#if i resolved to color it id never finish it

[bbb-bbbbbbb]

Now that you can no longer live sanely in this world anymore, perhaps pretending to know nothing and surrendering yourself is the optimal option…?

If you stare directly at reality, you’ll end up going blind! So do it in moderation (^_^ ♪

extras

[k-white]

Ok considering quite a few people are doing it I wanna do a "currently watching", "rewatching", "anticipating the most" too so here it

Currently Watching (order is based on the number of episode i have watched) its gonna be mostly generic opinion not too spoilery cuz if I went in the specific of the show this post would be as long as a freaking book cuz I have the ability to write too much:

1. Vice Versa ep.1: this just started 2 days ago, I really liked the first episode the pacing was good, the acting was good, the cinematography and the colors were stunning and the story really intrigues me cuz I am a suker for supernatural teamed BL's, also I am really happy that Sea has a main role, I really like him since 55:15(watch it it's such a good series not BL but it has amazing plot acting and characters) wich marked the start of my love for him (and Pawin but he is not in this show so lets move on) so I'm exited to see how it develops, also OhmNanon always stunning, Jimmy is a snack, I cant wait to see Neo and Victor was a beautiful surprise not gonna lie

2. Oh! My Sunshine Night ep.2: I like this, its a bit slow paced but still enjoiable, I really like Rain he is probably my fav out of the bunch at the 2 episode we shall see later on, I really enjoyed his interaction with Payou, Fluke still amazing like always and I am really liking Kim with his antisocial cold akward interactions he's cute, I feel tho that there are too many caracters and at the moment the screentime is a bit unbalanced.

3. Even Sun ep3. Well... its bad I am not gonna lie, it feels like a huge commercial for beaches in Thailand with BounPrem as MC and it did make me wanna travel to thai islands, back to the story tho its very confusing and this is due to the script wich is scattered and unfocused at best, and the translation errors that are a huge amount so much that sometimes you canto even understend what a character means, the acting is fine our boys are doing the most in my opinion but I also like Mek's actor, overal i am sitting trough this cuz I really missed BounPrem in a main role and am anticipating Between Us so much

4. Sky In Your Heart ep5. ok I still have to watch the latest episodes and its tied to my opinikn on the show, and it's such a booooring show its not interesting I don't like how the characters act, especially Fah, the acting is nice and the visuals are pretty(scenary a la ATOTS wich was the reason I was exited for this show) To be fair I was already pissed with Star In My Mind and i didn't really like the last 6 episodes of that show but I was expecting more from this since the trailer, sky between the 2 was the one I had some expectation for but was disappointed the most by. I'll finish it just cuz its very short and the episodes are not that long but I probably wont enjoy the ride.

5 Mama Gogo ep.6: I FREAKING LOVE THIS SHOW(not BL eaven tho the cast is mostly composed by man) its so funny, light and holesome and over the top with the characters and the interactions and its so amazing it brightens my day, but I already knew from the trailer that Id love it, all the characters are amazing and unique and each one is having their spotlight and they are so funny especially Drake's charcter, Earth's character and Lee's character also I really like Annie she is a bad Bitch and she knows it

6. My Seacret Love ep7. I really like this show at the moment is my comfort show easy simple not too dramatic with lovely characters and relationship the problem au to this point got resolved preatty quikly with good comunication wich I really appreciate and I like the development the characters had since episode 1... exept for Tim I don't like him his so wishiwashi with how he acts you dob't understand his motivs cuz not even him understand himself and he takes his best friend and his feelings for granted never reflecting on his own making it unberable for him.

7. Astrophile ep13. (again not BL) last show and the one I am almost done with cuz its relising bi weakly. I like it its more on the dramatic side compared to other shows on this list(tho the most dramatic one I watched latly is Triage and that is on a compleatly different level cuz its so good) back to the series, I like how they show how women get treated by the work industry and how the pressure from family can break a person life making them the sole sorce of income amd how it takes a tol on them, there is also kind of a love triangle wich I dont like personally but its very mellow and it only makes you simpatize more with the second leed(our beloved Off), Kim the protagonist is a very lovely lead both i character and in visuals(mister Bright hellow) also First is in this and I am a huge suker for him since Not Me(I practically binged the series his in)

This are all the series I am watching at the moment, for the ones acrually reading this you can see that there is no Unforgotten Nights and Love mechanics or Check Out wich are the most poluar ones at the moment but I am not one bit interested in eather of those for different reasons for UN its the same reaso as KinnPorche(wich I have not watched maybe one day ill sit trough it and start it but not at tis moment) and that is the mafia plot line wich I am not a fan of at all and you can say I am too sensitive and that its only a show but its my life i decide what i watch must be something I am sure I am gonna enjoy and mafia stories are not it, you can pin it on me being Italian and being tought to stand against it but still I am entitled to my opinions.

Rant aside, maybe I will update this in the future but I am not sure, I also have no idea enyone is eaven interested in this

Series I am rewatching.... none I have bearly the time to watch the ones airing at the moment with my work skejule imagine rewatching a hole show, none the less the one I am planning on rewatching is: The Umbrella Accademy wich is neather thai nor BL but its one of my favourites show of all time and I wanna rewatch all 3 seasons together, other than that I wanna make myself suffer cuz I wanna rewatch Together with me(only that no bad romance nor next chapter I refuse to go trough both of those messess I dont hate myself thanks) cuz I kinda miss thos 2 idiots Korn and Knock

Ok series I am exited to watch. Lets start with the ones that have a release date wich are just a couple

1. War of Y: so exited for this one the story seems very interesting, with them bringing the dark side of BL to light with 4 different stories and 4 different couples, tho I am scared they will all have a sud ending lets cross fingers to me beig paranoid

2. Love in the air: I'll be compleatly upfront for this I have not watched anything from Mame, no TharnType, no Dont Say No, no Love By Chance(tho I dont know if LBC is in fact written by Mame i havent check I am lazy) so take that I will be going in to this story completly blind, I havent watched the other shows cuz the I didnt loke the plot the interaction and the characters it was too problematic for me but this one sems to have potential even tho the plot written on Mydramalist was kinda cringy but the trailer sparked my interest so we shall see

Now for the ones that still have no date od release(this ones in no particular order)

1. The Eclipse: just the cast would be enough to make me watch this show( HELLOOO First, Khaotung, Neo, Pawin, Louis and AJ like yess take my time and my soul) if you put in also a cool and dark story with a élite school that seems to be killing its students and maybe a time loops I am sold

2.The hole Midnight series by GMMTV so Midnight Motel, Moonlight Chicken and Dirty Laundry all 3 trailers sold it to me with story and cast

3.basically half of the shows in the 2022 borderless from GMMTV I will not write them all down its too much take those four aspecially the eclipse cuz off all its the one I am most intrigued by

4.Wish Me Luck. Na and Fiat in a main role??? YESS PLEASE its about time(que in falsettos song) they gave this boys a main role and not just a support one they deserve it

5.Transplant. just literally discovered this first of all existed, cuz I dont keep up with Thai novels cuz I have 0 access to them, and its the sequel of Manner Of Death and its connected with Triage! ( I love Sammon she is my new Godeess with her connected universe with cool couples and bad guys) and its just been unnounced as MaxTull new project!! exited

6.Make a Wish anothe Summon story with doctora and angels with our boy Fluke Natouch

I am done!!! this was a lot of work to write and nobody is gonna read it LOL, still it was fun to do it and put on "paper" what I was thinking of this shows i am watching an shows i wanna watch hope someone find this eather usefull, interesting or funny

I hope you all have a nice day and until the next post stay healty amd hydrated kisses

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 5

Summary:

I once again expose myself for being into older men, and you and Woods go on your first date

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, age difference

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4 | Chpt 6 | Warnings: strong language and some age difference, in case you don't like that

“Anyway, can I help you with something?”

Your friendly voice and sweet smile pull him out of his thoughts. Frank looks down at you, and instantly lets his nerves get the better of him. This was a mistake from the beginning.

He looks away, attempting to mask his insecurities with a gruff exterior, “Uh, it’s nothing. Sorry, may-”

“Oh no no, it’s fine, really! I just have to deliver these papers and then I can be right with you”, you smile encouragingly, and then… he decides to stay. More due to the fact that he feels unable to say no to you rather than by his own resolve, however.

He’ll have to watch out for that.

So he waits. There’s exactly one other chair in your office, a squat cube shaped thing sitting on the other side of your desk. Clearly this is something you own and brought in, rather than a piece of furniture that was given to you like that plain old black office chair behind your desk. The chair looks like it was brightly colored once, and smacks of something salvaged from the early 70s and dragged into the modern era. Still, it’s rather comfortable despite the faded, slightly sagging state of it.

Frank traces his fingers up and down the angular arm rest, thinking of you. You know, now that he’s had the chance to look around… There’s actually quite a few things of the past in here. He sees a bulky old camera and even a typewriter tastefully displayed amongst a few other nik naks on your shelves, both of which look like they were rolled out around the time he was just a child.

For a moment, he feels uncomfortable again and far too old to be trying something like this with you. But then, the anxiety is washed away with the musing that perhaps…. You like old things.

He can’t help but huff a laugh at that. A wishful thought on his part, maybe, and yet… not completely untrue.

“What’s so funny?”, your curious voice pulls him out of his thoughts as you suppress a small laugh of your own.

“Huh? Oh, nothing just… That camera’s gotta be older than I am”, he chuckles and points to the black box of a thing just above you. “What are you doing with a piece of junk like that anyway?”, he laughs.

You gasp in mock hurt, “It’s not junk! It works!” Suddenly you seem to grow quite excited, trotting up to retrieve the object in question. Cradling it carefully, you swing around your desk and take a seat on the hardwood, showing off your treasure, “This is a Kodak Cartridge Hawk-Eye from 1926!” You enunciate the date excitedly as though it were a relic from the dinosaur days, meanwhile all Woods can think of is that that was only a mere four years before he was born.

For a few minutes longer, you go on giving a whole info dump on all you know about the little device, wave upon wave of building excitement adding to your voice and before long, Frank finds himself being swept up in it all. No offence, but… he really doesn’t give a single fuck about the camera. But, the way it has you grinning bright as sunshine. The electric spark in your eyes. The way you give his arm a gentle touch to brace him for what you seem to think is a very riveting fact…

He would listen to you talk about that damn thing all day, just to see you like this.

Before he knows it, the lecture is over and he couldn’t be more disappointed. You shake your head, just now realizing you’ve gone off on a tangent once again. “Ugh, sorry…”, you laugh it off and go to put it away, “I just get so excited about my antiques. I love that stuff, you know? Anyway, before I go off again… What was it you wanted to see me for?”

Suddenly, Frank can feel his heart clench tight. He had almost forgotten why he came, and now… he’s wishing you would’ve too.

“Oh? Uh, why… Why did I-? Uh… Yeah, um, so-”

Damn it! He never thought he’d say this, but he’d rather be in a gunfight right now. Anything then this… juvenile, high school shit. You’ve since returned to your spot on the edge of your desk. Despite his highly suspicious stuttering, your expression remains polite and even encouraging as you wait for him to formulate a coherent sentence.

While his mind reels for some sort of excuse, anything to get him out of this situation he’s dug for himself, his nervous gaze lands on the very last thing it needs to right now. Your eyes are glittering in this afternoon light. Do you know that?, he thinks. You’ve locked eyes right back at him, but the situation is anything but awkward. He appreciates the way that you aren’t afraid of him. That you’re willing to show him patience and understanding… Like he’s a fucking human being, instead of some crazy old veteran that you’re just indulging until you can finally get rid of him.

The longer he looks back at you, the more and more he can feel the tension melting out of him. Each muscle in his body slowly but surely unclenches, allowing him to relax at last as he leans back into his seat. He can’t lie to you. You don’t deserve that.

Damn it…

Frank breaks eye contact at last. He flexes his hand gently, working out the nervous energy, as he makes a fist. “I uh… I was just wondering if, maybe… you wanted to get coffee sometime…”

Immediately he braces for… well, he’s not sure what exactly, but rejection for sure. He closes his eyes so he can’t see the disgusted face you must be making, and all the muscles he’d just set at ease jump back into bands of iron across his chest, tensed so tight, he feels like his heart might stop. It’s only been a few seconds, but it feels like years have passed when you finally respond…

“Sure! What time would work for you?”

His eyes snap open as he jerks his head around to look at you, not entirely sure he heard you right. But then… there’s that same, sunny smile and electrified eyes that tell him you mean it.

“I-I uh…”, and just like that, he snaps out of it. Woods sits up straight, fixing a strand of hair that’s strayed from its place, and grinning excitedly himself. He hasn’t felt like this in… years. “W-well what time would work for you? I’m sure as shit not doing anything”, he laughs.

You think for a moment, “Oh! Say, do you go for a run on Saturdays too?”

Pft, not lately. “Yeah! Why?”

You light up, “Great! Tell you what, let's meet up and we can go for a run together then hit that coffee shop we met at last time. Would that be alright? Could be fun!”

As though you even needed to ask, he’s already agreeing. The two of you make some more concrete plans like the wheres and whens specifically before preparing to head your separate ways. You stop him and scribble down your number on a torn sheet of paper. “Just in case”, you smile. “And hey… Loser pays”, you break out into laughter.

“Oh yeah?”, he smiles back, “Don’t think I’ll go fucking easy on you!”, he calls, half way down the hall by now as you wave him off.

When you’ve retreated out of sight, Woods takes a look around. Alone again. Good. He reaches into his pocket and gingerly retrieves the slip of paper. Over and over again he reads and re-reads the chicken scratch handwriting you’ve produced. To him, it’s wonderful.

By the time he gets to his car, he feels like he knows that number better than his own dog tag ID. He slips the precious sheet into his wallet, the first of a few select reminders of you that he’ll keep safe in there.

As the few short days go by, he waits restlessly until he can see you again. And finally… Finally, Saturday morning comes.

5:26 am, and he’s up before his alarm. He doesn’t even need to check the digital clock to see what day it is. He already knows as he jumps out of bed and races to get ready. In no time at all he meets you early at the nearby park you agreed to meet at. You’ve come prepared in your high tops, short shorts, and nylon catsuit. Stylish and modern, but thankfully not as over the top as what the fashion industry would have you in.

It takes every ounce of willpower within him to keep his eyes up.

“Ready?”, you stretch your arms up high, only accentuating your body as you do so.

Frank can feel himself turning red as he status out an affirmative, earning… is that a smirk? from you.

“Alright then, ready… set…”, without warning you bolt off for a head start.

“Hey!”

He wants to be mad, but… He’s just having too much fun, damn it. About half way through, it’s a fair race, and although he’s beating you it’s not by that much. Once he’s proved to himself that he’s still got it, Woods allows himself to fall back, giving you the ego boost you need to stick it out and sprint to the finish, tired as you are.

Frank trots to a stop behind you shortly, only slightly more out of breath then you are. He may have let you win, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t give him hell in the first half.

“Cheater”, you give his shoulder a light punch and a knowing look.

“Me?”, he laughs, ignoring the accusation that he would ever let someone else beat him in a competition, “What do you call that stun at the start?”

You merely laugh, wiping some sweat from your brow as you head towards the door of the coffee shop. The bell chimes as you enter and walk up to the counter together. You place your orders, and Frank pays. You wait in silence for your orders, merely taking the time to completely catch your breath.

Drinks and breakfast in hand, you sit by the large bay windows together. The sun has just peeked over the horizon, filling the room with a golden glow. A halo of light shines around you, catching every perfect curve and angle you have to offer as you grace him with your presence. The food and coffees are nearly forgotten as you both get caught up talking about everything and nothing all at once. Conversation topics turn and change like leaves in the wind, easily transitioning from one to the other as you slowly yet surely get to really know one another.

Frank is on the edge of his seat, waiting eagerly to hear what you have to say next as he talks with you. It’s the most excited he’s been to hear someone else drone on and on in his entire life. By the time you’re both feeling talked out, the sun is well on it’s way to rising and the morning dew has since evaporated.

But, it doesn’t matter. How could he ever feel time was wasted when it was spent with you?

The two of you walk back towards the park, making sure to take it slow so you can get the most out of what little time you have left together.

“And then I said, ‘Looks don't count for shit in the jungle. This is 'Nam baby!’ “

You burst out laughing, “Did you really? And then what happened!”

He grins, “Well, the- Oh, wait, we’re uh, we’re here…”

The two of you stop at the edge of the parking lot. It’s practically empty aside from your lone car only a stone’s throw away. At that, the mirth seeps from you as well as you agree.

“Well… I guess… thanks. I had fun, you know”, Frank turns to face you, hoping more than anything that you enjoyed yourself as well.

“Yeah, me too!”, that familiar little smile that he’s grown so fond of slowly makes its way back. “Maybe… Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Besides,”, you act on a jolt of courage, stretching up on the tips of your toes to press a little kiss to his rough, stubbly cheek, “you have to tell me the rest of your story”

You lick your lip and give it a little nervous bite as you shyly take his hand in yours for comfort.. It feels huge, more like a bear paw than a human hand, compared to yours. “Well… See you later…”, you turn and begin to back away, holding his hand until you can no longer reach, forcing you to let go. You offer him one last smile, but all he can do is stand there, frozen amongst a roar of emotions.

Woods lifts a hand to his cheek, reverently caressing the spot your lips touched. The depth, breadth, and complexity of feeling circling in his mind are far too much for him to ever put into words. But, out of them all, one rings out loud and clear. He’s so, so…

Happy.

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 2936

oh mein gott zis schoolvork is full of brainenkillen

"this is the story of how i died" <- every grad student ever

i'm so tired my brain could fall out and i wouldn't notice

my day was fine! great! until i got to joel's and checked my email and saw that discover still didn't have my information updated, so i called them and they checked the national student clearinghouse and northeastern still hadn't updated it, so o had to call northeastern, and i waited on the phone for a half an hour when i needed to be doing my homework, so i was upset and crying and anxious and stressed so i called my mom and told her and gave her the phone number and my ID number because i didn't have the time to be doing that because i literally didn't have the time for it because of my assignments, and i did my best to stop stressing and like, stop feeling guilty because my sister offered to make the payments that discover has charged to my account even though i'm in school, and that makes me feel bad because i'm always the one who needs help because i make no money and i'm broke and i have so many problems and i can't afford any of them never mind fix them, so i had to stop thinking about that and the best way of doing that besides napping, i've discovered, is reading about terrorism, which - great news! - was something i needed to do anyway! so i read a little before class and i was in class and lamented my woes to my classmates and professor and he said "if there was one person i could call for you, who would it be? i may have one silver bullet to shoot" and i almost cried because i love this guy, he's an excellent professor and he's kind and understanding and so so helpful and he's gonna talk to my advisor who is also not responding to me to see if she can call the people who can change my verification status and hopefully that'll be resolved tomorrow because this sword is hanging over my head and it's gonna fuckin hurt to the tune of $2500 if i don't get it done asap, which, HA, i don't have because i'm broke as fuck.

i was able to finish my discussion board post after class, even though i ended up missing game tonight because i was working on it. i think it's good. it's long, but it's good. it's organized and it flows well. it's well-divided. blah.

i just wanna sleep for a million years. i've been such a mess today, i feel like i deserve it.

i want cuddles from the joel. he's still up working on something, but i hope he comes and hugs me soon. i require affection.

but i did get to tell my therapist this morning that i like the person i am, and that i've accepted my disabilities and illnesses as part of who i am, that they've shaped the person i am now and that i'm not worse for it, but that i'm better for it and stronger for acknowledging it as opposed to letting it take me over. so that's good.

and momma got me some more color today, for my wardrobe, and i gotta also figure out if i'm gonna be able to go on vacation with my momma or not. i may go for a few days and come back. i think that'll be good.

[pla-teau]

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER: THE STAR-SPANGLED MAN

i’m late to this but watching episode two of the falcon and winter soldier was a ride. a necessary one in my view for the sake of understanding where sam and bucky are in this world.

from episode one to this episode, race is a lingering blanket throughout our time seeing the pair on screen (minus the action sequences and their banter). bucky constantly telling sam that he should’ve kept the shield annoyed me because i wanted sam to explode. i wanted him to unload and explicitly tell him his reasons for not keeping the shield. we saw in endgame that sam was uncomfortable holding the shield when steve passed it on to him. not that he felt unworthy but he knows the implications of the shield, the legacy it holds and the magnitude of that symbol in the usa. he knows that the history is associated with a white man for decades. at the beginning, steve is used as propaganda by the government for the war before he really grows into his own and even goes against the same government that propped him up to be this heroic symbol. sam, as an african american man, knows struggles that steve never had to face all due to the color of his skin. we don’t know specifics about his time in the military besides what we learned in winter soldier but i don’t doubt that sam had obstacles thrown at him in that environment. now, mixing in his struggles and knowing the implications of him carrying that shield, it’s understandable why sam gave back the shield. this isn’t wakanda, this is america and america doesn’t have a good track record with it’s non-white citizens - especially the african american community.

we learn in episode two that there’s a much darker history associated with captain america when we meet isaiah bradley. to me, the erased history and mistreatment of isaiah speaks to the fact that the government always wanted to keep captain america as a white man. captain america is supposed to be the all-american man who loves his country. as a hispanic woman, when i hear all-american man, my mind pictures a white man first because that’s what i’ve been conditioned to think through imagery and from simply growing up in this country. since the mcu mirrors our world, this is definitely the case when it comes to captain america because that’s the only iteration anyone’s seen or heard of. we learn that isaiah fought bucky and won that fight. to date, i don’t think anyone’s come close to defeating bucky when he was the winter soldier. the fact that isaiah did that and was jailed for 30 years in return for serving his government is explicit enough for us to know that the government doesn’t want a black captain america. and the fact that bucky never told steve about isaiah speaks volumes. if bucky told steve, i don’t doubt steve would’ve tried to do right by him. what that would’ve been, we’ll never know. bucky had this information and while his reasoning was that he was sparing isaiah, quite frankly - it’s not a good enough reason. he hurt both sam and isaiah when they visited his house. he used isaiah to physically show sam that he’s not the first black man the government has set up to fail. what angered me about that scene was that isaiah could’ve been spared by bucky just telling sam about him instead of taking him to his house. if he knows that isaiah doesn’t want that trudged up again, why do it to prove a point? i don’t doubt that had bucky just told sam about isaiah, he would’ve believed him. i think sam and isaiah’s first meeting would’ve been different and on sam’s terms, not bucky’s.

bucky, of course, doesn’t understand sam’s reasons for giving back the shield and that’s the fucking point. how could bucky understand as a white man? sam not explaining himself and keeping his composure whenever bucky lectures him on why he shouldn’t have given back the shield speaks volumes. sam’s reasons are his own and frankly, doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. because explaining it to bucky would be pointless. bucky doesn’t understand what sam’s gone through in life and yeah maybe he sees sam as the next captain america because steve said so along with the fact that he’s a good man which brings me to my next point.

a good man. that’s what made the serum work on steve. steve was a good man at the end of the day. we the audience, the avengers and steve’s friends/comrades know that captain america is not just a star spangled man fighting for the good ol’ us of a, it’s a good man that fights for what’s right. that’s why steve gave the shield to sam because he knows sam is a good man that’ll continue the legacy of fighting the good fight and not necessarily for the government or for those in charge. so sam’s comment in the therapy scene about steve and bucky never understanding is not wrong because while they see the legacy being carried by sam as the right choice, it’s wishful thinking that everything would be fine and that the whole world would be okay with it. i say wishful thinking because it’s easy to think that things wouldn’t change and everyone will accept sam as the new captain america when you don’t think about the struggles sam has faced in his life. when you’re in a place of privilege, you can afford to be a little idealistic because you don’t face or rarely see the injustices to poc/ minorities so you can afford to believe the world will be accepting of what you see as common sense or that the world will treat poc with basic human decency.

when bucky shares his fears of steve being wrong about him if he was wrong about sam and sam asks him if he’s finished also says a lot. that interaction just proves what i said earlier, bucky (and steve) is being idealistic in thinking there would be no questions asked and the world would be fine with sam carrying the shield. when sam says “are you finished?” it’s relatable because it’s representative of poc listening to white people throw a fit about something they’ve never experienced and can’t fully understand.

the scene with them and the cops also shows that bucky has a lot to learn about where sam is coming from and why he returned that shield. out of costume, apparently no one knows sam is the falcon. when i say no one, i mean those with authority (bank and cops so far) because what they see first is a black man and a superhero second. while for steve it seems that everyone saw him as captain america first and steve rogers second. seeing how before they apologize to sam for not recognizing him the officer had his hand on his gun vs. how they tell bucky that he’s under arrest gently and calmly should be a wake up call for buck. he’s one of the world’s most dangerous assassins and they’re just like “oh hey...there’s an arrest out for you because you missed therapy sorry.” is aggravating but the worst part is bucky telling sam to show him his ID, being idealistic in thinking that the situation would be resolved once sam formally identifies himself. that shows buck still has a long way to go because not realizing and thinking that being cooperative and doing what authorities say will resolve the situation is in fact hurtful to sam since he doesn’t know that even cooperating and doing as told will do nothing if that authority figure already has a bias going into that situation.

all in all, the main point for my essay-like post is that while bucky and steve see sam as their equal and the best choice to carry on the legacy, the rest of the world may not necessarily agree and they miss that due to their vastly different experiences in life than sam. i truly despised the way endgame did steve with his arc because it would’ve been great seeing him retired and adjusting to current life but also learning about the darker history and implications of the shield since now the show confirms steve knew nothing. i would imagine steve trying to do right with not only isaiah but sam as well by simply being an advocate and trying to understand how life is different for sam. i hope in future episodes we see bucky try to understand this and even fix his own biases and actions that are harmful rather than helpful to sam. i also just can’t wait to see more of sam’s story being fleshed out and seeing him take on the mantle.

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 6 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“When’s your birthday, Sasuke?” Naruto asked unprompted. He was eating an onigiri in one hand and writing in a notebook with another. “Captain Haru gave me a journal and told me to fill in the dates.”

“Why are you treating it like a slam book?”

“What’s a slam book? Why are you even changing the topic?”

“July 23.”

Naruto went silent for a moment as he jotted down Sasuke’s name. “Oh, last week? During our sleepover?”

“You mean, hostage sleepover.”

“Ah shit. We didn’t get you a present. Sorry, grumpy.” Naruto’s face was sincerely apologetic and Sasuke was on the verge of nonchalantly assuring him that it was all right when he heard his following reply. “But make sure you get me one okay. It will be on October 10.”

“I wish I was allowed to physically harm you right now but your training next week will suffice,” Sasuke jested right back. “I’ll put in a word with Haru to make you suffer.” He would have said more clapbacks if they didn’t hear loud footsteps running their way.

Their two heads popped just a few inches above the bushes that lined behind the fence and saw a disheveled Sakura catching her breath with bent knees and her arms full of folders. Sasuke surmised she might have come from a council meeting.

“It’s Sakura – “ Sasuke covered Naruto’s loud mouth with his palm.

Her phone rang inside her skirt’s pockets, and her expression panicked when she saw the caller id. The folders fumbled out of her grasp when she answered it. “Oh hello, Kakashi-sensei.”

Both the boys’ brows raised in curiosity when her voice went a pitch higher.

“Ah, I’m actually out of the campus right now, Sensei. Got an errand to run. I’ll see you for consultations…..soon?” Then she ended the call. They all heard another set of footsteps nearing their location, and Sakura repeatedly said I’m screwed to herself.

Naruto wrestled out of Sasuke’s headlock and pulled a surprised Sakura inside their hiding place. The latter grumbled but quickly gathered the folders from the ground and followed suit. Three heads now looked over the bushes, and true enough, Kakashi appeared in the clearing with his phone in his hand. “That’s funny. I thought I heard her voice here.”

When they were sure he was out of their sight and earshot, Sasuke signaled a thumbs up, and Naruto, not missing a beat, started with the obvious question. “Why are you hiding from our mathematics teacher?”

Sakura blushed with intensity, her cheeks the color of cherry tomatoes with a ripeness Sasuke liked the most. She flushed so intensely she couldn’t hide it for her sake. The thought of wanting to have that kind of privilege crossed his mind. “Uh, he wanted a report from me, but I wasn’t able to finish it.” Like the self-aware person that she was, she immediately got her bearings and recognized the place. “This is behind the library.”

“It’s Sasuke’s favorite hiding place until I barged in. And now, it’s yours too.” Naruto grinned at her even when he just revealed this place’s existence to their student council president.

“Shouldn’t you be asking me permission first?” Sasuke arranged the folders first before returning them to Sakura who seemed to calm down a bit.

She laughed dryly. “Technically, it’s public property so we don’t need your permission…grumpy.”

Naruto erupted in laughter while Sasuke closed his eyes in annoyance. Two loud-mouths in what was supposed to be in his safe space and yet all he felt was just mild annoyance. Stopping his thoughts before they ran him aground, he rummaged through their storage bin and found an extra sandwich he bought this morning and the last pack of his cherry tomato juice.

He passed the food to her and gave her a little bit of scolding. “At least have your lunch first before making fun of me.”

“You’re really giving her a tomato juice?” Naruto never could hide his disgust for certain food. “Don’t tell me this is your rite of passage.”

Sasuke glared at the blonde, forcing him to shut up. “Bring any more people here, and I’ll tell your captain to drag you to hell.” That wasn’t so difficult, given that Haru has taken a liking to him, for what he didn’t know. He just treated him like a big brother would, like Itachi would.

Sakura took a sip in the middle of their banter, and she emitted a surprised sound. “So this is what it tasted like? It’s actually good.”

That was the first time someone liked what he liked, and he vaguely realized he was waiting for her opinion. With that, he had trouble suppressing the smile that started to form on his face, so he looked away and mustered his focus on the nearby yells of a practicing dragonboat team.

“Oh, I forgot, belated happy birthday Sasuke.”

He strengthened his resolve not to turn his head just as quickly because he was sure the shock was visible in his face. He was so taken aback he didn’t hear Naruto ask Sakura where she learned of it.

“I came across our class records during the meeting and saw the date. Sucks we weren’t able to get you a present. Anyway, I gotta run. I have another presentation to the principal for a personal project.” Sakura finished off her sandwich in one bite and ran out of the secluded space.

Naruto stared after her disappearing figure, the bunched-up juice carton and sandwich wrapper in his hands. “I should make her a decent lunch sometime. I don’t think she’s eating well.”

But Sasuke had another observation in mind. “Why didn’t you ask for her birthday?”

“I know already. I asked Hinata about it.”

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

Sakura tried to catch up with the baseball captain in the seniors’ hallways before she would lose him to his after classes dates with Hinata. “Haru, wait up please.”

His brown hair has grown longer to hide his undercut which Naruto wanted to replicate as he often mentioned in between their conversations in classes. It was actually a wonder how the usually demure Hinata gravitated towards Haru who had a strong personality. His annoyed gaze softened when he realized it was her calling him, his smile turning into a wide grin as she raced through the halls.

“No running, Ms. President,” he chided.

Sakura playfully punched his shoulder, her fist’s impact light as she struggled to catch her breath. “Can I at least have some of your time? I promise I won’t take long.”

The captain’s face took on an incredulous look. “How the tables have turned.”

They found themselves on a rooftop, away from the incidental eavesdroppers (if there were any), and moreover they needed some quiet space to talk about important matters. The first of which was the baseball team’s finances.

“I gotta hand this to you rather straightforwardly. The board didn’t foresee your qualification in the preliminaries hence they didn’t allot a big budget for your team – not for training, not for travel expenses, not for uniforms, and miscellaneous expenses.” He towered over her, her height a third short from his shoulders, but when he hunched them forward and leaned against the railings, he was almost shoulder to shoulder with her. “So what are your plans?”

Back in junior high, he would often ruffle her hair out of her immaculate ponytail, and this closeness wasn’t really odd because they were from the same town and grew on the same block. Distance just crept in as they made more friends and entered different circles.

“My personal savings,” Haru simply replied. “Our coach will chip in half of our projected expenses so we’re good to go.”

Sakura sighed. “As always, you don’t like to rely on anyone.”

“We’re not really too far from each other, Sakura. So what’s your plan anyway?” Haru turned with his back this time against the railing.

“Pass-the-Hat.”

Haru nodded. “And your savings.”

Sakura shook her head vehemently. “Hell no.”

“Gears are turning in your head, and I can see you’ll fill in a part with your savings. Stop it, Haruno.”

“I’m telling you, I won’t give you a part of my savings. Anyway – “

“Anyway? There’s more?” Haru hastily looked at his watch to check the time, almost formed a reply, and thought better of it, hiding his wrist from his view.

“I saw your career sheet form. You know you could always try to apply for an athletic scholarship, right?” If she can hazard a guess, Haru may not be planning at all to proceed to college. He always has his father’s fishing business to take over back in their town.

“No association would vet for a player who only qualified for prelims on his senior year.” Haru playfully ruffled her hair, the gesture she thought was once forgotten between them. “So don’t feel sorry for me. I already have Hinata to deal with.”

“You sound so pessimistic when you’re just going away for a year until she decides to follow you. Your story’s almost like a fairytale,” Sakura scoffed.

“First of all, long distance relationships don’t work and second and last of all, there’s her father to think about.” Haru let out a long sigh. “Believe me, Sakura, I want to make it work, but I feel like the distance between us had already set in even before I go.”

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

Haru was right. While Pass-the-Hat garnered lots of amounts enough to shoulder the logistics of the training of the baseball team before the semis, there wasn’t enough to pay for their new equipment. She could ask the teachers, but she knew Haru and the coach have already asked for prior favors. At the last minute before the trip got cancelled, Sakura anonymously put in two-thirds of her savings into the donations pool which the captain got wind of and somehow reached Kakashi.

While she was successful in avoiding him for the first few days of the school trip while Naruto and his team was in Fukuoka, he caught her alone as she was reading the markers outside the walls of a castle.

“Haruno Sakura.” His voice startled her. She turned around, like a good student that she was, and waved a bit too enthusiastically. “Mind telling me why you won’t talk to me outside of our council meetings? Did I say any directive that offended you or overworked you? I need to have an open communication with you kids.”

Kids. “Ah, I was just a little busy these past weeks,” Sakura assured him. She nervously fidgeted with his rubber band that was still on her wrist. His eyes followed her movements, and she hid them quickly behind her back, afraid of what he would say if he realized.

“I heard from the principal that he greenlighted your personal project, and that you will be presenting this to the board next week for a possible funding. You accomplished that on top of the feats you pulled to bring the baseball team to the semis.” As Kakashi recounted her accomplishments, she couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks. She was finding it difficult to say an excuse right now. “So I’m returning your personal donation.”

Sakura stared at him directly, never mind the raven irises that drowned her in undivided attention. “What?” He smiled, highlighting even more his mole, and she gasped, breathless at the sight.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over these things. You’re too young for this. I’ll have the funds downloaded to your bank, all right.” Kakashi patted her head softly and disappeared in the meandering crowds.

She slapped the rubber band against the thin skin of her wrist repeatedly. She didn’t know whether she should feel grateful that her savings were back or feel angry that she was patronized because of her age. Didn’t Kakashi know that teenagers grow up faster than their actual age and that she had every right to worry her pretty head? When will he start seeing her as she was?

Her self-deprecating thoughts ran awry when someone took hold of her wrist that has gone red from the slap of the rubber band.

For someone who alternated between being grim-faced or stoic, Sasuke’s hand was gentle and kind. She knew that ever since she saw him in the café, all the good things in him seeping out through cracks in his wall. Right now, she knew he was worried about the supportless baseball team.

“They’re losing, aren’t they?” Sakura suppressed the overwhelming emotions from her earlier interaction with Kakashi and concocted a plan in her head.

She coordinated with the guides and had them add a stop at the baseball field at Fukuoka for one last hurrah for the team.

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

Thirty minutes later, their school witnessed how the top teams decimated Naruto’s team. No innings won, batters relentless, and Haru got injured. Sakura, sensing the dampened atmosphere among the student body, rallied yells, earning surprised looks from the team members.

Through the crowds, Sasuke saw Hinata, her fingers twirling the ends of her long braid, and her eyes scanning the place for her boyfriend…until her gaze shifted to Naruto. He traversed the space to stand beside her, breaking his own rule to remain uninvolved in other people’s affairs.

But he owed this to Naruto and Haru who never failed to include him in after practice dinners and effectively kept the gaping depression in his apartment away.

“Your boyfriend has a broken arm, but you’re looking at Naruto.” He said, even before he could announce his presence to her.

Hinata turned her face to him and repeated his words. “My boyfriend has a broken arm but I cannot look at broken limbs for too long. Thanks for pointing that out.”

“There’s a second statement after my but.”

“Hmm, my eyes just probably gravitated to him unknowingly. But it couldn’t be helped, right? He just has this bright, sunshine energy.” Hinata shrugged, seemingly confused by her words as well.

Sasuke wanted to prod more but her eyes narrowed at something behind him. When he glanced back, he saw Sakura stood in tiptoes as she hugged a downtrodden Naruto. If he wasn’t so sad, he would have blushed and awkwardly pushed his crush away, but for this instance, he choked back his sobs and eventually cried on her shoulder.

“Maybe the student council can also support other teams which are gearing up for nationals. You may suffer backlash if favoritism becomes obvious.”

He scoffed at Hinata’s advice. “I’ll tell our student council president that.”

Sasuke made his way to the blonde and pinkette, his arms engulfing both of their heads in a very rare hug. He felt Sakura stiffen beneath him while Naruto changed shoulders and cried openly against Sasuke’s shirt.

This he didn’t mind, as long as both of their faces were hidden from her view.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 7

[sdv-mostly-shane]

ID- photo of a christmas tree farm with colorful, twinkling lights, with text written on it 'the one where Shane is Charlie Brown'

The One Where Shane is Charlie Brown.

Summary - Shane’s past Christmas sux and isn’t expecting much, but the farmer has other ideas regarding a certain holiday tradition. (Slight NSFW).

“What do you *mean* you’ve never had a real Christmas tree?” The farmer, incredulous, darted at Shane as they sat with their legs dangling above the frozen lake.

“What, like you’re surprised? I don’t know, there’s just never been a need.”

“How could you not need-but Jas?”

“She has a little purple fake one in her room. And you know how much Marnie dislikes the holidays, decorating would just remind her that she is stuck being alone for all but three minutes at midnight. Why would she want a tree?”

“What about when you were little?” Shane saw the look in the farmers eye soften, but couldn’t quite catch them to make direct contact, as they turned away-they’ve had enough conversations of his childhood at this point for him to know what the farmer was feeling, and why they were intent on staring ahead at nothing instead of looking at him.

“C’mon, you know how it was... it’s not important. Hey, let’s get those skates on, alright? I want to see your butt on that ice and a smile on your face.” Shane gently grabbed the farmers chin, turning them to look at him. “Hey. Relax-I got you now, right? Weren’t you the one who said ‘forget your shitty childhood, I’m making you all new Christmas memories myself!’, right? Or was that just an empty threat?

“Threat! Ha, you just wait-and I’m gonna start by skating circles around you!” The farmer shot up, and made to put on their skates, run-hoping to the edge of the ice, nearly falling over themselves in the excitement. Shane was so busy enjoying the farmers joy that he almost didn’t hear them mumble-“and then we’re coming right back out here tomorrow morning to get you a *real* tree”.

He was fooling himself if he said he wasn’t a little curious by what they meant. Right now, however, it was enough for Shane to simply enjoy the fact that the snowy weather meant that the farmer had more reason to snuggle up against him to keep warm. He didn’t need any other Christmas memories. The farmer was enough.

“Loser has to clean the chicken coop!”

___________________________________________

Apparently the farmer wasn’t kidding. Shane was woken by the clunking of heavy boots marching around the kitchen, and stumbled into the room to find the farmer clamoring around the stove, whisk in one hand, and axe in the other.

“That’s a new way of making scrambled eggs” Shane nodded toward the axe.

“OH. Hi. I didn’t mean to wake you-here, eat breakfast. We got a big day ahead.”

Shane, feigning ignorance, said “Is it something to do with the axe?”

“How’d you guess?” The farmer winked, handed the plate to Shane, who had groggily plonked himself at the table, and then continued their running about the kitchen, shuffling and shoveling things into their backpack. They smiled as they picked up two masses of deeply hued green wool, and stopped to admire the chunky knit work.

“What’re those for?”

The farmer turned toward Shane with round innocent eyes-“I thought we could match.”

___________________________________________

Once the sweater was on, Shane couldn’t stand the thought of ever having the take it off. Further, the accompanying knit green beanie sealed the deal for him to really relax into the cozy vibe. He found himself zoning in on the bobble of the furry poof atop the farmers matching beanie, and fell behind a few paces. They had bounded out the door with Shane in hand immediately after he finished his last bite, and had begun chattering about the difference between a Douglass fir and a balsam nearly as soon as their boots hit the crunchy snow outside their door. Shane could see them periodically glancing over their shoulder, shooting him a bright smile, but he continued to get lost in his thoughts, happy for the comfortable rhythm they’ve developed.

Hand in hand, now at the edge of the forest, the farmer turned to Shane with a sudden serious gaze.

“I know this won’t erase what happened before, but I hope that, in the future, when you look back on your Christmas memories, that this will be one of them.” The farmer swung their backpack off their shoulder and pulled out their axe. Now, with a smile of childlike anticipation, they handed the axe to Shane and said, “pick one. Any one at all that you like. We’ll chop it down, call Marnie over with the truck, and we’ll put it up next to the fireplace.”

“Any one at all?” Shane gesticulated an eyebrow up, and peered at the farmer through his dark veil of lashes.

“Yes, any one.” The farmer swung their backpack from their shoulder, and pulled out the axe and a blindfold.

“Oh, Yoba, you didn’t tell me that we were chopping these down blind”

The farmer laughed “that would have been such a better idea than what I had. But no-I *will* be blind folded, but only because I don’t want to influence your choice. I want it to be a surprise.” The farmer placed the axe on the ground, and turned around, handing the blindfold to Shane to wrap it around them.

Leaning in to brush his lips against their ear, he gingerly placed the blindfold across the farmers eyes. They flinched at the warmth from his fingertips grazing their jawline. “You should have told me you had this thing a long time ago... we could have gotten a lot of use out of this by now” he whispered, salaciously.

He couldn’t help but giggle at the farmers gasp, and put some distance between them to cool the mood down.

“Well then-I’ll lead the way. Shall we?”

With that, Shane placed the farmers hand in the crook of his arm, and led them down towards the cliff. How different his circumstances now, he thought, that the farmer was in his life. Here he was, struggling still, for sure, but instead of a bottle in hand, he had the (literal) blind trust of the farmer, and, for the first time in awhile, hope for the future. No one had come this close to Shane’s heart in many years, but with that, a lot of pain of memories gone by were brought to the surface. He lost himself in thought about how the farmer had already washed over so many of these bleeding wounds like cool water; how could someone be so tender and patient to him to want to keep putting in this effort of helping him face these troubles? The thoughtfulness put forward some was more than he ever thought he was deserving of. If the farmer kept this up, he may actually start expecting to be treated with love and respect.. or even think he was deserving of it.

He wasn’t sure how long they had walked together in silence, but they had passed the bridge filled frozen ponds, the overhang above the sewer grate, and were now along the cliff edge where he was sure for a minute that he saw a tiny mouse with a little green cap scurry past him. He didn’t feel a need to break their quiet contentment, but resolved to focus more on the task at hand.

Now up to the wizards tower, Shane knew immediately when he saw.

“So do you want to start hacking away blindly, or do you want to take your blindfold off now?”

“Oh good you found one! I hope it’ll fit in the door, we may have to chop off a foot or tw- oh” Blindfold now removed, the farmer stood with brows furrowed. “But I thought-you know what? I’m not sure what else I would have expected from you. This is exactly the type of tree that you’d pick. It’s perfect.”

“All three feet of it, twiggy branch and all.” Shane was glowing as he gazed upon his prize. “It’s me. If I was a tree, this would be me.”

“Cant say I disagree with you there, considering it’s the sweetest and most endearing tree I’ve ever seen in my life. One single branch and all.”

It only took two swipes of the axe to dislodge their chosen tree, but it was more that enough the permanently lodge this moment into Shane’s mind. The perfect tree for a perfect Christmas-only made so by his perfect farmer.

___________________________________________

Tree in tow, and arm in arm, they made their way back to the farm where, as promised, the farmer had red chili cocoa waiting for them.

“Okay, but how does a tree manage to only grow one branch.”

“You know honestly I have no f*cling clue.”

The farmer laughed in response, and Shane knew that this Christmas would be the start of many beautiful ones to come. He couldn’t wait to see the next new memory creation the farmer had planned.

[norabrice1701]

An Offer Received - Part I

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic 

Pairing:Thomas Conrad x Fem!reader 

Summary: You were just doing your job. It wasn’t your fault you did it so well that your boss, Thomas Conrad, wanted to recruit you in his plan for world domination. And what Mr. Conrad wants, well…

Rating: Part I - an F-bomb or two (later parts heat up, but gotta start somewhere) 

A/N: This is rather the hopeless result of watching "High-Rise", "Crimson Peak", the British Villain Jaguar commercial series, and "The Night Manager" over the last few weeks...so, here goes nothing! Planned to be 5 or 6 parts when all’s said and done. 

GIF credit to the original poster via the Tumblr search! 

Part I - 5 Minutes 

You dropped to your office chair with a sigh, plugging in your laptop. Today’s department head meeting had passed uneventfully for once. Robert Stark, Head of R&D, and Chris Rogers, Head of Operations, constantly jockeyed for more allocation of your production resources. It was challenging, you’d admit – finding the balance act between supply and demand while planning for the future. But you were the youngest Head of Production for the largest tech giant in the world, Lok Industries – better known by the LOKI brand splashed on phones, watches, tablets, computers – for a reason.

While youngest as your particular department head, you were hardly the youngest on the senior staff. And that was to say nothing of the CEO himself. The youngest man in corporate history at the helm – an engineer with the aptitude for business strategy and the political savvy to chart a meteoric rise to the top. In fact, Thomas J. Conrad’s nomination for CEO five years ago passed unanimously in record time.  

You’d never met him, never even seen him around the office despite your department head position. Plenty of others had, though, with stories to tell and scars to prove it. You tried to stay above the office gossip – especially when it concerned your senior boss – but it was intriguing. For all the press release photos and official portraits you’d seen – Mr. Conrad looked pleasant enough. Intelligent, sky-blue eyes; well-coiffed, gold-brown hair that betrayed just a hint of natural curl; a dashing smile. But that’s all it was, according to the hearsay – just a well-crafted facade. No one should be fooled by those eyes that could cut men in half; by that clever mind operating with ruthless intent; or, by that sharp, cold tongue that knew no mercy.

It sounded like such a cliché. The handsome, suave boss who was secretly-not-so-secretly a heartless bastard. A vicious predator in a bespoke suit. Albeit, a gorgeous one.

That’s why you didn’t care for the gossip. It’d be far better to meet the man and form your own opinions – but you’d been sufficiently warned that you’d only be brought before Mr. Conrad when you royally fucked up. “Not if you royally fuck up,” Scarlett Romanov had helpfully clarified with a coy smile, “but when you royally fuck up.”

Well, four years in and it hadn’t happened yet. And today was no time to start.

Turning to your laptop, you tended to the business at hand – reviewing production data, answering emails, assigning resource allocation. All in a day’s work. At one point you glanced at the clock, realizing there was just an hour left in your day. Perfect.

Perhaps tonight, you’d break the stalemate with Sebastian Barnes, Head of IT, and text him. He was quite handsome in his own right, easy to converse with, and even easier to fall into bed with. Even morning coffee at his apartment had been pleasant. But work got in the way for both of you – between server upgrades and production outages, there always seemed to be some excuse recently.

The desk phone beeped twice, flashing red, followed by another set of two beeps. An internal caller. You glanced at the ID on the screen, brow furrowing as you hit the speaker button.“Afternoon, Mrs. Brunhilde.”

“Good afternoon.” The pleasant voice of Mrs. Willamina Brunhilde – a relic of the former CEO and still glorified secretary of the CEO’s office – suffused your name with warmth and professional detachment. “Mr. Conrad would like to see you. He has an opening for the next hour, and I’ve just reserved the time on your calendar. Are you in a position to come to his office in 5-10 minutes?”

You knew the question was largely a polite formality. When Mrs. Brunhilde called and Mr. Conrad wanted a meeting, there was no excuse to say no. Your heart rate accelerated as you swallowed. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

With a few more perfunctory pleasantries, the call ended. You exhaled deep, fighting to reign in the sudden nervous energy that pooled in your gut. This was no different than any other meeting you’d attended – you were smart, you were capable. You were the Head of Production, and you didn’t get this job for being a pretty face. Brushing your slacks, adjusting your blazer, and smoothing your bangs, you exited your office for the trek across the sprawling building.

Mr. Conrad’s office suite overlooking the city harbor matched much of the building aesthetic – sharp lines, glass and chrome, a study in clean whites and crisp greys with hints of the company’s bold green signature color. Mrs. Brunhilde greeted you with a smile, ushering you forward to the dark, partially cracked double-doors. You rapped on the wood, exhaling deep.

“Enter.” His velvety, British drawl had always been appealing. 

You opened the door further, stepping inside. He glanced up from the slim folder in hand as he sat in the white, leather chair at his desk – the picture of perfection with straight posture, a black tie knotted tight at his throat, and the crisp white sleeves of his dress shirt on display.

He inclined his head ever so faintly, face devoid of a smile. “Thank you for coming.” Your name rolled off his tongue in the most pleasing way.

You tipped your head in return. “Of course. Thank you, sir, for taking the time.”

He reached to his laptop, pressing a button on the keyboard before looking back to the folder as audio started to play.

Your stomach sank to your feet as you recognized it.

Your voice carried clear. “Our control limits are holding – 23 defects per 1,000,000 units. Our department has set an improvement goal to drop that number from 23 to 5 in the next four years –.”

Robert’s voice interrupted. “Oh goody, but perhaps, more importantly, you can tell me when Lane 5 will be restored?”

“The investigation into Lane 5 is still ongoing,” you said, voice even, “the code has been scrubbed, and we’re looking at retooling options.”

“Retooling options?” Robert scoffed. “Need I remind you that it’s been 33 hours since you canned my primary production line? That’s 33 hours of lost time, to the tune of – oh, say a 9% drop of market share come holiday season if we don’t finish the dev on these new marine products.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “As opposed to a 21% loss in market share if we let our control limits slip and start producing a higher percentage of defective products? Consumers know the LOKI brand is reliable – the highest reliability of any of our competition – and reliability makes or breaks on the production floor. Sacrifice quality control limits and you might as well kiss your cushy retirement goodbye.”

“Then, scale back – temporarily – on Rogers’ orders. He’s meeting quota, check the box for market supply. And if it does get tight, well, a little more demand for less supply usually helps -”

“Robert,” you cut him off, voice tight, “this is my call. I’ve looked at the same numbers you have – with Lane 5 out of commission until we can bring it up to spec, it’s a hit to our bottom line. It’s my job to minimize that hit. While never desirable, we can weather a 9% loss without permanent damage to the brand. Even Mr. Conrad would agree to that. But, if you don’t like that answer – then, by all means, let’s do discuss with Mr. Conrad.” 

The room fell dead quiet, broken only by the faint squeak of a shifting chair.

“Well,” Robert started softly, “I don’t know that we need to go there just yet. What’s your projection on the investigation conclusion?”

“Retooling should complete in the next 21 hours, then we’ll move through start-up.”

Conrad’s hand floated back to his keyboard, pressing a button to cut off the recording. You didn’t dare speak as silence fell. If he was displeased, you would know soon enough. And if he was pleased, well…no one ever said they were called to Mr. Conrad’s office because he was pleased.

Your heart raced as he drew out the moment, but you wouldn’t let him see you sweat. You wouldn’t let him unnerve you.

Cold, crystalline eyes darted up to yours, pinning you in place. “You have absolutely no authority to speak for me. Making baseless statements about my assumed inclinations is not part of your job. Your job does include resolving those inter-department squabbles without leveraging my involvement as a threat. Now, if you’re incapable of standing behind your own decisions, incapable of defending the trajectory that you have set for your department and this corporation by extension – then, tell me now and spare me further disappointment.”

You responded on instinct, hiding the sting of his words.“No, sir. I’ve watched the company’s production numbers for almost four years now. Every metric is higher across the board than when I assumed the position -”

“Yes, including budget. Your department’s costs have increased, not exactly commensurate with your outputs. Diminishing returns often plague the pursuit for perfection as one approaches the pinnacle.” He glanced down idly to the file in his hand. “Your department walks that razor’s edge now. It would be well within my interest, perhaps, to cap you there.”

“Sir, the quality of our production is unparalleled –.”

“But you wanted to bring the discussion to Mr. Conrad, did you not? Well, here you are.” He closed the folder, tossing it idly to his desk before rising. Despite the late hour, he looked as pressed and polished as if the day had just started. He crossed around to the front of his desk, bracing against it as he rested his hands inside his trouser pockets. “There’s only one solution in this case.”

You debated asking but thought against it. Asking would be redundant. He wouldn’t have brought you here without a purpose, without something to gain.

He gestured at the nearest leather armchair opposite his desk. “Do have a seat.”

You paused, hesitating in consideration of his words. Sitting as he indicated would place you in a physically submissive position to his tall, lithe figure. Not that you were short in your heels – standing just over 5’9” – but you weren’t exactly keen to meet your senior boss on unequal footing.

His gaze hardened, mouth pinching with irritation. “If you’re stalling for time, my patience is not inexhaustible. And when I make an offer, I expect it to be received.”

Steeling yourself, moistening your lips, you crossed around to sit as indicated. You squared your shoulders and held your head high, refusing to fully angle back to look up at him as he spoke.

“Mrs. Brunhilde’s time at LOKI has come to an end. As you know, she was installed to her post by my predecessor who tailored the position to suit his needs. Needs that no longer align with my own or the corporation. The position is now evolving to meet the ever-evolving environment in which it must function.”

You nearly whiplashed from the change in conversation. Hadn’t he just questioned your ability to successfully do your job…?

He continued to speak softly yet there was no mistaking the hard, commanding edge. “The new terms for the CEO Administrative Executor now require someone with a working knowledge of the business and its trajectory; a willingness to stand in defense of that trajectory while keeping a clear head for the larger vision,” he pitched slightly forward, voice dropping with the barest hint of a tease, “and, of course, leveraging the power of one’s boss with explicit authority.”

It sure sounded like a tease, but you couldn’t be sure. You were too busy reeling from the implications. “Forgive me, sir,” you looked up at him, “but…it sounds like you’re suggesting….” You didn’t finish. Couldn’t finish. The thought of being removed as Head of Production and reassigned as his personal secretary, office administrative whatever repulsed you. Had he already judged you incapable? Was this punishment for one fucking meeting?

“I’m more than just suggesting.” He reached behind him for a loose sheet of paper. “Take the rest of this week as transition, and start in earnest on Monday.”

“The rest of this week?” You couldn’t stop the outburst. “I couldn’t possibly – you’re giving me just three days to transition out as Head of Production, and into the role of your office executor? Who’s my replacement? I need time to prepare the turnover, oversee the transition – and, surely, I should be involved in determining my replacement.”

A wolfish smile ghosted his face. ��Welcome to your first objective in your new role. In addition to learning the expectations of this office and implementing goals for your redefined position, of course.” He held out the paper in your direction and you stared at it, wishing it would burst into flames.

The official notice of transfer with authority granted by the one and only Thomas J. Conrad.

Well, you wouldn’t be texting Sebastian tonight, after all. Not when your workload just quadrupled. You reached out for the paper, gripping it tight as you sighed.

“You needn’t look so glum about it,” he scolded lightly. “Consider it a promotion. If you hadn’t caught my eye – or ear, more accurately – you wouldn’t be here now. At least, you’ll find I’m rather adept at managing my own schedule; my valet manages my personal affairs; and, the café staff is well aware of my expectations for coffee and tea service.”

You quirked a brow. “Isn’t coffee delivery standard to every assistant position?”

He leveled you with a stern look in return. “If you ever bring me a cup of steaming liquid, you’ll find your pay docked by 60%. You’re in this position to be eyes, ears, and perspective on this company. Someone adept at managing the razor’s edge and surviving.” He straightened from his desk, extending a hand. “Are we understood on your priorities?”

Another challenge. Another opportunity. And if it didn’t pan out…well, how many others could say they worked directly for Thomas J. Conrad on their resume?

You rose, taking his hand. “Understood, sir.”

His answering smile, predatory and self-satisfied, sent shivers down your spine.

Up Next: Part II - 5 Weeks 

[childhoodgrave]

whats dtl about ifff ud like 2 talk abt it i see cute sprites & decide i wanna know things.. hehe the top hat n cape guy gif is in sync w my music hehe

IM SO GLAD U ASKED this game is probsbly my favorite game ever its been a special interest if mine since i was 7 and i dont think its a GOOD game per se bt i love it a lot and it impacted me a lot as a little kid w a mild interest in art :)

so basically the game is a little 2d adventure platformer where u get to draw and design the character u play as. its p clunky and the way ur character moves looks rlly silly bt again this game was released in like 2010 on the ds so its ok .. the game also gave u templates to go off of and use too just in case u didnt want to design a character from scratch

the story of the first game is abt this world that was drawn into existence by “the creator” in the book of life. u hav this little sequence where u get to draw the world, and the forrests and the creatures tht wld inhabit it. the creatures tht inhabit the world are callec raposa and they r little fox creature w funny ears :)

like this guy (his name is zsasha and hes a thief but hes like a bad one who ends up returning all of the stuff he steals and also watching over a little orphan girl who he basically adopts LOL)

in the universe if the game the “creator” eventually went silent and the raposa lost hope in them ever returning. the world was slowly shrouded in darkness and gradually all of the raposa inhabiting this little village were either lost or left on purpose bc it was slowly falling apart. the game starts when one of the remaining raposa, mari, prays to u, the creator, to come back and help restore her village, saying that everyone else has lost hope but she still believes you can return to her. u can answer, and either say that u will help or you wont, but either way u end up agreeing to help her and she goes to tell her dad, the mayor, abt it. you create a “hero” to be the vessel you will speak thru, and thats the character u end up designing and playing as. the game is abt going to various areas from the village and rescuing all of the raposa that are lost there, as well as restoring the village to what it used to be and drawing in bits of the landscape, like the sun and plants and stuff.

the villain of the story is a guy named wilfre, who was another villager in the town who ended up drawing in the book of life bc he wanted to create things the way the creator had. he ended up making these big inky monsters and got consumed by them, and when u meet him at the beginning of the game he tears up a bunch of pages in the book of life which get scattered across the land and you have to collect them in order to restore the village.

so u basically just go around saving villagers, collecting pages of the book of life, and redrawing bits of the town that were lost to wilfres shadows. eventually wilfre ends up like, killing maris dad (the mayor) and then after youve restored a majority of the village you enter his realm and kill him!! yay :)

throughout the game you also meet these two weird npcs called heather and mike. heather is a little raposa girl who has half of her face covered in shadows, and shes mostly mute. shes found early on in the game and is taken care of by another one of the main characters named jowee

mike is a character u end up rescuing later on in the game, hes p confused and doesnt know how he got where he is, and hes also different from the other raposa bc he doesnt have ears like they do and kind of just looks like a normal human (even tho none of the raposa know what that is and they just think he looks rlly weird)

in the first game heather is shown to take a liking to mike but it isnt explained why and she doesnt talk to its left unexplained

so yah the first game ends with you, the hero, defeating wilfre. mari takes on the role of her father and becomes mayor of the town, and all of the raposa (+ mike) live happily in the town youve restored. the hero goes dormant because theyre no longer needed and u get a scene at the end of the game w them sitting by the ghost of maris father.

the SECOND game takes place a while after the first game, in which wilfre returns and captures heather at the beginning of the game. he also kidnaps a bunch of the other villagers and transports them somewhere else, and he drains the color out of the village the raposa were in. they end up fleeing on a giant turtle with an abandoned town on its back that appears while the color is draining from the village. inside mari and jowee find another mannequin similar to the one the creator had drawn the hero on in the first game. they pray to the creator for help and thats when u draw the hero u get to play as for that game!! the hero doesnt seem to remember mari and jowee or any of the events of the first game, but they agree to help them rescue heather and all of the villagers wilfre stole.

jowee also has like, this magic pendant that belonged to heather that he found after wilfre took her, which seems to be leading them to where heather is. they use that to navigate the turtle thru the ocean to a bunch of other islands on the world. the second game is basically about traveling to different islands and helping them restore the color thats been drained out of them by wilfre. you also meet these two characters, salem

who is a villain in the first island u travel to, and sock

who is a villager on the first island u visit who ends up befriending jowee and traveling with them while they try to save heather.

so ur doing all of that but THEN, halfway thru the game mari is shown to be talking to wilfre, and then she dissapears. jowee assumes wilfre has captured her too, but shes later seen on the turtle again, and rips out a bunch of pages in the book of life the way wilfre did in the first game, and then wilfre appears to take her away and says that shes working with him now. jowee is heartbroken but resolves to get her back as well as heather

THEN, sock, jowees friend from the first island whos been tagging along and helping out, is ALSO revealed to be wilfre in disguise and he betrays jowee and steals heathers pendent, leaving jowee with basically no means of finding heather and wikfre and mari by extension.

so eventually they do end up finding where wilfre is and mari is like “jowee you dont understand wilfre has shown me the truth of our world and who the creator is and thats why im helping him” and jowee is like “i cant believe yoy are helping him how could you i cant believe you bla bla bla” and so wilfre is like “FINE ill show you the TRUTH of this world” and takes jowee and then the hero is kind of left ln their own for a bit to like wander around the world and try to keep rescuing ppl and such. and eventually jowee comes back and is like shaken up but kind of vague abt what wilfre showed him, but he still decides to side with the hero and the creator and eventually mari is convinced by him to join them again as well

so u fight wilfre again and EVENTUALLY wilfre reveals that if you defeat him basically the entire world will dissapear and thats what hes been trying to avoid by fucking w things and messing with the book of life. so all of the raposa have a bunch existential crisis abt them ceasing to exist if they go thru with this but then they decide to to it anyway bc the alternative is just as bad blah blah and u go and kill wilfre and he does this when he dies which is cool

[the gif was fuckjng broken im sorry but like look up his sprites and youll fjnd it 💔]

and now heather is back!! and her and mari and jowee are all talking about mike and how important he is and meanwhile mike has no clue whats going on and is kind of freaked out by all of this, but theyre all like “mike you need to wake up” as theyre all fading out of existence and shit around him and eventually him and heather are the only ones left and they dissapear too

and THATS when you get the ending and find out it was all like a dream mike was having while he was in a coma after a car crash anx this plays while the credits role lol https://youtu.be/Kur0qaYM1jM

^ they ended up releasing different versions oft he game w a less dark (but still w the whole ‘it was all a dream twist’) and thats it!!

there was also another game released for the wii that like gave wilfre a girlfriend kind of but i never played it to completion bc it used the wii remotes motion controls to like draw and shit and it was rly janky and hard so i never finished it and most ppl did the same. i kind of rlly want to try playing it again tho bc it was a p cute looking game even if the controls were fucked up

AND YEA thats drawn to life its a weird silly little series tht i was obsessed w when i was a kid and it still holds a special place in my heart :) i basicaly just spoiled the entire series i guess but if u have a ds or a 3ds (bc the game is backwards complatible ! ) id still suggest like getting a cartidge off ebay or something and playing it bc its honestly a rlly sweet and beautiful looking game and i think a lot of it still homds up even if the controls r rlly janky now

[ineffablegame]

i am begging you on my digital knees, knight of the round table aziraphale and princess crowley. "i thought you were the black knight?" "evil must be fermented everywhere, angel. id rather a dress to armour anyday."

omg I’m sorry but this got so long...  (also published on my Ao3)

537 A.D.

The moment Aziraphale lays a hand on the cloaked figure’s shoulder, intent on dragging him off his horse, he knows he’s made a terrible mistake.

A familiar hum of demonic energy shudders through his gauntlet and up his arm.  He recognizes the aura – sun-warmed scales, shelter from the rain.  Aziraphale releases his grip, but too late, and the momentum topples the figure to the ground with a cry.  The horse gallops out of sight, eyes rolling with fear.

Aziraphale pulls on the reins and half-climbs, half-falls off his own horse.  “Terribly sorry, dear boy, I didn’t mean…”

His voice dwindles as the figure – Crowley, of course it’s Crowley, up to his usual mischief – hobbles upright and pulls back the hood of the cloak. Long, red curls tumble over slim shoulders.  Aziraphale stares.  “Oh. Er.  Dear girl, I mean.”

“That’s dear lady to you,” Crowley snaps.  She presses a hand to the small of her back with a wince.  “Did you have to be so rough?”

“I did say I was sorry.” Aziraphale takes in his adversary’s appearance, curiosity piqued.  He hasn’t seen Crowley like this since the crucifixion.  His eyes catch on her wrists as she pushes the hair out of her face, slim and pale and delicately-veined.  “I thought you were the queen.”

“Incredible.  It’s almost as if the diversion was intentional.”

“So, you’ve sided with Mordred,” Aziraphale surmises.  “Typical.”

“Of course,” says Crowley, gathering her hair back.  Her fingers, deft with the ease of long practice, tie it into a single plait.  “And for the record, Arthur’s not nearly as shiny and perfect as your lot pretends he is.  You’d know, Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round.”

The angel drags his eyes from Crowley’s fingers to meet her golden gaze.  It’s no less disconcerting.  “You know I’m not consulted on these things.”

Crowley scoffs and tosses the plait over her shoulder, head tilted back to expose the pale line of her throat.  Aziraphale drops his gaze to her feet.  Much better. “Why—why the change, if I may ask?  You were the black knight not a fortnight ago.”

“Evil may be fomented in any form,” Crowley says.  “Besides, I’d rather a dress than armor any day.  Much less chafing.”

Aziraphale grudgingly nods. The armor really is abominable, heavy and stuffy and rubbing in all the worst places.  “Well, when you put it that way…”

“You should give it a try.” Crowley steps up to Aziraphale’s steed, eyeing the beast warily as her hand moves to the saddle bags.  The horse pins back its ears but otherwise remains still. She digs around in the bags, pulls out a flask with a grin.  Popping out the stopper, she adds, “You’d make a very pretty lady.  All the lads are mad for your coloring.”

Aziraphale feels his face heat.  “Don’t tease. And that’s only water.”

“Not anymore, it isn’t.” Crowley tips back the flask for a drink. “Tell you what.  Let’s stop fomenting and do a little fermenting instead.”

“I—I can’t,” Aziraphale says.  “I have to find Guinevere and return her to Arthur.”

Crowley waves to the darkening sky above.  “She’s long gone now.  Look, you’ve made the effort; Heaven will be very proud of you.”  Aziraphale dithers, and she adds, “Tell them you came across a young woman alone in the woods.  Deeply troubled.  Possibly Fallen.”  Aziraphale shoots her a look and she waggles her eyebrows.  “C’mon, angel.  A little temptation never hurt anybody.”

Aziraphale feels his resolve – never fortified to begin with – crumble under the demon’s logic.  He plucks the flask from her hand and takes a heavy draft, tasting complex spices, a crisp-fresh finish.

“Well,” he sighs, “best make up a fire, then.”

They spend the next few hours drinking and talking, pleasantries giving way to jokes as the wine loosens their tongues.  At some point, Crowley nicks Aziraphale’s visor and puts it on.  She play-acts a great mouth, opening and closing the lid with each word.  They find the whole thing uproariously funny.  The flask they pass back and forth never runs dry.

Later, drunker still, Crowley announces she has grown weary and lies down to sleep.  Aziraphale watches the dying firelight play across her curves and angles, lighting her hair to polished bronze.  Hand pillowed under one cheek, she watches him watching her.

“Well, don’t sit there like a stone,” she says.  “Come sleep beside me.”

“I…”  Aziraphale’s throat is thick, his tongue clumsy.  “I don’t need to sleep.  Neither do you.”

Crowley shrugs, eyelids drooping.  “S’nice. That’s all.”

Her eyes close, and for a long while, she is silent.  Just when Aziraphale thinks she has fallen asleep, she murmurs, quietly, “He threatened to throw her to the dogs, you know.  Let them tear her apart.”

Aziraphale tenses. Were he sober, he would know better than to take the bait, but the heady fug of alcohol has robbed him of his wits. “Who?”

“Arthur.”  She sounds almost too tired to be scornful – tired after the day’s ride, tired after centuries of watching humans throw one another to the dogs.  She yawns, settles.  “Not so shiny and perfect, after all.”

She falls asleep after that, and Aziraphale watches her long into the night.  He has never learned the human trick of slumber – has never seen a need. But perhaps the drink has something to do with it, or perhaps it is the soul-deep contentment of watching Crowley, still and peaceful.  The sharp angles of her body seem to soften, the nervy strain eases.  He tries to recall the last time he saw her so calm. He finds he cannot.

It may be a waking dream or a figment of his muddled imagination, but sometime later, swimming up from a deep darkness, he feels a light touch on his face.  He is still seated, elbows propped on his knees, but his mind floats elsewhere.  A familiar gaze brushes the edges of consciousness.  A sense of security stretches around him like the boughs of a great, ancient tree.

The next thing he knows, Aziraphale is blinking, muzzy but alert, and the night has given way to dawn. The fire has been covered in dirt and a protective ward laid around the clearing, humming with demonic power.  As Aziraphale stands, dazed, the ward vanishes. He is alone and his horse is gone. Taken by a certain Fallen woman, no doubt.

A scrap of parchment sits on the grass where Crowley had lain, soaking up the morning dew. Aziraphale picks it up, shakes off droplets.  The note is scrawled in charcoal, in a hand known only by angels and demons.

Angel,

Nasty battle coming up.  Camlann.  I’m leaving before it gets really out of hand.  You should do the same.  DO NOT give me cause to come back.

-C

“Foul fiend,” Aziraphale mutters.

Sighing, he tucks the note away and rises stiffly to his feet.  The trudge back to Camelot is long and lonely, but he will get there eventually.

[lavendersoft]

My Soulmate’s Soulmate.

Part 5

Soulmate! AU-

Synopsis: Before you meet your soulmate your world is black and white, without color. When soulmates meet, their world glows with vibrancy. The reality, however, as harsh and uncommon as it is, is that you are not always your soulmate’s soulmate.

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung (poly!au)

Warnings: some angst.

Author’s Notes: there’s a lot of crack in this one.

--

They both noticed Jungkook as soon as he entered the building, his presence notably panicked.

He was dressed in his usual comfortable work attire. His hair looked ruffled and messy as if he’d been running his fingers through it, something he does when he’s stressed or nervous.

Jungkook all but ran to where they were seated when he spotted them. His eyes darting back and forth between the two.

“What happened Why are you..?” he asked cautiously.

You stood up to calm your partner as much as you could. Wrapping your arms around his torso gently and leaned to kiss him on the cheek.

You knew the news was going to break him. Somewhere deep down you think he may have already suspected it, but was choosing to disregard the signs. Then again, you hadn't the slightest idea when the same thing happened to you. The dreaded memory replays in your mind over and over, “I can’t see color, Y/n.” until tears start to swell in your eyes. You wouldn't wish this fate on anyone, especially not your own soulmate. Then a thought rushes over you. Glancing over to Taehyung you give him a teary, sympathetic smile. He was going through the same predicament. Still, he keeps a semi-stoic facade.

“I think you’d better sit down, Kookie.”

He did so immediately after giving you a wary glance. Taking the seat across from Tae who watched the couple intently, Jungkook was practically vibrating in his shoes with anxiety.

“Someone please tell me.”

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before you gave a curt nod.

“Jungkook,” Tae started, “There’s been a huge misunderstanding. From all of us.”

Jungkook gave Taehyung a curious look.

“What do you mean?”

Rip off the bandaid, Y/n.

“Jungkook, you’re not Taehyung’s soulmate.”

The air went cold around you when your boyfriend’s eyes shot towards your direction. 

“I am.” The words felt unnatural to say. 

Jungkook’s eyes shot between the pair in front of him, his mouth trying to find the correct words.

“What do yo- How did you- what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t start seeing color until the night I met Y/n.” Tae stated quietly.

Jungkook’s face displayed a range of emotions, from confusion to skepticism to distress to realization. Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed as he leaned back in his seat. His hands reaching up to cover his face as he laughed bitterly.

“I’m such a fucking dumbass.”

The instinct to comfort your soulmate came over you like a tsunami. You prayed he didn’t push you away.

He didn’t. In fact, he pulled you into his lap and buried his head in your neck. His heartbeat was racing and you could tell how much this must hurt him. You reach up to smooth his unruly hair and bring him as much solace as you could.

“You’re not. We all made the same mistake. We didn’t read the signs well. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a common situation.” Tae added. You nodded your head in thanks.

“Exactly.”

After Jungkook’s breath had stabled and after a minute of Tae fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, you figured you should get off Jungkook’s lap as not make Tae too uncomfortable. Tae, the gentleman he is, quickly offered you his seat while he went off to search for another chair to bring over.

Jungkook was in deep thought for a while. You figured you should give him some space while you continued to make small talk with Taehyung.

“So the cover art is coming along well?” You asked absent mindlessly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook’s head shoot up in alarm.

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” you murmur as you don't want to upset him more, “I know you’ve been seeing him. I’m not angry, I understand.” You explained. Jungkook’s eyes shift down in guilt as if he were a kicked puppy, avoiding eye contact with you.

Taehyung smiled and nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve actually decided on a piece. But Jungkook insists that you’re not allowed to see it until debut.”

“What? That’s not fair!” You pouted and crossed your arms, trying to lift the heavy mood.

“Trust me, you love it.” Jungkook spoke, his voice soft.

After saying your goodbyes to Taehyung and promising to contact him again, you and your boyfriend went home. He was quiet most of the night until walking into the bathroom while you were putting on a much-needed face mask.

“We need to talk.”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound good.” You responded.

“No, it’s actually just a proposition.”

You lifted your eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Don't get mad, okay? It’s just an idea.” Ugh. You’ve heard that before and the aftermath is never good.

 He took a deep breath,

“What if we,” His tongue darted out to wet his lips in nervousness, “What if we tried a polyamorous relationship?”

You nearly dropped your bottle of toner in shock.

“What?!” The idea had actually already crossed your mind but you'd never tell him that. You figured he wouldn't want to but your soulmate is an unpredictable one.

“Please, just listen!” He took in a deep breath,

“This situation couldn't be any more perfect, for the circumstances at least. I love you so much, Y/n. If you aren’t my soulmate I’m glad that you’re my soulmate’s soulmate. It’s like a love triangle!”

You sigh, leaning a hand on the counter to stabilize yourself and your thoughts. 

“A love triangle isn’t a good thing, Kook.”

“Okay, then.. a love circle, Miss Technicality.”

You started to feel like such a pessimist next to your optimistic boyfriend.

“Jungkook, we’ve been in relationship for years. We just met Taehyung. We need to give it sometime before we go asking him to join a polyamorous relationship with people he just met two weeks ago.”

“So, then, you’ll consider it?”

“I don’t want to scare him off for your sake. But, yes, I’ll consider it. However, we have to do it the right way. Let’s start with one of us asking him on a date.”

“It should be you.”

You were a little dazed at his suggestion.

“Me?”

“It’s only fair. I’ve been on a few ‘dates’ with him already. I know him pretty well. It’s you who needs to get to know him. Not only that, but I’m sure he’ll be happy about it. With you being his soulmate and all. But!” He holds up a finger as if to scold you,

“No kissing! Not until he agrees to date us!”

You’re half tempted to bite his finger but instead you decide to pull him in for a hug.

“Seems a bit blackmail-ish but,”

For the first time in a long time, you have hope for the future of your relationship.

“Deal.”

—

The cell phone in your hand feels like a stone.

Five days have passed since you met Taehyung at the bookstore. Jungkook continued to meet Taehyung for the finishing of his cover art. He promised he’d keep it professional although you were a bit doubtful. That would be close to impossible at this point. 

I wonder what Tae thinks about all this. Is he uncomfortable meeting Jungkook after finding out that he’s Jungkook’s soulmate? Are they really keeping it as professional as Jungkook makes it seem? 

Is it really a good idea to make a commitment to a poly relationship with all of these suspicions?

Ah. You’re stalling yourself again. You’ve been dreading making the phone call that your boyfriend so eagerly awaits.

“It’s easy. Just call him and ask. That’s it. You’re his soulmate so he’ll be more than welcoming of the invitation.” Jungkook’s been trying to coerce you since he brought up the idea.

“I’ve never done it before,” You explain, “You’re the only real partner I’ve ever had and you made the first move, remember?”

He grins at the warm memory.

“You were so cute and bashful.”

“Obviously. I’d just met my soulmate. Anyway, focus.” You have such a hard time fighting the smile that threatens to spread across your face. Jungkook always seems to bring out the fondness in you. He definitely knew how to play that to his advantage. He gets everything we wants just by giving you that puppy dog pout.

“Ask him if he wants to go with you to get bulgogi. He loves that. Tell him you were craving it and you thought of him, he’ll get all flustered. Guaranteed.”

“Well, aren’t you the charmer. I knew you a flirt but damn.” You land a playful punch to his shoulder. You try to calm all your nerves and the voice in the back of your mind.

“Here goes everything, then.”

The phone rings only once.

“Hello?” His deep voices chimes through the speaker.

“Hey. It’s Y/n.”

“I know.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“You know?”

“Caller ID, Y/n. You think I wouldn't save my own soulmate’s number? Plus, I’ve kinda been expecting your call.”

You roll your eyes knowing Jungkook could see your face turn three different shade of red from embarrassment.

“YeaH-” your voice and your resolve cracks, “-ehem, yeah, I was just calling to um... ask if you wanted to like, uh, meet me tomorrow night for some bulgogi.” Your boyfriend silently coaches you as you continue, urging you on.

“It’s just that I’ve been craving you- I mean it! I’ve been craving it. And I thought of you.” 

And I want to die.

Jungkook hits the ground laughing. You know Tae could probably hear him. 

“Well if that's the case, how could I refuse?” Tae’s voice is smooth and confident. He’s just as flirty and aloof as Jungkook is. How the hell are you gonna survive two playboy boyfriends?

“Great. Meet me at six?”

“I’d prefer picking you up if you don't mind.” 

“Oh. S-sure. Yeah, that's fine. See you tomorrow?” You hate the way your voice trembles.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” With that he hangs up, leaving you a blushy, embarrassed mess. You look down to see Jungkook squirming with uncontained laughter. The next thing he knows he’s being chased with the slipper you’d been wearing.

“You asshole! It’s not funny! That was so embarrassing! Stop laughing, I swear to God, Jungkook!” 

“It’s not my fault you’re so fucking terrible at flirting! Like what the hell was that, Y/N!”

--

Taglist: @ourwhispersbecomeouranthems @fantasyjoon  @ally22042000 @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone @embrace-themagic  @lexi-tries-art @ccmemoirs @just-call-me-trash-can @karlykim92 @omg-sol-s-dreamland

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (6)

Chapter 6: Occupational Complications | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

Jidné tilted her head back, sighing, she turned around to answer Cal right in the face.

“Yeah,” said Jidné, plainly.

She wrapped her cowl around her shoulders after clearing off the dust and leaves that clumped onto it during their skirmish with the Bashiji cats. They exchanged looks, but she kept her distance from him. Cal’s eyes wandered to the girl’s hilt, the two strands of turquoise beads attached to the ring of the pommel’s base stood out from the black and silver color scheme.

A robotic chittering came within their earshot, ID-3 appeared from the branches where he was hiding the whole time. Alarmed by the sight of a probe droid, Cal reignited his saber and pointed it at the black hovering disc of a droid.

“No, no, no—wait! He’s mine!” Jidné put herself between ID-3 and Cal who had his saber at the ready, who only looked at the Imperial probe droid by face value.

“He’s mine,” she repeated, more calmly this time.

Cal stopped at Jidné’s behest, he looked over her shoulder and saw the droid was hiding behind her back, its single red lens for an eye peeked over her hair.

Confused, Cal pulled his eyebrows together, “That Imperial probe droid is yours?”

“I reprogrammed him, and he’s with me,” she explained. She turned to the shuddering black disc hiding behind her shoulders. “It’s okay, ID-3, they won’t hurt us.”

Now standing much closer, she got a good long look at him. The sunlight that pored through the jungle canopy highlighted of his features for Jidné to see: the freckles that riddled his cheeks like stars to a night sky, the clear emerald shine of his eyes and the soft gaze that he makes with it.

Cal ticked the boxes of the job detail—red hair, a Jedi, and as much as she was too prideful to admit it he is handsome—but there’s no sign of the Holocron on his person. Jidné presumed that he wouldn’t carry it around with him, as people might mistake it for some heftily-priced relic.

He switched his saber off after believing that the probe droid was indeed harmless. ID-3 was still frightened from the sudden stance but quickly warmed up to Cal after spotting little BD-1, to prove that he was good, ID-3 raised one tentacle and waved it as if saying “Hello” both to Cal and BD-1.

“Booo-wooo…” BD-1 cautiously beeped in response. For good measure, he lit up his scanners at ID-3 and his lens panned up and down to get the full picture of the droid. The abrupt change of tone in BD-1 verified that ID-3 wasn’t the Imperial droid he used to be.

“See, he’s harmless!” Jidné insisted.

“Sorry we doubted you, ID,” Cal apologized for both himself and BD-1.

ID-3 accepted the apology, his raspy and monotonous tone somewhat had a cheery chirp in it.

“Oh! You’re hurt,” Cal uttered, spotting blood staining on Jidné’s jacket through the tears of her cowl.

Jidné searched for the injury, the adrenaline practically made her numb from feeling the sting, she only felt it when she slightly flexed her shoulder.

“Oh, crud…” she mumbled.

Cal snapped his fingers and out comes a healing stim from BD-1’s little compartment.

“Here,”

Jidné’s slender fingers picked up the green vial from Cal’s palm. She brought it closer to examine it.

“A healing stim,” she identified. “You have one impressive little droid.”

BD-1 took the compliment and chirped happily. Jidné sucked in some air before injecting herself of the green, soothing substance on the flesh of her upper arm. The substance relieved her of the pain, but she still has to treat the wound.

“Thank you, both of you,”

“You’re welcome, again,” Cal cooed bashfully, hanging his head low so Jidné doesn’t find him blushing.

And then the same awkward silence immediately followed them back.

“So, uh, what are you doing in the middle of the jungle?”

Okay, that was bad enough! Cal scolded himself in his subconscious.

“I should I ask you the same,” chuckled Jidné.

“W-Well, I was about to take a look around the town there until…”

Jidné bobbed her head, prompting him to continue.

“Until I heard you.” He finished.

“Oh… Well, my hero,” she giggled at her lighthearted yet dry joke. Cal received it as a compliment and awkwardly chuckled along with her.

The silence was getting old between the two of them now—that much they’re certain of. Both youngsters just don’t know how to interact with one another for their own various reasons.

“Listen, Jidné… um…”

“Yes?”

Cal had his tongue tied, he didn’t realize that he was saying things to her out on a whim, he didn’t exactly plan ahead with the conversations that he starts with her. He gulped the lump that’s been stuck in the middle of his throat so he could say the words right.

“You should treat that wound soon,”

Jidné examined her wound again, “Yeah, I suppose I should.”

“Right, err… so… I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” she shrugged her shoulder; in a deadpan tone, she added, “Maybe.”

Jidné watched this endearing, bumbling, ginger Jedi slowly back away into his original path. She remained where she stood until he was out of sight, out of the forest and back into the open—where he planned to be in the first place.

“Good gods, that boy… is a threat? To Darth Vader?”

“Trill, beeeee-eeep!” ID-3 chirped teasingly.

The bounty hunter translated the droidspeak, her own droid was teasing her that she must have found him cute.

“Oh shut up, you flying saucer,” she chuckled in great denial.

She began walking in the opposite path, where the wood gradually cleared out; along the way, she found her rifle that the Bashiji had chewed on. She picked the weapon and studied the damage, bite marks have dented the paneling; she flicked the safety and cocked it to see if it would still work.

“Well, so much for that mint condition earlier,” groaned the girl. “Come on, ID. I need to wash off this blood.”

The droid hovered as he followed her along, continuing to tease her in an upbeat string of notes and chirps—which Jidné constantly defended herself from.

“Beee-beeep!”

“You can’t prove I was blushing—you were behind me!”

Eventually, ID-3 finally toned down on the teasing, much to Jidné’s relief. Her trek ended when she spotted the bank of a river that leads to a waterfall on the far right, the crashing was within hearing range and so she decided to go to the main basin.

Stripping off her cowl and jacket, leaving only her black tank top, the claws of the Bashiji have sickled through the fabric and nicked at the corner of her shoulder; had that cat buried its nails into her then it would’ve reached the bone. Jidné soaked her clothes into the shallower part of the water, then scooped up handfuls of water to wash away the dried blood; when the wound had lessened the bleeding, she decided that it would be impractical if she hiked back to her ship to patch herself up.

“Never thought I’d be doing this again,” she mumbled under her breath.

She resorted to using Force healing, albeit was a skill that she’s still learning; in her level, it required her to meditate—compared to her late mentor who did it as simply as breathing, it was one of the things she strived to imitate in terms of mastery. Nonetheless, she sat herself up—back straight, legs crossed together, and her mentality clear. Jidné allowed herself to relax on her grassy seat, her fingers loosened around her kneecaps and took slow, calm breaths—feeling the warmth of the midday sun pinching her cheeks with its rays.

Her surroundings in her consciousness were beginning to blur as she puts her mind into focus. Her senses have softened and keened at the same time—a phenomenon that was instinctive as it was complicated to comprehend to those who are less sensitive, it was something she can’t put into words yet there was a familiarity to it. At first, she managed to reconnect with the Force and gently willed it to the wound—bit by bit, new skin began to seal the damaged flesh; when she sensed that she was succeeding, she strained out of impatience which she mistook for eagerness.

“Come on…!” muttered Jidné almost voicelessly, but the demand in her tone was apparent.

Jidné sensed that the new skin had slowed down in closing the wound, she forced herself just a little bit and she snapped back involuntarily; as consequence, the injury didn’t fully close, a significant portion of it remained fresh and unhealed—perhaps half in size. At least the bleeding stopped.

She examined her wound, patting on the new skin that concealed the rest of the injury. Accepting that she had lost control with her grasp on the Force, she resolved to letting what remains heal naturally; her mind shifted to the thought of Cal. The fact that he’s already met her and identified her as a Jedi—and not a bounty hunter—a strategy came up onto the top of her mind.

“This complicates things, though,” she thought out loud.

She continued to clean the grime, dust, and blood off of herself by the riverbank. Seeing that the forest was devoid of other humans or sentient life forms, she decided to take a dip into the cool water of the waterfall’s basin. The coldness blanketed and soothed every inch of her body, her dark hair swirling underwater; as she swam around, her mind constantly reminded her of Cal—the way he behaved, the way he spoke, but most importantly, his touch.

She brought her hand up from the water to examine it and try to reenact how she took his hand, how he held it, and how they shook each other’s hands. His palm was coarse, no doubt from his line of work, but if Jidné thinks about it—his grasp was so gentle. Water plopped when she jerked it back down, but she can’t stop rubbing her fingers in that hand.

“Definitely complicates things,” she groaned and submerged her face into the water, bubbles boiled as she exhaled her frustration underwater.

On the other hand, Jidné relished her time alone, bathing in the waterfall—it was a badly-needed cleanse. In the very center of the basin, she attempted to meditate—burying her toes into the silt floor of the stream to anchor herself, her body submerged from the chin down, and letting the coolness blanket her.

“Find it, Jidné,” she coaxes herself. “Latch onto it.”

She repeated this mantra until the sound of the waterfall have hollowed out in her hearing, until the only thing she could feel was her entire body subtly floating within the weak current of the water.

Nothing.

She growled, smacking and pounding the water with her fist, creating fountain-like splashes that rained down on her head. She brought her hands back out of the water again, gazing at her empty hands riddled with water droplets like transparent pearls.

“It’s always like this. I couldn’t be that damaged with the Force, could I?”

ID-3—who was hovering above the water, staying close to her as she swam—answered her question, even though it wasn’t exactly directed to him. He sounded affirming towards his owner, chirping high-pitched, raspy tones at Jidné.

“Thanks, ID, I appreciate that,” she hummed and continued to swim.

After her bath, she put on her clothes and collected her things before proceeding to hike through the jungle, avoiding the denser patches of greenery where Bashiji cats or other predators might jump on her again.

She decided to climb the waterfall’s wall, curious to see where it would lead her. Her little droid clamped itself on the harness’s strap on her back as she climbed. Using the skills she’s gained from her Padawan training back in the day, she scaled the rock wall with little to no equipment—just her iron grip.

“Just don’t look down, ID!”

“Booo-wooooo!!” the droid chirped in a nauseated tone.

The climb led the duo to the mesa, in the same level where she originally came from before landing into the surface of the jungle. From there, she stalked the ridge in search of the Mantis—relying on the homing beacon as she goes. The farther she went, the device’s beeping rhythm became faster until slow beating transitioned into a quick flickering with the noise barely keeping up with the pace.

She places herself on a vantage point, quite higher than her original spot where she first found the ship—atop a boulder’s throw. Zooming in through her binoculars, she scanned the treelines again, hoping to spot that same silver twinkle that she saw prior to this unprecedented predicament. The Mantis stuck out more from her current perspective, she patiently sat there, examining Cal’s companions.

Jidné eventually spotted that particular Lateron that Sorc was talking about. She watched the four-armed gray creature flail his arms while inaudibly conversing with a much older lady wearing beige clothes while a second lady in red and black garments—whom Jidné assumed to be Dathomirian—stood idly to survey the nature around them.

“Completely harmless, I wager,” Jidné commented to herself. “Kinda cranky for his size, though.”

She thumbed the knob on the underside of her binoculars to zoom in some more, she got a closer look of the Mantis and it was clear enough for her to see their faces.

“They’re obviously hiding it inside that ship,”

That fact led to Jidné remembering that her initial plan had been slightly ruined, hence the necessary alterations. With Cal thinking that she was friend not foe, the bounty hunter concocted her Plan B on the spot.

“I guess I have to keep up an act now, huh?”

“Beee. Trill, beep,”

“Figures…” she sighed. “One hell of a contract, eh, ID?”

[danetobelieve]

It’s The End Of The World || Orion, Ricky, Winston. ft Lydia

TIMING: the night of 12/06/2020 (12th June) LOCATION: Abandoned Warehouse Rave on the docks PARTIES: @3starsquinn​, @ricky-corderbro​, @danetobelieve​, @inspirationdivine​ SUMMARY: Rio, Winston and Ricky attend an end of the world rave. Ricky is jet lagged. Winston is stressed and makes bad decisions and Orion throws up. Lydia makes a new friend. 

Winston wasn’t really feeling like going partying. Actually, going raving at the potential end of the world was apparently what everyone else was doing and when Todd had excitedly explained that they were going to be invited to a rave that he was playing at, well Winston hadn’t really been keen to go. But after a few drinks and some arm twisting, Winston had been convinced to go along with their other friends. They’d gotten dressed and were stepping out of the taxi that had dropped them off by the warehouse near the docks and Winston was nervous. They’d pre-gamed a bit before and they were tipsy, but that didn’t change the fact that they had seen some shit with Rio. They knew what needed to be done to resolve this and they weren’t going to be involved. They couldn’t change what might happened and honestly Winston had never felt more helpless. “Todd told us to just say we were here as his guests and show him our tickets and he’d let us in,” Winston adjusted their glasses a little, “all ready?”

Orion’s anxiety had been through the roof. He wasn’t sure if he had found the time to mention this to either of his roommate’s, but he hated parties. He had been to a few now. All times dragged against his will by Athena to some frat house where he proceeded to find the farthest bathroom from the noise and hide out. He had gotten so little sleep the last few weeks studying everything about this demon language that he wasn’t even sure he could stay conscious at this party. He had already dozed off in the car multiple times on the way here. It definitely didn’t help that Rio barely knew this Todd character that Winston and Ricky were friends with. He just hoped that the two of them weren’t like Athena was at parties. She usually stuck around for about ten minutes before ditching Rio. He wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle that here. “I’m sure this goes without saying, but I am definitely not.” Rio sighed, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. “I think I need… a drink. Or several.” Rio found himself saying, the exhaustion and stress getting to him. Rio had never been drunk before, he had never even had more than a couple of sips of alcohol. This was going to be a long night.

One very early and very long plane ride and one incredibly hellish layover in LaGuardia later; Ricky was back in the US, back in White Crest, and apparently on his way to a rave that Todd was DJing at. Truth be told it wasn’t the thing he wanted most to be doing right now; a long bath and about three straight days of sleep sounded a lot better. But even though he was still adjusting to his human body after a straight week and a half in his true form with his extended family and was still trying to figure out how to move with legs instead of swimming, he was happy to be home with Winston and Rio. Even if they were crammed into the back seat of a taxi. “I need something with caffeine or I’m going to pass out. I haven’t even had time to unpack yet; I wore these clothes on the plane, and I am not nearly awake or put together enough to make it through tonight without some help” They all fell out of the cab and Ricky stretched, sauntering up to the door with a smile on his face. “Hey. Cordero, Dane, and Quinn. We’re here as guests of the DJ.” He held out their tickets and waited for them to be let in, turning to his friends as the walked into what felt like a solid wall of sound, even to Ricky’s terrible hearing. “Well. To the bar?” 

As a large and very muscular bouncer led them through to the warehouse which had been brightly decorated in UV paint, Winston headed straight for the bar and probably would’ve made it if they weren’t accosted by a number of scantily clad men and women who attacked Winston with paint similar to that which was decorating the walls in patterns of eyes, spirals and cascades of colour that shone brightly in the darkness. The music was booming and before Winston knew it they were as brightly coloured as the walls, their t shirt was ruined and they definitely needed a drink now if they hadn’t needed one before. “Three actually six jaeger bombs please and like a vodka coke,” Winston passed the bombs round to their friends and swallowed them with a grimace, gross. They immediately regretted their drink of choice and tried to slam away the taste with copious amounts of vodka coke which some how made it worse. “Uh, maybe this wasn’t a good idea?” 

The group was ambushed by some fanatic painters. Orion’s hoodie and jeans were sacrificed to their whim, and though Rio mostly let them do their thing, he was very adamant about his sleeves remaining down as they trailed their brushes across him. They compromised by spending extra time on his face and neck, which only slightly stressed him out knowing that he had no way of knowing what they had drawn on him. He was totally lying; it really stressed him out. Even more reason to drink. Winston ordered a concerning amount of shots at the bar and Rio tried calming himself down. This was what he had wanted, right? “I uh- can you just make me something super sweet? Like really really sweet.” Rio smiled nervously, pulling the fake ID that Athena had procured for him out of his wallet. The bartender barely gave it a second glance before shuffling off to make their drinks. “Is this where I die?” Rio found himself asking aloud, taking a moment to glance around the place. It was packed wall to wall with glowing, dancing people. The music was deafeningly loud and it was way too hot for the hoodie that Rio refused to take off. Rio didn’t waste any time when the bartender brought the drinks over. He slammed the first shot as quickly as he could, immediately coughing and clearing his throat. “Oh my god ew! Oh god this stuff tastes like battery acid. Why would they make this? This was a terrible idea.”

It was only because he’d let Winston and Rio enter the warehouse before him that Ricky had enough time to react to the glow paint artists, whipping his shirt off and tucking it into his back pocket before they covered him with geometric designs that pulsed in time with the flashing lights. He pounded the two Jaeger bombs that Winston had ordered him, wry smile crossing his face as it looked like Rio might die from the alcohol content, “Only the first two taste like battery acid. It’s when they start tasting good that you gotta start worrying about how fucked up you’re getting.” He ordered himself a vodka soda and looked around the crowd, sipping his drink. This might not have been exactly what he’d wanted to do on his first night home but he was getting enough appreciative looks from appropriately handsome men to make this night potentially worthwhile. “This was a great idea, Winston. Don’t even second guess it. We’re supporting our bro, getting drunk, and getting his on by crowds of people who appreciate the fact that all three of us are studs. Should we go say hey to Todd? Least let him know we’re here jamming out to his set?” Finishing his drink he ordered another one, tipping the bartender heavily as he started to wind his way through the crowd and up towards the DJ booth. 

The crowd pulsed and throbbed as everyone danced. Winston could barely help themselves from getting into the mood. They were pretty drunk now, two jaeger bombs and the vodka, not to mention everything they’d had before. Grabbing Orion’s hand, Winston dragged their friend slowly through the dance floor. “Battery acid is exactly what I imagine these taste like, but they’re also going to make this way more bearable way faster.” It was hot and Winston couldn’t imagine how Orion could stand being in just a hoodie but they weren’t about to push the matter as they slowly made their way through the crowd of sweaty bodies that were doing their best to move along to the thrum of the bass and the blare of the drums. “It’s going to take us forever to get towards the stage,” Winston was sure that being on Todd’s guest list meant that they could do this the easy way, but right now they were too drunk to really think clearly and honestly, if they were going to do this then they might as well enjoy themselves, “Ricky you gotta go first and clear us a way you beefcake.” Winston giggled tipsily, unsure if their friends had even heard a word they said over the roar of the crowd and the hum of the music. Maybe slightly against their better judgement Winston was starting to enjoy the end of the world. Why not have a good time? Right?

Winston and Ricky was the only solace that Orion had right now. They were grounding him in many ways. Mentally, they were keeping his anxiety from completely spiraling. Physically, they were the only reason that Rio hadn’t ran from the place as soon as he stepped foot inside of it. Right now, the only thing Rio could focus one as how hot it was. He was sweating, and kept pushing his soaked hair out of his eyes with the hand that wasn’t being dragged through the dance floor by Winston. “He is a beefcake isn’t he?” Rio giggled, shutting himself up by taking a long sip from the fruity drink the bartender had mixed him. It tasted way better than those shots had. Rio took another drink. People pushed against them as they pushed onward and Rio found himself ducking and dodging flailing arms as they danced to the music. How did they think with how loud the music was? The dim lighting, trippy glowing colors, deafening music and crowd was making Rio dizzy. The place was disorienting enough,  but Winston’s hand dragging wrapped around his was making Rio’s head spin all it’s own. Another drink. “Do you think Todd hates me?” Rio found himself asking, a question he would usually never ask anyone aloud, especially mutual friends of the guy. The alcohol was working way too quickly. Another nervous drink. “Don’t answer that that was dumb. Let’s just find Todd.” Another drink. Oh no, he was almost out already. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Oh jesus. You guys are already drunk?” Ricky slammed back his drink as they made their way through the crowd, effortlessly parting the sea of people with his aptly-described beefcakeness, “That’s me. Dumb of brain, thicc of heart and ass.” He made sure he had an eye on both Winston and Rio at all times; this definitely didn’t seem like either of their scenes and he wasn’t about to lose them to a random drug trip induced by someone random ravegoer. He almost missed Rio’s question, and it was only because he’d turned around to check on them that he was able to read the other man’s lips, “What? Of course not. I don’t think Todd is capable of hating anyone, like biologically. It’s in that man’s blood to just love everyone and be the chillest of chill bois.” As they passed by a smaller secondary bar on their way to the DJ booth Ricky ordered a couple of shots and pounded them in quick succession, “It’s harder for me to get drunk.” He explained as he set the small glasses back on the bar and gave the bartender a nod, “We got more blood than you guys.” Eventually he muscled, smiled, and danced them a path through the dancefloor up to the booth where Todd looked like a) he was having the time of his life and b) he was on about seven different drugs. This close to a bank of speakers it was impossible for Ricky to hear anything except the bass so he just waved and shot Todd a smile and a thumbs up; those were pretty universal, right? 

“Hey, we’re not all build like a brick shit house Ricky,” Winston replied with a giggle as they sipped their drink through a straw and gently squeezed Rio’s hand. They could barely hear anything that Rio was saying, but they were pretty sure he’d just said something about Todd hating him. Which was absurd. “Of course Todd doesn’t hate you, Ricky’s right, he couldn’t hate you if he tried.” They flashed them a reassuring smile and had to admit that they kind of envied the amount that Ricky could drink. He seemed like he was having a good time on his own without needing to be drunk. It took them slightly longer to get over to Ricky and Todd, as they were separated in the buzz and hum of the crowd. Left with just Rio, Winston was eventually able to pull them close enough to Todd to wave from the crowd and grin, but despite the potential impending end of the world, Winston had to admit that they loved this song. “Fuck, this is actually pretty fun,” they said dancing in place, hand still clutching Rio’s fingers, “I’m probably just really drunk.” 

Orion felt a little bit better, with the assurance that Todd didn’t hate him. At least as far as Ricky and Winston are concerned. Rio was way too aware that he wasn’t sober. Or maybe he wasn’t nearly as aware as he thought he was. Was that possible? Was drunk Rio capable of being faux aware of being drunk without actually realizing just how drunk he was? Did any of that make any sense? The confusion made Rio giggle. Rio knew his tolerance was going to be awful considering he hadn't drank before, but he had hoped that being a hunter might give him at least some semblance of an advantage. But Winston was clearly just as bad off, because he was suddenly dancing along to the music, a song that Rio wasn’t familiar with. There was a noticeable difference now. Even drunk Rio could tell. Before, moving through the crowd together it just made sense that the two would hold onto each other so they didn’t lose their way. Now… well the two were standing next to one another and Rio’s fingers were still in Winston’s grasp. “You’re definitely drunk” Rio laughed, watching them dance along to the music without moving their feet. It was more swaying than anything else. “I think I’m drunk too.” Rio admitted. Was two shots and a mixed drink normal for someone to get drunk off of? Despite his internal monologue telling him not to, Rio found himself starting to sway in rhythm with Winston, trying to play along with him. If he tried to focus on the music he might be able to ignore how the only part of his body that he could focus on was the hand that Winston was holding onto. “I’m uh- I’m glad I came here. With you and Ricky.” 

It was a semi-familiar sensation to Ricky to stand on the outside watching other people. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Winston had grabbed Rio’s hand when they’d started working their way through the dancefloor, and it definitely didn’t escape his notice that the hand holding hadn’t stopped when they’d reached the DJ booth. He watched as they both drunkenly started to dance, a wry smile across his face. It wasn’t the strangest pairing he’d seen. Honestly it sort of made a strange sense. Ricky started to dance with a guy who’d been giving him a meaningful look while he kept an eye on his friends. Nothing wrong with cutting loose and having fun but he didn’t want either of them to end up the meal of some rave-stalking monster. Which in White Crest was a distinct possibility. The song made a smooth transition into the next one in the set, expertly guided by Todd’s skill, and Ricky leaned in to take the sharpie offered by his dance partner, quickly scribbling his number on the back of the man’s hand before moving back to stand near Todd. He was still close enough to keep an eye on Winston and Rio but not so close that he was infringing on whatever moment they were about to have. 

The world was spinning. But gently. Winston lumbered around, convinced that they were the most graceful dancer that had ever lived. The music slammed, pulsed and pounded. Todd was so good at this Winston thought as they slipped closer to Orion for a moment before prancing away (okay maybe it was more like a stumble). Their head felt thick and Winston wasn’t sure that they were that drunk. Then the world took a turn and Winston fell into Orion. Their hands coming apart for a moment and Winston couldn’t help but grip Orion’s surprisingly muscular shoulder. It wasn’t that he was Ricky ripped. There were no muscles glistening at obtuse sizes. Rio was just toned. The muscles were there but they weren’t for display or pretention (Ricky). Orion always kept everything covered up, always wore long hoodies or jeans or whatever and Winston wondered why in that moment they weren’t dying from the heat. But they didn’t care, they couldn’t let go, not for a second. Sure they’d used Rio to keep themselves standing, but it was more then that now. Winston’s breath caught in their throat as they looked into deep hazel eyes. Biting their lip, Winston felt the Earth stop spinning for a moment. 

Orion had finally relaxed. The music was still too loud. People still crowded around Rio’s personal space. And it felt like Rio may have a heat stroke at any moment. But he had pushed all of that to the back of his mind. Because he was having fun. With Winston, dancing here and definitely drunk. He didn’t even care about how dizzy or lightheaded he felt. Rio was convinced that Winston’s hand holding onto his was the only thing keeping him from floating off into space. When Winston practically fell into Rio, something else finally clicked into place. This was what Rio wanted. Rio knew that things were different with Winston. That the way he felt for them was different than his other friends. But Rio had never looked further into it. Had never wanted to. It made sense. Winston had it all. They were smart and talented. They were passionate about things and had a lot in common with Rio. They were really, really pretty. In spite of the alcohol and music drowning out his senses, Rio’s feelings for Winston were overwhelmingly clear in this moment. And that was terrifying. “Uh- you okay there?” Rio asked, trying to sound concerned but way too busy processing. Plus, he was pretty sure he was also laughing at how clumsy Winston had been.

Giggling, Winston felt someone brush past him. They must’ve been big because Winston was pushed closer to Rio. they basically had their arms drunkenly wrapped around their ‘friend’ at that point and Rio’s lips looked so soft. The world swirled and Winston was having the best time. Despite the odor of sweat and the sticky floor. Not to mention several drinks which had already been spilled on them making them smell of stale beer, Winston couldn’t help but admit to themselves that Rio might be the best smelling thing that they had ever encountered. Their eyes were captivating and Winston couldn’t help themselves. One second they were just looking into Orion’s eyes. Then they weren’t sure what they did. They weren’t sure why they did. They weren’t even completely sure how they managed to do it but they were stood staring at Rio one second and the next Winston was kissing him. Gently at first, their lips just brushing against one another, Winston could feel the other breathing and they couldn’t help but close the gap between them, pulling Rio close as they embraced him. 

Orion wasn’t sure who initiated it. Right now, Rio wasn’t sure how he was able to keep himself from toppling over. All he knew was that one minute the two had been dancing and laughing and now they were kissing. Rio fumbled his way through it. Intoxication may actually be working in his favor, helping to make up for the lack of experience and general awkwardness that under normal circumstances may have sent Rio spiraling. This was his first real kiss right? Sure, Winn had kissed him in acting class but that had been during a scene. It was in character. It wasn’t real. This was real. And it didn’t take long for Rio to forget any fears and melt into it. He ignored the added heat and welcomed Winston moving in closer, Rio wrapped their arms around their neck as if letting go would end the moment. Rio was desperate for this moment to not end. Who cared that they were in public and that a million people could see them? Who cared that Rio usually hated PDA. All he cared about right now was this moment with Winston.

Honestly. Winston had never really dated a lot. It wasn’t that they weren’t interested, it was more that other people weren’t necessarily interested in them. Which was fine. Winston had been busy for a long time, working on a million and one different projects. Always too busy to pursue someone who would just reject them anyway. But suddenly, in that moment Winston knew that they had been missing out. If every kiss felt like this then Winston was sure that there was something here that they should’ve been doing way sooner then this. Holding Rio tightly, they kissed them until they couldn’t help but pull back for air. There was a feeling of elation, of intoxication … fuck Winston didn’t know if they were just drunk but they wanted to kiss Rio again and so they did. Why not? What did they have to lose at the end of the world anyway? 

If the world truly was ending, this was exactly how Orion wanted things to go. With Winston, exactly like this. And Ricky... speaking of him, where was Ricky? The urge to scope the place out for him was distracted when Winston kissed him again. “Holy... Woah” Was the most poetic thing that Rio could manage to mutter once the two had pulled apart again. Rio was gasping for breath, a mixture of the heat and making up for the oxygen Rio had deprived himself of while making out with Winston. This was exactly what Rio had wanted, and Rio couldn’t help but be... happy. The thought made Rio’s stomach twist. The other shoe has to drop soon right? Something would have to go wrong. It always went wrong. Because the world wasn’t ending. Even if right now, Rio would have been perfectly fine with that. For the longest time, Rio had thought that the kiss had sobered him up. He hadn’t felt more grounded since they had arrived and he hadn’t been thinking this clearly in days. But it all came rushing back to him now. Rio was dizzy, sounds around him were nothing more than a loud buzzing and the contents of his stomach swam, threatening to force themselves back up. “So sorry- I just I have to uh- bathroom. Need bathroom.” Rio tried stating clearly before abandoning the attempt completely and rushing off into the crowding, desperately trying to push his way through before he completely lost his cool. And his dinner.

Winston was convinced that they were in heaven. They couldn’t breath but they didn’t need to breath. They had everything they needed and if they could have made a moment exist and last for a life time then Winston would’ve wished for this moment to span for centuries and millenia because in that second they realised all at once just how strongly they felt for Rio. He was so smart, and so kind and he cared so much about doing the right thing that he had rejected his birth identity and his own family because he couldn’t do what they were asking of him. Winston had never met anyone who was so good and pure and kind and Winston didn’t know how to deal with these feelings. “Oh, of course, sure, no … worries.” With that, Orion was gone and the kiss with it. Winston felt panic crack in their stomach and turned to look for Ricky. But he was gone. Either with someone else or the jet lag was too much. Catching Todd’s eye, Winston made it clear that they were heading out and decided to give Orion some space. Texting them that they were heading home, Winston left the club, much drunker and much more ashamed then they’d been when they came in. 

This was terribly macabre, and thus terribly White Crest. Beach balls painted white to look like eyes decorated this distasteful establishment, and even with ear buds in the music pulsed too loudly to be comfortable. Although if the world was ending, who cared about ear health? It was nothing in comparison to a banshee scream, but still unpleasant. Quieter, gentler music appealed to her more, but the talent at play here was undeniable. Her eyes drifted to the stage, as the DJ announced the end of his set, and another began. She squeezed through the crowd, under sweaty arm pits and past leering men, hurrying to meet him. He’d caught her eye last time, too, but she hadn’t been able to get close then. Now, there were no friends to squeeze through. “You’re Todd, the DJ that performed the last set, right? You were incredible.” The artistic potential rolled off him like waves in high tide. She looked him over, a smile curling over her features. Oh yes, he would do ever so nicely. Lydia’s stomach rumbled. “You look like you might like some company.”

[onpaperintofilm]

Oliver Stone’s ‘Natural Born Killers’ Is, More than Ever, the Spectacle of Our Time                

Yet it has never gained true respectability.

Variety

                                                                           |                            

                               Owen Gleiberman

                                      “ Works of art that were once radical tend to find their cozy place in the cultural ecosystem. It’s almost funny to think that an audience ever booed “The Rite of Spring,” or that the Sex Pistols shocked people to their souls, or that museum patrons once stood in front of Jackson Pollock’s splatter paintings or Warhol’s soup cans and said, “But is it art?” In 1971, “A Clockwork Orange” was a scandal, but it quickly came to be thought of as a Kubrick classic.    

           Yet “Natural Born Killers,” a brazenly radical movie when it was first released, on August 26, 1994, has never lost its sting of audacity. It’s still dangerous, crazy-sick, luridly hypnotic, ripped from the id, and visionary. I loved the movie from the moment I saw it. It haunted me for weeks afterward, and over the next few years I saw it over and over again (probably 40 times), obsessed with the experience of it, the terrible lurching beauty of it, the spellbinding truth of it. It’s a film that has never left my system.    

           I’ve met a number of people who feel the way I do about “Natural Born Killers,” but I’ve also run across a great many people who don’t. The reaction has always been split between those I would call “Natural Born Killers” believers (they included, at the time, such influential critics as Roger Ebert and Stanley Kauffmann) and those who thumb their noses at what they consider to be an over-the-top spectacle of Oliver Stone “indulgence.” At the time of its release, it was said that the film was bombastic, gonzo for its own sake, pretentious as hell, and — of course ­— too violent. Too flippantly violent. In a way, “Natural Born Killers” was the “Moulin Rouge!” of shotgun-lovers-on-the-lam thrillers. Either you got onto its stylized high wire, its deliberate pornography of operatic overkill, or you thought it was trash.    

           The divide has never been resolved, and the movie has never gained true respectability. Which I think is a good thing. Some works of art need to remain outside the official system of canonical reverence. But if you go back and watch “Natural Born Killers” today, long after all the ’90s-version-of-film-Twitter chatter about it has faded, what you’ll see (or, at least, what I hope you’ll see) is that the movie summons a unique power that descends from the grandeur of its theme. Far more than, say, “The Matrix,” “Natural Born Killers” was the movie that glimpsed the looking glass we were passing through, the new psycho-metaphysical space we were living inside — the roller-coaster of images and advertisements, of entertainment and illusion, of demons that come up through fantasy and morph into daydreams, of vicarious violence that bleeds into real violence.    

           I’ve always found “Natural Born Killers” a nearly impossible movie to nail down in writing (it’s like trying to capture what music sounds like). Sure, it’s easy to summarize the tale of Mickey Knox (Woody Harrelson), a sloe-eyed drawling psycho in a blond ponytail, and his ragingly damaged bad-apple lover, Mallory (Juliette Lewis), the two of whom go on a killing spree that turns them into celebrities, like Bonnie and Clyde for the age of TMZ.    

           Yet it’s the moment-to-moment, shot-to-shot texture of the movie that transforms a two-dimensional story into a four-dimensional sensory X-ray. I took my best shot at writing about it in my 2016 memoir, “Movie Freak,” in which I said:    

“The tingly audacity of ‘Natural Born Killers,’ and the addictive pleasure of watching it, begins with the perception that Mickey and Mallory experience not just their infamy but every moment of their lives as pop culture. Their lives are poured through the images they carry around in their heads. The two of them enact a heightened version of a world in which identity is increasingly becoming a murky, bundled fusion of true life and media fantasy. It works something like this: You are what you watch, which is what you want to be, which is what you think you are, which is what you really can be (yes, you can!), as long as you…believe.”

           What form does this kind of belief take? It’s a word that applies, in equal measure, to the fan-geek hordes at Comic-Con; to the gun geeks who imagine themselves part of a larger “militia”; to the gamers and the dark-web conspiracy junkies; to the people who think that Donald Trump was qualified to be president because he pretended to be an imperious executive on TV. It applies to anyone who experiences the news as the world’s greatest reality show, or to the way that social media is called social media because it’s about people treating every facet of their lives as “media” — as a verité performance. Made just before the rise of the Internet, “Natural Born Killers” captured, and predicted, a society that turns reality itself into a nonstop channel surf, a simulacrum of the life we’re living. One of the film’s most brilliant sequences is a dystopian sitcom, with a vile fulminating Rodney Dangerfield, that depicts Mallory’s hellish home. It’s a dysfunctional nightmare reduced to TV, which is what allows Mallory to murder her way out of it.    

           “Natural Born Killers” took off from a script by Quentin Tarantino that got drastically rewritten (Tarantino received a story credit), though it provided the basic spine of the film’s evil-hipsters-on-the-run structure and kicky satirical ultraviolence. But there’s a reason that Tarantino didn’t like the finished film; it’s not, in the end, his sensibility. His vision is suffused with irony, whereas Oliver Stone directs “Natural Born Killers” as if he were making a documentary about a homicidal acid trip.    

           The patchwork of film stocks that Stone employs (black-and-white, glaring color, 8mm, grainy video) turns the movie into a volcanic multimedia dream-poem. And it’s no coincidence that those clashing visual textures are an elaboration of the style that Stone invented for “JFK,” a drama about political reality (the assassination of a president) that gets sucked into the vortex of media reality (the now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t mesmerization of the Zapruder film). “Natural Born Killers” pushes that dynamic several steps further, as Mickey and Mallory’s murder spree becomes a hall of mirrors that’s being televised inside their own heads. In 1967, the tagline for “Bonnie and Clyde” was “They’re young. They’re in love. And they kill people.” The tagline for “Natural Born Killers” should have been: “They kill people. So they’ll have something to watch.”    

           “Natural Born Killers” captures how our parasitical relationship to pop culture can magnify the cycle of violence. Yet that theme may be more dangerous now than it was in 1994. As a liberal who’s a staunch advocate of every gun-control measure conceivable, and would never think to ��blame” a mass shooting on a piece of entertainment, I am nevertheless haunted by the possibility that half a century’s worth of insanely violent pop culture has had a collective numbing effect. In “Natural Born Killers,” a psychiatrist, played with diligent dryness by the comedian Steven Wright, gets interviewed on television about Mickey and Mallory, and his analysis is as follows: “Mickey and Mallory know the difference between right and wrong. They just don’t give a damn.”    

           That, to me, is one of the most resonant lines in all of movies, because what it’s describing now sounds chillingly close to too many of us. Sure, we all say that we care. But if you look at the actions, the judgments, the policies supported by millions of Americans, it seems increasingly clear that we’re turning into a society of people who know the difference between right and wrong, but just don’t give a damn.    

           Or maybe that’s too dark a thing to say. But the beauty, and brilliance, of “Natural Born Killers,” which draws on and radicalizes a tradition of movies (“Bonnie and Clyde,” “Badlands,” “Taxi Driver”) that deposit the audience directly into the souls of sociopaths, is that the film dares to ask us to ask ourselves what we’re made of. To ask whether we’ve removed life from reality by turning it into a spectacle of nonstop self-projection. To ask whether we’re now watching ourselves to death. “   

-- I loved it when I saw it. I saw it once. It scared me. It was too real and too predictive, too foretelling. But brilliant. Scary brilliant. To see the parody of the sitcom is to live your present life, your past life, and realize a subtle and not so subtle horror coursing through our filtered vision every day.

[fresh-outta-jams]

Plastic Heart - Part 16

Namjoon x Reader Author: Mo Summary: When you get the highly-anticipated BTS dolls for Christmas, your life takes a turn in a way you never could have expected. Note: Luna is a real one omg we stan. Warnings: None? Koya cuteness? Word Count: 1.5k

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

Luna responded to your SOS text pretty fast. You’d told her it was urgent and you needed her help and she asked how you wanted to hide the body, so it went unsaid that she would be your ride or die no matter what. You told the guys to stay in your room while you talked to her and kind of...warmed her up to the topic. It wouldn’t be easy to introduce someone else to this crazy world you’d found yourself in, but you knew she’d be able to handle it. Or at least, you hoped so.

When she finally got to your place, you opened the door for her. Namjoon was sitting on the couch, wearing a stray mask you found over the bottom half of his face. Baby steps. You had to introduce her to this in baby steps.

“Okay, spill. What’s your deal?” She asked as soon as she’d stepped over the threshold. Luna set her laptop bag on your couch and motioned to Namjoon. “I saw you all over Twitter. Who’s the guy?”

“I don’t want to dump this all on you at once.” You prefaced, sitting down next to him and welcoming her to sit down too. “It’s...a lot, I’m not going to lie.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“No.”

“Are you fleeing the country for tax evasion?”

“No.”

“Okay. So what is it, then?”

“I need a fake ID and a birth certificate.” He told her. “And some other things.”

“Why, are you a drug dealer or something?” Her eyebrows furrowed. For some reason, this guy’s voice was...familiar...

“No! God, no, I just…” Namjoon sighed. He looked at you.

“Promise you won’t scream, okay?” You took Namjoon’s hand and nodded. He reached up with his free hand and pulled down his mask.

Luna raised an eyebrow, studying your boyfriend’s features. “Namjoon?”

“Namjoon, yes. RM, no.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it really doesn’t, does it?” Namjoon thought over how to explain this carefully. “My name is Namjoon and I...look exactly like him and sound exactly like him, but I’m not RM and I’m not in BTS and I’m not a rapper.”

“I don’t get it. How is that even possible?” Luna opened her laptop, opening up her forgery software anyway.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story.” You bit your lip, playing with Namjoon’s large fingers anxiously.

“I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Okay, so um, this is going to be really hard to believe, but...until yesterday…” Namjoon took a breath. Saying it made it real, and for some reason, admitting this to someone other than you made him feel...bad. He didn’t like thinking about his plastic past. “Until yesterday, I was...Koya?”

You sat up straight at the mention of the koala, who was tottling into the room, two of his babysitters, Yoongi and Jimin, namely, running after him. Your would-be son looked very upset. He had the little blankie you’d given him in one little chubby arm, the other down at his side.

Luna watched wide-eyed in silence as the little guy waddled over to Namjoon, who scooped him up in his arms and cooed gently. “Aww, Koya, did you have a nightmare?”

He nodded, curling into Namjoon’s chest. Luna looked from the koala to Namjoon and then to Yoongi and Jimin, who were standing there frozen and looking at the blue-haired girl. They didn’t realize she was here yet. This was not good.

“Um…” Luna stared for a long couple of moments, looking to you for some kind of explanation for the chaos your life had steadily become. “So...They’re just…”

“Toys are alive.” Yoongi explained. The cat was already out of the bag. “Please don’t scream.”

“Like...all toys?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah...alright…” She thought for a long time, quiet. “Okay. That...you know, that kind of makes sense...a little.”

“You’re taking this a lot better than (Y/N) did.” Jimin watched Luna for another development, but she was pretty calm so far. “She screamed and cried and dropped Taehyung.”

“Listen, it was quite the shock.” You defended while Namjoon chuckled. That day felt so far-off now, even though it had been the beginning of all of this. “Jimin, go get the others. That might be the easiest way to explain...this…”

“Smart.” Yoongi nodded while Jimin walked back to the bedroom to summon the rest of his brothers, who followed him out to the living room a minute later. Luna scanned the line of them, counting. That wasn’t right, there were only six. So, she did a quick roll call in her head.

Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and…

Holy shit.

She looked at Namjoon, who smiled sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t cradling Koya. “Yeah, so uh, I used to be about a foot tall and made of plastic…”

“Well that explains just about everything, doesn’t it…” Luna thought through all of it. “Let’s do it, then. Let’s make you like, legally a person.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, thank me later. Right now, I’m gonna need you to bullshit a bunch of stuff so I can put it on your ID.”

And so, bullshit you did. Some of it was a matter of looking at him and writing things down: his eye color, his height. She was able to fudge some numbers, and with some hacking, she could get him into the system and give him a (resolved) parking ticket on his record. Ironic that the once-plastic Namjoon would be getting his driver’s license before the original one.

“Date of birth?” Luna asked. Namjoon’s face went blank. He thought about it for a second.

“Well, technically, it’s like August 7, 2019, but I have a feeling that’s not gonna fly…”

“Right, definitely not.”

“Holy shit, I’m a cradle robber. You’re like five months old.”

“I didn’t even think about that until now.” Namjoon admitted. He’d gotten pretty lucky to turn human when he did. There were probably toys that had been around since the 1980’s, and here he was, human after a handful of months. Unfair? Maybe. Was he glad not to be plastic anymore, though? Hell yeah. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, let’s just not think about it.” You laughed.

“We can keep August 7th if you want, but if we make your birthday 1994, you’ll be older than RM.”

“1995 or 1996 would be fine.” Namjoon reasoned. “I really don’t want to be older than him. That makes me feel weird.”

“Well which do you want?”

“1996.” He answered.

“We’re going to need to make up names for your parents.” Luna read from her template. “Also, do you want to keep Kim as a surname? It’s pretty common, so you probably wouldn’t be questioned.”

“Yeah, we can keep Kim.” He nodded. “I’ll look up some Korean names for my parents.”

The three of you sat there for a while longer, researching and plugging in facts about someone who didn’t exist in the eyes of the law, and by the time you finished...he did. He held his ID, looking it over. He held it up next to yours and it looked...real. Like, really real. Luna was good.

“Thank you so much, Luna.” You hugged her for a long time once she had her stuff all packed up. “Really, you don’t know how much you just helped us.”

“Anytime. We’re still studying together on Wednesday, right?”

“Of course.”

And just like that, she was gone, her eyes opened to the world around her. You walked back over to Namjoon, who was holding Koya and sitting on the couch, his new documents spread out on the coffee table. You’d need to get him a wallet to keep his ID and his fake student ID in, but that could wait a few more days.

“I’m legally a person now…” He said quietly, staring at all of it. This was a lot to swallow all at once.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Good. Really good.” His dimple came out of hiding as he slowly smiled. You sat down next to him and curled into his side, a tentative hand turning his face towards yours. “I’m just overwhelmed is all. I feel like everything’s happening so fast…”

“We’re gonna take it slow this week, alright? I’m sure this has all been a lot to deal with.”

“Yeah, a little. Can we just...put in a movie and cuddle?”

“We can do anything you want.” You kissed his nose. Namjoon leaned into your warmth, an arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. Taking advantage of your new proximity, you tilted your head and kissed him deeply, passionately, in a way that made him elicit a little moan from the back of his throat. “I love you, Namjoon. I know it’s a big scary world out there, but I’m gonna help you get through it. I promise.”

“If you keep kissing me like that, I might not make it through the movie…” He whispered, his voice deep and husky.

You grinned, pecking his plush lips playfully. “Then maybe once we put Koya to bed, I’ll keep kissing you like that…”

Namjoon grinned devilishly. You’d be the death of him, but...he decided maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing...

Tagged: @iie-wakarimasen, @lilgaga98, @catbugsugarpea, @demonic-meatball, @backtonormalthings, @kbowen9, @honig-bienchen, @coolcat494, @ffantasylandd, @feed-my-geek-soul, @ayoo-bangtan, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @cap-lu20, @finninpoposu, @coldbookworm, @sitkafay, @daniawinchesters21, @okaysoplshelpme, @zamirayinyue13, @douseeme16

[24-hour-plumber52-blog]

Household Plumbing Repair Companies in Strathcona Vancouver

Household Plumbing Repair Companies in Strathcona Vancouver

Were you trying to find information on burst pipe?

Pioneer Plumbing has built a reputation of honesty with our long time returning customers. We’ve found that “doing the right thing” in all aspects of our company has brought us to where we are today, and will continue to guide us into the future. Don’t hesitate to call and ask us any plumbing, heating, ventilation, or gas related questions. Chances are if you have a tricky issue, we can solve it.

We have a few goals for our clients. One is to be available for you. It is very uncommon that when you call us we are unable to make it within the same day. We give our repeat customers priority service so if you’ve used us before and you have an emergency, we are going to do what we need to, to get someone there.

Two is to be upfront and honest. From our quotes to our service techs on site, we don’t like to beat around the bush. We will let you know our concerns, our recommendations, and our opinions on how we would handle each situation as if it were our own residence where the problem occurred. We won’t tell you the job is only a 2 hour repair when we have had situations where it turned into an all day repair.

Three is to stand behind our installations and repairs. With mechanical work, it is very common for jobs to get larger or go sideways as you get into them. If we give you a quote we will stand true to the price, if we complete a job for you and you are unhappy with the finished product, we will come back and make it right. In return, all we ask is that you communicate with our office respectfully and honestly so that we can make sure at the end of the day you are happy with our services!

So next time you have a plumbing, heating, cooling, or gas question, repair, or installation you would like quoted, give us a call! Were here to help.

Plumbing Services

We're a full service plumbing company who is able to take care of any of your home service needs, including new installation, routine maintenance, repair of leaks or all sorts of work in commercial and residential properties. Toilet, tub or tap… no matter what you require you can rely on us to send out a registered plumber to take care of things in an efficient and polite manner.

Emergency Plumbing

Potential services can vary from modest jobs - for instance a leaky faucet - to those that are, or possibly might be, catastrophic. Our committed team of plumbers have got the skills, tools and experience to resolve any sort of challenge that you come across, and they're experts at everything from pipe installations to leak troubleshooting.

We are able to easily resolve any type of plumbing dilemma that could cause concern at your house or commercial property. For all your plumbing emergencies, please call us. We've got an emergency 24 hour plumber on call and will dispatch to your property as swiftly as is possible. Every day of the year 24-7, you will be able to depend on us for attentive and speedy assistance in an emergency. We at Pioneer Plumbing recognize just how stressful plumbing problems tend to be, especially if it's an urgent situation outside of the normal working day.

Plumbing Installations of All Types

Pioneer Plumbing has got a long standing reputation for high quality work. Regardless of whether you would like to have some insulating pipe, or a brand new basin installed, or you require a re-pipe or installation in a residential or commercial premises, we have the knowledge and working experience to make certain it is accomplished to code.

We're furthermore an established leader for replacing the piping in older homes, something that we've been undertaking for years, especially in some of the splendid homes in Vancouver's West End.

Our outstanding commercial and residential plumbing service is the top choice for either newer homes or older properties across greater Vancouver.

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https://downtown.pioneerplumbing.com/

Pioneer Plumbing Repair Service

1101-1202 Harwood St Vancouver BC, V6E 1S3 Phone: (778) 839-2040 Place ID ChIJfSdjui5zhlQRyb_bmeZDqSo

Business Hours: Friday Open 24 hours Saturday Open 24 hours Sunday Open 24 hours Monday Open 24 hours Tuesday Open 24 hours Wednesday Open 24 hours Thursday Open 24 hours

5 Main Types of Plumbing Pipes Used in Homes

Whether hiring a plumber or taking on a do-it-yourself plumbing project, the experience can be confusing because of the choice of several types of plumbing pipes. Eventually, pipes' uses tend to blend together. Which type of pipe should be used for water supply, drainage, sewer, and even for the exterior? The answer is not as clear as it may have been in the past when the main pipes of choice were galvanized steel or cast-iron.

PEX Pipe

PEX, or cross-linked polyethylene, pipe is one of the newest and most popular pipes to hit the plumbing market. PEX is used only to supply water. PEX is a pipe that is rigid enough to withstand the pressures of water supply but flexible enough to weave throughout walls, ceilings, basements, and crawlspaces. PEX has truly delivered water-supply plumbing into the hands of do-it-yourselfers and professional plumbers.

Pros

Color-coded red for hot water and blue for cold water

Highly flexible, with 90-degree curves possible

Attaches with push-fit plumbing fittings, among other types

Inexpensive

Able to join with copper pipe

Cuts easily

Cons

Long-term capabilities untested

May leak with push-fit plumbing fittings

Cannot be recycled

PVC Pipe

PVC, or polyvinyl chloride, pipe is a drain or vent line type of plumbing pipe. PVC initially gained popularity because it was lighter and easier to work with than traditional galvanized steel pipe. PVC pipe is moderately easy to install and requires little more than a hacksaw and a miter box to cut. PVC glues together with solvents.

Pros

Diameters clearly marked on the white surface of the pipe

Inexpensive and can be used for long runs such as for irrigation

Easier to work with than steel or copper

Cons

The pipe cannot be unjoined and must be cut

Glued pipes can be prone to leaking

Degrades in sunlight

Rigid Copper Pipe

Rigid copper is often used for water supply lines within the home. Rigid copper is easily cut with a hacksaw or with a special copper tube cutter. The connection is a different matter, as it requires a practiced hand to solder copper pipe together. Rigid copper pipe is great for water supply because it does not come with any health risks.

Pros

Though it is called rigid, this pipe can be slightly bent

Handles heat well

Stands up against intense pressures

Easy to recycle and waste copper pipe even has monetary value

Cons

Difficult for do-it-yourselfers to work with due to soldered connections

Expensive

Develops pinhole leaks

Inside of pipe may eventually corrode and impede water flow

ABS Pipe

ABS (acrylonitrile butadiene styrene) pipe is mainly used as a vent and drain line. ABS pipe looks very much like PVC pipe, except that it is black and slightly softer.

Pros

Stronger than PVC pipes

Good for underground exterior use

Works well in cold temperatures

Cons

Often not permitted by building code

Warps and deforms at certain temperatures

Flexible Copper Pipe

Flexible copper pipe or tubing is used for final runs to water heaters, refrigerators, and some sinks. Flexible copper is used only for short runs and can be cut with ease with a hacksaw. It can be bent to fit around corners.

Pros

Fits in tight, unusually shaped areas

High heat tolerance

Cons

Expensive

Thin and prone to breaking

Galvanized Steel Pipe and Cast Iron

Two additional types of pipe are sometimes found in older homes and are infrequently installed, especially by do-it-yourselfers: steel and cast iron pipe.

Galvanized steel pipe was used for decades for drainage, water supply, gas supply, and any number of other purposes. While galvanized steel pipe is still around (particularly for gas supply) it is far less used and is never used for water supply in new construction or remodel projects. Each end of the pipe is threaded, and individual pipes are screwed into each other with connecting joints.

Cast iron pipe was often used for sewer and other drainage purposes. Cast iron pipe is still found in many homes. Cast iron pipe is viable until the point that it rusts completely through. Cast iron is very heavy and difficult to cut. Retrofits tend to replace cast iron pipe with rigid plastic pipes such as ABS.

Pros

Galvanized steel pipe has the advantage of being extremely strong.

Cons

Galvanized steel pipe eventually corrodes and blocks water flow.

Some galvanized steel pipe may pass lead into the water supply.

https://www.thespruce.com/basic-types-of-plumbing-pipes-1822487

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