#just had to read that on wikipedia and have my jaw drop

[wherethegravelsthin]

who was going to tell me that Richie from the bear's irl parents run the music school in my hometown.... literally what the fuck

[jae-bummer]

My Idol 3: Part Two

My Idol From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Saturday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in a specific mission to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what four idols will move on to the second date.

My Idol 3: The Series

.

In the history of My Idol, you didn't think you had ever seen someone genuinely excited about doing a mission before. Often times, contestants tended to dread the red envelopes, with some even refusing to open them. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed almost more excited for this than anything you had discussed so far.

"To be honest," you grinned. "I thought the real adventure started when Yoongi was instilling a healthy amount of fear into all of us."

"Yeah," Jungkook cringed. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"What exactly was the plan?"

"Well..." he trailed, running a hand over the back of his neck. "He wouldn't tell me. He just said he was going to handle a few things."

"And that didn't set off any alarms?" you laughed.

Jungkook broke into a smile before shaking his head. "You try questioning him and see how far you get."

Directing your attention back to the task at hand, it was hard not to be enthusiastic when Jungkook was. Sliding a finger under the seal, he peeled the envelope open with a small pop. Grinning fiendishly, he slid the contents out and began to read.

"The healthiest relationships are those where you're a team! Grab a cold lunchbox at random and microwave it for the instructed time. While the timer is ticking, divide and conquer getting the rest of your snacks!"

"That doesn't sound too bad," you said quietly, suspicious as to why you got such an attainable mission.

"There's a second card," Jungkook hummed, waving it before reading. "See below for your shopping list. Confirm you have the correct brand and item before the timer runs out. Happy snacking!"

Looking over Jungkook's shoulder, your jaw dropped. The list of snacks had to have been 20 items long. You hadn't even heard of some of them before.

Glancing up at you, Jungkook smirked. "We're going to kill this."

"I hate to be pessimistic," you cringed. "But I don't even know what half of these things are."

"Okay," he said, furrowing his brows as he scanned the list. "We'll split the list in half. I'll take the ones you're not sure about."

"Oh," you breathed a sigh of relief. "You're familiar with everything then?"

"Nope," he grinned. "But I've got the spirit to make up for it."

.

It hadn't taken long for the two of you to split up the list and finalize a game plan. The only thing you hadn't been able to factor in was the time you would be allotted, or how to navigate other people shopping at the convenience store.

You looked nervously from the cold lunch boxes to Jungkook. His expression was soft as he gazed at you. "Hey, we'll be able to do this, okay?"

"And what if we don't?" you grumbled. You knew the probability of succeeding at every mission given by My Idol was slim, but you weren't looking forward to any of the penalties. You had already made yourself look silly enough in your audition video, there didn't need to be another highlight reel of embaressing moments.

"If we don't, it'll be my fault," he grinned. "Just worry about your part. You're going to do great."

You felt your heart stutter as you appraised him. Jungkook was so open and giving with his words and emotions. Not once had he made you feel uncomfortable or unwanted. You knew this experience was new for the both of you, but you were clearly out of your depth. Coming into this, you felt like you were drowning, but Jungkook proved to be an increasingly proficient swimmer.

"Do you want to pick?" he asked, finally looking away to you and toward the meals.

You chuckled uneasily. "I trust you."

"Might be your downfall," he joked, reaching in and grabbing what looked to be a pretty involved meal set. Checking for any sort of instructions, he let out a hiss. "Two minutes."

"That's fine," you nodded, trying to pump yourself up. "Two minutes. A whole 120 seconds. That's a lot of time."

"You're right," he said, nodding as well. Crossing the aisle, he began to remove some of the plastic packaging before popping the food into one of the available microwaves. "I believe in us."

Shutting the door, his fingers hovered above the numbers before he thought better of it. Dropping his hand to his side, he moved back toward you, grabbing your wrist instead.

"Wha-" you managed as he shuffled you toward the counter.

Lifting your hand with his, he smiled. "We'll do it together."

Letting out a soft huff of amusement, you allowed him to navigate your fingers toward the "Start" button. "Together."

.

Your breath was ragged as the microwave beeped loudly across the convenience store. Stopping just short of running into you, Jungkook grinned wildly in your direction, his eyes lit with excitement.

"We did it," he said, his voice gravelly. "We did the damn thing."

You laughed, looking at his now haphazard hair. Reaching up, you flattened a few strands back into his ponytail. The small movement caused him to go incredibly still, his eyes darting around your face before looking away. Once fixed, you took a step back, only to see him zoned out and biting his lip.

"Do you really think we got everything?" you whispered. Looking from his basket to yours, you were relieved to see quite a few snacks in both.

"If we didn't, we definitely got close," he murmured. "I'm proud of us either way."

A more lovely man simply did not exist. You were sure of it.

It wasn't long before the production crew seized your baskets and began analyzing everything. You were too nervous to speak, so you remained anxiously silent as you watched them.

"It looks like everything is here," one of the producers confirmed. "...besides the tuna and kimchi kimbap."

"What!" you and Jungkook gasped in unison. You thought back to your mad dash. That one was on your list, and you were certain you had grabbed it.

"It's not here," the producer sighed, pulling a red envelope from the back of his jeans.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jungkook said, stepping forward. "Let me look."

"We already looked at everything," another producer piped in. "It's not there."

"Then you'll have no problem letting me look too," he asserted, his hands already picking through the snacks. Sitting each one on the table in the order they were written, he paused. Looking over his shoulder at you, he smirked. "Found it."

When the producers were checking everything, it looked like the baskets had only been shuffled through. You watched with pride as Jungkook pulled the kimbap out from under the baked eggs.

"Oh," the producer said numbly. Stuffing the envelope back into his pocket, he sighed. "Well done."

"Well done," you muttered. You were going to have to keep a close eye on them.

"Now, to celebrate," Jungkook grinned, his nose scrunching. "Let's go go go!"

.

Settling into one of the plastic tables outside of the 7-Eleven, you assisted Jungkook with spreading out your winnings. You took turns going back and forth to heat up various things, but it didn't take long before you sat side by side.

"Mmmm," Jungkook groaned, taking a bite of the hot bar you had just set in front of him. "I haven't had one of these in forever."

"Not enough time?" you asked, taking a bite as well when he offered it to you.

"I order in a lot," he nodded. "I don't really like leaving my apartment."

You furrowed your brow as you chewed thoughtfully. "Why not?"

Heaving a sigh, Jungkook glanced up at the cameras before looking back at you. "Things can get a little crazy when you're a..."

"Idol?" you supplied. "Celebrity?"

"Something like that."

"Right,' you said slowly. Of course he treasured his privacy. He had so little of it. "But I'm curious, if you like to keep to yourself, why sign up for My Idol?"

"Why'd you sign up?" he shot back quickly with a teasing tone.

"I asked you first," you smirked.

Smiling in return, Jungkook resumed picking through the food. "I've realized that since I became an adult, I've gotten really introverted. It's hard to meet people when you're locked behind a door with your pets all day. I had some talks with friends, and they all thought this experience would be good for me."

You supposed you could appreciate that. "It's a chance for you to grow then?"

"Mmm," he hummed, mid chew. "In a way. I want to grow as a person, but it would be nice to grow with someone as well. You'll have to understand, I haven't really been "alone" since I was 15, so it's a double-edged sword. I crave that comfort, but at the same time, I've been burned by people who I thought I could trust."

"It's hard to be vulnerable," you nodded. "This is a chance to do that while also keeping rails around it."

"Exactly," he grinned. "I wasn't going to crawl out of my hole unless I felt safe to some extent.

Now, what about you? What made you submit your audition tape?"

"Alcohol," you laughed. "And a friend who said I needed to live a little."

"I think our friends would like each other then," he chuckled. "Both sat in front of a 7-Eleven because we were peer pressured to go on the highest stakes blind date possible."

"Hey, the 7-Eleven has been fabulous," you hummed. "And it's sentimental to you."

Looking over his shoulder, Jungkook gazed fondly at the building. "It really is. There's nothing like the feeling of practicing for eight hours and then stumbling down the street for some ramen."

"Eight hours?" you croaked.

"I was an underachiever, really."

You quickly narrowed your eyes at him, but immediately realized he was joking. Letting out a small huff, you shook your head. "How were your leg muscles even willing to make the trip after all of that?"

"It wasn't great," he winced. "But I was young and running off of the feeling of just belonging to something. When my members would be too tired to come out, I'd offer to carry them. Many a piggyback ride happened on the way to this place."

You tried to picture it. Jungkook who was barely a teenager and the slightly older teenagers who were made to raise him. They worked as hard as their bodies would allow until they finally got some recognition. They were sent catapulting into fame only to work harder than they ever had. There was something admirable about the journey to become an idol, but there was no way you could ever push yourself as hard as them. It took a special type of dedication.

You looked at Jungkook, assessing his features as he snacked. There was still so much of his youth in his adult features. While his softness had changed into hard edges, that child-like light never left his eyes. That mischievous tug never fell from his lips. The world had tried to beat him down so many times (and that's only what you saw on the tabloids.) Each time though, he picked himself back up and tried again.

You felt your chest give a tug. He really was someone you could grow close to if given the right circumstances.

Glancing up, his eyes caught yours. Smiling shyly, he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "Is there something on my face?"

"Oh," you squeaked. "Oh, no."

He leaned in close to you as if to share a secret. "You were supposed to say "Yes, Jungkook, there's beauty dripping everywhere."

You let out a surprised laugh as he crinkled his nose. "How silly of me! Here, let me help you."

Grabbing for his napkin, you began to dab his face playfully. "I'm worried that when I'm done, there won't be anything left to look at!"

Jungkook was erupting into full on giggles at this point, smacking your hands lightly as they roamed around his cheeks.

"Maybe if I took some for myself," you murmured, dabbing the paper on either side of your face. "I'll be as good looking as you."

"You already are," he said, breathless from laughing.

Getting caught on an exhale, you stilled. "Yeah, okay."

"Seriously!" he smiled, reaching up to boop your nose. "Sure, you might have things that you consider imperfections, but they give you character. I like looking at you."

You laughed through your nose. "I like looking at you too, Jungkook."

"That's as good as a declaration of love!" he gasped. "Move me on to the second round!"

"I'm not exactly sure that that's how it works," you sighed. "But nice try."

Jungkook looked down with a small smile. "I really would like to make it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he continued, still not looking at you. "I've had so much fun. And now I know you enough to make me want to know you even more."

"Hey," you chimed, setting your hand lightly atop of his. "You will be a very hard act to follow."

"You think so?" he smirked, finally looking up. "Maybe I should have taken you somewhere more special. Something the viewers-"

"Nope," you cut in. "This place of full of memories that you actually wanted to share. That's not easy when you're giving a small piece of your world to a stranger."

"It is a small piece of my world," he affirmed. "And it's been nice to be able to come back. I was worried it may have turned into something else by now. Thank you for taking care of that memory for me."

"No more talk about the next rounds or what viewers will think," you nodded. "Only talk about what's on your mind and show me pictures of your dog."

This would be the part of the show where the cameras cut away and come back to a montage of you and Jungkook laughing together, the two of you crowded around his phone, or tossing food into each other's mouths. You could almost see the editing as the time ticked by. While your conversation remained light and silly, it was so beneficial in getting to know the person you were expected to form a connection with.

Before you could even realize, hours had flown by. Glancing up in a daze, you realized the producers had been signaling for the two of you to wrap things up. Looking from the camera crew and back to you, Jungkook smiled sadly. "I don't think I want this night to end."

Ruffling his hair now that it had long ago abandoned his ponytail, you stood. "The sun is going to come up pretty soon and end it for us."

Jungkook nodded as he pulled himself to his feet as well. Wrapping his arm around you, he tucked you neatly into his side before strolling slowly toward the My Idol SUVs. You felt completely drunk without a single drop of alcohol coursing through your system. The two of you had entered your own little bubble, sprinkled with magic, and the promise of new beginnings.

"Even if I don't make it, we'll have to do this again," his voice cut through your thoughts.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. The implication of that sentence immediately sent your mind reeling to the previous two seasons.

"No, no, no," he said quickly, spinning you by the shoulders to face him. "Not like that. Just...spending time with you. It's been damn near therapeutic. I don't want to let that go. Whether it's as friends or something more."

"Oh," you breathed, your shoulders relaxing.

"I hope you had as much fun as I did," he smiled. "You did, right? If not, lying is acceptable. I'm fragile."

"I had a great time," you laughed. "It's been a treat getting to know you, Jungkook."

"You were better than any snack," he continued, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, maybe not the choco pies. Not much is better than choco pies."

"Understood and no offense taken," you grinned. "I'll see you soon."

"Soon," he confirmed, pulling you into his arms and wrapping them tightly around your waist. Setting his chin on the top of your head, he let out a sigh.

You took a deep breath in, trying to let yourself be surrounded by all things Jungkook. Although you had spent hours outside, he still smelled lightly floral. Pressed to his chest, you had never felt so warm and secure.

Finally pulling away, the loss of Jungkook's body was a stark one. You could've stayed in his arms for much longer, but you would still be unhappy when you had to let go.

Opening the car door for you, he provided his hand to grasp and ease your way in. Plopping on the seat, you turned to face him. "Thanks for tonight."

"I should be thanking you," he said quietly. Before you could realize what he was doing, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek. You sat in silence as he took a few steps back and shut the door.

Your hand immediately flew up to your face, gingerly touching the area of skin that now felt like it was on fire. Looking out the window, you smiled as he gave a small wave. Before you could return it, the driver steered away.

You sat on the feeling for a moment, trying your hardest to take everything in. Jungkook felt like a schoolyard friend that you had a crush on and were finally getting to act on it. It was that elated feeling of liking someone and finding out that they liked you back.

If you already had this level of warm and fuzzy from a man you just met, what would happen on your next six dates?

"Get it together, Y/N," you muttered, watching the 7-Eleven fade behind you. "You're just getting started."

To Be Continued.

[cwritesforfun]

(Criminal Minds) Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader: Lunch Date

Based on 1st Season Spencer Reid Spencer met Y/N at a bookstore. He asked her out and his date is tomorrow.  Got facts Spencer will day from these websites - Wikipedia, PubMed, Journal of Sleep Research, and college grad program website **I don't own these characters except for Y/N and the waiter, Alex** **Y/N = Your Name**

Master list

Spencer's POV

We just got back to Quantico from our last case in Florida.

I pack up my things to go home and Morgan walks over. He asks "Doing anything this weekend?" I answer "Reading Lord Of The Rings, a date, and catching up on my soap shows." Morgan nods and then his jaw drops. He asks "A date? Damn with who pretty boy?" I laugh and answer "A girl from a bookstore." He replies "Don't do anything I would do. Actually scratch that man, do what I would do. Enjoy yourself." Garcia stops by and asks "Enjoy himself? Hey, remember when Reid did his physics magic and it exploded at Hotchner's feet? He was enjoying himself then." We all laugh. Morgan says "He's going on a date." Garcia smiles and hugs me. She says "Omg I can't believe it. Tell me everything." I reply "There's really not much to tell. She was in the fantasy genre section of the bookstore on 5th Street named BooksAMillion. It was actually row 16. I was browsing nearby and I thought she looked pretty. I walked over and we talked about books for a little bit before I asked her out. The bookstore worker wasn't happy about us talking semi-loudly, but I could tell she likes to see a relationship blossom at her store. She let it pass. That's it." Garcia laughs and replies "Of course, you met her at a bookstore and remember exactly where you met. Please invite me to the wedding and the proposal you should have there." I reply "Garcia, I haven't even gone out with her yet." She laughs and replies “You always know when it’s the one.”

Y/N's POV - Next Day!

I'm meeting Dr. Spencer Reid for our date tonight. He's literally the same age as me and has multiple PHD’s. I feel so unaccomplished. It's fine though. After getting a double Master's, I was done with school.

We're going to lunch at some random place he picked then we planned on picking a book out for each other at the bookstore we met at. I think it'll be cute. I'm very excited.

I arrive at the lunch place on time and see Dr. Reid sitting on the bench outside. He sees me, waves, and stands. I walk up and exclaim "Hi Dr. Reid! How are you doing today?" He replies "Please call me Spencer. I've had a good day so far. I finished rereading the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy and started rewatching episodes of my soaps."

We head inside the restaurant and we take a seat at an empty table.

I ask "Finish the trilogy again? Wait did you read all 3 today or just the last one?" He answers "All 3. I can read 20,000 words per minute." I reply "Damn I wish I was you. That would've made school so much easier." He replies "Not for me. I was bullied in school. I reply “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m glad you made it out in one piece.” He smiles and says “Yeah, I made it out one piece physically. My reading speed did help with my 3 BAs and 3 PHDs that my bullies don’t have." I smile and reply "Wow what a flex. I was wondering why you were called a Doctor. Personally, I only got two Master's and then I was done with school." He replies "More than 16 million people have a Master's in the U.S. That is roughly 8% of the population. Did you know that the amount of students in college now who are pursuing their Master's is higher than in the past decade?" I answer "That's so interesting. Huh well, I think it personally helped me get the job I have, which is good."

A waiter walks up and exclaims "Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Alex. I'll be your server this afternoon. What can I get for both of you to drink?" We both tell him our drink orders then he swiftly returns with drinks. We tell him our food order and he leaves.

I ask "Have you ever been here before?" He shakes his head and answers "My friend, Morgan, told me about it. He goes on a lot of dates. It seemed to have a good selection from the menu, so I'm glad he suggested it." I smile and nod. He asks "Any plans for the rest of the weekend?" I answer "Get some sleep tonight to be ready for the week and maybe bake some kind of bread to eat for breakfast this week." He replies "Oh... According to PubMed, people don't just adjust to a routinely disparate weekday and weekend sleep schedule. You think you do, but you don't. Not to mention, the Journal of Sleep Research says we get about 30 minutes less sleep than we would ideally need on each night of the working week... sorry I got a little carried away there." I smile and reply "No problem at all. It's super interesting. Did any of those articles ever say what to do instead? Because if you aren't catching up with your sleep, then what? He answers "Mainly it said to keep a normal sleep schedule and not to change anything." I reply "Is that cool? Yes. Will I try it? Maybe not. I love not having a healthy sleeping pattern." He laughs.

Food arrives and we eat.

After lunch, we walk down the street to BooksAMillion for the next part of our date.

I ask "So do we have a time limit or book limit or price limit or anything?" He asks "Do you have an idea of what you want to get already?" I nod. He says "Ok so do I. We can do 15 minutes and a 2-book limit." I reply "Deal!"

We separate and I start walking to fantasy. He seems like a Star Trek & adventure-loving guy, so time for my first book. I grab my first book and then head to the nonfiction section for my second one. I pick it up and head to the checkout line. I wait in it and checkout.

As I walk towards the exit, I see Spencer by the entrance holding a bag plus two cups. He hands me one and says "I got you a coffee. You seem like a two-sugar and half-n-half girl to me. I hope you don't mind and I hope I got your order right." I reply "Omg wow yes that is my order. Thanks, Spencer. Shall we?" I motion to the door and he nods.

We leave and head to the park across the street. We sit on a bench and I ask "Who first?" He answers "You seem excited. You start." I smile and say "Ok... here ya go. I shall explain why as soon as you see them." I hand him the bag and he sets his coffee down. He takes the bag and opens it. He pulls out the first one. I exclaim "Ok so my first one. Now based on our one conversation from last time, you gave me Trekkie vibes like you just seem like Star Trek would be your thing. Am I right?" He nods and I continue "Awesomeness wow! So my first one is Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik gives me very much Kathryn Janeway vibes. Ooh I hate that I've said vibes twice in the span of 5 minutes. Ew. Sorry ok so... Kathryn was the first Federation captain to successfully traverse the Delta Quadrant, encountering dozens of new planets and civilizations over the course of seven years. Then in the book, the plot revolves around three amazing women and a stubborn resistance to cultural norms. Have you read it before?" He shakes his head and replies "No I can't say I have. Nice call on Star Trek. So now book 2!" He pulls it out and I exclaim "Ahh ok so book two is The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. I recommend it to so many people because I think there's something in there that will resonate with everybody. It makes you believe in yourself and not feel so uninspired by work. I don't even know if you feel that way, but it's helped me and I thought hey why not?" He replies "Well thank you. I'm sure I'll like it. I'm excited to read them." I smile.

I set my coffee down and he hands me my bag. He picks his coffee back up, sips it, then exclaims "So the first one is a classic, so I really hope you haven't read it yet. The Once And Future King by T.H. White is a retelling of King Arthur and his life. The book is divided into four parts, which are The Sword in the Stone detailing the youth of Arthur. Then, The Queen of Air and Darkness was published separately in a somewhat different form as The Witch in the Wood. Next is The Ill-Made Knight (1940), dealing mainly with the character of Lancelot. Lastly is The Candle in the Wind. I hope you like it as much as I do. My second book is quite the craze among people at the moment. It is The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. It was originally written in Portuguese, but I picked the English version for you. It follows a young Andalusian shepherd on his journey to the pyramids of Egypt, after having a recurring dream of finding a treasure there. I hope you like them." I smile and reply "I'm excited to read them. Thank you so much, Spencer." His phone rings and he says "Oh... one minute." He walks off with his phone.

Spencer shortly returns and says "This was a fun date. Thank you for coming. I hope we can do this again. Unfortunately, I have to head to work." I reply "Aww yeah I had fun too. This was a great date! Well, I guess I'll see ya Spencer!" He grabs his bag and coffee then he leans forward to kiss me on the cheek. He says "Bye Y/N." I wave bye and he walks off.

I head home right after to start reading my books.

Spencer's POV

On the jet, I pull out my books and set them on the table. Morgan asks "You got new books? What about that date? Did you miss it?" I answer "No. In fact, she picked these books out for me. One was because she guessed I was a Star Trek fan and one was to inspire me plus it's one of her favorite books. I gave her The Once And Future King plus The Alchemist." He laughs and replies "Nerds. Geez. So you had fun?" I answer "Technically fun is enjoyment, amusement, or lighthearted pleasure. I have fun all the time. If you mean, do I think we'll go on another date? I kissed her on the cheek and she let me ramble. I'd say yes." He laughs.

........................................................................... THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! :)

[littlefreya]

Dirty Henry

Summary: A picnic in the rural forest turns into a steamy game of profanities as Henry decides to demonstrate how he would persuade you to be his.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (2nd person POV)

Word count: 2K

Warning: 18+, smutty smut, oral sex - female receiving, lewd, descriptive profanities that will make your ears burn,praising, outdoor sex, gentle rough sex, creampie. 

A/N: This was requested ages ago: messing around with Henry duri picnic. The dirty talk was inspired by a chat with Wendy. Beta’d by the one and only queen @agniavateira. The Mythology quotes of Apollo and Dapne are based on Wikipedia. *No permission is given of reposting, copying my work or ideas and parts from it and claiming it as your own* 

Feedback is welcome, comment and reblog if you enjoyed. 

Title: Dirty Henry

Honey-coloured leaves floated in the air, flapping tenderly like frail butterflies that danced frivolously in the wind. Lying on your back over a blanket, you watched them as you listened to the rustle of leaves and the water flowing down the small stream nearby.  

Henry’s head rested on your thigh; his smooth baritone stroked your ears in the most satisfying melody you’ve ever heard as he read to from his book.

“...Offended by Apollo’s remarks, Eros has decided to take vengeance on the god. He shot him with a golden arrow, causing him to fall intensely in love with Daphne, the fair river nymph, which he then shot with a lead arrow, imbuing her with pure hatred toward Apollo.”

A small grin peeked at the corners of your lips, your hand reaching to find the dark bundle of curls on his head and began coaxing them around your slender fingers. 

The forest smelled of evergreen mist, mushy lichen, and tranquil tree stumps that had new lifeforms growing on them. On the tip of your nose, you caught Henry’s distinguished scent. His earthy musk called you by your name.  

Henry wiggled slightly on your thigh and cleared his throat before he continued reading.

“Apollo chased the virginal nymph through the thicket, all the while declaring his undying love. When all seemed lost, Daphne cried out and begged her father, Peneus, to save her from Apollo’s unwanted courtship.”

“When a guy is so annoying that you have to turn into a tree in order to get rid of him for good,” you teased while inhaling the alluring scent of the forest.

Henry chuckled lightly, his head bobbing on your leg. He turned on his side and looked at you, his cut cheeks rose to a playful smile. “Well, perhaps all Apollo needed was a chance to show her his true affection to persuade her.”

“Oh, is that so?” you tilted your head to gaze at Henry with amusement, noticing the spark of mischief that shone in his cobalt eyes. He placed the book down on its belly and flipped onto his haunches, planting a kiss on your exposed ankle.   

“Perhaps…” he uttered, the soft pads of his fingers running up the path of your leg like tongues of silk. Your leg jolted at his touch, breaking down to the ground feebly. Henry leaned down, nudging your other leg aside, his mouth was hot and wet around your inner thigh. “...all she needed was for him to show her.”

You nibbled your lip, watching Henry’s dark curls shine between your knees in the scattered daylight. His broad back flexed, taut muscles moved in synergy as he worked through the path to your hidden garden.

“Sometimes, you just need to eat her pussy properly, and she’s yours.” he said huskily. You flushed at his profanities, your cheeks tingling as blood rushed to your head. He had a way with words; they didn’t just sound dirty; they were sin itself, and his rich British accent made even the most sacrilegious statement deeply romantic. 

Henry was well aware of your embarrassment, teasing you for your false chastity. He used his mouth in many talented ways, whispering lust against your enticing flesh to make your ears burn. 

You stared coyly, hugging your breasts like a shy lover, watching him explore you as if you were uncharted territory. 

His tongue embarked through the vale of your body, leaving a wet trail that chilled your skin in the October breeze. You threw your head back and hissed to the canopy of leaves that hid the two of you from the sky. Every touch of his fingers against your flesh set feverish ripples through your skin. Possessive hands grasped at soft the hills of your breasts and squeezed tightly while his lips marked their way below your navel.

He enjoyed this, making you feel so powerless. His deep blue eyes pierced sharply as your head went from side to side like a scared virgin, biting your knuckle as excitement blazed between your sweaty inner thighs. His greedy fingers gripped at the meat of your hips, folding your legs up and splitting them while his head dived in-between.

The soft curls of his hair tickled the naked skin of your apex. Lush and tender kisses dotted the line that led to your core. 

“Henry, please,” you begged, out of breath. His fingers stroked the shape of your womanhood, rimming the gates of your garden with the soft pads of his finger. He laid a kiss on the silk shawl of your clit and an amorous hum spilt from him, appeased at the lusciousness of your skin. 

“I love your cunt, so much.” his words slurred with sultry haze, emphasising the one word that made your muscles sear with embarrassment. You threaded your fingers through your hair and tugged at it as frustration and tension grew across your nerves. 

It was astonishing how vocal he was whilst roping simple words with sinful actions. 

He kissed your cherry, tongue lapping around it slowly before his lips suckled longingly. A deep moan vibrated through the pit of his mouth, making you mewl with blissful little jolts of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Henry murmured as he broke from your clit and moved his lips against the sweet petals of your cunt, his hot breath caressing your succulent fruit. “I’m going to lick every inch of this marvellous pussy, and then fuck you with my tongue.” 

The air vaporised in your lungs; moans didn’t even meet their end, becoming hoarse wheezes, shuddering through the threads of your sinew. Violent tremors made your legs jitter in his grip, had he not held you forcefully they would have fallen aside. 

A low chuckle escaped him as he hooked one of your knees over his shoulder and moved a hand to manipulate your folds. His fingers unwrapped you, pulling your valley open to allow his tongue taste the nectar of your arousal.

Your entire body arched as if possessed, your spine levitating over the surface, desperate howls sent to the sky above. His tongue lingered through your seams, collecting every drop attentively. 

“Be a good girl, and I’ll shove my cock inside you.”

Speech was another one of his powers, enchanting you entirely. You whimpered as his hips bucked against yours in a desperate demand. He would never just fuck you, no, Henry loved to take his time. Foreplay would go for hours if he felt like it, playing with your body until your throat went dry and ached and your bones melted away. 

“You like it, don’t you?” he asked as he ran the snake in his mouth all the way through your swollen crease. “Me going deep inside your sweet little cunny, splitting you open, shooting my load inside you.” 

He expected no answer as you couldn’t form any, but you cried out and ripped turfs of grass in your hands instead. His large tongue sank inside your cunt, invading as deep as possible between the velvet walls. He curled it skillfully, savouring on the taste with a delightful moan. 

Pleasing you gave him just as much bliss. You were made to believe you were ambrosia which he feasted on. 

His mouth mapped your insides, knowing every spot, lavishing it on repeat while your moans increased, turning into hopeless cries. This man has read the language of your body. He knew when you were close and he knew how to prolong his torture- to make it last, to make you scream. 

And scream you did, with tears rolling down your temples, eyes squeezed shut as the stimulation became too much. He sucked on your cunt and plunged his tongue, getting you close and then far again. 

The pleasure bundled at the edge of your core, knotting your muscles from your orgasm. In despair, you squirmed, frustration making you seek for any means to breach through heaven which was just a kiss away. Waving from side to side, you pleaded, but Henry’s large hand slid onto your lower torso, pressing you down to be grounded with nothing but slight force. He limited your movement as he ate you out profoundly, his tongue singing hymns in your depth.

“Henry!” you wailed, unable to withstand his torture. His chin chafed you, his tongue squirmed between your lush lips and just when you thought you were to blackout, he thrust the tip of his into the spot that made you see stars. Your dam broke, your head lifted from the ground as ecstasy spasmed through every nerve, lighting it with an electric charge.

Untethered gasps fell from your mouth, chest heaving up and down as euphoria lingered by. Henry was impatient, his wide waist was already pushed between your spread-open thighs to fulfil his promise. The metallic clanging of his belt was sharp enough to pull you back down, followed by the giant hovering over your small frame and driving into your still-convulsing cavern, sliding in veins and ridges. 

And you felt it all.

A duet of moans played into the forest as your bodies collided. Henry ran deep, bottoming inside and clutching your jaw to the side, praising your neck and cheeks with earnest kisses and grunts that reverberated in your ears.   

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked above you back and forth, his thick shaft pulsated blazing-hot amidst the fight your walls put against his invasion. They never stood a chance, he was iron in velvet expanding them with every shove.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he breathed as he slipped in and out in a steady rhythm, “I’m going to come inside you, paint you with my seed.”

His hands seized your face again, his bulging biceps caging your head while he uttered words of praise entangled with obscenities. The threats of what he planned to do with your body, of how good it felt inside you made you wail in an embarrassing pleasure.

“Yes, take it. Take my cock,” he snarled breathlessly. He was heavy above and inside your body, every slam forcing your legs to jerk helplessly in the air and your behind to ache as it mashed beneath the weight of his body. You cried in ecstasy, feeling his entire length pumping in and out. Long, rasping plunges spiralled inside with tingling little tremors that danced in your essence and continued to spread further the tighter he got you. 

Feeling the tightness grow around his shaft he snapped his arms beneath your knees, spreading you wider so he could fuck you vigorously into oblivion. You screamed his name in despair, his grip making you no more than a fucktoy to which he jostled his cock into, back and forth, wet and quick.

And you loved it, you loved feeling like you’re nothing but a slit for him; your entire essence shattered, destroyed by his body, consumed by your love for him. The new position made his sac thud lewdly beneath your slit, and your clit repeatedly ground into his pubic bone. 

The merciless ordeal was too much, seeing Henry above you and herding his moans was too much.

“Henry!!! Fuck! I...”  You were broken in, sobs of pure bliss cracked through your throat as you came undone, bursting with love. Your head rolled back on the ground, and your body locked him in with zeal. Henry groaned, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he felt the suction in you, pulling him deeper like a siren drowning a lost sailor. Your convulsing walls begged for the rich milk of his loins as he fought to delay his pleasure, but lost to the turbulence that overwhelmed him.

Shouting your name, he released himself, gasping hot against the corner of your mouth. You were stuffed full of his cum as he pulled out; he held your legs up and slid your panties back on. 

“I want it to stay,” he explained, “I want you to carry me in your panties all day long.”

He crawled to lie by your side and reached his hand to the book. His finger went into his mouth to dampen it as he turned the page over as if nothing happened.

“Next chapter, Hades and Persephone.” 

[marvelmusing]

Biology Lessons

Alpha!Modern!Laszlo Kreizler x Omega!Fem!Reader

My Masterlist

A/N: I was curious about the biology of A/B/O and ended up reading a lot of Wikipedia pages, 3000 words and a small Alpha Laszlo obsession later here we are

WARNINGS: 18+ content, unprotected smut, A/B/O dynamics, reader has female anatomy but no gender specific pronouns have been used (if there have been please let me know)

You and Laszlo had been together for two years. During this time you had been intimate on plenty of occasions, however you’d always ignored your secondary sex. When together, you were just two lovers, not an Alpha and Omega. You had limited experience with dealing with your biology and Laszlo had respected your decision to stay on your suppressants. He, in turn, had begun taking some of the weaker forms of suppressants. The kind that reduced his rut to a few days that he spent at John’s house. This situation worked well, until you reached the point where you changed your mind and wanted to come off your suppressants. You trusted Laszlo to help you through it and he was more than eager to take care of you.

“Have you ever had a heat?” Laszlo asks you. The two of you are sitting in his downstairs office at his house. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting a glow over Laszlo’s face as he watches you. Your eyes wander as you think about it.

“Once or twice when I first presented. But I started on suppressants pretty young.” He frowns a little, and you know his medical side disapproves. “We never learnt much about it in school.” You explain, trying to justify your decision. He nods immediately,

“Of course. The education system is curated for the success of Alphas. That, and sex education regarding Omegas is still often considered taboo.” He places a hand on your knee, “That’s not your fault, drágám.” You nod, keeping your focus on the hem of the robe you’re wearing - Laszlo’s bathrobe. “Would you like me to explain it to you?” Your face warms at the thought, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, but I’d like to. I think you deserve to know about yourself.” You give him a small nod. He smiles kindly at you and beckons you closer. When you approach him, he pulls you into his lap. “What would you like to know?” He asks you. You shrug slightly, fiddling with your fingers.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly. He hums in thought, before asking you,

“How would you describe my scent?” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as you inhale his scent. He smiles softly, his hand resting at the back of your neck, knowing that his scent will take the edge off your nerves. Your eyes flutter open as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“It’s like the citrus soap from my grandmother’s house, and the smell of new books, and your office, and like home.” You tell him and he squeezes the back of your neck affectionately.

“You smell like a field of fresh flowers, clean linen, and warm sugared tea. Soft and sweet, and safe.” He admits. You smile up at him as you lean your temple against his shoulder. He taps your nose gently with the tip of his finger. “The scent receptors in your nose pick up my scent and your body’s response depends on how appealing you find it.”

“Very appealing.” You admit against his neck and he hums affectionately.

“This is what helps you decide on my suitability as a mate. As well as other factors such as aesthetics, personality, and overall attraction.”

“That, and you’re one of the kindest, most loving men I’ve ever met.” He looks down, never used to the praise you always give him. His smile widens as he leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Enough flattery from you. It’s time for our lesson.” He tightens his hold on you as you smile at him, resting his weaker hand on your thigh. “Heat cycles occur once every season, so usually four in a year. The heat itself lasts between five and ten days, but that depends on the person.” His thumb skims across the skin of your bare legs lightly. “While Omegas can be sexually active outside of their heat, it is much more pleasurable during their cycle.” You’ve always loved listening to him talk, but hearing him explain all this to you has your body melting against his as your eyes remain fixed on his lips as he speaks. “Did you know that, as your mate, I may be able to trigger your heat?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t know that. “It isn’t always possible, but would you like me to try?” He asks, noticing your interest. You nod cautiously, and he takes your hands as he guides you off his lap, before pulling you towards the centre of his office. He sits you down on his desk with your legs parted, and he stands between them. He places his warm hands on your thighs, and nuzzles his nose against your neck. “You know where your scent glands are, yes?” You nod. You tap your finger against the ones on each side of your throat, then bare your wrists to him to show him the areas. You frown before mentioning,

“There’s another pair, I think, but I don’t know where they are.” He smiles proudly at you,

“Correct. There is one here, and here.” He tells you, trailing his fingers along each of your thighs. “They’re a little different from your other ones, which is why most people forget about them.” He squeezes your thighs tenderly as he continues his explanation. “Their main purpose is so that when you go into heat your slick will smell of your Alpha, and tell everyone that you’re taken.” You swallow the whine in your throat, but he knows the effect he’s having on you already. “How long have you been off your suppressants?” He asks you. He knows the answer of course, but he wants to see if your mind is still functioning.

“Around two weeks.” He nods,

“The perfect time to trigger your heat. That is of course if you want to?” You nod hurriedly,

“Please.” He steps closer,

“All I need to do is apply a little pressure here,” the pads of his fingers press against the glands in your thighs. He smiles at the sight of your head falling back, bearing your neck to him. “A little stimulus here.” His tongue moves across the pulse of your throat, sending a shudder down your spine. “And for you to take a nice deep breath.” You do as he says, your body responding instantly to his pheromones. He smells the change in your scent and smiles. “There you go, good Omega.” He coos. You whine at the warmth spreading slowly through your body as you cling to your Alpha. “You should be feeling rather warm now.” You nod your head a few times in agreement. He hums, “And I can smell your slick already.” He nuzzles his lips against your neck, and you whine for him. “By triggering your heat, we’ve skipped the pre-heat nesting stage. But don’t worry Omega, I’ve prepared the bed for you, and you can fix it up just how you like it tomorrow.” You’re beginning to pant and a shimmer of sweat is coating your skin as your fingers tug at his clothing. His words certainly aren’t helping either. He cups your face. “But right now, I think my Omega needs my knot, yes?” You nod hurriedly,

“Alpha, please.” You loop your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso, and he hooks his hands underneath your thighs. He lifts you from his desk and takes you up to the bed. When you see the bed set up, a large number of pillows at one end, blankets bunched up the sides, and the whole place smells of Laszlo’s cologne. “Laszlo.” You whisper softly, as the sight pulls on your heartstrings.

“I wanted everything to be perfect.” He admits, leaning in to kiss you.

“You’re here, it couldn’t be more perfect.” You tell him through the kiss. You can feel his grin as his mouth moves against yours, the back of your legs meeting the bed, and he guides you down carefully. He pulls at the belt of the bathrobe, letting it fall open and taking a moment to admire you. He pulls away to remove his clothes, and you whimper at the lack of contact. You take this moment as an opportunity to slip the robe from your body, abandoning it on the floor. You turn onto your stomach, hands smoothing up the bedsheets to rest above your head. Hips shifting needily, you arch your back, your knees digging into the mattress. Once he’s undressed, Laszlo looks back at you and his jaw nearly drops, though he’s quick to recover.

“Such a pretty picture, my beautiful Omega, already presenting for me.” He settles between your open thighs, leaning his body over yours. You rut your hips back against his, desperate for any sort of friction. You feel his smirk as his mouth moves across your shoulder. His hand descends between your thighs, fingers pressing against your warm folds. “And you’re so wet already, drágám.” He slips his finger deep into you, drawing a needy gasp from your lips.

“Laszlo, Alpha, please.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes please.” He removes his finger, leaving you whining, your hips chasing him. His hands curl around your waist, squeezing you gently as he tuts.

“Patience Omega.” But you don’t have to wait long, as he lines himself up to your entrance. In one fluid motion he’s filled you up, your eyes squeezed shut and your back arching against the mattress. “Such a perfect fit.” He moans against your neck, his accent getting thicker as you take in every inch of him. He kisses your shoulder delicately.

“Tell me when I can move, édesem.” You take a few gasping breaths, trying to become accustomed to the haze filling your mind. He notices your struggle. “Relax Omega. Let me take care of you.” A tiny whine catches in your throat, then you’re nodding.

“Please, Alpha.” His forehead presses between your shoulder blades as he moves in and out of you. Every single one of your moans and gasps has him nearing the edge of his restraint. Whilst Laszlo wants to focus on you, his need is slowly growing and he wants to ensure you want this.

“Drágám, darling Omega,” he rasps out. “I don’t think I can hold back for much longer.”

“Don’t, please. Don’t hold back.” That’s all it takes for his pace to increase. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushes you closer. You press your forehead hard against the plush of the mattress as you feel his knot pushing against your entrance. You whine, desperate for him to fill you completely. Growling against the skin of your back, nails gripping onto your hips, he drives his hips harder against yours. You don’t feel the thin red lines trailing down your thighs as you clench around him. “Are you ready for my knot, Omega? I know you’re close.” You can’t reply. Your mind is completely lost to the feeling of your Alpha taking you to pieces. “I need you to come, so my knot can stuff you full.” As soon as he knows you’re about to come he pushes his knot into you. Your eyes roll back, and you come hard with a broken cry. Only a moment later Laszlo comes as well, his lips grazing down your spine as he does. His knot swells, ensuring none of your slick escapes. Your body goes slack as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. You feel Laszlo’s breathing tickle the skin of your back as it slowly returns to normal. He shifts his weight slightly. “This may feel a little odd.” He warns you. He takes hold of your leg and moves it to the other side of him, effectively spinning you around and lying you down with your back to the mattress. You gasp a little at the change in position, his knot still holding deep inside you. “Now this is better.” He remarks, leaning down to kiss your lips. He takes your hands in his own, letting them run down your spent body. “Can you feel how full you are?” He pushes your hands over your abdomen, your fingers skimming over the bulge caused by his knot. “You did so well Omega, letting me fill you up like this.” He leans forward, nuzzling against your neck. “Such a brave Omega.” He coos. His praises and gentle touches soon have you coming back to your senses. Laszlo notices when the haze has cleared from your eyes, and gives you a soft smile.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hello.” The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a while, simply enjoying the close proximity to one another. You rub your fingers over his chest, before reaching up to curl them into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Laszlo,” you say softly, tilting your head back to bear your neck to him. “Can I have your mark?” He seems a little taken aback by your request.

“You- you want…”

“To be yours.” You watch his eyes darken slightly, and he claims your lips again. When he pulls away you’re breathless again.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You tell him. “That is, of course, if you want me.”

“Édesem, you are my world.” You both share a tender smile. He cradles the side of your face before tilting your head back. He nuzzles his lips gently against your throat. “With your current level of endorphins you shouldn’t feel too much pain…”

“I love you.” You interrupt him, your smile wide.

“I love you too, drágám.” He presses a soft kiss to the mating gland at your throat, before sinking his teeth down. You clench your teeth, nails digging into the sheets at the sharp sting of your skin breaking. Then, a wave of pleasure rolls through you as your bond snaps into place. You feel Laszlo lapping at the small wound. “All good?” He asks you. You nod with a smile.

“Though, if you bring up that saliva is a natural healing agent I will kick you out of bed.” He chuckles.

“Before I get my own mark. How cruel.” You frown at him.

“What?”

“Alphas also have a mating gland.” You nod, your frown still present,

“I didn’t think- I’ve never seen-“

“Very few Alphas feel the need to wear their mate’s mark. However, I want the world to know I’m yours.” He smiles, watching the primal urge shimmer in your eyes, though he senses your lingering hesitance. ���It won’t hurt me, drágám.” Your eyes flicker down to his neck, and he leans closer. “Right here.” He guides you to the spot against his throat. You cup his face carefully, taking a moment to nuzzle against his neck, breathing in his scent. “Don’t be scared Omega. Take what’s yours.” You sink your teeth into his throat, sucking gently at the break of his skin. You feel him shudder against you as your bond strengthens. You trace your tongue carefully along the wound. He leans down to kiss you again, your first kiss as a mated couple. You share a few more slow, loving kisses before Laszlo pulls away. He reaches down towards the bottom of the bed, pulling out a towel and lying it beneath your hips. You frown lightly at him. “Can’t have our nest getting dirty, can we?” Your face morphs into an affectionate smile. Your mate really does think of everything. You whimper when he pulls out, but he rubs your thighs reassuringly and presses kisses over your face. You giggle softly and he beams at you. He ensures the majority of the mess is soaked up by the towel before discarding it. He presses a kiss to your temple, “I’ll be right back Omega.” He’s gone for under thirty seconds, but you both feel the pull of your bond. When it’s fresh like this you can’t be parted for long. He returns with some wet wipes, and begins to clean the two of you up. The coolness soothes you, pushing the heat symptoms even further away. You smile softly at Laszlo and he shares your smile as the two of you spend a moment admiring one another. He throws the wipes away and settles down by your side. You nuzzle against him, purring contentedly. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep drágám.”

•*•*•*•

Early the next morning, Laszlo is stirred from his sleep by some sort of movement at his side. The bedroom is still in semi-darkness, the sun hasn’t quite risen into the sky yet, but there’s enough light to see by. The sight before him warms his heart. You’re adjusting a pillow beside you, tucking it under the quilt to secure the wall of your nest. You have one of his shirts tucked under your arm, and nuzzle into one of the pillows.

“What are you doing, Omega?” He asks, his voice still thick with sleep. He can feel your blush as you mumble,

“Just getting comfortable.” He chuckles softly, pulling himself closer to you. You immediately melt into his arms, your body lying flush against his chest. He trails a hand down your spine, and despite your shiver, he can feel your body heat increasing.

“Ready to go again?” He suggests. You pout, the tiredness behind your eyes creeping up on you despite the slick gathering between your thighs.

“M’ tired.” You mumble against his chest.

“I know you are.” He coos, guiding your hips towards his. “But all you need to do is be a good Omega and keep me warm.” You sigh in relief at the feeling of him filling you, eyes fluttering shut as he continues, his accent thickening. “Yes, that’s all your heat-ridden body’s good for, isn’t it?” He feels you tighten at his words and he groans against your neck. “Don’t worry Omega, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

[mgg-theprettiestboy]

Hi I’m on a Wikipedia binge and am doing way too much info-dumping for my own good and it got me thinking; could you do a blurb or somn where Reader just starts rambling at Reid and suddenly they’re just exchanging random facts 😂 I think it would be really cute pwease and thanks

–

“did you know that yellow roses signify friendship?” you looked up from your desk as spencer reid approached you. you glanced between the yellow roses in the vase on your desk, and him, before smiling slightly, “yeah, i do. that’s why garcia got them for me. she claims it’s our ‘friendship anniversary’, since this is the day i joined the BAU. well, five years ago, today.”

“oh,” spencer said, thinking for a moment, “they can also be a sign of a remembrance.”

“and also affection and joy,” you replied, before shrugging, “i know a lot about flowers.”

“woah, who got the flowers?” prentiss asked as she, derek and jj walked into the bullpen. you spoke up, “penelope got them for me. i’ve been in the bau for five years now, so she felt like she had to mark the occasion.”

“i suppose that’s something to celebrate. should all get food after work? something like a low-key party,” jj suggested, which caused a rumble of agreements from the group. spencer spoke up, “did you know that the first ever party invitation can be traced back all the way to 100AD.”

“Roman Claudia Severa,” you said, earning you some strange looks from the group. you continued to explain, “the oldest known party invitation was sent by Roman Claudia Severa, in Northumberland, around 100AD.”

“well well, looks like our resident genius finally has a little competiton,” derek chuckled, and spencer furrowed his brow, “how do you know that?”

“how do you?” you countered, and he scoffed, “because i have an eidetic memory, a read count of 20,000 words a minute and a love for all knowledge. your turn.”

“i’m just clever, i guess,” you replied causally, as his jaw dropped, and raised, before dropping and raising again and again, as he tried to form a sentence.

“wow, look at that. pretty boy is speechless,” derek chuckled, patting him on the back before walking away, laughing with prentiss and jj as he did. you looked to spencer, who was fumbling with his paperwork as he blushed. you smiled slightly, before shaking your head. you didn’t notice spencer was sneaking glances at you, a small smile on his face. maybe you were more alike than he thought.

-

spencer taglist: @slutforthegubes @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @fallinallinmendes @beyonces-breastmilk @spencerlikesapplejuice @pastathighs @gcblers @hushfakebitches @ijustcomeheretoread @thelovelyrose @187-reid @madison-malfoy @averyhotchner

[yellowocaballero]

Bonus story that I regret already

A friend requested a HLVRAI/Freeman’s Mind/HL crossover. Specifically, them getting drinks, in a pub. 

I really hate to spill that I’ve seen all of HLVRAI and Freeman’s Mind, but I figure the cat’s out of the bag. It’s three pages. It’s crack. There will be no continuation. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but tw for ableist language, suggested animal abuse, and suggested slavery. So...that’s how you know Freeman Freeman’s Mind shows up. 

God, does anybody remember FM? Am I the only person who remembers FM? Am I having a stroke? Imagine if Freeman’s Mind came out in 2020. There’d be call-out posts. 

Enjoy...I think? Rest under the cut. 

********************************************

“When you think about it, dog breeding just doesn’t make any sense.”

Thank god. Gordon exhaled in relief. The guy sitting across from him in the dim, crowded pub had finally moved on from his extensive...very extensive...opinions on the IRS. Gordon had desperately tried redirecting the conversation to something more normal, like theoretical physics, or his opinion on multi-dimensional crossovers, but instead the guy just seemed very desperate that everybody know that taxation was theft.

“Right!” Gordon said enthusiastically, just trying to get word in edgewise. He knew he liked to talk, but this guy was ridiculous. “Pugs can’t give birth by themselves. It’s inhumane.”

“Oh, forget about that shit.” The guy waved a hand, burping slightly as he slammed back more of his beer. “What I’m saying is that it’s ridiculous not to train dogs to attack your enemies.”

“I don’t actually have that many -” 

But the guy was already ranting, completely talking over Gordon. Pleadingly, Gordon looked at the other guy they were sitting with for help, but he just sat there drinking his beer with eyes distantly fixed on the tacky retro diner signs hung on the wall. Traitor. 

“When you think about the entire thing’s stupid. The breed standards are just ridiculous, first off. Breeding dogs so they can’t bite, can’t bark, can’t hunt their own food? It’s stupid. What else is the point of a dog! Anybody around here remember why we breed dogs in the first place? It’s so they can help protect us, protect the pack. Dogs used to pull their own. And now they’re just shitty little lap dogs that rich old ladies use to wealth signal. It’s fucking stupid. Dogs are just freeloaders. And I don’t have any freeloaders in my house.”

“Wow,” Gordon muttered rebelliously, “did you read about that on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit?”

“So that’s why I’m proposing my new idea for dogs. A better dog. Dog 2, the sequel to dogs, if you will,” the guy continued, completely steamrolling him. “These dogs are huge, first of all. But not too huge, since you don’t want them to be a drain on your resources. I’d say definitely the size of a St. Bernard, maybe a little bit bigger. I don’t give a shit if it’s friendly to children or whatever. I don’t give a shit about children. If they can’t survive my dog attacking them, they were never going to make it to adulthood anyway. Survival of the fittest. Anyway, my dog’s going to be big. Short hair, because we live in a hot climate and I don’t want a dog that’s shedding everywhere. It’s not exactly going to be a polar rescue dog here, I need a dog that can survive the Arizona desert. But this dog has to be two things, and these two things are completely vital. Without these two things, it might as well be a Pomeranian.” The man held up two fingers. “One: the dog must be completely loyal to me. Intelligent, but not too intelligent that it doesn’t accept me as the alpha. I’m the alpha to the dog, as I’m also the alpha to the human race. Its loyalty must be complete. Like, I say jump, the dog says how high. That’s how intelligent it is too.” He pushed down the finger, keeping one up. “Second, the dog must be a cold blooded attack machine. I ain’t owning no pussy dog here. This dog is vicious. It can kill anything, and it will do it with pleasure. This dog feels no regret, pain, anguish, PTSD, hesitance, and it never fucking misses. Its teeth are huge and it’s an unrestrained attack machine. With this dog at my side, ain’t nobody’s fucking with me. Walking down the street with this dog next to me, nobody’s looking at me sideways. The chicks dig me. Everybody thinks I’m great. That’s why this is the ideal dog, above all other dogs.”

“Wow,” Gordon said desperately, really hoping that this was the end of the fucking dog conversation, “that’s great. My friend, uh, Tommy, he has a great Golden. Says it’s a perfect dog. That’s really possible actually, it survived like six turrets -”

“Idiot. That’s not what I fucking mean.” The guy scoffed at Gordon. “This perfect dog doesn’t exist. No dog is that immaculate. And if you try breeding for all those traits, you end up with some shitty inbred dog. No way. You gotta get more creative. Just wanting the perfect dog is for chumps who don’t understand genetics, evolution, dog breeding, dog training, warfare both physical and psychology, psychology itself, sociology, philosophy, or xenobiology. No. What I’m saying now is that in order to get the perfect dog, you have to breed aliens. I’m thinking headcrabs.”

Gordon distantly felt his jaw dropping. “Head - headcrabs?”

“Or those fucked up things with garbage disposal mouths,” the guy said thoughtfully. “Whatever they’re called. I don’t respect any of those shitty aliens enough to give them names. If you want me to remember your name, you have to earn it. My brain’s filled with much more important things, like theoretical physics and being better than you.”

“Garbage disposal - do you mean peeper puppies?!”

“Yeah, whatever. What I’m saying is that I’ve really cornered the market on xenobiology. I’m the world fuckin’ expert in dealing with aliens.” He looked thoughtful for a second as he chugged his beer again, which was a first. “Well. Dimensional expert. Point is, I can say with eighty seven percent confidence that, given enough time and unlimited access to a shock collar, I can train one of those shitty alien species crawling all over Black Mesa to obey my every command and slay my enemies. I could probably even turn it against its kinsmen. Get the aliens to wipe out the aliens, and humanity comes out on top. Then I turn my alien slaves against humanity, and Gordon Freeman is at top. So what do you think? Good idea or good idea?”

Gordon stared at him, slightly horrified, slightly incredulous, somehow amused. God, he had spent too much time around Benrey. This guy would love Benrey. He could never introduce them. “Terrible idea. I can’t believe we’re the same person.”

“You’re a loser. What about you, huh?” Freeman gestured with his cup at the third Gordon Freeman, who still seemed thoroughly checked out of the conversation. “What do you think? Want to invest some money into my plan? You’ll get a three hundred return on your investment, and dominion of the country of your choice.”

Gordon Freeman stared at Freeman blankly. He seemed really checked out. 

Freeman looked back at Gordon. “Is this guy retarded or something? That or he’s high off his ass, but I know how I get when I’m high and I’m never that out of it.”

“I’m not sure you aren’t on coke right now,” Gordon groused, sipping his own margarita. Which Freeman had called a ‘girl drink’. Asshole. “Why don’t you just -”

“Hey, Doc!”

Suddenly, with no more advanced warning than the overly friendly cry, Benrey - sorry, Barney - popped up at their table. Freeman groaned, ignoring him completely for favor of his drink, and Gordon waved weakly at him. He seemed - well, nice. Much nicer than Benrey. Not that it was hard. 

“You guys having fun or what?” Barney said, leaning against the table and winking at Freeman, who made a face. “We’re having a really good time at the Barney table, let me tell you. Maybe we can do Trivia Pursuit? That’ll be fun!”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually making friends with Benrey,” Gordon said, sighing. “Dude’s insufferable.”

“Blunt as ever, Doc,” Barney laughed. “Benrey’s not that bad! Just kind of a freak, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, impossibly depressed. “I know.”

“Anyway, I actually wanted to ask the Doc if he had my keys. Hold on a hot second.” Barney turned to the aforementioned zoned out Gordon Freeman, and abruptly started waving his hands around. Wait - was that sign language? When he glanced at Freeman, he seemed interested too. 

Even more amazingly, Gordon Freeman responded, rolling his eyes and tilting his fist before digging in his pocket and pulling out his keys, pressing them into Barney’s hands. Barney winked, signed out what Gordon recognized as a thank you, and fucked off back to the Barney table. If Gordon craned his head, he could see Freeman’s Barney (whose name Freeman didn’t even seem to know) trying to drink his beer as he was thoroughly terrorized by Benrey. Gordon couldn’t fight the crush of fondness that bloomed in his chest. Benrey was fun to watch when he was terrorizing someone else - but you could say that about all of his friends, really. 

Then the implications of that exchange hit Gordon over the head. He turned to Gordon Freeman, who seemed to have gone back to checking out of the conversation. “Wait, are you freaking deaf?”

Gordon blinked at him sleepily. Gordon cursed, rummaging around on the table until he found a napkin, and Freeman passed him a pen as he wrote down in large, blocky letters ‘ARE YOU DEAF???’ and slid it to Gordon Freeman. 

Gordon Freeman stared at it. He looked up at the two of them and - oh, god, he was definitely smirking. Like the cat that caught the fucking canary. He tilted his fist in what even Gordon recognized as a yes. 

“You fucking asshole!” Gordon exploded. “You left me to suffer with this guy alone? How could you? That’s not team behavior!”

“You got pranked, bro!” Benrey called, from across the room. “Bro, you got mad pranked! El oh el, bro!”

“Shut up, asshole!”

“Hey, what do you mean?” Freeman asked, offended. “My ideas are genius. This is a unique business opportunity, here. You’ll never get another chance to make three hundred percent back on your investment again -”

“Epic fail, bro!” Benry called. 

Gordon groaned and started chugging his margarita. He would need to be a lot drunker if he was going to get through this stupid extradimensional mistake. 

[evening-starlight]

Chances {Chapter Ten}

I think this is my longest Chapter so far lmao

Master List

Tainted

Word Count: 1867

    I'll be honest with you guys, our first kiss is tainted. This chapter will explain it. I will also mention that this might be hard for some readers to read, so reader discretion is advised.

    I pray for the world to open and swallow me whole right then and there. Of course, he would show up. He has to insert himself into every wonderful thing in my life. He has to plaster his face in every corner of my mind. Tom looks over my head at the man I used to be married to. This is not how I wanted to tell Tom about who it was. I slip my hands out of Tom's and turn around to Jared.

    He smiles wickedly like I've fallen into his trap. The smile sends waves of nausea and anxiety coursing through every vein in my body. "What do you want, Jared?" He hands me a bouquet of flowers. Purple and green daisies. I cross my arms to avoid taking them. "I was thinking of you, so I bought you some flowers." Jared's attention shifts his attention to Tom behind me. "Thank you for dropping my wife off. I really appreciate it." Oh, absolutely the fuck not.

    "Jared," I snap, pushing him away from Tom so we can speak semi-privately. "Why in God's name are you here? I am not your fucking wife. I don't want your damn flowers, which you never bought me when we were together anyways. I don't want you near me." My voice rising with the anger I feel boiling inside me. "You are nothing but a horrible stain on my history that I wish I could erase. You have ruined my life from the moment you walked in with that stupid book. You are the most possessive prick I have met in my life, and I regret every minute I spent with you." Jared continues to smile down at me. He has me right where he wanted me, yelling and spewing venom.

    "I just wanted to show Tom what kind of girl you really are," He says, looking at Tom behind me. "A venomous bitch." My jaw drops to the floor when I realize I walked right into his trap. He pushes the flowers into my chest and grabs my face roughly in his hands. The kiss is forceful and possessive. I feel the bile rising in my throat the longer he keeps his lips pressed to mine.

    Jared finally pulls away, wiping his lips. "I'll see you later, Jules." He walks off like nothing volatile just happened. I have approximately five seconds before I spew popcorn all over the steps. I drop the flowers on the ground and rush to the door, slamming my keys against the sensor pad and hoping it works. The door clicks like a heavenly sign. The gold trash can next to Will's desk is the closest and safest spot for the vomit.

    "Holy shit, Stella. Are you okay?" Will asks, standing up from his desk as I empty my guts into his freshly cleaned bin after falling to my knees. Someone rests their hand on my back before pulling my hair out of my face. I wave them off.

    "Fuck off, Jared." I manage between heaves.

    "It's not Jared." Tom answers. "I want to make sure you're okay, and then I'll leave if you'd prefer." I have no energy to fight as I continue to dry heave, nothing but saliva and air coming out. Will hands me a handful of tissues as I sit back on my heels. I manage a small smile in return as I wipe my mouth.

    "Sorry, Will." I apologize.

    "Don't be. I'd rather it the trashcan than across the floor," Will jokes back. "Let me get you a water from the back." I look at Tom when Will leaves.

    "I'm sorry. Theater popcorn doesn't taste good coming back up." He shakes his head with a small laugh.

    "Don't apologize, Love. He seems like a cock." I chuckle with a nod. "I'm not going to force you to talk about it now, but I would like to understand more about that relationship." I nod. It's a fair request.

     "If you grab those stupid flowers for me, we can head up to my apartment and talk. If you want," I suggest. Tom gets up to grab the flowers as Will comes back with a cold water bottle. I trade Tom the bottle for the flowers, pushing them bud first into the bin I just hurled in. I give Will another apology and tell him I'll get him his favorite bistro next time I'm at the studio.

    Tom follows me back to the elevator silently. I have no idea what to say to him, especially after something like that. What are you supposed to say when you kiss the guy of your dreams, and your abusive ex comes by and forces one on you? Sorry I have a fucked up past I've been conveniently avoiding? I unlock my apartment door and walk in first. "You can sit anywhere. I have to go bleach my mouth." I mumble, making my way to the bathroom.

    I avoid looking at myself as I gargle mouthwash, turning my back to the mirror. I can't believe I let that happen. I should have done something other than stand there like a statue. Why couldn't I do anything other than stand there and let Jared do that? Tom must think I'm a whore.

     The mouthwash is traded out for my toothbrush and toothpaste as I continue replaying what the hell just happened. Jared showing up out of nowhere with flowers after years of saying they're meaningless because they'll just die. And of course, they were purple and green; self-centered prick was probably thinking of himself as he bought the Joker colors. I meet my own eyes in the mirror as I stand straight after spitting the toothpaste out. I have mascara tear streaks running down my cheeks. I've paled considerably enough to enhance the dark circles under my eyes. I look terminally ill.

    I fix my makeup steaks quickly before walking out to the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" I ask Tom. "I have beer, Capri Sun, and water, but you'll have to drink out of a shot glass because the two cups I have are dirty." Tom opts for a CapriSun. I hand it to him as I sit on the opposite end of my couch. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I think of how to start talking and how much I want to tell him.

    "Your apartment is quite nice," Tom starts, looking around at all the frames I have of the band and I. "Do you play all those?" He asks, gesturing to my elevated music area by my balcony door. On it is a bass guitar, acoustic and electric guitar, along with a keyboard and violin.

    "Yeah, when my parents heard I wanted to make music because Jared was, they paid for multiple lessons. I fell in love with singing, but I can definitely shred it on bass." I joke. Tom laughs with a slight nod.

    "How old were you when you met Jared again?" Tom asks in such a casual tone it calms me down slightly. Maybe he's just worried about me. Or maybe he just wants to know where Jared went wrong so he won't make the same mistakes, good or bad.

    "I was introduced to him at fourteen." I avoid Tom's sudden worried look by looking at the floor beneath my sneakers. I should get a carpet in here. "My parents wanted to be millionaires, so they moved us all to LA when I was, like, three, I think. I don't know how they met Jared's family. They never told me, and neither did Jared.

    "Everything was really innocent at first. He was my closest friend for years. He helped me with homework and practicing my music. I wanted to be just like him." I let out a bitter laugh. "I was sixteen when I realized I like him as more than a friend. We had to share a bed in a hotel on tour, and I remember not sleeping because he was right there, and he was cuddling me. He asked me out the day of my eighteenth and proposed two months later, married two more after that. We got divorced when I was twenty when I realized how much I really did miss out on life, and he was so possessive he stopped letting me go to band practice without him.

     "The band started pointing it out too. Robbie was the one who literally slapped sense into me. Because why would I hit Robbie back and tell him off, but not Jared? So, yeah. Jared's super possessive and still is." I finish quickly, realizing I was going on a tangent.

    "And he called you Jules?" I almost wished Tom would have forgotten about that. I know it's somewhere on my Wikipedia page, but would Tom have gone that far in learning about me?

    "I've had three legal names in my life," I say, finally bringing myself to look at Tom. He seems concerned, and his eyes are so soft and welcoming I could curl up into his chest right this second. "Juliet Davis is my birth name, and I took Jared's last name when we got married. Then, about a year after our divorce, I decided to rebrand myself and use a new name entirely. Don't ask me why I chose Thompson; I googled it when I was drunk, and it just stuck. Stella is from this one kids' book I was obsessed with for years, Stellaluna. I don't know why, but I carried it everywhere with me until about junior high."

    I guess I didn't notice the tears falling or that my voice was faltering. However, Tom did. Without hesitation, he pulls me into his arms, resting his head on mine. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, Love," He says in a soft voice. "You didn't deserve any of that. Thank you for sharing with me." I let him hold me for a while longer. I enjoy his touch, but I really just want to be alone to cry and break shit.

    I don't know when I fell asleep; I just know when I woke up on the couch with a blanket on top of me and water on the coffee table in front of me, that Tom had taken care of me. He left a handwritten note as well, which I still have in my house. It said, 'I didn't want to leave you alone after something like tonight, but I felt it weird to stay the night uninvited. I truly appreciate you sharing something hard with me. I hope it's alright I washed a cup for you, and found some medicine as well, in case the crying caused a headache. Text me when you wake up. Much love, Tom.' Yes, I did run through the house like a crazy lady trying to find the letter so I could write it down verbatim.

[neoneversleeps]

achromatopsia | l.dh

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader (gender neutral)

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of a rare eye condition, anger outburst

description:

You fall in love with the colourful boy who sees the world in shades of grey. 

words: 8.7k

disclaimer: this fanfic in no way intends to romanticize the condition of achromatopsia nor does it intend to make light of anyone who deals with this condition. it’s only intent is to show that even though living with such a condition can be hard, it shouldn’t stop you from living your life like everyone else. also, i do not claim to be an expert on this condition, all my information has been gathered from internet research. 

playlist ☀

Lee Donghyuck. The cheery youthful boy with the red rosy cheeks and wide smile who lived down the street. The boy who played soccer in the fields of the nearby park, bright blue shorts and pink knees stained with green and brown patches. The boy whose laugh sounded like a burst of color, the sound fading through shades of pink and red and orange and yellow. The colors of happiness. The boy whose caramel colored skin was dotted with freckles and moles.

The boy who embodied the sun. Embodied the hues of pink and lilac when it rose in the morning, the yellow light as it shone through the day and the red glow as it set for the night.

Donghyuck was colors. He lived and breathed in them and the painstaking irony of it all,  was that he’d never get to see them. 

Achromatopsia.

“Achromatopsia is a condition characterized by a partial or total absence of color vision. People with complete achromatopsia cannot perceive any colors; they see only black, white, and shades of grey.”

By now, you could probably recite the entire Wikipedia article by heart from the amount of times you’ve read through it. 

You still remember the day you had first looked it up. It was sophomore year, sometime at the start of semester. The day you had officially met Lee Donghyuck, the annoyingly loud class clown and your recently assigned lab partner. 

You are working on your chemistry experiment alone. Your supposed partner chatting with his friends at the table over, his obnoxiously loud voice ringing throughout the class. You search through the list of things required for your experiment and diligently set everything up. You were used to working alone. While most of your classmates slacked off or goofed around, you actually worked on the assigned projects.

Although you must admit, it was getting increasingly difficult to balance all the various chemicals you had to add to the concoction in front of you while also controlling the temperature of the fire and reading through the instructions. You huffed in frustration, seemingly louder than you had intended, because your aforementioned lab partner was now right by your side. 

“Can I help?” You were surprised that his voice actually sounded genuine and that he had the decency to look a little guilty. Nonetheless, you were pissed. 

“Oh why thank you, how kind. I would most certainly appreciate your help.” you gritted through your teeth, the sarcasm rolling off you in waves. 

He shoots you a sheepish smile but you stare him down, and you swear you see him gulp as he turns towards the ingredients splayed out on the table. 

“Ok. What should I do?" 

Your eyes skimmed over the list of materials before you answered. "Pass me the hydrogen peroxide.” Donghyuck looked a little helpless at that and if you were in a different situation, you might have even found his expression endearing. Now, however, you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “The one with the red label." 

Donghyuck freezes at that, and you see his eyes flit nervously between the two substances in front of him. You were confused at the sight, why couldn’t he just hand it to you? 

You hadn’t failed to notice the way his friends at the other table had gone quiet as well, the whole classroom suddenly falling into an eerie silence. A strange feeling settles in your stomach and with a much quieter voice than before, you repeat your request. 

"Can you… pass me the one with the red label, please?" 

Donghyuck blinks furiously a few times, red painting his neck as he shoots a nervous smile your way. "It’s- I’m colorblind…totally colorblind.” He gulps after he speaks his words and his eyes  search yours for some sort of reaction.

It feels like the whole class is watching the two of you, breaths caught in their throat, much like your own. Your mind is on overdrive. Should you apologize? Should you stay quiet? Ignore it? What were you supposed to do? 

With what feels like a hundred stares burning into your back and your own cheeks heating up so much you thought you might burst into flames, you utter your next words. 

“The one on the left. Can you- can you pass me the one on the left." 

You internally chastise yourself for your small stutter and the fact that your heart still hasn’t stopped it’s incessant pounding.

It’s only until Donghyuck reaches for the red-labeled bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide and hands it over to you with a small smile that you feel your heart’s rhythm slowly return to normal. Time seems to unfreeze at the simple gesture and the chatter throughout the class starts up again as usual.

The lesson continues with the both of you working side by side in relatively comfortable silence. 

It wasn’t until the end of the hour that Donghyuck turns to you, one of the straps of his bag already hanging off his shoulder.

"Thank you." 

You’re momentarily stunned at his words. Why was he thanking you?

"For what?”

“For not apologizing.”

That night as you got home, you spent hours researching complete color blindness, a concept that was previously foreign to you. It was odd to the think that the boy down the street, the boy who had been your classmate throughout you whole childhood, suffered from something you weren’t even aware existed. 

The words you read caused a painful twist in your gut. It didn’t seem right to you that Donghyuck, whom you had always seen as the most colorful boy in town, saw nothing but the world in black and white.

You went to bed that night feeling restless, nothing but the honey coloured eyes of the boy that saw no colours invading your dreams.

Those eyes invaded more than just your dreams, since after that fateful chemistry class, you seemed to bump into Donghyuck at almost every corner. You saw him at the ice cream parlor at the edge of the town, at your local arcade where he hung out with his friends. Sometimes, he waved at you from his garden down the street from your house, as he tended to the flowers with his mother. His bright, wide open smile, so care-free and bold, contrasted your small shy smile, which you always returned.

To this day, you wondered if it was coincidence or fate that drew you two together. In your heart, you liked to believe it was the latter.

One tuesday, at lunch, you had found him sitting alone at a table, his usual loud group of friends nowhere to be seen.

Tentatively you walk in the direction of the sunny boy that sits alone at the usually boisterous table. The two of you hadn’t properly talked since the chemistry class incident, except for the small greetings from the numerous casual encounters you had shared, but still, something inside you pulls you towards him. As you draw closer, you notice an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face. Your heart twists uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to replace his dark expression with a much brighter one. 

Once you place your tray down on the table however, Donghyuck grins up at you as if snapping out of a daze. “Y/n! What brings you here?” You smile pleasantly back at him as you sit down, although your heart feels heavy as you noticed his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I- I saw you were sitting here alone so I thought maybe…” You trail off as you look down at your hands. “You’re cute.” The boy in front of you comments as he leans his chin on the hand that’s propped up by his elbow. The smile never leaves his face. You don’t find it uncomfortable, Donghyuck’s smile might be the most beautiful one you had ever seen,but you can’t help but feel that he’s using it as a mask. 

You roll your eyes playfully at his comment and take a bite out of your sandwich. “Where are your friends? Don’t you normally eat lunch with them?” Donghyuck shrugs at your question.

“They have better things to do like cramming for our next exams.” You narrow your eyes at the boy. “And why aren’t you cramming with them?” Donghyuck lets out a soft chuckle and a playfully cocky expression takes over his face. It’s hard to picture his somber look from before.  “Oh please, I could ace those exams in my sleep.”

You nearly let out a snort and before long there’s a ripple of laughter that leave your mouth due to his words. Donghyuck looks mildly offended. “What’s so funny?” It takes you a few moments to compose yourself before you speak again. “No offense, Donghyuck, but I’ve seen your grades.”

Donghyuck’s jaw drops open as you continue to stifle your laughter through your hand. You can see how his tongue pokes at his cheek in light annoyance. Normally, you’d be afraid you had actually made him mad, but you see he’s fighting back a smile. It isn’t long before the baffled look on his face is replaced by a defiant one. 

“Do you think you’ll do better than me then, puppet?”

The sudden use of a pet name catches you off-guard for just a second, but you remain composed, easily playing along with Donghyuck’s banter. You lean forward on your elbows and cock your head to the side slightly. “Oh, I know I will.”

It takes a total of five seconds for Donghyuck to burst into laughter as he shakes his head at your words. “You’re a lot less shy than you seem. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

A rosy color rises to your cheek at the fond smile Donghyuck sends your way. Color. There’s a faint realization in your mind that Donghyuck isn’t able to see your blush ut you push the thought  away. 

As you speak next,you’re voice is quieter and soft, as if what you’re saying is a secret shared between you two. “Nobody’s ever cared enough to find out.” Donghyuck’s eyes soften at your sad smile and what he says next is just as quiet. 

“Well then I say it’s time to change that.” 

The smile he gives you afterwards is so bright that the sun that shines above you seems to dull in its presence. 

Donghyuck had kept true to his words. You never had many friends in your life, and none of them would you consider as close, but Donghyuck seamlessly becomes your closest friend in only a few months. He weaves himself into your day to day so much you wonder how there was even a time where he wasn’t a constant in your life. Through him, you earn other friends as well. Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun and Mark, Donghyuck’s childhood friends. They easily accept you into their little group and the six of you hang out almost every single day.

You had never spent that much time outside the house. In fact, you spent so much time outside, even your parents had noticed your absence. SOmething that didn’t usually occur since their work life kept them so busy. 

Although you hung out with all of them, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that most of your time was spent with Donghyuck. The two of you were inseparable. It was a given that wherever you went, Donghyuck went too. 

“Stop pulling on my arm!” You whine as Donghyuck tugs at your appendage, trying to make you fail at the arcade game in front of you, an annoyingly gleeful smile on his face. 

You inevitably lose and the small tune that sounds with the words GAME OVER is accompanied by the melodious laugh of the boy beside you. Donghyuck shrugs at your death glare. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault you suck at this game.” You try to swat at his head but he dodges your attempt. 

“Not your fau- how am I supposed to win when you keep distracting me?” You huff indignantly and he leans in closer to your face. “A true master does not blame their defeat on distractions, puppet.” His breath fans across your face and your cheeks heat up involuntarily once you realize how close he is. Rolling your eyes at him, you push him back at his shoulder, earning another cackle from the boy. 

“Well, let’s see how good you are, oh so great “master” of games.” Donghyuck winks at you before he gets to work. He grabs the controller and his brows furrow in concentration as he stares at the screen. 

You observe the vibrant neon colours of the game. You know that they’re nothing but dull shades of grey in Donghyuck’s mind, but it’s still hard to imagine even after all this time. 

The character on the screen bounces up and down, dodging the obstacles in its way. However you notice that the next abyss that approaches is filled with lava instead of the usual water and couldn’t be crossed in the small boat the character carries. You act upon instinct and place your hands over Donghyuck’s as you coordinate the maneuver necessary to surpass the lava pit. The small victory song hums out of the machine as the character reaches the finish line right behind it. 

Donghyuck looks down at you, his expression somewhat shy. “I had that, you know.”

“Of course, I was just being overprotective of little mister speedy here.” You say as you gesture at the character gleefully cheering on the screen. There’s a fond look in Donghyuck’s eyes as he stares into yours. You can’t help but notice how close his face is to yours once agai, as your eyes trail down to his lips for just a second. 

“Come on, slowpokes! We’re  already moving to the next floor!” Jaemin’s loud shout from somewhere to your right pulls both of you out of your trance with a jolt. 

“Coming!” Donghyuck shouts in return. He turns to face once Jaemin already runs off. He smiles briefly, plants a quick kiss to your cheek and then grabs your hand to drag you with him. 

More. Donghyuck and you had always been more than friends. It was clear from the first time you spoke, where you were left with butterflies in your stomach. It was clear from the way you looked at each other.The way your fingers absentmindedly toyed with his every time you sat at the table and from the way’s Donghyuck would often plant small kisses on your cheeks and to the crown of your head. 

At first, it felt like a crush, something you didn’t want to further in fear of losing the friendship you already had. But one thursday night at 11pm in your favorite diner, you felt your relationship shift. 

You scribble down the  equations, eyes moving from the sheet in front of you to the math notebook you were writing in. Two strawberry flavored milkshakes sit between you and Donghyuck, who currently had his chin propped up on his folded arms, eyes trained on one of the milkshakes. You look over to him or a second before resuming your homework. 

“Shouldn’t you be thinking of completing this assignment too? Its due tomorrow you know.” Donghyuck simply shrugs. You huff and shake your head, but continue writing in your notebook. A few minutes pass where the only sounds are your pen scribbling on the paper and the person behind the counter whistling along with the song that plays from the jukebox. 

“What’s the colour pink like?” 

Donghyuck’s sudden question startles you quite a bit and you place your pen down to look over to him. You follow his line of vision and land on one of the milkshakes that stands before you. It’s silent for a few more minutes as you think of what to say. 

“Pink is like… the feeling of cotton candy. It’s sweet and fluffy. It’s the colour of people blushing, of hushed secrets and hopeful promises. It’s the colour of falling in love. It’s also the colour of youth, of the bubblegum that you pop in your mouth and the colour of strawberry milkshakes you drink at a diner at 11pm on a school night.” You finish with a smile. Donghyuck smiles back and then closes his eyes.  He exhales slowly through his nose. 

“It sounds nice. I think I like the colour pink.” 

There’s an undeniable sadness in his voice despite the soft smile that plays on his lips. In that moment, you desperately want to trade places with the boy on front of you. He deserves to see the world in color just as much as you do, if not more. 

You also realize, that you’ve never really paid that much attention to the fact that Donghyuck was completely colorblind. At times, you would even forget it. Of course, you knew he appreciated the way in which you had never treated him any differently just because of his condition, but you oftentimes forgot how hard it must be. 

Donghyuck, though being open about most things in his life, kept any feelings about his condition under lock and key. In all this time you had never really talked about it. He brushed it off every time it came up in conversation, and you never pushed or prodded any further. 

That night, you swear to yourself that you would do anything in your means to make Donghyuck’s world as colourful as he deserved. And maybe, just maybe, that night you also realize that your crush on Lee Donghyuck was much more than just that. 

Some time after that night at the diner, the two of you were having your biweekly sleepover at his house. His parents were out of town, which meant you had the house to yourself. 

And in the early hours of the morning, after a sinful amount of movies and popcorn, your previous light conversation turned to something much deeper. 

You lay down on your back next to Donghyuck, the clock on his computer reads 3:07 am. The last movie had just ended and the both of you felt rather full from splurging on popcorn and other snacks. 

The last few hours had felt giddy, like the both of you had turned back time for awhile and just rejoiced in your youth. Now however, the room had gone quiet and the only sounds to be heard were your’s and Donghyuck’s shallow breathing. 

“Hyuck?" 

You were careful to talk quietly, scared that any louder sound would break through the veil of intimacy that had befallen the room. Donghyuck’s low hum is the only indication that he’s listening. 

There’s a million things you want to ask. A million things you still don’t understand despite all your research. So many questions in your head, but you settle on just one. 

"What is it like?" 

There’s no need for any specifications. Donghyuck knows what you’re asking. 

Your heart picks up in speed as minutes go by without an answer. You’re scared you’ve overstepped your boundaries and suddenly you want to take everything back. What if he’s mad? What if he hates you now? What if- 

"It’s hard to explain.”

Donghyuck steady voice cuts off your frantic thoughts, and you shift slightly closer to him, the both of you staring up at his bedroom ceiling. You wait patiently for him to continue. 

“My parents noticed how shaky my eyes were when I was still a baby. It’s called nystagmus, and it’s a symptom of achromatopsia. I also… had photophobia. Everytime my parents tried to take me out in the sun, I would scream and cry in fear. And the large stuffed animals my family bought me, they scared me to death. To me… they were just formless patches of gray or white. Visual acuity for people with achromatopsia is very…”

“ …low, I know. It gets better with age though, doesn’t it?” You finish Donghyuck’s sentence for him after he trails off. You look over to see that he now has his eyes closed as he nods slowly. 

Your fingers move to intertwine with his, and his hand grips yours tightly as you do. You give a small reassuring squeeze and he continues. 

“It has gotten a lot better…but-” Donghyuck sighs, his voice slowly getting less steady. 

“But sometimes, when I look at you in the sun.. it’s- it gets hard to make out your features and I- I hate it so much because I want to be able to see you. Truly see you and be able to- have this perfect picture of you in my mind but I can’t-. can’t because everything blurs together and I can’t- I can���t-” There’s a choked sob that escapes Donghyuck’s mouth as he talks and you immediately lean up to take his face in your hands. 

Your thumbs rub soothingly across his cheeks, spreading around the streaks of tears that roll down them. Donghyuck’s eyes are still shut and his breaths come out heavy and strained.

“Hey, hey, open your eyes, Hyuck." 

Donghyuck’s forehead draws together as he forces his eyes to stay wired shut and he shakes his head. 

"Donghyuck. Look at me." 

"Please.”

At this, Donghyuck’s eyes finally flutter open. Their red and watery and the fear that swims in them tugs at your heartstrings painfully. You manage to smile regardless. 

“I’m here. You don’t need to have some perfect image of me in your head because the real me is right here. Right by your side. I’ll always be right by your side." 

You wipe off the tears pooling under Donghyuck’s eyes as he looks up at you. 

"You promise?" 

You plant a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I promise." 

You lay back down next to him and before you know it, Donghyuck curls around you, resting his head on your chest. 

Minutes go by as you gently comb through the boy’s hair and slowly, you hear his breath evens out. 

"Thank you… for talking about it. I know it must be hard." 

Your voice is barely above a whisper and it hangs in the air for a few more moments before Donghyuck shakes his head and nuzzles closer into your neck. 

"It was good to finally talk about it, especially with you. I trust you, Y/n. I trust you with every part of me, the good and the bad." 

You kiss the crown of Donghyuck’s head lightly, your hand moving to caress along his arm. 

"I trust you too, Donghyuck, with every part of me." 

You fall asleep that night, the boy you hold most dear safe in your arms,  your legs intertwined and your hearts beating as one.

As the start of senior year came around, you and Donghyuck decided to head to the beach as a way to celebrate your two years of friendship and to destress before the inevitable impending assignments you were to receive.

You had mentioned your plans to Jaemin in passing as the two of you stopped by your local cafe and you distinctly recalled his words at the idea.

“We’ll take my mom’s car, since she won’t be around anyway.”

Jaemin nods his head as you finish your small explanation, his foot tapping idly at the ground as the both of you wait in line. “And this is to celebrate your friendship?”

“Uh yeah. Why?” 

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, Y/n. Everyone in a one mile radius can tell you two are more than friends. You know, I’d really appreciate it if you’d just tell me straight up that you’re dating.” 

“But we’re not dating.” You state as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire universe. 

Jaemin shakes his head at you. “Whatever you say, Y/n L/n.”

In truth, you’ve always known you were more than just friends. Nothing was ever said, but it remained as kind of an unspoken promise between you two. What’s more, you felt no need for any kind of title. You were content with your late night talks, the fleeting kisses on your cheeks, or hands, or forehead, and the lingering glances. You sigh quietly. Nope, you didn’t need any sort of official titles. None at all. 

“Venti Iced Americano. Ice, no water, with 4 extra espresso shots, please.” Jaemin smiles at the woman behind the counter as he orders his usual. Behind him, you recoil in disgust. 

“I still can’t believe you drink that vile concoction of yours.” Jaemin turns to you, an exaggerated look of offense on his face as he places a hand over his chest. “I’ll have you know, that this particular “concoction” is a delicacy.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. 

“Whatever you say, Na Jaemin.” 

A few days later, you found yourself in the driver’s seat of your mom’s car on your way to the beach, an overexcited Donghyuck sitting next to you. 

Chocolate by The 1975 blasts through your car’s radio at full volume. Donghyuck belts along the lyrics as best as he can, limbs thrashing around him as he dances to the upbeat rhythm of the song.

“We never gonna quit , no, we never gonna quit it, no!”

You laugh, loud and carefree, as you steal glances at your silly best friend. You nod along to the song and drum your fingers on the steering wheel, enjoying the way Donghyuck harmonizes with the vocalist. 

The warm wind blows through your hair from the open window. The air already smells of sea salt and sand as you’re close to approaching the coast. You glance to your right to see Donghyuck leaning his head out of the window, not unlike an overgrown puppy. 

With one hand on the steering wheel, you use the other to pull him back into his seat. “Stop hanging your head out the window like a dog. Are you crazy? You’ll behead yourself at this rate.” You reprimand despite your laugh. 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes playfully and pulls out a lollipop from your glove department, plopping it into his mouth. “You sound like my mom, puppet.” You don’t appreciate the comment and flip him off with your free hand. 

He gives out a chuckle at your annoyed expression and takes out his lollipop to give you a quick peck on your cheek. You wish away the blush on your cheeks as you stare at the road ahead, both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

It takes a little less than ten minutes for you to arrive at the beach, and even less for the two of you to run down to the water, leaving your clothing in the car as you were already wearing swimwear underneath. The sand is scorching beneath your bare feet, and it propels you forward faster, chasing after the boy in front of you. 

“Slow down, Hyuck!” You pant as you run as fast as you can to even keep up with your friend. 

Donghyuck’s laugh carries through the wind. “Catch me if you can, puppet!”

The coldness of the water causes you to shriek as you come in contact with it, Donghyuck already waist deep into the ocean. You brave forward through the waves until you reach him. “Asshole. Couldn’t you wait for me?” You say as you playfully stick your tongue out at him. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Not my fault you’re so slow.” He retorts as he pokes out his own tongue. 

You take the opportunity to splash water at Donghyuck’s face and watch in glee as he wipes the droplets from his face. Your giggle falls short however, at the defiant look in his eyes. 

“Oh, it’s on.” 

Before you know it, water is flying between the two of you at all heights and angles. A full fledged war of water splashes. Your shrieks of laughter are swallowed up by the strong summer breeze as you desperately try to outrun Donghyuck’s attacks. You had quickly come to realize that he had the upper hand in this particular game. 

Your attempts at escape are made futile, however, as you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle. “Gotcha.” Donghyuck breathes next to your ear and your laughter mingles together. 

You place your arms over his as your laughter dies down and Donghyuck sways you slightly as you watch the rise and fall of the waves. 

Donghyuck’s voice tickles your ear as he cuts through the sound of rushing water. “What’s the colour blue like?”

You close your eyes and lean back into Donghyuck’s chest, letting your body enjoy the warmth he emits. You hum contently. 

“Blue? It’s like the water. Sometimes it’s calm and soothing, a comforting and calming presence that you’d use to paint a nursery. Like that feeling when a mother cradles her newborn baby, and it immediately ceases it’s crying. Other times, it’s strong and emotional. It can feel like plunging into the depth of something unknown. It can also represent sadness, like those tears you cry after having lost someone you love. It’s a beautiful colour, but it’s often related to sadness.”

“Then, what colour would you say represents me?”

You open your eyes and turn around to face Donghyuck at this. 

“All the colours of the sun. The way it paints the clouds in soft hues of pink and purple in the morning. Those represent your days spent in comfy sweaters, with your hair mussed ever so slightly and that small special smile you give me when I brew you a tea. Then there’s the strong yellow of the sun in its prime. That’s for when you smile the brightest, and your laughter is loud,  boisterous, youthful. For those times when you don’t hold back. When you don’t let anyone or anything… hold you back.”

Donghyuck takes your hand in his his as he lifts it up to his lips and plants a small kiss there. The fond look in his eyes makes your breath hitch for just a second before you continue. 

“And then there’s the dark orange that seeps into red right before nightfall. That’s for the times when there’s a dangerous glint in your eyes, the playful fire inside you. But it’s also for your passion. For the hours you’ve spent dedicated to the things you love. Like those nights you’d spent awake just to perfect that one song on the piano that was so damn difficult. You kept at it though. It’s admirable, really. You’re admirable.” 

Donghyuck’s hands come up to your cheeks. “That’s how you see me? Those are the colours that come to mind when you look at me?”

You nod. “Always.” 

Donghyuck leans in slowly and your eyes flutter shut as he finally closes the distance between you. Your first kiss is slow, languid, as your mouths move against each other, water lapping at your waist. 

Donghyuck’s tongue swipes at your lower lip and you easily grant him access, sighing as you further the kiss. Your hands move to link behind his nape as his move down to your lower back, pulling you flush against his bare chest. You kiss for what feels like hours before you’re forced to pull apart for air. Both of you smile at each other like two fools in love. 

That day, just before sunset, you drive back into the town, the taste of salt on your skin and your lips a distinct colour of cherry red. 

The morning that followed after your little trip to the beach, you awoke to multiple buzzes sounding from your doorbell. 

The ringing is incessant and you groan as ignoring it proves to be futile.Once you manage to drag your body out from the warm comfort of your duvet, you cross your room to open the window. The chilly morning air hits your face as you look down to your front door, blinking to adjust your eyes to the bright rays of the sun. You recognize the mop of brown hair immediately. 

“Hyuck?” You call out from your first floor window.

Donghyuck smiles up at you once he spots your figure from below, one hand blocking the harsh sun from reaching his eyes. “Come down! I need to take you somewhere!” 

You duck back into your bedroom and start flitting about to get ready. As you brush your teeth at lightning speed, you wonder what the hell Donghyuck has planned on a sunday morning. The events of yesterday also swim around in your head. Your heart stutters dangerously in your chest as your mind races with different scenarios of what was to come, but you eventually push those thoughts to the back of your mind as you focus on changing out of your pyjamas. 

You bound down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, suddenly eager to know what awaits you. You open the door in a flash and Donghyuck whips his head in your direction, a smile overtaking his face. He leans in quickly to place a kiss on your lips and you feel slightly lightheaded at the easiness with which he does. 

Donghyuck doesn’t waste any time and tugs on your wrist as he starts to drag you off somewhere, leaving you with barely enough time to shut the door. “Hyuck!” You laugh as he nearly breaks out in a sprint. You can tell he’s excited. “Where are we going?” 

Donghyuck turns around for merely a moment, a playful glint in his eyes as he smiles at you. “It’s a surprise.” He sends a small wink your way and you shake your head at his silliness. 

After a few minutes of walking through your neighborhood, you recognize the route you’re taking as the one that leads to your high school. “Hyuck, why are we headed to school? You do know it’s sunday, right?” You ask as you draw closer to the building. 

“You’ll see.” 

You huff in response to his words and he turns to look at you. “Were you always this impatient?” You stick out your tongue in retaliation, which earns you a small laugh from Donghyuck. 

The both of you finally come to a standstill under a willow tree that sits on a small hill just outside the school building. “Do you know where we are?” You raise an eyebrow at Donghyuck’s odd question.

“Um..yeah. We’re at school? I don’t really-”

Your sentence is cut short by Donghyucks groan as he rolls his eyes. He points his finger at one of the schools buildings, to a window that looks into a classroom and tilts your head with his hands so you follow his line of vision. “What’s that classroom over there?”

You still weren’t quite following. “The chemistry..lab? Again, I don’t-” This time you cut yourself off with a gasp. It finally hits you. The memory of sophomore year, the first time you ever spoke to the boy in front of you. 

“Got it now? I figured, for what I’m about to ask…” Donghyuck reaches for something inside his inner jacket pocket. “…it would be best to go back to the place where everything started.” He finishes with a small folded letter now in his hand. 

You stare at the folded paper before you. “Purple, it’s your favourite colour, right?” You nod. “Yeah.” You breathe out with a smile. The thought of Donghyuck probably asking one of your other friends to help pick out the right coloured paper for you warms your heart. 

You take the letter out of his hands, only noticing then how much they were shaking. Donghyuck was nervous. You fold open the piece of paper and read along the one line of text scribbled across it in Donghyuck’s unmistakable handwriting. 

"In my world full of greys, you’re my splash of colours.”

It’s short, sweet and undeniably cheesy, but it makes your eyes water all the same. One of your hands comes up to cover your mouth as you reread the words over and over, trying to permanently etch them into your memory. “Y/n?”

You look up at the mention of your name, and Donghyuck takes notice of the way tears threaten to spill from your eyes. He immediately moves a step closer. 

“Y/n, oh my God, why are you crying? This was supposed to make you happy, not sad.” He says as he wipes off the tears from the corners of your eyes with his thumbs. 

“It does.”,you choke out, “It does make me happy. So happy.” You wrap your arms around the boy in front of you, squeezing him tight as you plant butterfly kisses along his neck, jaw and cheek, all the while listening to the airy giggles that erupt from his mouth. 

You stay like that for awhile, just wrapped in eachothers arms, until finally Donghyuck pulls away. He jerks his head to the side. “Diner? I’ll buy you pancakes as an apology for forcing you out of bed.” 

You hadn’t even noticed the fact that you’d skipped breakfast until the mention of food brings out a growl in your stomach. The both of you laugh at the sound and you nod in acceptance to the offer. You take off towards the diner, hands intertwined and swinging between you two. 

“Hey puppet.”

“Mm?”

“Just so we’re clear, you do get that that whole thing back there means we’re official now, right?” 

You lightly punch him in the arms as you roll your eyes. Donghyuck wears a gleeful grin on his face. The grin is wiped off however, when one of your hands grabs him by the jaw and you smash your lips onto his, hard. You turn the kiss into a near make out as you nibble on his lower lip and tilt your head to push into him even further. And just as Donghyuck exhales in bliss, you pull away, his lips still chasing yours. 

You turn and continue to walk as if nothing happened. Donghyuck is left staring after you with a dumbfounded look on his face, as a satisfied smirk plays on yours. 

Not much changed in your relationship after that day, except for the fact that you would now introduce Donghyuck to people as your boyfriend instead of your best friend. Or the fact that most of your movie nights would now also include a make out session. Or the fact that you would nibble along Donghyuck’s ear as you whispered, Renjun gagging in his seat across from you. 

After you had broken the news to your friends, you had learned that they had long since placed bets on when the two of you would finally get together. Jaemin was the only one who had bet you would do it before the end of senior year and had cashed in a total of sixty bucks from your friends, of which you and Donghyuck requested twenty. 

“And why exactly should I hand over any part of my hard earned money?”

“Because, you wouldn’t have any if it weren’t for us.” You state matter of factly, Donghyuck nodding along, one of his arms secure around your waist. Jaemin begrudgingly hands over the twenty dollar bill, a scowl very evident on his face. 

“Thank you for your contribution.” You say, smile on your face sickenly sweet. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jaemin mutters as he waves you off. You grin triumphantly as you look up at the boy beside you and Donghyuck grins right back as he plants a small kiss on your forehead. 

The next few months of school were stressful for everyone and the constant and seemingly never-ending amount of workload caused a slight strain in your relationship. The many nights of studying and finishing homework had made it harder for the two of you to meet or even talk for a while. 

One early evening, as you sat down to get started on your biology studies, you called up Donghyuck and asked to come over so the two of you could study together. That had seemed to be the only thing which would allow for some time together, even if it was spent with your noses buried in books. Donghyuck had sounded somewhat strained on the phone but he had agreed to your idea regardless. 

You knew Donghyuck had his bad days, but that night was one of the worst. 

You sit in silence on the floor of Donghyuck’s bedroom, the only sound in the room the one of highlighter pens scraping across the surface of your textbooks. For whatever reason, the atmosphere in the small room is tense. It feels like the air buzzes with some sort of energy every time you move, so you try to sit as still as possible. 

Donghyuck lays chest down on his bed, his eyes squinting at the page in front of him in concentration. You feel like you’ve been revising for hours, and honestly, you would like to just take a break and cuddle with your boyfriend, or at the very least be able to hold a conversation with him. 

You exhale a breath, thinking of conversation starters. You were never one for small talk, but you and Hyuck used to be able to talk about anything, and it never felt awkward. Not until now, at least. So,you decide to go the easy route. 

“I’m gonna fail this exam.” , you chuckle lightly, “All this hormonal regulators shit is hard.”

“Oh yeah? Well at least you can actually see the colours to help you memorise them.” 

You’re taken aback at the harshness of his tone. In all the time you’d known each other, he’d always just told you about his frustrations, but never before had he let them out on you. Slowly, you move to get up and sit at the edge of his bed. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” he says, eyes trained on the same page of the biology textbook he’s been staring at for the past five minutes. Hesitantly, you reach out a hand to touch his shoulder, only to take it back in shock as Donghyuck stands up abruptly. “Don’t-”, he breathes in sharply through his nose, “Just don’t.”

“I don’t understa-”

“Exactly!” Donghyuck’s shout cuts off your words. “You don’t understand! I mean, how could you? You weren’t born with some sort of defect. You were born with perfect eyes. And yet you complain about the stupidest shit sometimes. “Oh that shade of green is ugly” “The sunlight is so bright” “All these different colours are confusing”.” Your heart twists painfully in your chest as you watch him mock you. You knew the comments could be hurtful, and you tried with all your might to avoid saying them, but sometimes they just slipped out. You never meant to cause any harm. 

“And then you complain about-” He pauses to let out an exasperated laugh. “You complain about hormones, in a biology book. What is it about you and biology anyway? Your grades are fine.” You want to say something but Donghyuck continues before you get the chance. “Have you ever heard of, oh i don’t know,  thinking before you speak? Because newsflash! Biology- Fuck- Life itself, is a little harder when all you can fucking see, is IN BLACK AND WHITE! But no, your complaints are way more important aren’t they? You know why? Because you’re selfish.”

Selfish.The word feels like a spear to the heart. You stand up and your voice shakes with anger and hurt as you speak, tears already rolling down your cheeks. 

“You wanna know why I’ve been so stressed about biology? Because I need a fucking perfect GPA in that class to get into medical school.” Donghyucks brows draw together in confusion. “Yeah, you heard right. Medical school. You wanna know why? Because I want- because I promised myself that I would do whatever it takes to make you see the world in the same way I do. And yeah, maybe it’s impossible. Maybe I’ll spend my life trying to find some sort of cure and never do. But atleast I tried. I tried.” Your voice cracks ever so lightly at the last word. 

“But never mind that, right? I’m just some selfish idiot who complains too much and never thinks before they speak.” You say as you storm past Donghyuck, but are halted by his hand on your wrist. You turn around to yell at him to let go, only to have your yell stuck in your throat as Donghyuck smashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is filled with emotion, but it lasts only a mere few seconds as Donghyuck pulls away to lay his head on your shoulder. His hands fist the fabric of your t-shirt and his breaths are heavy against your neck. You lift up your hand to rub up and down his back soothingly. 

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me to yell at you like that.” He moves his head to rest against your forehead. “You’re not selfish. In fact, you’re the farthest thing from it. You’re the most selfless person i’ve ever met.” His voice shakes as and he inhales deep through his nose. “You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head at him, and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, by now a comforting gesture between you two. 

“Apology accepted.”

The last few weeks of senior year were still filled with nerve-wracking levels of stress but you took comfort in the fact that the strain between you and Donghyuck had vanished completely. It had felt nice, how everything returned to normal between the two of you. It was like, after the fight, an immense weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe again. 

You braved through your last set of finals and then decided to focus on the one thing you had been looking forward to in the year: prom. Still, the results of your exams plagued your mind with worries. If you didn’t reach the results expected of you, you could kiss the idea of medical school bye bye. 

You were brought out of your spiraling thoughts on prom night as your boyfriend called you over to help pick out an outfit. You were grateful for the distraction,and headed over as fast you could, already finished with your own attire and makeup. 

 Your fingers drum absentmindedly along Donghyuck’s bed covers as you wait for him to finish rummaging through his closet. The sound of rustling fills the air as your mind once again drifts to your exam results, as you desperately try to recall your answer to that one question you’re sure you failed. “Aha!” Donghyuck’s shout calls your attention back to him. “Found ‘em.”

He holds up two dress shirts: one a silky blue and the other a deep shade of velvety red. 

“The blue one is nice but, the red one will look better with your tan skin.” You say as you point at the second shirt Donghyuck holds up in front of his chest as he looks in the mirror. 

“ I do recall you using the colour red to describe me once.” Donghyuck says as he smiles over at you. “So it’s only fitting.” 

“Yeah.” You breathe with a smile, but it falls from your face just as fast as it arrived. It’s not long before your boyfriend stands in front of you, tilting your chin up so you look at him. “What’s wrong, puppet? It’s prom night. You should be excited.” You sigh as you squeeze your eyes shut for a second. “I am! I am excited. It’s just…” 

“Your results?” Donghyuck states more than asks, his voice soft as he sits beside you. You let your head fall onto his shoulder as you exhale. “Yeah..” You feel Donghyuck place a quick peck on the crown of your head and one of his hands trails down your arm to comfort you. “Y/n. You’re the smartest, most amazing, and most dedicated person I know. I don’t think anyone studied harder for these finals than you did. You did great, and your results will be great too. Hell, they’ll probably be the best the school has ever seen. The best the county has ever seen.” You lift your head off his shoulder to chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t go *that* far.”

“I would.” Donghyuck says as he looks at you, a fond expression on his face. You lean in to kiss him, lips only barely touching his. He deepens the kiss, slowly molding his mouth together with yours as his body pushes you down onto his bed. He moves to hover above you, his arms supporting his weight as his tongue dances with yours. 

“Donghyuck! Y/n! Are you guys ready?” Donghyuck’s mom’s shout causes you to break apart. Donghyuck groans. “Yeah! We’ll be down in a minute!” He goes to lean back down but you plant your hands firmly on his chest to stop him, a laugh bubbling in your throat. “ Easy there, tiger. You.”, you poke your boyfriends tummy, “still need to finish getting dressed.” Donghyuck groans again, but obliges and gets off you in favor of buttoning up his shirt. 

You watch in fondness as he fumbles with the buttons, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth in concentration. For the first time that night, you truly are excited to go to prom, all thoughts about the future long forgotten in the back of your mind. 

You ended up passing your finals with flying colours, even graduating as the valedictorian of your class. An honour which you did not expect, but had accepted humbly and happily. 

The thing that made you most happy now however, was the fact that you had been accepted into one of the best medical schools in the country with a partial scholarship. And,  the fact that your boyfriend was going to attend university in the same city as you, only a few streets over, as a music major in a prestigious fine arts academy. 

The time came for both you and Donghyuck to leave behind the town of your childhood, and to part ways with your friends and family, promises of holiday visits and choruses of “see you soon’s” as you bid them all goodbye. 

You sit in your car, hands on the steering wheel as you try to calm the nerves bubbling in your stomach. Your high school, diploma sits stored away in one of the many boxes that litter the back of both yours and Donghyuck’s dad’s car, who will accompany you in your drive towards the big city. 

You recall the teary eyed faces of your parents as they wished you farewell and there’s a small hollow ache in your chest. It’s scary, leaving home. But you know that the life that awaits you holds promises of adventures to come, especially when you have the love of your life by your side. 

Said boy swings upon the passenger side door as he hops into the car. He leans over for a quick peck on the lips before he closes the car door behind him. “Ready?” he asks. You watch as he taps something into the GPS navigator, presumably the directions of your new apartment, and your eyes trail over his features. You take in how much he’s grown. How different he is from the chubby cheeked kid who ran through the parks of your town, or the fresh faced sophomore who didn’t care to pay attention in chemistry. 

You think back on your memories together. The days spent at the arcade with your friends, afternoons turned into evenings at your favourite diner, movie nights filled with unhealthy amounts of snacks, the beach where you shared your first kiss. You would miss this old town. You would miss its colours, the ones you had gotten so good at describing all these years. You would miss the familiarity of it all, the safety,  the way it felt like home. 

You know however, as you look at the boy sat beside you, that he was now you’re home, and that wherever you went, you would feel safe as long as he was with you. 

So, with a determined sigh, you turn the key in the ignition and tighten your grip on the steering wheel. 

“Ready.” 

[ceruleanmusings]

hope floats | stiles x perrie

Of course I can’t have Tessa without Perrie so here’s a gift for @sgtbuckyybarnes​! I love seeing your edits on my dash (you’re hella talented!) and I love your writing and your OCs and you so I hope this puts a smile on your face!

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“You know, when you invited me over, I thought we were actually going to hang out,” Perrie commented, placing a hand on her hip.

Stiles blinked at her over his shoulder, his eyebrows crinkling. “We are hanging out.”

“Yeah, but I thought that meant playing Mario Kart or watching Star Wars. Not painting a room.” She waved her arm around the room in question, careful not to touch the wall she’d laid a layer of primer over. Sniffing, she brushed the sleeve of the blue flannel shirt hanging off her frame. The scent of Stiles wafted off the arm of the shirt, kicking out the pungent scent of fresh primer. It was a nice change from the burning in her nostrils; soothing and warm and woodsy.

“If I had asked you to help me paint, you wouldn’t have come.”

Scoffing, Perrie crossed her arms. “Yes I would.”

“Sure Pear.” Stiles rolled his eyes and turned away from the wall he had been working on. Perrie stepped back as he lowered and shifted the large roller in his hands, pressing the foam tip against the paint tray by his feet. Reaching back, he messed with the bill on his ball cap by his neck; the band across his forehead shifted from side to side. “Look, my dad’s been working long hours lately. He keeps saying that he’s going to get this done but then something comes up and…” he blew out a breath. His freckled cheeks bulged at the effort behind it.

Perrie licked her lower lip, dropping her hand from her hips. “Papa Stilinski still eating badly?”

Stiles snorted. “I found a package of hostess cupcakes in the back of his closet.”

“What were you doing in his closet?”

Stiles’s eyes shifted for a second. “Well…well I wasn’t snooping!” At the incredulous look on Perrie’s face, he continued, “I was looking for something.”

“For what?”

“The cupcakes.” Perrie laughed and Stiles rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Perrie, I’m leaving in a few months. Dad hasn’t been alone and…” His long, slim fingers drummed against the shaft of the paint roller and the tip of his tongue swiped against his lower lip. When she spoke again, his words were so soft she almost missed it, “I just want to make sure he’s here when I come back.”

Clicking her tongue, Perrie stepped forward, making sure to lift her feet so as not to trip over the tarp covering the carpeted floor. Once close, her hand clapped down on his shoulder and she gave it a squeeze, smiling up at him as he looked at her beneath his unfairly thick lashes. “I’m sure he wouldn’t dream of anything else, Frecklebutt.”

Stiles let out a little sarcastic laugh and, before she could move, he lifted the paint roller and dabbed it against her nose. Stepping backward, she let out a noise of indignant shock but the smile curling on her lips and the sparkle nestling in her eye let her amusement shine through.

“Cheap shot, Stilinski!” she said, wiping the paint off her nose. It smeared a bright white streak against the sleeve of the flannel. For a second her nose wrinkled and she felt guilty for soiling it but then she shrugged. Stiles had yanked it out of his closet and thrown it at her to use it and she was sure more paint than that would end up on it anyway. She didn’t let herself think too long about the fact that he let her wear one of his most prized flannel shirts without a second thought. There was nothing to unpack there. Really. Clearing her throat, she looked around the empty room.

It was bare of everything that used to fill the office, leaving the very dark gray color behind. Even the bright shaft of sunlight from the blind-less windows didn’t seem to help brighten the place up. It still felt cold and drab; boring and unexciting.

“I got this powder blue color. Think it might be a bit too bright but, uh, the people at the store said it would be fine,” he replied. He lifted his chin, jerking it towards the four cans stacked in the corner closest to the door. A wireless speaker docking station sat atop of it, waiting to be put to use.

“Powder blue, huh?” Perrie lifted her eyebrows. “Any particular reason for that?”

“It’s…uh…it’s a nice color?”

“Do you want to make sure your dad doesn’t forget you or are you planning on haunting him while you’re at college?” She had to ask; he wouldn’t be that forthcoming with his feelings otherwise. And she knew, deep in her gut, that it wasn’t a coincidence he picked the same color as his jeep for the color of his dad’s office. She’d spent so much time in that jeep, riding around town with Scott and Stiles and sometimes just Stiles that she could recognize the color down to the smallest bit of pigment.

Talk about them leaving, about graduation coming around the corner came in small bursts. He’d always bring it up during a comfortable lull, when they were laying on the floor of his room after stuffing their faces with pizza, when they were sitting in his jeep when he’d dropped her off, taking her time to get inside. Because moments like these, when it was just her and Stiles, were few and far between.

Not that she particularly noticed. It’s just, well, it had always been the three of them: Scott, Perrie, and Stiles. And soon it wouldn’t be. Scott would cart off to UC Davis, Stiles was going across the country, and Perrie was shooting for University of Georgia (they had a good criminal justice track). And, sure, maybe she and Stiles would be closer, mere states away, but…it was states away. If she wanted to see him, she could just hop on her bike and take a ten-minute ride to see what he was up to. In a few short months she’d have to plan meetups in advance. Who does that?

Beacon Hills spoiled her, that’s for sure.

Not that she’d ever say it out loud, but it was…nice. Being able to talk to him was nice. Being able to see him every damn day since kindergarten was nice. Cracking jokes and staying up conducting research and trying to study as he rambled on about something new he learned about reptile copulation when he got distracted by Wikipedia was the best! If she didn’t even want to think about leaving, she couldn’t imagine how Papa Stilinski was feeling.

And they were friends.

Just friends.

“Well, let’s hope with how calm things have been lately that it’s not the latter,” Stiles said.

Perrie squinted at him, focusing in on the weight to his words. “You sound disappointed,” she ventured.

“I’m not.” Right. And I’m the next in line for the throne. Her sarcastic thought must have read on her face because he sighed and continued, “I mean, it’s nice to not have to worry about what’s going to try and kill me when I wake up in the morning but….”

“But?”

“I don’t know. It’s…like…sometimes I don’t know what to do. To help or be useful if…there’s nothing to be useful for. It’s dumb, I know.”

“Hey, you’re not dumb. I get it. C’mon, I’m not like Scott and the others. I’m just human, like you, and I’m not some gunslinger like Braeden or an archery master like Allison. We just…gotta do the best with what we can. And you’re the best at figuring things out.”

“S’not that hard, not when people leave such obvious clues…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you help and you matter. Just because you’re leaving Beacon Hills doesn’t mean you don’t. You’re going onto bigger and better things. You’re going to Quantico for fuck’s sake. People from here don’t do that unless they’re meant to do big things.”

“Well, gee, Pear, don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“I’m not, doofus.” She made a show of lightly punching him on the shoulder, knocking it backwards. “I’m just trying to make you be less stupid. I should be getting paid for that overtime work. In fact, I should be getting paid for this too. I’m giving up some much needed girl time due to your lies.”

“I’m planning on feeding you. Is that not enough?”

“No. I may get lung damage from these fumes.”

“Can’t make things easy for me, can you?”

“Of course not. Where’s the fun in that?”

“You know it’s rude to have it at someone else’s expense.”

“Do you ever listen to yourself when you talk?”

Exasperation radiated off Stiles in waves. “Shut up and help me paint, okay? I’m definitely not going to pay you to stand around and rag on me all day.”

“You’re lucky I’m available for that for free,” she said and flashed a cheeky grin. He shot a mocking smile back at her and shook his head.

Still grinning, she turned and approached the speaker system. She picked up his abandoned phone on the ground and swiped her thumb against the screen, quickly completing his lock pattern. Clicking her tongue, she brought up the music player and flicked her thumb through artists until she settled on something with a happy hum. She set the phone into the docking station, turned up the volume, and bobbed her head to the beat of the music, a nice fuse between retro surf-rock and ska with a touch of punk thrown ontop.

“These guys are good,” she said over the undulating guitars; she could almost see the ebbing and flowing waves in her mind. The blue paint Stiles was pouring helped.

“Yeah? I think so too. Just found ‘em online. Scott pointed me in their direction. They’re called Slow Kids at Play.”

Whipping out her phone, Perrie quickly typed the band’s name in google. “They’ve been around since 2009…call themselves musical geniuses…huh.” She brought her phone closer to her face, nearly going cross-eyed as she examined the screen. “Drummer’s pretty cute.”

“Let me see.” She barely had time to react when Stiles all but snatched the phone out of her hand. Her cry of protest was buried beneath the flourishing chorus. And so she stood back and waited, studying the side of his face, the furrow to his brows, the purse of his lips followed quickly by the clench of his jaw, sharpening the strong outline and…

Hmmm!

Her lips all but curled like a Cheshire cat. She briefly ran her tongue against her lower lip and crossed her arms. “You know, it’s interesting. I didn’t think your eyes could change color like that.”

“What?” Stiles’s head whipped up. “Change color, waddya…? Oh no. No. No no no, this can’t be happening to me. I knew I should have looked into that damn dog biting me but Scott said it was just scared. Because who wouldn’t be scared at having a needle shoved in their ass? Okay, okay…” he took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, his shoulders all but hovering by his ears. “Just…just rip off the bandage. What color are they? Gold? Red? Orange?”

“Green,” Perrie replied.

Silence. Then—

“Oh, god!”

“Stiles!” Her utterance of his name was wrapped up in a laugh that had him looking at her in a way only he could muster: half apprehension, half confusion, with one eye squinted and the other widened to owlish levels. “They’re…they’re green!” she wheezed. “Like envy.”

“I…what?” Stiles shook his head, looked at the phone in his hand, back to her, back to the phone, and then to her again. “I’m not…no way. I’m not jealous.”

“Envious,” she corrected and at his hard look she shrugged and said, “blame Lydia; you know how she gets about vocabulary.”

“This isn’t about vocabulary.”

“You’re right. It’s about you being envious.” She snatched his phone out of his hand and locked the screen with a press of her thumb to the side.

“I’m not.”

“Right, because it’s normal for your face to do that…that thing.” She poked his cheek and he swatted her away.

It was, actually, but once upon a time it used to be directed at Lydia and at any guy that dared to breathe in her direction. And Jackson. Dear god, Jackson. Stiles could have set the poor bastard on fire with the hatred in his eyes whenever he spotted Jackson grabbing Lydia, pulling her into a kiss, nuzzling his nose against her hair, holding her around the waist.

She knew that look on Stiles’s face because it was frequent, because it was so stark, because it was a look she worked hard to keep off her face lest he finally figured it all out.

“Just help me paint.”

Perrie flashed finger-guns at him and turned to her wall, ready and waiting to be painted. She picked up her abandoned roller, waited for him to roll his in the blue paint before she took a turn, turned back to her wall, and rolled one big, wet, spongy striped against the white. No turning back now.

They worked in silence, the music pouring out of the speakers jumping from one to the next as the genres shuffled. The mirth that once danced on her lips died a little every time she peeked a glance at Stiles over her shoulder and at some point she knew she was frowning and that Stiles would catch on and try to figure it out—because he always figures it out. Until he doesn’t.

Perrie sighed. Was it that terrible? Being envious or jealous or whatever over the fact that she could be interested in someone else? Was it such a joke to be dismissed without even giving it a second thought? Giving her a second thought? Just this once? It was supposed to be a joke but…well, the joke must be on her. Her mouth twisted to the side. Maybe it was all for the best, leaving. Graduating. Maybe then she’d finally give up the excruciating hope that, someday, things would be different. Not change, Stiles didn’t react well to that, but…different.

“Pear?”

Perrie turned, lips pressed together, eyebrows lifting in a silent question that was broken by a messy, sticky, swatch of blue pressing up against her cheek and across an eye. The pungent, sharp odor of paint shot up her nostrils and, when she spluttered, it lay thick across her tongue.

“Oh man, that’s the oldest trick in the book!” Stiles’s eyes sparkled, like the glitter-dotted surface of a wave.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight—kinda didn’t help that she was breathing in some harsh chemicals, thanks—and her fingers tightened on the shaft of her roller, wishing they were digging into the collar of his own flannel shirt as she yanked him towards her, getting up close and personal, smashing through that boundary that read just friends in big neon letters.

Instead, she twisted her hips, grounded herself, and pushed forward, running her own roller up his face. “Ha! Gotcha back!” she crowed, watching in satisfaction as he dragged a sleeve against his shirt; the red and black squares now marred with blue.

It was an all-out fight after that; running around the small room, tagging each other with their extended reach as much as they could. Footsteps dotted the tarp covered floor and odd paint splotches covered the primer and, if it were possible for the sky to melt, it would’ve been nestled within Perrie’s hair.

Their breaths, heavy with jubilant exhaustion, were stuttered by leftover laughter as they knelt on the floor. The remnants of their fight stared back at them. When they locked eyes their laughter started all over again, underlined by the bouncy pop song crooning that it’d make them lose their minds.

“Oh man, I’m hungry,” Perrie said, putting a hand to her grumbling stomach.

“Yeah, me too.” Stiles held his hand out to her. She grasped it and, in one swift and smooth yank, she was pulled to her feet. He swatted at his dark jeans, grimacing at the bright blue streak. Then he shrugged. “Want to go to Ruby’s?”

She looked down at her paint splattered shirt and jeans. “Like this?”

“Of all places, I don’t think Ruby’s cares much about dress code.” He swung his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Beneath the heavy weight, with the collar of the patterned fabric brushing up against her neck, her cheeks blazed and a. Their hips bumped as they walked together, Stiles steering her towards the door. “My treat.”

Reaching up, Perrie grasped his hand. He laced their fingers together. “My two favorite words.”

Her? Perrie Simmons, give up hope?

Now that was a joke.

[semi-anonyme]

November 3, 2020

12:05pm

I woke up at 7:00am today and I knew a few things: 1.) I would buy a Vitamix and begin to make smoothies every day 2.) I would stop holding onto the past 3.) It would be my last entry on this tumblr

Today, it is Election Day. I am very much hoping Joe Biden will win, not just for my sanity but for everyone’s sanity, for a little hope in humanity’s fight against the allure of anti-intellectualism, scapegoating, its growing tolerance of hate.

I remember the last election day, or rather, the evening. We all thought Hillary would win uneventfully. I remember my colleague dipping out of work early to go to the Javits Center to celebrate her victory. I remember watching in disbelief from my basement computer, walking upstairs with my eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Are you watching the news right now Mike?” “Yeah, Trump is in the lead. It looks like he’s about to win Pennsylvania (or was it Michigan? Or Wisconsin?)” I walked to bed in disgust, woke up in disgust, confirmed my disgust.

There was not one conversation I heard on the train or in the street that day that didn’t involve Trump. That night, I drank alone at Three Diamond Door. I still remember the buff black dude sitting in the corner downing Bell’s Two Hearted IPAs.

Anyway, election day 2020. I’m going out to vote in about 2 hours. I got today off. Thanks, progressive companies.

I’ve had a lot of internal discussions with myself on here, published them as blog posts. I have timestamps to remember them by, I’m glad. In the past ~8 months since the pandemic began, I’ve gone back to a lot of my entries -- oh, this is what it was like in the beginning in March. Oh yes, May, I was indeed watching a lot of K-Dramas, it was getting hotter. Ahhh yes, I did learn a lot about not having the city as my crutch.

Just in general, on this blog, on the countless loose leaf papers in my journal, I’ve had these battles about meaning. This blog pre-dates seeing Jody my therapist, who I’ve been seeing faithfully for over 1.5 years now.

I could go on. The point I’m making rn in this last entry is this -- all that stuff is in the past, it was important, I internalized it. Now it’s time to move on. I’m glad this exists, these 450 entries exist, they exist with a purpose. But now? I know who I am, what I want to be.

I have no dilemma of engineering vs artistry. Now that I’ve been away from loud bars, I have no FOMO about the nightlife. It’s kinda just time to start from scratch, this knowledge.

I just created a new tumblr, domo-knows. I’ll likely have a companion YouTube channel in the future. Anyway, a few and somewhat ambiguous bullets for myself since, you know, this blog was always just for me.

ON THINGS I’M LEAVING BEHIND ACTIONS 1. Random drinking. Today, I’m going to buy an Other Half Finback IPAs, pop them open around 8pm and start watching election results. I’ve gone into detail before about drinking, but just to sum it up, drinking alcohol is the one thing I can say captures how complex and funny it is being a human -- how we use it socially, justify it, cling onto it, how it becomes tangled up in our highest achievements and our most shameful insecurities. I’ve consumed alcohol for these various reasons in my life:

a.) I was avoiding doing something difficult b.) I didn’t want to be alone in my room, and preferred the loud chatter of conversations and music at a cramped bar c.) I did not trust my social abilities sober, so I drank alcohol because I’ve never known anyone who has not liked me when I’ve had a couple (when I’m shit-faced, another story) d.) To hook up with a girl e.) I was bored f.) I was about to do something boring and wanted to make it more exciting g.) Because it was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for a beer on a patio h.) Because it was a cold and dreary day, perfect to brood over a Manhattan i.) I was lonely j.) My life was going too well, I wasn’t used to that, and I needed something to question k.) My life was going poorly, and I needed something to cheer me up for the evening l.) I needed to make a decision, so I drank alcohol and wrote in my journal and came to a good decision that I stuck with m.) I needed to make a decision, so I drank alcohol until I no longer cared, and the decision was punted off until the next day n.) I I needed to make a decision, I thought a drink or two would jigger my thought process, but I ended up getting distracted by something my drunk self was interested in, and the decision was punted off until the next day I’d come up with more but they’re all just variations of that and who wants to read more of that? 2. Eating sugary sweets, justifying it by saying I have “an addiction” I actually never cared for sweets until high school. Most birthday cake I had was gross, my parents bought Chips Ahoy or Oreos which tbh aren’t all that great, and I was never exposed to really good pastries until I was in college. In high school, I dropped a buncha weight entirely too quickly and I ended up with a fats and sweets “addiction” that I’ve “had ever since”. This is a common thing.

I’ve held it close to me mentally -- my “sweets addiction”. I didn’t question it, it was something I just had, something to hang onto for the rest of my life because I fucked up when I was younger.

But as I’ve gotten older, I understand that these things -- addictions -- serve purposes. They keep us comfortable in what we deem to be true of ourselves. They (poorly) provide temporary breaks from incessant mental gymnastics/fatigue. Anyway, blah blah, big sweeping declarations, blah blah, I’ve done that all before. But when I woke up today, I knew I would get a Vitamix like I’ve been talking about for years, and I made a decision to stop holding onto this. I always eat 2 meals a day with a wild west assortment of things in between, cake and cookies and granola bars and Halloween candy. Now, 2 meals and a protein smoothie/juice.

Let them muscles grow bb. Feel good about my body, treat it like the fucking temple it is.

3. Dicking around on the internet I enjoy reddit. I enjoy wikipedia. I also end up on these sites when I’m avoiding other major responsibilities and uncomfortable feelings. I know what I want: it involves a lot of deep practice. I could read about programming all day and I’d be fascinated -- you know, the history of Silicon Valley, Introduction to the Rust Programming language, new JavaScript frameworks, discussions on HackerNews about The Best Way to Build Something. But nothing beats getting your hands dirty. Nothing beats poring over source code, running into strange errors, resolving them, moving on, over and over ad nauseam until lo-and-behold, you are an expert.

I can read about music, listen to raps over and over, but nothing beats analyzing a verse over and over and actually hearing the syllables landing on, falling behind the beat.

I’m here to structure my day. I know what I want. Expertise, pride, and know-how. A differentiated skillset so I can collaborate with other differentiated skillsets. Good taste, a feeling of belonging. All that shit, all I ever wanted but didn’t know until recently. THOUGHT PATTERNS 1. FOMO What is it with being a human -- a Man, especially (sorry is that sexist, but also, not sorry) -- that makes us believe that everyone has everything we have and more? That we are the base model without power windows, and everyone else is an upgrade? I love going on walks in New York City. I love riding the trains in New York City. But while some of this love is healthy spectatorship, much of what I’ve engaged in is unhealthy envy.

I’m done with that though. I know what I like. And I know I have a dope life. And I know that I’m a good person to know, that people may have different qualities than me but I also have different qualities from them. I’m cool with my small close-knit friends. 2. INDECISION I kinda expanded on this above. I know what I want, and all questioning I’ve done (especially recently) has been my effort to save myself from doing the work, save myself from having to declare what I am. 3. ENGAGING IN FEELINGS OF BEING LATE I am 31 years old. This is something I know to be true: there is a 13-year old who can program circles around me. There is a kid who can play a rendition of Misty on piano so soulful that it’ll bring a tear to my eye. There is nothing, technically (as in, technical expertise), that I can do that can’t be done by anyone else. But I do believe in my taste and I do believe in my life experiences. And I do believe that whatever I create can only be mine, have my signature, and I think that whatever I create in this world that I’m proud of is going to be good. That’s a fact, and I’m going into the future with that as a fact.

Farewell, semi-anonyme Anyway, I was going to write more but I wanna get going, more to do. I’ve got some work to do, some voting to do, some writing to do, some planning to do.

I love you all. See you on the other side.

[wildflowerirwin]

Love is War - m.c. - Ch 1

Summary: When yeeyee meets a punk rock wannabe

Rating: PG-13

Words: 3k (yikers man)

Warnings: swearing

Kaela walked stepped out of the black town car and mentally cursed herself for agreeing to wear 6-inch heels on the red carpet. She thanked Andre, her bodyguard, as be helped her steady herself. “You’ve been wearing heels since you were a child, yet you still can’t get your footing.” Andre commented, earning a glare from Kaela.

“Thanks, but I’m aware.” She quipped, smoothing her silky, olive green dress. Andre followed closely as Kaela began her trek down the red carpet. She stood in front of the backdrop laced with ‘American Music Awards’ branding.

“Kaela Gold, over here!” Kaela recognized the voice belonging to her least favorite host, Ryan Seacrest. She plastered on a smile and walked toward him. She gave him a short hug, being sure to let him know she wasn’t in the mood for him.

“Hello, Ryan. You’re looking dashing this evening.” She spoke, almost impressed with her own bullshit compliment.

“Is this the same dress you wore to the Country Music Awards?” Ryan asked her, all but shoving his microphone down her throat.

“It happens to be, yes.” Kaela nodded. “It’s sentimental to me for several reasons, and it has pockets.”

“Oh, my God. It has pockets?” Ryan asked mockingly.

“Sorry to cut this short,” Andre lied. “She’s got other places to be.” He said, ushering her along. Kaela sighed softly as Ryan found his next victims.

“How can one human be so fucking annoying?” Kaela asked, pausing to adjust the strap on her shoe.

“He’s a straight white man, what do you expect?” Andre scoffed and held out his arm for her to balance herself.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I thought he’d be decent.” Kaela shook her head and continued walking. A genuine smile found her face for the first time all evening as she locked eyes with her long time best friend and mentor, Kacey Musgraves.

“I’m surprised they let you in here looking so good.” Kacey commented as she gave Kaela a bone crushing hug.

“Could say the same to you.” Kaela giggled and wrapped her arms around her friend. “Now, tell me, who should I be looking for tonight? You’re the one that knows all the gossip.”

“Well, Kane Brown is up for Male Country Artist and he happens to look like an actual angel 24/7.” Kacey said, looking down the carpet. “That guy you hooked up with at Jingle Ball is up for pop duo, but he’s got little chance of winning.”

“Not the only little thing he has.” Kaela giggled and linked her arm with Kacey’s as they walked. “Who else?”

“Well, that Australian band is up for International Rock Group and I’m hoping they get it. They’re fun guys.” Kacey shrugged.

“You know, I have a thing for foreign guys.” Kaela smirked and glanced over at the four tall Australians, currently posing like sorority sisters on bid day.

“You’re in luck, they’re all currently single.” Kavey smiled and nudged Kaela’s hip with her own.

“How do you know?” Kaela asked, looking up at her.

“I talk to the dark haired one sometimes. We’re good friends.” She shrugged and walked into the music hall with Kaela.

“Save me a seat, will ya? I’ve gotta get changed for my performance.” Kaela said, releasing Kacey’s arm.

“You’re gonna kill it out there.” Kacey giggled and gave her a quick hug before finding her seat. Kaela giggled to herself and walked backstage to the dressing room with her name on it. She stripped out of her gown and pulled on her fishnets, doing a couple squats to get them just right. She pulled on her PVC shorts and checked out her own ass in the mirror.

“Damn girl.” Kaela giggled to herself. She pulled the matching bandeau up over her breasts and chewed on her lip as she studied her appearance. Her auburn hair fell in ringlets across her shoulders and her highlight sparkled in the light. She was pulled from her thoughts as Andre rapped on her door gently.

“Hey, you’re on in 3 minutes. You need to get out here.” Andre said and Kaela picked up her heels.

“Okay, I’m coming.” She exited the room, pulling her heels on as she walked to her mark.

*** Michael wasn’t expecting to enjoy the yeeyee performance of Kaela Gold, but the lyrics of her song intrigued him.

You won't make yourself a name if you follow the rules

History gets made when you're acting a fool

“Who is this?” Michael asked, leaning toward Calum but keeping his eyes on the stage.

“Uh, I think her name’s Kyla or something.” Calum shrugged.

“It’s Kaela.” Ashton said, not looking up from his phone. “If I had known I’d have to sit through this yeehaw shit, I’d have charged my phone before we came.”

“I actually kinda dig this song.” Michael shrugged. “It’s not as yeeyee as some of the shit Luke listens to.”

“Stop calling George Strait ‘yeeyee.’” Luke rolled his eyes. “He’s a lyrical genius and I’m sorry you can’t hear that.”

“Country music has definitely gotten better in recent years, but that’s all thanks to my future wife, Kacey Musgraves.” Calum said, the other boys rolling their eyes.

“You do realize she’s already married, right?” Ashton asked, to which Calum simply shrugged.

“Marriages end.” Calum said, applauding with the rest of the crowd as Kaela exited the stage. Michael pulled out his phone as the hosts came back out. He typed the lyrics into Google and searched. He chewed on his lower lip as he clicked on her Wikipedia page, scrolling through.

Kaela Renee Gold, born February 19th, 1996 in Belmont, Louisiana got her start when she won the talent show at her local county fair. Gold has won two Grammy awards for Best Female Country Artist in 2016 and 2017.

Michael was pulled from his reading when Luke nudged him with his elbow. “It’s our category.” Luke said, bracing himself in his seat. Mike shoved his phone in his pocket and sat up in his seat as the hosts pulled open the envelope.

“The winner of Best International Duo/Group goes to..” Ellen DeGeneres pulled the card from the envelope and Michael’s hand found Luke’s. “5 Seconds of Summer!” Luke pulled Michael from his seat and hugged him tight, Calum and Ashton joining in on the hug. The four of them made their way onto the stage, Calum immediately reaching for the award as Michael was given the microphone.

“This is a huge honor for us. This is our first time receiving an award from the American Music Awards. Being four boys from Australia who are trying to make a name for themselves in this business, being able to receive this award is a dream come true. Thank you.” Michael smiled as the crowd applauded them off the stage.

“I can’t believe we actually won.” Ashton grinned, pulling the award from Calum’s hands.

“I can’t believe the American Music Awards have an international category.” Luke chuckled, posing with his bandmates as the crew took photos of them with their new award. They went back to their seats as Ellen announced the next category: Best Female Country Artist, which Kaela was nominated for.

“I hope my wife, Kacey Musgraves, wins this category.” Calum said.

“I’m rooting for that Kaela Gold girl. She was good.” Michael said, watching the screen as the camera found all the nominees. Kaela held Kacey’s hand as Ellen opened the envelope and announced her as the winner. “I’m good luck.” Michael chuckled.

“My yeehaw wife deserved to win.” Calum huffed.

“I didn’t even know you liked Kacey Musgraves that much.” Ashton said, looking at Calum.

“She’s hot as fuck, of course I like her.” Calum shrugged.

*** Michael tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans as he walked into the club, the boys trailing behind him. The after party was already in full swing, but they didn’t mind. They were just happy to be invited. “Hey, congrats on the win.” Kacey smiled sweetly at Calum, who let out a childish giggle.

“Thanks.” Calum’s cheeks heated up as he looked at the floor. “I love you.” Kacey laughed, covering her mouth with her fingers.

“You guys are cute.” She smiled softly. “Can I buy y’all a round?”

“We’d love that.” Ashton grinned. “Sorry about my friend, he’s a little star struck.”

“Not a problem.” Kacey giggled and walked toward the bar.

“I’m in love with her.” Calum sighed heavily, leaning against Ashton.

“You’re insane.” Michael shook his head at his friend.

“Calum’s ‘wife’ is coming back with your new crush, and she looks very drunk.” Luke chuckled and sat at the hightop table as Kacey set the tray of shots down on the table.

“Boys, this is my friend Kaela.” Kacey smiled.

“We’re buddies.” Kaela said, downing a tequila shot from the tray. The four Aussies stared at her, their jaws dropping.

“I- how? Why?” Michael stammered, his eyes laced with confusion.

“You never seen someone take a shot of tequila without making a face before?” Kaela asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, I actually haven’t.” Michael said, glancing down at the tequila shot in front of him.

“It helps when you’ve 8 shots of vodka and 4 of fireball.” Kacey laughed and took a seat next to Calum. “My buddy likes to drink.”

“I don’t get to do it often, so I take advantage of nights like this. I want to get absolutely hammered tonight.” Kaela shrugged, downing another tequila shot.

“Who knew the yeeyee’s knew how to party?” Ashton chuckled, picking up the small glass of tequila. He poured it into his mouth, forcing it down his throat. His face screwed up in disgust, the alcohol overtaking his senses. “That tastes like straight ass.”

“It tastes like nail polish remover, but don’t ask me how I know what that tastes like.” Kaela said, waving down one of the waiters. “Can I get a vodka and sprite, please?”

“Coming right up, Miss Gold.” The waiter smiled before walking away.

“So, who are you guys?” Kaela asked as she turned back to the table.

“You don’t know us? Luke asked, surprised yet not surprised at the same time.

“You look a little familiar, but I am pretty drunk.” Kaela said, accepting the vodka and sprite from the waiter.

“They’re 5 Seconds of Summer. The Australian band.” Kacey said, taking her shot of tequila.

“American Apparel underwear.” Ashton said and Kaela gasped.

“I know you guys!” She smiled. “You were performing at the Teen Choice Awards when security escorted me out for trying to sneak into Dierks Bentley’s dressing room.”

“The yeeyee’s are wild.” Ashton laughed. “I’m telling you, we need to party with the yeeyee’s more.”

“What the fuck is a ‘yeeyee?’” Kaela asked, her eyes not leaving Ashton’s.

“I don’t know how to explain it. A yeeyee is a yeeyee.” Ashton said, looking at the boys. “Someone else explain it.”

“A yeeyee is someone who’s says ‘yeehaw’ unironically.” Michael said, still avoiding his tequila shot.

“What else am I supposed to say when I’m wrangling a wild bull?” Kaela asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“My God, that’s the most yeeyee thing I’ve ever heard anyone say ever.” Michael laughed and passed her his shot. “I think you could use this.”

“Nuh uh, that’s for you.” Kaela giggled and slid the shot back to Michael. “Do the shot and I’ll let you pick a song for me and Kacey to do for karaoke.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.” Michael laughed as he picked up the glass, drinking the disgusting liquid. He made a face as it went down. “Fuck, that’s disgusting.”

“Alright, what song are we doing?” Kacey laughed softly.

“Make them do the Sesame Street theme song.” Luke laughed. “That’d be hilarious.”

“Great idea.” Mike grinned and looked at the two girls. “You’ll be doing a yeeyee rendition of the Sesame Street theme song.” Kaela and Kacey went up to the stage, pulling up the song. The two of them sang the song as Michael recorded it for his Instagram story.

*** The night went on and many drinks were had. Michael knew he was drunk because the smile on his face could hardly falter. He leaned against the bar as Kaela talked. Neither of them knew how the conversation started or how it took a turn to where it was at now. Kaela was telling Michael the story of how she broke her first bone. “The bone fully came out of my skin. That’s what this scar right here is.” Kaela said, showing Michael the scar on her hand.

“Your bone actually came out? Like, out of your skin?” Michael’s face contorted in disgust.

“Yeah, it did.” Kaela said, pulling her hand from Michael’s.

“That’s absolutely disgusting, yet fascinating.” Michael said, his eyes finding Kaela’s. “Do you wanna get out of here? I’m starving.”

“Please.” Kaela giggled softly. “I could use a hotdog.”

“A hotdog?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Preferably a gas station hotdog. A jumbo dog with ketchup and mustard.”

“That sounds incredible.” Michael laughed, linking his arm with hers. The two of them left the club, stepping out into the bustling street.

“This way.” Kaela said, bringing her hand down to Michael’s. She led him down the street to the corner gas station. “Well, don’t we stick out like a walnut in a pecan pie.” Kaela said, Michael’s head whipping to look at her.

“The fuck did you just say?” He asked, his features laced with confusion.

“Sorry, I forget not everyone is from the boondocks.” Kaela giggled softly as she grabbed a hotdog from the rollers.

“Where exactly are you from?” Michael asked as he grabbed himself a hotdog.

“A tiny town called Longfellow in southern Louisiana.” Kaela said, drenching her hotdog in ketchup and mustard.

“Typical small town? Nothing but corn fields, everyone knows everyone’s business, and everyone falls in love with the stranger their daddy hires to work on the farm?” Michael asked, taking a bite of his hotdog.

“No, some of us couldn’t afford farmhands to fall in love with. We fall in love with the cute, older cowboy down the road. But, as most cowboys do, they try to steal your land and then they run away to Texas with your best friend.” Kaela shrugged and took a bite of her own hotdog, some ketchup dripping down on her dress.

“That was oddly specific.” Michael chuckled, gently wiping the ketchup from her dress. “How’d you get started in music, anyways? I thought it was impossible for the tiny town musicians to actually make it.”

“It certainly isn’t easy.” Kaela said, handing the cashier a $5 bill as she walked out with Michael. The two of them sat on the curb as they ate their hotdogs, neither one of them caring about the flashing lights of the paparazzi. “I used to sing at the bar in town. I started singing there when I was about 13. When I was 17, I was singing at the bar and a producer was there. He had some car trouble and ended up in my town. He heard me sing, asked for my demo, and signed me to his label. He produced my first album, which flopped. They dropped me and then I was fortunate enough to be signed to Columbia.”

“So, it was a one in a million chance?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got two albums out now, I won an incredible award tonight.” Kaela smiled. “I’m just lucky, I guess.”

“You and me both.” Michael smiled and finished his hotdog.

“So, Michael Clifford, tell me a secret. Something fans don’t know.” Kaela said as she finished her hotdog.

“A secret? Well, I photoshopped my Spotify wrapped because it exposed me as a yeeyee.” Michael said, nudging her shoulder with his own. Kaela giggled and rolled her eyes playfully.

“I mean a real secret, Mikey.” Kaela smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You tell me one.” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his hand on her thigh.

“Alright..” Kaela moved closer to him as she kept her head on his shoulder. “I’m afraid of both my parents dying. It hasn’t happened yet, but I know it will someday and it terrifies me.. I don’t know what I’ll do when I don’t have either one of them to count on.”

“Are they still together?” Michael asked, his thumb rubbing against the exposed skin of her thigh.

“No..” Kaela sighed. “They split up in ‘94 just a couple months after I was born. My parents were high school sweethearts, but the immature love they had in high school didn’t last through graduation and an unplanned pregnancy.”

“I’m sorry..” Michael sighed, hugging her into his side. “Are you still close with them?”

“Yeah, absolutely. As a kid, I only saw my dad every other weekend. When I started singing, he came to the bar every time to support me. He bought me my first guitar and taught me how to play. He’s always been my best friend.” Kaela smiled softly to herself as tears filled her eyes. “My mom moved back in with my grandparents after the breakup. She raised me with them and I couldn’t have asked for a stronger mother.”

“She did an amazing job.” Michael smiled to himself. Kaela sniffed quietly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Your turn, tell me your secret.” She said, lifting her head to look at him.

“Since we’re getting personal.. I’m scared of being the forgotten member of 5 Seconds of Summer. I know the band isn’t going to last forever, and I know everyone’s gonna remember the band.. But I’m scared of becoming ‘that other guy.’” Michael sighed. “It’s always going to be Luke Hemmings, Calum Hood, Ashton Irwin, and that one dude that did stuff sometimes.”

“Oh, bugaboo..” Kaela sighed, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re not gonna be forgotten. You’ll always be remembered to me.” She whispered, her eyes not leaving his. For some reason, it was enough for him. Michael’s lips found hers and slipped tenderly against them. For a brief moment, being with her was enough for him to feel at ease with the world.

Taglist: @lukescherrypie@calumculture@kinglycalum@babylon-corgis@novacanecalum@lfwallscouldtalk@dontdoitluke@isabella10028@calumamongmen@bumblebet-20@lockthisheartinchains​@bitterbethany​@sublimehood​@myloverboyash​@ironicallyirwin​@lashtoncurls​@mukesreject​@sanfrancjsco​@boytoynamedcalum​@opinionatedpisces-official​@blahehblah​ @lukehemmings​@calum-uncrowned​@findingliam-o​ @gh0st-0f-y0u-95​

[prolestariwrites]

Time To Go [8]: Shut Up And Start Talking

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 8/9 Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 8: Shut Up And Start Talking, in which the guys find a whole lot more than just Kyrie.

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Nero takes a steadying breath as he stares at the building across the street. The address Morrison had provided had led them to what looks like a closed shop, an apartment on top, in the middle of a perfectly normal street in Fortuna. He had let them borrow a car, and Nico drove as she rattled off what little she remembered about the demon named Mammon. The city is just starting to wake up, the bagel shop on the corner opening its doors and a smattering of people leaving for work or school, but mostly the street is quiet.

He checks his holster out of habit, then reaches back to press his fingers on Red Queen's handle. It's a ritual he usually does before walking into a job, reassuring himself that he has both at hand. His arm is laden with extra weight, however, and he glances at his wrist as it moves to his side, flexing his hand under the weapon Artemis that is now attached to him. He tugs the sleeve of his jacket down, wanting to remain as inconspicuous as possible for as long as they can. Sneaking into the building is definitely their best play.

Artemis had seemed the easiest one to choose, not wanting to be left out when Dante and Vergil had squabbled over their choices as they strapped weapons to their bodies. They look more than strange now with so much gear, and Nero's brow twitches when he examines them both next. Vergil is already holding Yamato in his right hand, Cerberus in his other as Nico straps Beowulf to his limbs. The ensemble makes his appearance stick out in the pale light of the morning, and Nero grimaces.

Dante is no better, wearing the cowboy hat gifted to him by Nico, Nevan strapped to his front and his Devil Sword strapped to his back. He was going to bring Agni and Rudra too, but after the two swords argued over who would wear the hat Dante had left them behind. Nero had wondered how he would use his guns or his swords with the scimitars as well, but decided that whatever answer he received wouldn't be worth the ask in the end.

He remembers what the motel clerk had said about them looking like the circus, and Nero has to agree at this point.

"Ready to roll?" Dante asks.

"Shouldn't we have a plan first?" The brothers look at him in slight confusion, and he sighs. "Kyrie is in there. We can't just bust in with guns blazing. We need to be careful."

"Let me go in," Vergil says. "I'll kill them all before they even realize I'm there."

"We're not killing anyone either, not unless we have to," growls Nero. "They might be humans. And if we kill them, then we won't find out why they did this, and if they're working for someone."

Vergil grumbles a half-hearted agreement as Dante tilts his head up. "You got an idea, kid?"

"...No," he admits, looking back at the brick building.

"Y'all are a bunch of dumbasses," Nico says as she straightens. She pulls out her cell phone and swipes the screen, giving it a tap as she scrolls. "Can't believe I gotta rely on damn Wikipedia for this shit. I got plenty of research on Mammon in my van." She gives Nero a scowl on the last word before turning back to her phone.

Nero swallows in embarrassment as she reads. "Okay, Mammon is one of the seven princes of hell. Can't believe you guys haven't faced him before."

Dante shrugs. "They all kind of blur together. But the name doesn't ring a bell."

"His thing is greed. Money, wealth, profit, that kind of thing."

"That's why they want this fortune," Vergil says. "If Mammon really is behind this, it makes sense."

"But how do we kill him?" Nero asks.

"Doesn't exactly say," she replies.

Dante flicks the brim of his hat. "Same way we do every time."

Nico folds her arms with one of those know-it-all looks he hates. "Just go in there and get her. With all this stuff you shouldn't have any trouble. You'll probably scare the shit out of them before you even get a chance to fight. Something tries to kill you, kill it first. Leave one alive. Jesus, a baby could do this."

"I'll go in," Nero growls, knowing this for sure won't be that easy. "The two of you cover me. Stay hidden unless you have to fight."

"Nah, not my style," Dante replies. He pulls Ebony and Ivory out and jerks his head. "Three of us are goin' in together. Let's go."

He nudges Vergil and the two cross the street. Nero watches for a moment, but before he can take a step Nico grabs his sleeve. "Don't fuck this up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he grumbles.

Nero checks to make sure the street is clear before crossing. The air takes on an unusual quality, the only sound a muted thunk of his boots as he walks across the street. He stops in front of the door and gives the street one more backward glance before leaning in to listen. Vergil and Dante move on either side of him, watching his back.

There is no sound inside. He pulls Blue Rose and with one quick movement, he activates his demon power long enough to bang his shoulder against the door and pop it open. In a flash he is inside, arm extended as he sweeps the room.

The other two sweep in, one of them kicking the door shut. They fan out together, Nero going straight as Dante and Vergil move towards either side. The room is empty, completely empty, no furniture even. The only light streams in through the dirty windows and Nero squints as dust dances in the air. On one side is a wide staircase that leads to the upper loft, which is also empty, although the space behind the guardrail is covered in shadow. Nero steadies his breath as he scans it with narrowed eyes, the revolver ready in his hand.

His heart pounds loudly in his ears as he slowly turns. The others also move slowly, Dante gripping his pistols while Vergil holds Yamato, both ready to fight. But there is nothing, not a footstep or a voice. "Anything?" Nero calls.

"Nothing," Vergil replies.

"I'll check upstairs," says Dante.

His footsteps echo as he takes them two at a time. Nero glances to the side as Vergil walks over. "Looks like an office or something back there," he murmurs, jerking his chin towards the back.

They approach together, and Nero points the revolver at the door, nodding at Vergil as he opens it. He enters first, Vergil at his back, turning until he finally lands on a lone figure in the center, giving a gasp when he recognizes Kyrie.

"Kyrie! Kyrie!" He holsters the gun as he rushes forward. She is tied to a desk chair and blindfolded, her head turning sharply at his voice. Quickly he pulls a gag from her mouth and the blindfold from her eyes, his hands shaking as he cradles her face.

"Nero," she says, her voice raw. "You found me."

"Of course, fuck, fuck." He presses his lips to hers for a quick moment before crouching down, starting to work on the cords around her arms and legs. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

"Just sore." He frees one of her arms, then the other, and his lungs struggle for breath as he watches her rub them together with a wince. "You came for me."

"Of course I came, shit, I gotta get you out of here." Nero bends down again to pull at the cords, cursing under his breath.

Behind him, Vergil says, "I'll go find Dante. Stay here."

He walks out of the office as Nero goes back to working on the knots. "Where are the guys that took you?"

"I don't know, they left before daybreak."

Nero grits his teeth. "Did they say why?"

Kyrie doesn't answer, so he glances up. Fear crosses her expression as she stares over his shoulder, but before he can turn and look he feels the barrel of a gun press to the back of his head. "Don't move."

Nero locks eyes with Kyrie. "Let her go," he growls.

"Not until our business is done," the voice behind him answers. "Don't look like you got our money."

The barrel pushes hard against his skull, forcing Nero to drop his chin a bit. "I'm working on it."

"Get up."

Nero raises his hands, trying to give Kyrie a reassuring look. Her eyes are wide in alarm, and he swallows thickly, his arms and back tensing in preparation to fight. Slowly Nero stands, his jaw clenching as he makes a quick calculation. Then he spins, his arm activating and grabbing for the gun, and just as the movement registers the guy shouts and pulls the trigger.

The shot goes wide, flying through the ceiling and bringing a piece down as the drywall crumbles. Nero yanks on the barrel of the gun, the metal twisting in his grip as his other hand swings. His fist connects to his jaw and sends the man through the wall of the office, more dust and drywall flying in the air as he crashes through and skids across the floor.

"Nero!"

Immediately he swings back to Kyrie, using his demon strength to snap the rest of the cords. "Stay here," he says, grabbing her and pushing her under the desk.

Kyrie scrambles underneath and he jumps through the hole in the wall. There are shouts from upstairs, but he can't worry about that right now. Nero moves in a flash over the guy, grabbing him from the floor and hitting him again. His devil arm holds him tightly by the collar of the shirt as he pulls Blue Rose, pointing it at his forehead.

The guy moans and shakes his head. He blinks his eyes clear, and then they widen on the gun. "Hey!" he shouts.

The flesh glows blue as his fingers sharpen into claws, and with the extra strength he easily holds him steady. "Stop struggling or I'll shoot," Nero growls.

"What the fuck is this!" he screams, his eyes wide in horror as he looks at the blue skin. "Danny!"

More commotion comes from behind them, and then a familiar shout of "Jackpot!" makes Nero grin devilishly. "Looks like your friends are toast," he says. "Now tell me who the fuck you are."

"Fuck you!"

A body goes flying, slamming into the wall and crumpling to the ground. Both of them turn to see, and Nero peers through the dark room. It's not either Dante or Vergil, so he stands, dragging the guy by the collar behind him. "Dante!" he shouts.

The railing that lines the edge of the loft is now completely smashed, and Dante appears, giving him a wave. "Hey! You alive, kid?"

"Yeah," he calls back. "You good?"

"Just knocked some bozo out."

He jumps from above, sliding Ebony and Ivory into the holsters on his back. Vergil follows, but he strides over to them furiously, elbowing past Dante until he pulls up in front of Nero. "Which one of you shot me?" he demands.

Before he can answer, Yamato flashes in the air, the blade slicing between them. Nero pulls back to avoid its edge, and both he and the man he has pinned gape up at Vergil, who is scowling at them both. "It was him," they both answer in unison.

Vergil lowers the sword when Dante steps up and pats his arm. "It didn't even hurt," Dante laughs.

"Holy shit," the guy says. Nero glances down to see he has scrambled to his knees, looking between the two brothers with wide eyes. "Holy shit, you're real. You're really demon hunters."

Dante and Vergil exchange a glance as Nero gives the guy a shake. "Shut up," he orders. "Now start talking."

He gulps, his eyes darting from Nero's hand still electric blue and Vergil's sword. "You're Dante and Vergil, right? I'm Mickey. I'm your cousin."

"His what?" Nero shouts.

"C-cousin," he stammers. "You're related to Eva, right?"

Blood rushes through Nero's veins, pulsing inside his head. From the corner of his eye he sees Dante and Vergil both tense, until a moment later Yamato is tilted and pressed to the base of his throat. "How do you know Eva?"

"Don't kill me! She's related. We're related!" he cries, his voice going wild.

"You're lying," says Vergil in a growl.

"I'm not! I swear!" He winces as the sword lifts to his neck. "My father was Eva's nephew on her father's side. My great-grandfather is your great-grandfather. He threw out his son and she inherited all the money." He glares up at Nero. "All I heard all my life is how we were robbed of our inheritance because Eva turned her parents against her brother. I just wanted my cut."

Nero eases back, dropping him in a heap. Yamato keeps the guy still on the ground as he turns to look at the others. "Is that true?" he asks Vergil.

"Of course it's not true," he growls. "Eva wouldn't do that."

"But you don't know that, do you?" Nero counters.

Vergil's eyes snap to him sharply. "Don't you think I would know what my own mother would do?" Nero huffs, wondering how to even begin answering that, when Vergil continues, "Besides, she never mentioned a brother, or a nephew."

"How did you know about us?" Dante asks. "Who told you who we are?"

"And it doesn't explain why you took Kyrie," Nero says threateningly. He points his gun at the man's head. "What does she have to do with it?"

"We just wanted the money! We weren't gonna hurt her!" he cries. He sits back on his legs and holds up his hands. "It's really you, isn't it? The demon hunters. He said you guys were Eva's kids and—fuck, I didn't think you'd kill Danny!"

"I don't kill humans, numbnuts," Dante says, then nods towards Nero. "But you better start talking before he shoots you. He's been really wanting to shoot someone today."

"Already shot me," Vergil adds.

Nero raises his brows, and the kidnapper nods. "Okay. We knew Eva had two sons, and we tracked down Dante. We didn't know where the other one was." He swallows thickly and looks at Vergil. "You're Vergil, right? We couldn't find you."

"You keep saying 'we'," Vergil says.

"Yeah. Me and Danny. We're brothers too. Our pops knew there was money from the family and we figured we'd come and get our piece, you know? We tracked down Dante, but he lives in a shit hole, so it didn't make no sense."

"Hey!" Dante protests.

Vergil snorts. "He has a point."

"We saw this one there," he continues, nodding towards Nero, his eyes trained on the gun. "You're his kid, right? That's what we figured, you were always hanging around."

"Wrong again, asshat," Nero growls, pressing the barrel to his forehead.

"Okay! Sorry! We just thought—I mean you both got white hair and you both hunt demons, like damn! We thought you were his kid. So we watched you too and you and that girl live in that nice house with kids and all and figured you had the cash. And you'd make a trade." He takes several quick, deep breaths. "We were just gonna trade. I swear we weren't gonna hurt her."

Dante puts his hands on his hips. "How did you find me?"

Mickey swallows thickly. "Mammon. He found us, told us he knew where Eva's kids were. He said he knew my pop. He knew a lot of shit, so I believed him."

"Wait," Nero frowns. "Mammon's a human?"

"A human?" he answers. "What are you talking about? What else would he be?"

He can feel the demon presence a split second later, like a pinprick on his neck. Nero turns at the same time as Dante and Vergil, and it's like a spark, a charge inside his chest. There is nothing but shadow, but it is there, and he can almost hear Yamato buzzing in his head and the Devil Arms reacting, one by one, as he reaches up to pull Red Queen from his back. To his left, Dante grabs his own sword and laughs. "Looks like we get to kill something after all."

"He's mine," Nero mutters.

But Yamato stops him as Vergil lifts the sword to block his way. "Take Kyrie and get out of here."

"Screw that!" he bites out.

Nero turns to argue more, but before he can a figure finally materializes. It is just a man, tall and broad and thin, and for a second Nero blinks, thinking it is V. But that is impossible, and as it approaches, he sees the skin is without tattoos, the features more round than sharp, the black hair cropped neatly instead of laying in waves across its face. "Mammon!" Mickey shouts behind them. "Help me!"

"Isn't this interesting," Mammon says. The voice is certainly not human, a deep rumble that makes Nero's stomach turn as he tightens his grip on Red Queen. "I came for riches, and instead, I got the sons of Sparda."

"Jokes on you," Dante answers. "You ain't getting us, and we don't have any money either. So you're wrong twice."

Mammon laughs. The demon takes another step forward, the shadows swirling around its arms and legs, almost sucking the oxygen from the room. "I don't care what Sparda did, you know," it says. "I was sick of Hell long before he came here. But I want that money."

"Did you not hear him, dipshit?" Nero snaps. "There's no money."

The demon laughs. "Then you're in real trouble."

It begins to grow, its body twisting out and up, stretching as the shadows pull it like taffy. "What the hell?" Mickey moans behind them. "What the fuck is this? Mammon!"

"It's a demon," Vergil says through gritted teeth. "Nero, take the humans and go."

"Like hell—"

Mammon gives a roar, reaching its arms out and grabbing the roof. It pulls, and Nero dodges to the right as a piece of drywall falls, choking on the dust that rises. He gasps as he sees the demon thrash around, taking out the rest of the wall to the office, and he is on his feet with a cry. "Nero! Get Kyrie and go!" Vergil shouts, but he doesn't need to be told twice.

He sheaths Red Queen and bolts to the office, jumping over a pile of rubble when something grabs his ankle. Nero lands with a crack of his chin on the ground, and he kicks hard, pulling himself free. The shadows themselves are attacking, reaching for him with solid arms and hands as Nero lifts his arm and shoots Artemis.

Arrows through the air and slice through the shadow, which disintegrates on contact. Mammon takes a step towards him, but then bullets sail from the other direction as Dante begins shooting. He covers Vergil who dashes forward so quickly Nero sees only a streak, and when Mammon roars as the first swipe of Yamato slices through him, he is up on his feet and running for the office again.

"Kyrie!" he shouts once through the hole in the wall. He drops to his knees and reaches for her, and from under the desk she grabs his hands, sliding when he pulls her out. "Time to go," he pants, hauling her against him, and Kyrie wraps her arms tightly around his neck as his right arm holds her to his hip.

Together they climb back through, and he hears Kyrie whimper over the sound of the others fighting Mammon. Dante and Vergil take turns distracting the demon as the other hacks at the shadows that protect it. Nero is itching to get a few blows of his own in, but Kyrie goes limp against him, and he realizes she is going to faint if he doesn't do something fast. "Come on," he says, scooping her up in his arms, and he runs in an arc in the room as she presses her face to his neck.

Mickey watches the melee with wide eyes, but he shakes himself as Nero approaches. "Save me! Save me!" he screams, grabbing at Nero's pant leg.

Nero aims a kick at him. "Get up."

He obeys immediately, limping as he stands. Nero leads them towards the door, and he pauses and sets Kyrie down. "Go get your brother," he says.

"I can't!" His eyes are wide as he stares back at the demon. "Fuck, what is that thing?"

"It's a demon, idiot!" Nero shouts. "You stupid asshole, your greed woke the fucking Prince of Money." He glances at Kyrie, taking a deep breath. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," she says breathlessly.

"Good. Go. Nico is outside. I gotta go save this asshole."

She presses a kiss to his cheek before darting for the door, and Nero winces as the sunlight streams in once it opens. Mickey also starts for the exit, but Nero grabs him by the shirt. "No fucking way," he growls. "You're coming with me."

"Don't kill me!" he whines.

"Let's get your brother, then I'll decide." Nero practically drags him along, heading to the other side of the room where Danny still lays unconscious on the ground. He uses Artemis and sends a few warning shots when the shadows slither too closely, and when they reach the body he lets go of Mickey and grabs the brother by the arm. Hauling him over his shoulder Mickey does the same, he practically drags him out of the door, the sun too bright when he hits the sidewalk, dropping the body on the ground.

"Nero!" Kyrie is there, and Nico, who eyes the two kidnappers as Mickey collapses next to his brother. "Cops are coming. This them?"

He can hear the sirens way off in the distance, and nods. "Yeah, they're humans. But Mammon is inside. I need to get back in there."

Kyrie grabs his arm. "Wait, Nero, please—"

A blast from inside has them on the ground, Nero twisting to cover Kyrie as he kneels over her. His ears are ringing as he looks back, gasping when he sees most of the building is gone—or rather, reduced to a heap, the only things standing a few structural walls.

"No!" Nero screams. "Dad! Dante!"

He runs and vaults himself over the bit of wall still standing, landing hard on the ground on the other side. Nero scrambles forward but skids to a stop when he sees both Dante and Vergil in the center, very much alive in front of the smoking carcass of the demon. Vergil is kneeling, leaning on Yamato for support, while Dante stands with his hands on his hips, stretching his back. Nero stumbles forward with a cry, and both turn to look at him, Vergil frowning and Dante grinning when he reaches them.

"You okay there, kid?" Dante pants with a laugh.

"Yeah," he says, shaking his head to clear it. "I thought you were both goners."

"Nah," scoffs Dante. "Bastard got mad he lost and thought he'd pull down the building. No biggie."

"Where is Kyrie?" asks Vergil as he stands. "Is she safe?"

Nero nods. "Yeah. She's out there, with Nico. I got the others out, too."

Dante grins and pats him on the shoulder. "Nice work. Knew you had it in you."

He laughs and shakes his head, and then the three pick their way back over the rubble, heading towards the street. Once they are clear of the building, Kyrie runs to him, and Nero pulls her into a fierce embrace, pressing his lips to her temple. For a long moment he holds her closely, his arms trembling a bit as his fingers slide into her hair. His heart beats wildly to have her safe, and here, her warmth pressed to his as he makes a silent vow to never, ever lose her again.

A gunshot rings out, followed by a cry, and he jerks up and pulls out Blue Rose, yanking Kyrie behind him. Mickey is howling and grabbing his thigh as Vergil looks smugly over him. "You shot me!" he yells. "What the fuck, you shot me!"

"What are you doing?" Nero cries.

Vergil shrugs as he hands Ivory back to Dante. "He shot me first."

"Christ in hell." Nero rubs his neck, his shoulders drooping. "Now what?"

The sirens grow louder, so Dante says, "Give them to the police. They'll handle it."

He nods with a deep sigh. "Yeah. You two should go. I'm the only one here who is supposed to have a weapon in Fortuna."

"Right." Dante hits Vergil on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Nero pulls Artemis from his arm and hands it to Dante. "Thanks for this. And for uh…" Suddenly embarrassed, he turns to the side, his arm snaking around Kyrie's waist and pulling her against his hip. "For what I said earlier, I mean…"

"No problem, kid." Dante grins and salutes him as he walks towards the car. "Come on, Vergil! You're buying breakfast."

Nero glances at Vergil, who regards him with an unreadable expression. "I guess we're done here," Vergil says.

"I uh…" He squeezes Kyrie's hip as he clears his throat. "Thanks. For your help and everything."

Vergil hesitates, looking as though he wants to say something. Nero swallows thickly, wanting to say something: maybe thank you or sorry about tonight or hey I'm glad you didn't die back there, but none of it seems right, or not enough. They stare at each other for a long moment, but finally Vergil only nods before walking past them, following Dante. But he gives Nero a pat on the shoulder, and Nero's mouth quirks up a bit at the gesture.

"I'll drive them back," Nico says. She gives him a scowl before poking him in the chest. "Then you're taking me to my van."

"Fine," Nero sighs, waving her off.

Nero pulls Kyrie into another embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her. He strokes her hair gently, kissing the top of her head, his heart feeling grateful and his body tired when a groan catches his attention.

He glances over to see Mickey sitting on the ground, holding his bleeding leg and looking at him pathetically. "You're not really gonna tell the police, are you?" he moans. "Come on, dude, we're family!"

"Family, huh?" Nero laughs. "I got plenty already, thanks."

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

A/N: Only one more chapter to go! Thank you so much for reading so far. See you next Friday for the conclusion!

[medyasabi]

Tan France’s Naturally Tan

There is more to Tan France than a french tuck. 

It was not so long ago when Queer Eye aired on Netflix last February 2018. I’ve loved the show so much that I pledged myself to make my close friends love the show as much as I do. It worked. We love each of the Fab Five unconditionally. 

After watching the first season, I wanted to know more about them. But after the first airing was the peak of their fame. You wouldn’t see a lot of their background on the internet during that time as they have just begun. While they were working on Queer Eye season 2, social media outlets start to introduce Fab 5. I would watch every single video that involves them. Til’ then, the Fab 5 is all over the internet.

While their show is a continuing success, I still continue low-key stalking on these guys. When I came across Tan France’s Wikipedia page, he only had a very brief background about him. There is no way these are the only things he has. I knew this guy has more to tell than being the fashion guy on the show.

There is something with Tan that I’m unsure of. I’m not gonna lie that my wardrobe is partly inspired by him. He mostly wears solid colors and jeans and still be able to look grounded and presentable. I knew that was the kind of style I want to articulate my personality. 

“Clothes were the only way I knew how to articulate myself.” - Tan France, Naturally Tan (2019)

Opening the book, I had expectations of knowing how he started entering the fashion industry before Queer Eye. I expect to know his background up to his peak in Queer Eye. Surprisingly, I got more than I expect to know.

Tan became an open book. He doesn’t only talk about clothes. He talks more than clothes. He labels the chapters to clothing pieces that best represent his story. I had countless jaw drops whenever he starts to share his stories growing up in the UK, his sexuality while being in a Middle-Eastern household, aggressive racism he dealt with over the years and counting, his perception with relationships until he became committed with his husband Rob, and how he discovers himself more through rigid life experiences.  

Naturally Tan stays true to the title. The way he (literally) became an open book shows no sugar coating, which is exactly what he wanted to portray on the show and media. The title states the obvious. His book is legitimately the authenticity you can get from him. Tan carried plenty of insights that must be read by not only Queer Eye fans, but to also youngbloods, clueless adults, and people who aspire to be in the fashion industry who wants to find someone to look up to. 

“It’s amazing how people of colour can be some of the most racist people you’ll come across. It’s not because they fear or hate other people of color; it comes from a place of status and class, and how you don’t want your place to be misrepresented and from subconsciously assuming that white is “better” because there are greater opportunities for white people.”  -Tan France,  Naturally Tan (2019)

I’m one of the type of readers who take decades to finish a book (or never finish it at all), but it took me a week to finish as I couldn’t get enough of him. 

[the-desolated-quill]

Quill’s Swill - The Worst Of 2019

Congratulations! You’ve made it through another year! You’ve faced many obstacles and overcome many adversaries to arrive here, at the dawn of a new decade. So as we prepare to leave the 2010s and make our way into the 2020s, lets take a look back at the challenges and hardships of 2019. And by challenges and hardships, I of course mean shitty fiction and media.

Yes, it’s time for yet another edition of Quill’s Swill, where we mark the absolute worst stories that the industry had to offer over the past year and proceed to tear them to shreds. Think of it as like voiding your bowels before the New Year.

As always remember that this is my personal, subjective opinion. If you happen to like any of the things on this list, that’s fine. More power to you. Go make your own list. Also bear in mind I haven’t seen everything 2019 has to offer due to various other commitments. So as much as I really, really want to, I can’t put Avengers Endgame on here. I know what happens. It sounds fucking terrible, but I haven’t seen the film, so it wouldn’t be fair of me to put it on the list, even though it would most definitely deserve it.

...

Seriously, read the synopsis of Endgame on Wikipedia some time. It’s like fanfic written by a nine year old. It’s truly shocking. And now it’s the highest grossing movie of all time? Give me strength.

All In A Row

Don’t you just hate it when you’re expected to parent your autistic child? Like actually show love and care and consideration to your offspring. Look at him, expecting you to treat him like a human being. Selfish bastard! If only there was a play that explored the horrors of having to be a decent person to your own flesh and blood and how objectively awful it is. If you’re one of those people, then the play All In A Row will be right up your street.

Premiering on the 14th February at Southwark Playhouse in London, All In A Row was a total shitshow to say the least. The playwright, Alex Oates, claimed to have ten years of experience working with autistic children, which you wouldn’t have believed if you saw the play as the autistic child at the centre of the play, Lawrence, seemed more like a wild animal than a person. In fact two of the main characters compare him to a dog. And if you thought this wasn’t dehumanising enough, Lawrence isn’t even a child. He’s a puppet. Yes, it’s as bad as it sounds.

All In A Row seems to place all of the blame for the family’s predicament on the autistic child, who’s presented as barely functional, bordering on bestial. There’s no effort to really make an emotional connection with Lawrence (how can you? He’s a puppet!) as the play instead focuses on how this kid has effectively ruined this family’s life because of his autism and aggressive behaviour. Speaking as someone on the autism spectrum, I can say quite confidently that this play is fucking despicable. Badly written, badly conceived, insulting and downright mean spirited. I wouldn’t want Oates looking after my autistic children, that’s for damn sure.

Anthem

EA is back and this time they’re dragging the critical darling that is BioWare down with them.

Anthem was a desperate attempt to jump aboard the ‘live service’ bandwagon, trying to replicate the success of other video games like Overwatch, Destiny and Warframe. They failed spectacularly. The game itself had more bugs than A Bug’s Life, loot drops were often stingy and unrewarding, loading times were farcically long, and the story and worldbuilding was fucking pitiful. Oh yeah, and if you played it on PS4, there was a good chance it could permanently damage it. Thankfully I have a uni friend with an Xbox One and they allowed me to play the game on that. It was a crushing disappointment, especially coming fresh off the heels of Mass Effect Andromeda, which didn’t exactly set the world on fire back in 2017.

It didn’t help that EA’s reputation was in tatters thanks to the lootbox controversy of Star Wars Battlefront II and having to try and win back the trust of fans, but worse still reports began to service of what went on behind the scenes at BioWare during the game’s development. Apparently the game’s story and mechanics kept changing every other day as the creative directors and writers didn’t have the faintest idea what kind of game they wanted to make, and the developers were often forced to work obscenely long work hours in abusive crunch periods to get the game finished for launch. It got so bad that, according to an article on Kotaku, some members of the team had to leave for weeks or even months at a time to recover from ‘stress casualties.’ 

To think this was the same company that gave us Mass Effect, Dragon Age and Knights Of The Old Republic. Thank God that Obsidian Entertainment is there to pick up the slack on the RPG front because I think it’s safe to assume that BioWare won’t be around for much longer at this rate.

The Lion King (2019 remake)

Here we go. Yet another live action remake of a Disney classic. Excpet it’s not live action, is it? Well... it’s live action in the sense that Dinosaur was live action (remember that film? Don’t worry if you don’t. No one does). Real locations but CGI characters. Millions of dollars spent on cutting edge tech to create photo realistic animals... and the film ends up duller than a bowl of porridge that really likes trainspotting.

It’s not just the fact that The Lion King remake is yet another soulless cash grab from the House of Mouse, it’s also the fact that it’s done really badly that upsets me. The Lion King works as an animated film. Bright colourful images, over the top song and dance sequences and vibrant character designs. As a ‘live action’ film, it just looks awkward and stilted. None of the animals are very expressive, leaving it up to the poor voice actors to carry the film, and to cap it all off the CGI isn’t even all that convincing in my opinion. At no point did I look at Simba and go ‘oh yeah, he looks like a real lion.’ It’s so obviously fake. In fact it reminds me of those early 00s movies like Cats & Dogs or Stuart Little where you see the jaws of the talking animals moving up and down like some messed up ventriloquist act or something. And here’s me thinking cinema has evolved past this.

BBC’s The War Of The Worlds

Remember Peter Harness? That guy who wrote that Doctor Who episode about the moon being an egg? Yeah, he’s back and he’s doing an adaptation of H.G. Wells’ War Of The Worlds. And guess what! It’s fucking ghastly! :D

The three part BBC mini-series was without a doubt some of the worst telly I think I’ve ever seen. It’s staggering how clueless Harness is as a writer. For starters he managed to achieve the impossible and somehow made a Martian invasion of Earth boring. I didn’t even think it was possible, but somehow he pulled it off. Then he sucks all tension out of the story by revealing the ultimate fate of the Martians at the beginning of the second episode, so now any threat or danger has been chucked out of the window because we know that the main female protagonist Amy at least would survive. And then finally he takes a massive dump over the source material by having humanity weaponise typhoid to kill the red weed rather than just having the Martians die of the common cold like in the book. Because God forbid us Brits should be presented as anything other than heroic and dignified.

So what we’re left with is a poorly realised allegory with ineffectual horror tropes full of OTT progressive posturing in a pathetic attempt to make Harness and the BBC look more liberal than they actually are. There’s no effort to really explore the themes of imperialism and colonialism outside of casual lip service, and we barely get a glimpse of the dark side of humanity. Everyone is presented as flawed, but basically awesome or, in the case of Rafe Spall’s character, utterly gormless. Our TV license fees help fund this shit, you know?!

And if you think this was bad, just wait till New Year’s Day where we’ll get to see Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’ butcher Dracula. Can we stop giving these beloved literary icons to these hacks please?

Glass

I liked Split. It wasn’t an amazing movie, but it was entertaining with some good ideas, a great performance from James McAvoy and was a true return to form for M Night Shyamalan. That being said, I wasn’t keen on the idea of it taking place in the same universe as Unbreakable. I feared it would be a step too far and we’d end up having something like... well, something like Glass.

On paper, Glass isn’t a bad idea. The idea of superpowers being a delusion is legitimately intriguing and could have been a great post-modern deconstruction of the superhero genre. Except Shyamalan never actually does anything with it. The first act drags on and on with absolutely nothing happening, none of the characters really grow or change over the course of the film, Bruce Willis in particular is basically only here for an extended cameo as his character does pretty much nothing for the majority of the film, and then the entire film is undermined by that stupid Shyamalan twist. Turns out superhumans are real and there’s a big cover up. Oh great! So not only does it render the entire film pointless, it also undoes what made Unbreakable and Split so good. They’re no longer people capable of extraordinary feats via rational means. They’re just superhuman. They can do anything. Sigh.

Shyamalan... maybe it’s time to give up the director’s chair, yeah?

Cats

Oh come on! Don’t act surprised! Did you honestly think I wouldn’t put Cats on this list?!

Cats, without a doubt, is the worst film of the decade and, yes, the CGI is terrible. Not only are there these sub-human cat mutants running around, we also have mice and cockroaches with child faces, James Corden coughing up furballs, Taylor Swift trying to give the furries in the audience boners, Idris Elba looking disturbingly underdressed and Rebel Wilson being... well... Rebel Wilson. It’s a disaster of a film. And really, should we even be surprised? We all knew this was going to suck. And no it’s not because of the CGI. I thought the CGI in Pokemon: Detective Pikachu was creepy as well, but at least it had a decent script and good performances to back it up. No the reason why Cats sucked is because... it’s Cats. It’s always been that bad. No amount of ‘advanced fur technology’ was going to change that. It was still going to be a confused, plotless mess with one dimensional characters and bad songs.

The only consolation I had was that I didn’t waste money buying a ticket. A friend of mine snuck me into the premiere and we watched it in the projector room. The plan was to make fun of it and have a laugh, but we didn’t even do that because honestly there’s nothing to really make fun. There’s only so many times you can take the piss out of the CGI and honestly the film was just boring more than anything else. It doesn’t even have the distinction of being so bad it’s good like Sharknado or Tommy Wiseau’s The Room. It’s just bad, period.

I just hope we don’t see something similar happen to Starlight Express. Just think. Anthropomorphic, singing trains on roller skates. Shudder.

Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker

Finally we have yet another cynical cash grab from Disney.

I confess I didn’t exactly go into The Rise Of Skywalker with an open mind. I was never all that keen on a sequel trilogy in the first place, and neither The Force Awakens nor The Last Jedi ever convinced me otherwise. Admittedly they weren’t bad movies. Just derivative and painfully uninspired, and I was expecting more of the same for Episode IX. What I got instead was quite possibly the worst Star Wars film since Attack Of The Clones. Yes, it’s that bad.

This film is very poorly made, filled with plot contrivances and logic holes galore. I lost count of the number of times the protagonists got into a dangerous situation because of Rey constantly wandering off like a confused toddler lost in a shopping mall. Oh and we finally find out who her parents were and it was quite a twist, but only because it was really stupid. Of course we didn’t see it coming because nobody would have guessed it would be something that moronic. I feel JJ Abrams’ stupid ‘mystery box’ philosophy is to blame for this. It’s derailed countless franchises before such as Lost and Cloverfield, and now Abrams has fucked up Star Wars because he’s obsessed with mystery for the sake of mystery and Disney are so lazy that they couldn’t be bothered to plan an actual trilogy out properly beforehand. Instead they just wing it, making it up as they go along, which led to Rian Johnson ‘subverting our expectations’ and left Abrams desperately trying to pick up the pieces. 

In fact a lot of The Rise Of Skywalker seemed designed specifically to appease people of both sides of the wide chasm The Last Jedi had created. The roles of characters of colour like Finn and Rose were significantly reduced, Poe and Finn don’t end up together because of homophobia, but we do see two women kiss in the background of one two second shot that could easily be cut out when they release the film in China, Kylo Ren gets his stupid redemption even though he hasn’t fucking earned it, Lando Calrissian shows up for no fucking reason, Rey is given ‘flaws’ relating to her parentage in order to combat those accusing her of being a Mary Sue, but they’re the boring kind of flaws that don’t have any real impact on her character, and that ghastly ship Reylo is made canon even though it makes no sodding sense in the context of this movie, let alone the whole trilogy. They even go to the trouble of baiting us with a FinnRey romance before pulling the rug out from under us. Then, just to add insult to injury, the film retroactively ends up making the entire original trilogy completely pointless. All because Disney wanted more dollars to put in their Scrooge McDuck money bin.

The Rise Of Skywalker, and indeed the entire sequel trilogy, should serve as a cautionary tale against the dangers of hype and nostalgia. The reason The Force Awakens was successful wasn’t because it was a good movie (because lets be brutally honest here, it really fucking wasn’t). It was because it gave gullible Star Wars fans warm fuzzies because it reminded them of A New Hope whilst tempting them with the vague promise that things might get more interesting later on. And when that didn’t materialise, quelle surprise, the fanbase didn’t take it very well. I would love to think that this will serve as an important lesson for the future when people go and see Disney movies, but who am I kidding? I guarantee at some point we’re going to get Episodes X, XI and XII and we’ll have to go through this sorry process all over again.

So there we have it. The worst of 2019. May they rot forever in Satan’s rectum or wherever it is stories go to die. Tomorrow we’ll take a look at the other end of the spectrum. Yes it’s the Quill Seal Of Approval Awards! The best of the best! Who shall win? The suspense is killing me! Ooooh, I can’t wait! You’ll be there tomorrow, won’t you? Of course you will. How could you not?

[tobiasdrake]

Power Rangers Turbo E21 – The Wheel of Fate

Recap

We open with Elgar and a couple Piranhatrons carrying a chest full of treasure onto Divatox’s bridge. As part of her plan to declare victory and loot the planet, she’s been sending her forces to collect treasure from the sunken wrecks of the ocean. Inside one such chest, Divatox makes an exciting find.

So if I’m reading this correctly, you go right while leaving Earth and head out past Jupiter. Thread the needle through Europa and then approach Saturn. Look to your right and BOOM! Honda dealership.

Divatox explains to Elgar that the star chart reveals the locations for the Lightning Cruiser and the Storm Blaster, the most powerful vehicles in the universe. Divatox likey, Divatox want. She brings the pirate Dreadfeather up to the bridge in order to brief him on the job.

In this episode, the surprising origins of ace pilot Falco Lombardi!

Falco flies out to the Omega Quadrant to find the two vehicles, but space is humongous and he’s literally tooling around with a jetpack scanning asteroids by hand. It’s not exactly going well. He takes a break and sits his dumb ass down on an asteroid, and by pure luck it happens to be the correct rock. The Lightning Cruiser and the Storm Blaster erupt from the asteroid and rocket straight for Earth.

The cars land in Angel Grove because it’s the Weird Alien Shit capitol of the world. Also, despite clearly having been black on the map, the Storm Blaster is actually blue.

At long last, the secret origin of the Turbozords has been revealed. Zordon read a Wikipedia article about ancient super-vehicles of immeasurable power. He considered trying to track down their locations but then decided, “Eh, fuck it. They’re just cars.” So he had the Rangers build knock-offs with whatever spare parts they could find lying around Billy’s old engineering lab.

The pirates try to claim the cars, but are violently rejected. Storm Blaster drives over Dreadfeather’s foot while Lightning Cruiser ejects Elgar from its driver’s seat.

T.J. and Justin notice the brightly colored meteor strikes and head out that way to investigate. The cars nearly run the Rangers down, but stop just short of a bloody mess. T.J. and Justin take a moment to inspect these mysterious new vehicles.

“You think these are what we saw in the sky?” Justin asks.

T.J. considers. Actual dialogue, “Could be but I haven’t seen anything like this.”

“Yes, you have,” Justin says. “They look just like our Turbozords, except very slightly different.”

“What’s a Turbozord?”

Justin blinks. “…the cars we drive to form the Megazord.”

T.J.’s jaw drops. “The Megazord is made of cars?! I thought it was just a cool giant robot! Why didn’t you tell me we were assigned cars?!”

Thinking back, Justin says, “You know, that’s fair. Maybe we shouldn’t have used the stock footage in place of training you guys. That’s on me.”

Suddenly the pirates appear to reclaim the cars. “Oh, hey, you found my cars!” Elgar declares. But the vehicles back away from the pirates in fear and T.J. figures out pretty quickly what’s up.

Justin plays defense, chasing Piranhatrons away from Storm Blaster, while T.J. charges right in and starts swinging on Elgar. While T.J.’s distracted, Dreadfeather conjures up a net and drops it directly on top of Storm Blaster and Justin.

“T.J., help!” Justin screams. “A drug dealer has caught me in his net! Those D.A.R.E. specials were right all along!”

Elgar opens his mouth to argue but then remembers that the pirates did, in fact, start dealing drugs the other day.

Deciding that one out of two isn’t bad, Elgar and Dreadfeather warp Justin and Storm Blaster away before vanishing themselves. T.J. calls Alpha to report Justin’s disappearance, but Lightning Cruiser pops its door open and runs T.J. down.

“What the fuck, man?!” T.J. declares. “Are you trying to help or kill me?!” Lightning Cruiser jets forward a bit and then stops. “Hey! Don’t you drive away while I’m talking to you!” The car bolts at a slow enough pace that T.J. can still chase it down on foot, then slams on the brakes to force him to slam straight into the back of the vehicle.

After flashing its lights to laugh at T.J. for a few seconds, Lightning Cruiser opens its door and allows him to have a seat. As soon as he’s in, the car takes off and careens around the road, then dumps him out. After a bit of finagling, T.J. manages to get himself back inside the car.

Let’s all take a minute to appreciate T.J.’s confidence here. This asshole thinks that if Lightning Cruiser decides to slam on the accelerator, his meaty torso is somehow going to block it.

Meanwhile, Lt. Stone manages to get Bulk and Skull some new jobs at a construction site. They’ll be standing in the road directing traffic with STOP and SLOW signs.

Five seconds after they’re given the jobs, Lightning Cruiser streaks down the road towards the site. Bulk and Skull desperately raise SLOW signs but to no avail. T.J. finally gives up on getting Lightning Cruiser to stop and instead opts to crank the gas and go from Murder Speed to Massacre Speed. This is a terrible idea.

The car careens straight for Bulk and Skull, then fires off into the air and converts to a jet; Bulk and Skull are knocked into wet cement in the process.

“Holy shit, do our other cars do this?! Could I have been flying a jet car to school and back?!”

At that moment, the Power Chamber calls T.J. Kat comes on the mic. “Hey, Justin’s dropped off the face of the—are you in a plane?!”

“Uh, flying car,” T.J. says. “How did you—”

“We can see you on the Viewing Globe! Where did you get a flying car?! Do we all have flying cars?! Did nobody tell me about the flying cars?!”

“I think it might be an alien,” T.J. says. “There’s a blip here that looks like it might be around the Warehouse District. Try that.”

Alpha scans the Warehouse District more thoroughly and still finds nothing. To be specific, he finds one warehouse in particular with a great deal of nothing. It has a vacuous absence of an interior. “They’re jamming us right there,” he concludes.

Carlos, Ashley, and Kim shift into Turbo and head to the warehouse to meet T.J. They arrive first because teleporting is faster than flying cars and find the mysterious jammed warehouse guarded by highly visible Piranhatrons. They bait the Piranhatrons around to a side door and quickly take them out before heading inside.

“Too bad you’re headed for the scrap heap!” Dreadfeather says, actual dialogue. He brandishes a sledgehammer menacingly.

“Whoa, hold up!” Elgar says. “I think Auntie D wanted us to capture the cars, not smash them?” He considers for a moment. “On the other hand, that looks like fun!” Without further ado, he draws his cutlass and slashes Storm Blaster right across its hood.

“Oh, what the hell. I’m her favorite nephew! Worst she can do to me is string me up by my… you know what, let’s not think about that, there’s fun to be had!”

Justin manages to slip free of the Piranhatron holding him and ram into Elgar. Elgar slashes at him in retaliation, but Justin catches the blade in his chains, using Elgar’s own strength to break them. With his arms now free, Justin shifts into Turbo.

“Okay, you’re sure this is how we use this thing?” Carlos asks, standing over the Turbo R.A.M. The Rangers have successfully managed to mount it up into artillery mode.

Ashley admits, “I’m not even sure it’s pointed the right direction. The old team didn’t leave much workflow documentation.”

“What about those stacks of papers you were so excited about?” Cassie asks.

“Yeah, I’ve been through those. They’re great! Very thorough. None of it applicable to our jobs. I have no idea what a Zeo Cannon is! Instead, we have this, and as far as I can tell, this thing just crawled right out of somebody’s ass one day. So let’s pull the trigger and hope for the best.”

The Rangers fire up the Turbo R.A.M. and blast the warehouse door. The Turbo R.A.M. is, indeed, pointed the right way. Unfortunately, it doesn’t even scratch the warehouse.

“Was it on a low power setting?” Cassie asks. But she’s met with silence. The only person who’d actually know is currently inside that building.

“Fuck it,” Carlos declares. He calls T.J. “Hey, does the flying car have guns on it? Because that’s going to probably be a better idea than figuring out the arcane sorcery needed to make this stupid thing work.”

“Don’t worry,” T.J. tells him. “I think I’ve just about figured out the arcane sorcery needed to make this stupid thing work, so I’m on my way.”

Inside the warehouse, Justin spots the Lightning Cruiser headed straight for the building. Storm Blaster snares Justin with ropes and yanks him inside its cabin, then fires a tow cable straight up into the sky. The cable links with Lightning Cruiser, who slams on its jets and rips Storm Blaster free of the chains.

“I have no idea what’s happening but goddamn if it isn’t the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever done!” T.J., summarizing the experience of being a Power Ranger in a nutshell.

Just after the cars have escaped, an outraged Divatox warps up to the warehouse. Elgar jerks his thumb at Dreadfeather. “He did it.”

“OH COME THE FUCK ON,” Dreadfeather exclaims. “You sent me to pick up cars. That was the job. You said nothing about having to fight Autobots from planet Cybertron! This is not my fault.”

Divatox considers. “You know what? I agree. I sent you out there with poor intel. But good news! Now you can make this right because I’ve brought you a Decepticon.”

“So I’m supposed to go head to head against, and I quote, the most powerful vehicles in the universe using a junkyard reject from a monster truck rally. Is it too late to accept responsibility and walk the plank?”

Dreadfeather is extremely reluctant to go with this plan, so Elgar hops in the driver seat. Dreadfeather reluctantly climbs into the car and the pirates take off in pursuit of the alien cars. They briefly swing by to knock Bulk and Skull into the wet cement again, then track down the cars.

Justin and T.J. pull into an empty parking lot to call their success in to the Power Chamber. Lightning Cruiser and Storm Blaster thank the Rangers for helping them by adopting the Turbo Ranger symbol, officially declaring themselves to be T.J. and Justin’s cars respectively.

Elgar pulls into the lot to confront the Rangers. Dreadfeather takes the opportunity to flee from Elgar’s driving, instead jumping into Lightning Cruiser. Piranhatrons blitz towards Justin on their motorcycles; he responds by being in a huge fucking Jeep, which barely even notices as their bikes slam straight into it.

T.J. climbs up out of the Lightning Cruiser to have a high-speed punch-up with Dreadfeather.

Exactly the kind of shit that every episode of Car Rangers should be like.

T.J. forcibly ejects Dreadfeather from the vehicle, but he takes to the skies with his Space Jetpack and draws his gun. With bullets pelting Lightning Cruiser from both Dreadfeather and the Piranhatron bikers, T.J. calls for backup.

“On our way,” Ashley tells him.

She, Cassie, and Carlos teleport directly in front of Elgar. Elgar, however, is still driving a fucking car and he plows right on through them.

It’s okay, though. Carlos has a plan. “Time to change drivers,” he announces, actual dialogue. Then he leaps dramatically into the air, diving for the car! And lands on his face on the pavement, five feet away! Elgar’s car recedes into the distance and he throws up one hand to flip the Rangers off.

“Okay, I’m not going to tell you how to do your job,” Cassie says. “But we have teleporters.”

“Right,” Carlos says. “Okay. Take two.” He teleports straight into Elgar’s backseat, then reaches his arm around to choke Elgar out.

The last two biker Piranhatrons speed towards Cassie and Ashley. But they have guns. So they draw their guns and shoot the Piranhatrons. It seems like the obvious thing to do.

These guys brought motorcycles to a gunfight. Motorcycles! You know what a motorcycle is good for in a gunfight? It’s good for bringing your face much more quickly into the bullet.

T.J. converts Lightning Cruiser into its Jet Mode. Justin snatches Dreadfeather with the tow cable to hold him in one place. Then T.J. swoops in with guns blazing.

“Okay, let’s fire… shit, how many guns does this thing have? Is it all guns? We’ll say it’s all guns. Fire all guns.”

Before Dreadfeather knows what hit him, he’s chewed up by Lightning Cruiser’s unholy fury.

Meanwhile, Elgar manages to get Carlos out of his car by slamming the brakes. Carlos flips over Elgar’s shoulder, rolls across the hood, and hits the dirt.

“You weren’t wearing a seatbelt?!” Elgar exclaims mockingly. “What kind of an example are you setting for the kids at home?!”

“Not a great one, you’re right,” Carlos admits, picking himself up out of the dirt. “They probably shouldn’t play with guns either.” Carlos draws his Turbo Pistol and empties his clip into Elgar’s car. His shots tear up the hood, smash off the mirrors, burst the tires, and then finally ignite the fuel system prompting the car to violently explode. Elgar scrambles to escape.

With the pirates soundly defeated, the Rangers welcome their new sentient cars into the Turbo Ranger arsenal. Elgar finds out exactly what Divatox could do to him, Bulk and Skull get fired from their construction jobs, and the Rangers take their new vehicles out for a joyride. The end.

Dragon Score: 8/10

Y’know, it’s kind of funny how completely random the introduction of Lightning Cruiser and Storm Blaster was. Divatox wasn’t trying to find the map to them at the beginning; she was just looting, and was pleasantly surprised to discover said map.

The total lack of information we were given about what these cars are supposed to be was kinda surprising. They’re intelligent space cars programmed to come straight to Earth the moment their asteroid is discovered, with a map on the planet to help people find them. I was kinda expecting some sort of lore dump like we got with the Zeo Crystal or Gold Power Staff but nope. Once again, Turbo’s total lack of fucks towards actually explaining its Ranger elements is on display. All we got is “Most powerful vehicles in the universe.”

But that’s okay. Nobody comes to Power Rangers for the lore. The important thing is that we have these two brand new super-vehicles, which look suspiciously similar to the old super-vehicles except these ones are intelligent! And they got to have a legitimately awesome vehicular carnage sequence, which is all too rare in Turbo.

I have one major problem and one minor nitpick with this episode. The nitpick is a moment when Justin refers to his vehicle as Star Blaster. It’s moments like these that remind you just how little actual care or attention went into making this show. It’s not the first time an actor has misstated the name of a Ranger Thing and the crew kept that take in, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

But the actual problem I have with the episode is T.J.’s experience with trying to break in the Lightning Cruiser. It’s a very weird scene. Does the car want T.J. to come with it or not? It lets him get inside, then immediately tries to shake him off. When it does shake him off, he has to chase it down and forcibly climb in.

Lightning Cruiser doesn’t take advantage of any opportunity to actually lose T.J., but still makes getting inside as difficult as possible. It’s a very confusing bit of filler action.

But apart from that, this episode was a hit.

Best Ranger: T.J. Johnson, Red Ranger

Okay, this was a really close one. Justin very nearly took this when he broke himself free of the pirates. However, it didn’t ultimately amount to much and it was actually Storm Blaster acting of its own volition that got him out of there.

So instead I’m giving this to T.J. for that really cool vehicular combat sequence with Dreadfeather. T.J. wins Best Ranger for giving us that little taste of what every episode of Turbo rightfully should be like.

Worst Ranger: Ashley Hammond, Yellow Ranger

Ashley teleported the team directly in front of a vehicle in motion. Good job, Ash. I know I could pin this on Carlos or Cassie but she was the one who answered T.J.’s call, so I’m blaming her.