months in the future, K----y would give me two blow jobs in during a showing of Frankenweenie, but that day, I was worried about holding her hand. When the credits rolled, I knew it was time. I asked her if I could kiss her, because chicks dig consent, and she said yes. Then, we didn't kiss. We both looked at each other awkwardly, waiting for the other one to make their move, and neither of us did. We were 5 rows ahead of where future K----y would have my penis in her mouth, and we were worried about kissing before the lights turned on. K----y said, “what do we do?”, so I hit her with the suavest line I could come up with. “Well, let’s make like Nike, and.. just do it” and we kissed.

           The second our lips touched, I got a feeling a lot like how people describe meth. A huge dopamine rush that even now I look back on with envy. If kissing is a drug, it has the fastest tolerance of any of them. I’ve never felt such a rush in my entire life as I did the day I quoted a shoe company at my ex, and pushed my mouth onto her. This was really the beginning of a long string of lust filled relationships, where I chased the dragon that was that dopamine rush. I used to think about that kiss just to pass time. When I used to mow lawns with J---, sometimes in the gasoline scented afternoons I would forget about how big a hill was because I was so caught up in replaying that memory. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a physically intimate experience with anyone in the world that was quite like that moment. But I came close, and that was when I took her virginity.

           This was really the beginning of the end of our relationship, but I didn’t know that yet. From the first time she gave me a blowjob, or I fingered her we lost focus in any romance, and just chased sexual pleasure, but it what we had seemed fixable. But as soon as we started having sex, that was all we did. Really it was my fault. I kind of fucked up everything in that relationship, and I often wonder what things would be like if we never broke up, if we met at a time when I wasn’t so focused on fucking.

(Note from the future)

I don’t think I have that many regrets in my life, but if I have any, one of them is breaking up with her. It’s been almost 7 years and I still think about her at least a few times a month. Currently I’m even in a really good relationship with someone else, but I always wonder, “what if?”. I mean, there must be a reason things didn’t work out. And as the dream sequence from this entry, and future entries that will be posted will undoubtably note, the K----y I remember isn’t the one that exists any more. In my mind, she’s still the same person she was when we were dating… 7 years ago. But I know that isn’t her now. I’m not the same person I used to be, why should she be?

It’s more of a bizarre, chase for something that doesn’t exist anymore. When we first dated, we were both weird outcasts. Her, a quiet girl, sitting by pure chance, at my table in 9th grade history. Me, a weird, bombastic, eccentric nerdy guy. These days, I know almost nothing about her. I know she at one point worked at a grocery store near where I live, and I sometimes go there with the creepy, stalker, self-loathing hope that I’ll get a glance at her, but I’m not sure she even lives here anymore. The last thing I heard from her was that she was with someone she really loved; the way she talked about him made it seem like they would be married. Frankly, I hope that’s what happened. It’s what she deserves. But some horrible, degenerate part of my mind wishes that one day, I would wake up, back in 11th grade, and everything would go back to how it was. I was happy then. I was dating a girl whom no other has ever compared to, I had several close friends. I was depressed as all hell, sure, but at least then I was doing interesting things. I was in a few bands, I was at the absolute peak of my “making interesting art” phase, I even made short films all the time, and had aspirations about becoming a professional film maker. I was happy and naïve.

These days, I’m on what I consider the path to maximal happiness. I’m a Ph.D. student at a just okay university for my field, I just submitted a paper, and feel like I’m learning things at a depth I didn’t even know was possible, but something is missing. What K----y represents to me now isn’t what she is, it’s what I used to have. K----y isn’t just a girl I used to date. She isn’t a person whom I used to love, and a person whom I gave a piece of myself that I can never have back. She’s a symbol. And I know that’s completely unfair if she ever actually read this—no one wants to be someone else’s metaphor. I’d be fucking pissed if I was (well, I don’t know, maybe I’d be a little flattered that I lived in someone’s head rent-free, as they say). To me she’s a symbol of that happy, carefree time that was late high school. I was old enough to drive, but young enough not to have any real responsibilities. Maybe part of growing up is just accepting that your happiness peaked at a certain point, and there’s nothing you can do about that.

All of this is to say, it’s easier for me to personify the whole “spent youth” thing in someone I used to date—used to love—then it is to just accept it as it is. Many of the things I associate with her, I wasn’t even dating her for.  But loving her was just the most emotionally significant thing that occurred for me in high school, so it’s just what happened. I really do hope she’s happy.

When we broke up, I sent her a lengthy text message on my old keyboard-having phone. I wish I still had it, because I think it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever communicated to another human being (wow, pretentious much, [fraudulence-paradox]?). But the gist of it is something like:

 The whole universe started with the big bang

And there’s this theory that it will all end with a big crunch.

Time will reverse, and everything will go backward and everything you and I have ever done will repeat in reverse.

But then, it will get to the beginning, and the universe will start again.

So at some point, you and I will be back together, back in those first days when everything was beautiful

And even though everything happens again, and we just have to relive everything

I don’t think I would change a single thing

[top1course]

Basic Wing Chun Arm Conditioning Everyone Should Know – Bruce Lee JKD (IN DOOR)

Basic Wing Chun conditioning technique everyone should know, i’m going to show you a four different techniques and exercise that you can do, invention that you can condition your arm and your forehand, no I’ve seen Masters, where when a spa with someone just by, the Forum hitting someone else’s form, it broke, someone’s like their form, industrial conditioning, because most people they might condition out of boxes you know they sometimes get to fight, appear Knuckles that they they break their Knuckles because, boxer she’s a train with a glass, spartan martial art we like to condition, las Cruces, every part of the body, your finger is your elbow your, your full arm obviously forearm invention that’s a huge part of it, so one of the best exercise that you could do if you have a witch and dummy at home, is Tupac is it with a dummy, now quit you can do your phone give you all that stuff but you can also do exercises strictly just to condition, Your forearm, so some of my favorite is simple as simple as this, where you’re basically conditioning this part of your phone, right, now you know that’s not nothing like if I want to put a little bit more and see how this chick, right, or also decide, what should I conditioning this part of your forearm, pictures of ShopRite, like that or they can also be a wuss out, like that which is just part of your forearm right, and also do it like that, or also here you can also do it, cancel, like that, all this way to, point where you can make a shake, that much, right with your form, do human form it’s going to hurt, training with shin and I, we practice a couple drills and its eggs, Probably like it bruises like this pic from his form because I just know I don’t do anything but he’s a boy, it’s because it would have one condition, let me show you an other exercises you can do, he’s another one conditioning drill that you could do usually do with a partner and a Lotus from Charlie puth, instructor, it’s not to mention the basically practicing your cues out which is your, something like this like that, i like this right, come here and then you’ll go back up again, like that right and then go down, and then go back up here one, 2 and 3 and a ching chang, premier one, 2, m3, again, one, 2, + 3, getting one, 2, + 3, so one, 2, + 3 + 1, 2, and sweet, one, 2, so and hit with your boss, we’re both getting more with our, so I know it’s things in the beginning on conditioning it is like that at the end of this video I’m going to, Show you how what herb to use.

To actually to heal your bones and things like that, phone, bong, 2, 3, second one, 2, + 3, one, 2, and sweet, what is he getting really good like it’s Jason right so, agency it stinks right now, raleigh water, baby otter, baby otter, the right medicine on it, you can do so I can do it if we do it don’t do it do it like right bong, bone fungus, bone, home again, okay poem, no, and you also practice just as soon as you’re working your muscle right, all right there, . don’t cheat don’t do it like this, had that part this here don’t do it like this, this way, so I hear like that and then go down again, so you can do this hundreds of times, just weigh the bottom., f****** in a telephone, I’m like that right that’s it so quickly, exercises you can do, winter NAMM conditioning number 3 and that is Stone, hitting now this is not traditional Wing Chun, i can load it from a karate master, and this technique you got to be very very careful you want to unlikely in the beginning and you can get these Stones anywhere, i like you can usually should crap for something with like a smooth service, now when you get very very good they can hit like, prettyful Poundstone, i’m a beginner at a practice this, don’t hit it within different angles strikes on, list all into it like to just at first don’t hurt yourself is about getting yourself, so just feel like Lee, just like that, so you can do it from this way, and do it this way you going to do it or not, right into a punch that you can also do your finger, To hear that you’re doing a finger, here, here, your phone right there, idiot, right, so you get good, play look something like that so that’s the storm hitting now this make sure you don’t practice, do too much, a couple hundred times a day, but I’m telling you, i noticed just even a hit with the same Paula on it on a on a training partner, i punched something or hit the Quan, the same way, but because. Condition just my weapon, salt still hitting, is free in crowded anywhere, make sure I guess we’ll service so you don’t scratch yourself, don’t make sure when you are practicing, these on conditioning techniques and drills that you put, the right medicine on are used to dajjal which is this a brand that I use called Plum Dragon herbs, buy PNC, this is what I use you wanted use this, Before you practice, practice, okay so you just put it on your knuckles put on your forearm, and you still get bruises from practicing hitting dummy or your partner, make sure you also drop it on, you don’t just pop it on you got to wrap it, you got a robin make sure the medicine gets in you probably for 5 10 20 minutes you drop it, antenna, put some pressure on it, if you got some like a big like, almost like, i like a cake or something you want to drop it, and you can see overtime this is from the HOA iron Palm, formula, that when you use enough of it when you recover every single time he gets a little bit stronger so try to, a lot of you guys ask me what do I use, this is what I use to put a link below, But also practice safely again is not about getting her it’s about getting good.

You enjoy this video let me know how your training has been progressing you implemented what I’m teaching you and I, you watch a lot of my videos, comment below and say hey Dan great technique, i enjoy using it up in practicing for a few months let me know how it goes, if you’re the first time watching my video, make sure you subscribe below, turn on navigation buttons do you want to watch my other videos, play the Lanes on the left, i have hundreds and hundreds videos that you can watch, i’ll be enjoy this video until next time, be water my friend, divorce of my friend,

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[asnackdriver]

Tell me about one of the boys learning sign language for a deaf/HoH reader:)

They are all going to try their best to be fluent. I think it comes down to their approach to learning and technique.

Kylo would be very studious. He’ll have books and holofilms that show the different signs and the basics. He even has someone come in and teach him and a group of others how to sign after he’s mastered the basics. If he’s in a hurry or his hands are bandaged from wounds he’ll speak with you telepathically. Old habits die hard.

Paterson is going to immerse himself. He takes classes at the community college when he can. He goes out of his way to try and sign a few things with the passengers he knows are HoH/deaf. He watches youtube videos and tries to sign along when he’s at home. As a surprise one day, he signs your favorite poem to you.

Flip knew a few basics when you met him. He felt it would be useful for work when he was a beat cop to know a few basics out on patrol. When he met you he pulled his books back out and had you help him. He’s still learning but is a very eager student. Flip loves the fact that he can joke with you and no one is the wiser for it.

Clyde starts trying to learn and ends up getting frustrated. It’s awful hard to sign properly when you only have one hand. He got down on himself but he came up with a few adaptations that only you understand. He felt bad about not being able to sign properly but knew you’d understand. 

Pale tries to learn a few new signs here and there as he has time. He wants more than anything for you to feel like he give a shit about communicating with you even if he ain’t got the time to learn all at once. He makes sure he learns how to sign that you’re sexy and he can’t wait to fuck you.

Sackler tries to pick up a few things from this chick in his meeting. He gets a few books but, will get very frustrated if he can’t get the signs down right away. Be prepared to be patient and help him show him for the 10th time how to hold his fingers correctly.