#like the background noises in a restaurant OR a playground?

[fivewholeminutes]

Does anyone also hear sounds of distant chattering/children's playing together(?) at the end of the night does not belong to god or is it just me

[stinkypeanutbutter]

BOOM!! Silly Ashden headcanons you plebs 😸😸✊‼️

- Ashlyn is mostly the instigator (or whatever) when it comes to any type of physical affection like hand holding, hugging, or cuddling. It makes her more comfortable if she were to start it rather then it be at random cause Aiden is clingy and touch starved (she’s also slightly touch starved but would she say anything about it? Nawh 😂😂)

They go on silly little dates like walking around the park at night, getting ice cream, watching movies, going to the aquarium (ashlyn likes aquariums because of the colorful fish and the soft bubbly noises they make swimming in the water) and sometimes go to a restaurant, but they usually take the food to go and eat it out at some parking lot or playground.

- Ashlyn prefers to be the big spoon when it comes to cuddling cause she doesn’t want to be like, encased or whatever. (Idk how to describe it but it gives her more free will) Works for Aiden cause he actually likes being a little spoon. They would switch between who’s cuddling who but it’s mostly that.

- Aiden runs on warm, Ashlyn runs on cold. It’s cause Aiden was always too tired to get up and get a blanket that his body succumbed to the cold and made their own way of being warm (I think that’s how it can work?? 🫠) and Ashlyn just gets cold no matter what, despite the warm temperatures she just deals with it. They sorta balance each out when it gets too cold or too warm, like when it’s winter time she’ll probably sit closer to him, even slightly touching his hand just cause of him being a radiator.

In some cases though, Aiden CAN have the hands of a yeti and scare everyone at random times by touching their neck or back (not an Ashden thing but figured i would add it cause I got the idea from someone in the disc. server) , most Tyler just to piss him off.

Ashlyn would do something super badaßß at one point, like beat up a couple bad guys and Aiden would probably say something stupid like “I think I’m in love” and everyone would look at him like “ 😦😦🥺🥺🤯🤯🤨🤨”

They go on double dates with Taylor and Ben ‼️

Aiden takes the time to take a bite of whatever Ashlyn is eating for no reason (Ashlyn is NOT happy 😡😡👊)

Probably would get really invested in a show together and binge it

Aiden vowed to beat her at that one dancing machine game they played at the arcade (has not won at all yet like a loser)

Aiden used to have a habit of not eating or skipping meals (it got better now) but every now and then would focus too hard on something and space out with it so Ashlyn would have to poke him or throw something at him to get him out of his senses and eat

Ashlyn let Aiden drink some of her coffee one time, did not go well (he spat it out cause it was gross)

Ashlyn likes true crime and would have it playing in the background when she does like ballet or homework

aiden goes to every performance Ashlyn has, or swears too and proudly cheers her on.

get ready for some sad ones now!! 👊😔😔👹👹

TW ‼️ : SH , dissociation , ED

Aiden’s scars would show up from time to time, a lot during bad times whether it was when they were having fun or chilling, they would appear. Ashlyn tries not to say anything or mention them because she’s worried about him, and whether she might provoke something on accident. If it gets too bad, she’ll probably call up on his therapist (if he’s willing to actually get one) and offer to clean up the fresh ones despite his denying. He’ll just stare at her as she does this, but always feels closer to her when he comes to terms someone is there to actually care for him

Ashlyn has night terrors quite often, mostly based on the visions of seeing her friends get hurt in the phantom realm and the little sounds that get stuck in her mind. Aiden isn’t always there to help, but will find ways too as by a text message or a gift. When he is there it’s much easier because she’s with her family, and someone she cares quite deeply about. He’ll be there to remind her that they are all okay, and it was all her imagination. .

hopefully.

Aiden dissociates from reality often. He didn’t have anyone to snap him out of his fantasies before with his family being gone so often, sometimes purposely leaving him alone in his room as some form of punishment for failing at something they considered important. He may forgot everyone for a short time, how everything feels around him, even himself if he falls too deep in his own thoughts alone. It’s what he does when he’s upset. With his new buds, it seems that has changed. It would take a while, but hearing their voice or feeling a little touch from them can buzz him back. With Ashlyn, it feels faster, like reality comes pouring back to him as soon as she says or asks anything. If his parents tried, it would take as long as 3-6 minutes. Funny how found family could act more caring then your actual ones. Ben excluded from them, he’s amazing and a great cousin to Aiden 😋😋👊👊

Ashlyn used to have a slight ED. It was started during ballet because of some crappy instructor who insisted on them being skinnier to fit the standards. It definitely affected her view points on herself and brought down her self esteem, trying to lose weight so she didn’t get kicked out of continuing dance. Her parents were able to introduce her to counseling eventually, and she slowly got better over time, even if the feeling never left. Her friends were able to help out in someway, and she appreciated it all. Aiden never had an ED, but did have a habit of skipping meals due to focusing to hard or not feeling it at the moment. Not the same thing, but he was able to make an effort if she ever felt like she shouldn’t eat too much by helping out with small portions, and encouraging her to finish what she can. It didn’t throw the feelings away, but it certainly helped her grow closer with everyone.

Okay idk if I got anything wrong or misled so sorry if I do but uhms later losers 😹😹😹‼️✌️✌️👊👊

[antigonai]

21, 22, 2

TWENTY ONE. WHAT WERE THEY A PART OF IN HIGH SCHOOL / COLLEGE, IF THEY WENT? WERE THEY A PART OF ANY CLUBS? DID THEY PLAY ANY SPORTS? WHAT CLIQUE WOULD THEY HAVE BEEN CONSIDERED A PART OF?  :  though not the most sporty of people, she did try out for the hufflepuff house quidditch team while she attended hogwarts and made the bench, but she really wasn’t half as talented a seeker as cedric diggory or his subsequent replacements - and she was ok with that ! clique wise she was a floater, and she preferred to try her hand at everything rather than settle into & dedicate her time to just one thing. she flitted in and out of art club and irregularly attended hippogriff club meetings, and i would wager a guess she also spent a little bit of time watching rat racing and playing gobstones, too. antigone didn’t have the pleasure of meeting horace slughorn while she was actually at hogwarts, so i shouldn’t really stick this here, but she did meet him when she got tugged along as someone’s date to a post hogwarts holiday party and replaced said date on the guest role. 

TWENTY TWO. DO THEY HAVE A FAVORITE RESTAURANT? HOW OFTEN DO THEY GO TO IT AND WHAT’S THEIR USUAL ORDER?  :  i don’t think they really have just one favorite, but i do think that they’re partial to the pan fried chicken gyoza from phoenix palace in london. 

TWO. WHERE DO THEY PREFER TO READ? ON THE SOFA, IN BED, AT A TABLE, ON THE PORCH, IN A CAFÉ?  :  in a park when the weather’s nice, sitting underneath a tree or at the edge of a body of water. she doesn’t like to have too much background noise when she’s reading - so the hustle and bustle of a café isn’t ideal - but she doesn’t like complete silence, either, so the rustle of leaves and laughter at a distance from people enjoying a playground or picnics is a happy medium. 

𝙳𝙸𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂  »  currently not accepting  !

[waveypedia]

A Day in the Life of Gyro Gearloose

Ao3

i. 

Gyro arrives at the lab at six A.M. on the dot, two hours before call time. The lab is empty, for once. He slips through the elevator doors and darts around the lab, putting on coffee (even though he’s already had two cups at home), and arranging his papers.

At last, he settles down at his desk, fully prepared to get a good amount of work done before Fenton and Manny bustle in with their noise and cheer that used to bother Gyro oh so much.

He’s excited to have the lab to himself, for once. Even Lil’ Bulb is still charging, as it’s too early for him too.

Gyro lifts his pencil, ready to write… and lowers it, unable to think of a concrete idea.

He struggles to put words and calculations on paper, and only gets a couple steps in before he inevitably loses focus again.

“This is ridiculous,” Gyro spits at the empty air, startling a sleepy Lil’ Bulb out of his slumber. “I am Doctor Gyro Gearloose. I do not lose focus.”

Missing the rest of your team? Lil’ Bulb flashed at him in Morse code.

It’s a testament to how far Gyro’s come since Fenton’s original hiring that he only crosses his arms indignantly and mutters a quiet “Maybe.” 

It’s not physically possible, but Gyro knows Lil’ Bulb is smirking, somehow.

He busies himself by bustling around the lab, taking inventory of mundane machines and ordinary tools. The lab is still uncharacteristically silent, but at least with Gyro’s manually manufactured noise it’s somewhat bearable.

Fenton, bless him and his errant punctuality, arrives a blissful seven minutes early. 

“Good morning, Dr. Gearloose!” he chirps, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud that would’ve made the Gyro of a year ago scoff, but today’s Gyro just sighs in relief. “How are you today?”

“Unproductive,” Gyro grumbles. He’s reluctant to admit the supposed cause of his unproductivity, but knowing Fenton it’ll come out sooner or later.

Fenton hums in response. “Sorry about that. Hopefully you’ll escape your funk! In my experience, a refreshing walk always clears my head!”

Gyro snorts. “I’m not going outside, Doctor Intern.”

“I’ll get you out there someday,” Fenton replies, not swayed in the slightest.

“Whatever you say,” Gyro says, waving him off and turning back to his workstation. Fenton’s presence in the lab is noisy, which used to bother Gyro to no avail. Now, it seems, he can’t focus without it.

“Huey’s coming later today,” Fenton calls over as he makes coffee. “He has a promising project he’s presenting.”

Gyro snorts goodnaturedly. “You make it sound like a school assignment.”

Fenton shrugs. “Huey’s words, not mine. Besides, I think that format works well for him. It does for me, too.”

Gyro snorts in lieu of a reply. He actively chooses not to tell Fenton it works for him as well.

As their conversation fades out, Gyro settles down at his desk. With his coworkers’ chatter floating around him, he slides easily into a focused headspace. In fifteen minutes, he’s made more progress than he had in the hour before his coworkers arrived.

While Gyro tinkers with a gadget, he’s vaguely aware of Fenton getting up and crossing to Manny’s desk. Usually he’d pay more attention, but he’s busy cursing ridiculously small screws.

“Dr. Gearloose,” Fenton calls. It only half registers, and Gyro hums in response, waving a hand dismissively.

“Dr. Gearloose,” Fenton says, a little more insistently this time.

Gyro starts. He blinks down at his project, which is nearly completed. “What do you want, Doctor Intern?”

Fenton quirks a brow. “Can you look this over?”

“We’re having trouble with it,” Manny clops via Morse Code. “Could use an extra eye. Or four.”

Gyro rolls his eyes behind his aforementioned glasses. “What are you, six? I’ve never heard that used outside the elementary school playground.” But he acquiesces, crossing the lab and settling his hands on his hips as he eyes the gizmo Manny’s been working with. 

“It’s the double-sided shrink ray,” Manny says, pushing it towards Gyro with his hooves. 

“We were able to activate the shrinking command upon request, but it’s unstable,” Fenton says, carding a hand through his swoopy hair. “The beta waves are successfully translating into gamma rays, but some of the neutrons are glitching.”

Gyro pushes closer to the table. “Let me see.”

“That’s why we called you over,” Manny clops, but steps back. Fenton chuckles softly, making Gyro roll his eyes.

He picks up the device and squints at it, examining it from all angles. After a little while of tinkering, he drags a nearby chair over. Fenton drops a cup of coffee next to him, but he barely notices it.

The lab falls back into its quiet - but not silent - rhythm while Gyro works. It’s comforting.

During the second dissection attempt, Gyro lets out a small “Aha!” and tweaks a few wires. Triumphantly, he leaps out of his chair and holds the device out to Manny, puffing out his chest. “That should do it!”

Manny twists the device sideways and fires. Simultaneously, an apple and a pile of paperwork shrink into almost-nothingness.

“You did it!” Fenton’s grin splits his face in two. “Thank you, Dr. Gearloose!”

Gyro still finds it difficult to meet Fenton’s gaze when he’s so openly enthusiastic and supportive, even now. He settles for glaring at the coffee maker behind him, pointedly not looking at Manny either, even though he’s laughing. “Of course. It was nothing.”

Fenton’s smile softens, but it’s no less genuine. “Well, we still appreciate it.”

Gyro crosses back to his desk. “Well. It was nice to actually get some work done.”

Fenton frowns, dropping his pencil to focus on Gyro. “What do you mean?”

Gyro drops his gaze, gritting his teeth. “Well… maybe… I’ve unfortunately gotten used to your incessant, needless background noise,” he finishes in a rush, scowling. “It was too quiet this morning.”

Fenton beams back at him. “Aww, Dr. Gearloose! That’s so sweet!”

“It is merely an observation,” Gyro grits out. 

“Admit it, “ Manny says. “You love us.”

Gyro only huffs in response. 

“Well, it’s nice to work with you too,” Fenton says, still smiling widely. Gyro would say his grin is too wide, but for some reason it doesn’t quite bother him like it used to.

He’s grown fond of it. He’s grown fond of them all.

ii. 

There are three constants in life. Change. Death. Gyro Gearloose’s inability to leave the underground lab for long periods of time.

Della texts him just often enough to be a nuisance, but not often enough for him to justify blocking her (it would result with a very angry Della in his lab, a volatile variable he’d rather not contend with, especially when Fenton, Launchpad, and Scrooge fulfill that dangerous category as well. He knows this from experience.). The familiar buzz of Gyro’s phone, once startling from disuse, is now a surprisingly comforting constant of the background noise in the lab. Gyro’s a scientist working under Scrooge McDuck, with Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera and Manny the Headless Manhorse in his lab - he has to be able to tune out the white noise. 

You. Me. Coffee. Della texts. She leaves no room for argument, which frustrates Gyro to no end even though he’s the exact same way. He sighs, tucks his phone under a towering pile of papers, and resolves to ignore her until the time she’s set for their gathering has passed.

But Della cannot be swayed that easily. Nothing can stop Della Duck.

At five minutes to their set meeting time, the elevator doors open with a ding. All of the lab’s primary occupants are present, but Gyro is too buried in his work to notice.

He does, however, notice the next noise. It’s impossible to ignore.

“Heeeeyyy, G-Man!!!” Della chortles, all exuberance and energy. She’s next to Gyro’s desk before he can say “Blathering Blatherskite!” (Hey, it was his catchphrase before it was Fenton’s!). She slams her hands on his desk, sending papers flying. Gyro squawks in protest, but Della ignores him.

Della shoves her face in his personal space, grinning like a maniac. Gyro maintains his death glare for a moment longer before slumping into his chair, dropping his head into his arms.

“I’m not going for coffee with you,” Gyro groans. “I have enough on my plate right now,”

“Enough of that,” Della nags, smacking his shoulder lightly. Gyro just groans in response. “You prooomiiised!”

Gyro’s head snaps up. “I did nothing of that sort,” he hisses, low and dangerous. “I didn’t even reply!”

Della smirks triumphantly. “But you did see it,” she says, tugging on Gyro’s perfectly pressed shirt. “So you were ignoring me! Now you have to go.”

“Of course I was ignoring you,” Gyro replies matter-of-factly. “I hate you.”

Della grins at him. “C’mooooon, you looooove me. Now let’s get going!”

Gyro turns pleading eyes back towards his crew. “Tell her! Tell her we have work to do!”

Fenton smiles at him apologetically. “Dr. Gearloose, you worked really hard today and got a lot done. You deserve a break!”

“Yeah,” Manny clops. “Also, I’m kind of tired of hearing your inhuman screeches whenever something goes mildly wrong. No offense.”

At that, Gyro treats his coworkers to one of said inhuman screeches. None of them enjoyed it very much, it seems.

Which is how Fenton, Manny, and Lil’ Bulb (betrayal!) ended up bodily shoving Gyro into the elevator with Della dragging him by the shirt and pressing the buttons for him, Gyro glowering furiously all the way.

“You’ll regret this!” he vowed, shaking his fist. “You will rue the day! The great Dr. Gyro Gearloose will never forget this act of betrayal!”

“Aw, you care!” Della says flatly as she opens the elevator door. “Now c’mon, let’s get some coffee in you that’s not from your lab machine. You look like you need it.”

—

By the time they’ve arrived at Della’s fancy coffee shop across town, ordered, and gotten their drinks, Gyro has calmed down considerably. Nursing two coffees that will be sure to give Gyro a heart attack someday, he settles in across from Della on the patio. Outside the thin fence separating the restaurant from the sidewalk, passerby flit along on their way through the city. Downtown Duckburg is usually far too crowded and populated for Gyro’s taste, but today, separated from the hustle and bustle of the crowd and sated by the infuriatingly good (if ridiculously expensive) coffee, it is… palatable. Almost enjoyable, although there’s no way he’s telling Della that.

Della grins at him like she can read his mind. (Did Mr. McDuck mention anything about a mind-reading artifact last time he stopped by the lab? Or did the Narration 3000 reach her hands? He could’ve sworn he sold it for scrap metal…)

“So.” Della sets down her coffee on the table and leans forward with her head resting on her hands. “Gy-man. Nerd. Mr. Mad Scientist. Bearer of Bad Taste.”

Gyro frowns. “Excuse me? Bad taste? I’ll have you know that black licorice is objectively the finest taste in existence. You have bad taste.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy,” Della says, lazy and lethargic, smirking like she just won a presidential debate.

Gyro huffs and crosses his arms, turning sideways in his seat to face away from Della as much as he can. She cackles. 

“You’re a dummy,” Della says, smiling fondly.

“I’m a world-renowned scientific genius,” Gyro replies, rolling his eyes.

Della snorts. “I know. You’re still a dummy.”

“Impossible.” Gyro wants to say more, but Della laughs and laughs. They dance easily between insults and compliments, toeing the line between teasing and hurt. Their arguments continue, sometimes flitting dangerously towards genuine. They both revel in the fact that an average eavesdropper wouldn’t be able to tell if they’re friends or not.

Sometimes Gyro himself can’t tell if they’re friendly or not. But he knows for certain they’re friends, at least.

Before he knows it, his coffee cup is empty.

iii. 

After Della returns to the mansion for Dewey’s flight lesson (a phrase that made Gyro want to flee into an underground bunker for a year) Gyro heads back to the lab and vows to actually get something done for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, in his life, things rarely go the way he wants them to.

Even with Huey in the lab (why did Fenton agree to work with him once a week anyway? Why did Gyro agree?) and Manny, a surprising force of calm, out for lunch, they make it an entire hour without incident. Before things inevitably go wrong.

The first sign of trouble is the explosion that rocks the Money Bin.

It takes all of them by surprise. Gyro and Huey scramble to save their projects while Fenton calls for the Gizmosuit. With the Gizmosuit’s enhanced strength, Gizmoduck shoves aside debris and forces open the elevator doors only to find a supervillain already there.

To their credit, the supervillain, a broad-shouldered orange lizard with medieval-style armor, seems just as surprised as Fenton. 

They narrow their eyes at Gizmoduck behind their mask and drop into a fighting stance, their fists raised and their weight centered beneath them. “I don’t know how you predicted that I, the Liliputan Lizard, would raid Scrooge McDuck’s coveted lab. But now that you’re here, we will have a battle for the ages!”

While the villain monologues, Gizmoduck’s head snaps around to stare at Gyro and Huey. He can feel Fenton’s piercing gaze through the impenetrable visor. 

“Get to safety!” Fenton hisses through his teeth, flapping a frantic, dismissive hand. 

“But-” Huey steps forward, raising something he’s holding, but Gizmoduck just shakes his head and turns back around, readying for the villain’s attack.

The force of their gadget knocks Gizmoduck into one of the side tables. Taking advantage of the chaos, Gyro snags Huey’s arm and hightails it into an all-too-familiar closet.

“Dr. Gearloose!” Huey yelps, stumbling along at his heels. “Wait!”

“Blathering blatherskite,” Gyro scowls, peering frustratedly through the tiny gap in the closet door. “I’ll never get anything done at this rate. They’re going to ruin all my projects!”

“Dr. Gearloose,” Huey snaps, tugging at Gyro’s sleeve insistently.

Gyro spins around. “What, kid.”

Huey clutches whatever he grabbed close to his chest and peers up at Gyro with wide eyes. “We have to go out there and help! I have-”

“No way,” Gyro says, cutting him off. “That would mean too many variables. I’m not about to see another project crushed to bits because you want to get in the way.” He glares out into the fray, fists clenched. “Although I have half a mind to go out there and punch that guy for messing with my work.”

Huey presses up onto his tiptoes to peer around him. “But I can make a difference,” he insists, impassioned. “Look.” 

Huey holds up his object, and Gyro reluctantly turns away from the fight to examine it. He pushes his glasses up on his beak to get a better look.

A short, stiff antenna pokes out from a small rectangular box with a big red button in the middle. As far as gadgets go, it doesn’t look very impressive - but looks can be deceiving.

Gyro adjusts his glasses. “Did you make this?”

“Fenton helped,” Huey confirms bashfully. “It discharges electricity, in both large bursts and streamlined blasts. Theoretically, it can reprogram circuits and switches, although I haven’t had any chances to test it out yet.”

“Just my luck,” Gyro grumbles, dragging a hand down his face. So that’s what they’ve been working on. “Well, I’ll tell you a secret, kid. I test all my inventions to the nines, and they all seem to blow up in my face. It’s worth a shot. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, anyway.”

“Not all of them,” Huey says, smiling in a way that’s far too knowing for a twelve-year-old boy. He steps in front of the doors, readying the remote.

Gyro reaches for the unlock button he’d painstakingly installed after one too many times of getting stuck in this closet.

Huey steps around Gyro to peer through the gap. “If we cross behind these tables here and Manny’s desk, we’ll have a clear shot at the elevator. I can use my remote on it.”

He glances up at Gyro, eyes wide. “Is that good?”

Despite himself, Gyro’s beak quirks up. “Yeah. Let’s get these jokers out of my lab.”

Huey’s face lights up. Gyro snaps his head away, unwilling to let the sappy moment go on for any longer, and punches the unlock button with far more force than necessary. 

They duck out of the closet (with an undignified sigh of relief from Gyro) and behind the worktables. Almost unconsciously, Gyro scampers just ahead to slip closer to the tables, keeping his body between Huey and the fight. (With the tables between him and the fight, of course.) 

Within seconds, they clear the worktables and duck behind Manny’s desk. Huey steps out, angling his remote to the most precise degree. He’s got a clear shot - but he’s also out in the open.

Gyro’s fingertips hover just over the hem of Huey’s sleeve, not quite holding on. But if anything happens, he’ll pull Huey back to safety.

Hopefully.

At that moment, Fenton dives towards them to avoid an oncoming attack. Gyro can tell the moment he sets eyes on the pair - his jaw tenses and his shoulders flick back. In the back of his mind, Gyro wonders if it’s even noticeable to others. The supervillain certainly doesn’t seem to notice. 

Does he really know Fenton so well he can read the nuances in his body language?

It feels nice.

The softness blossoming in Gyro’s chest is unfortunately overridden with adrenaline and fear, and he barely registers it. Gyro gives Fenton a tiny nod towards Huey, who waves his remote.

Gyro can see Fenton grapple with the situation internally, before eventually giving up and turning to distract the Liliputan Lizard. He grabs them by their shoulders and spins them, hauling the villain so his back is to Gyro and Huey. 

Gyro nods begrudgingly. Smart.

With the window Fenton’s given them, Huey lunges forward and blasts a stream of electricity at the elevator. It dings, and the floor numbers at the top whir and whir. They don’t settle.

The Liliputan Lizard’s head snaps up. “Huh?”

Huey frowns, deep in thought. Gyro doesn’t mirror his cliché thinking pose, but they’re both pondering the same dilemma: What now?

A fresh surge of adrenaline pumps through Gyro’s veins, and, on impulse, he jumps out and does something twelve months ago he wouldn’t even have considered.

“My lab is filled with dangerous, votile inventions,” Gyro snaps, intentionally drawing out his words with more annoyance than he feels. He steps out from behind the desk, away from the elevator. “You just messed up my project! You’ve doomed us all!”

He points an accusing finger at the supervillain and wills it not to shake. “Don’t you see what you’ve done?!”

The Liliputan Lizard shoves Gizmoduck away (no easy feat) and strides towards Gyro, slow and confident. His tail lashes behind him, knocking a vial of bubbling fluid to the floor, but they don’t even flinch. Gyro drops his hands at his side and clenches them into fists.

“Ah, Gyro Gearloose,” the villain says, smirking. “I almost forgot the reason I came here in the first place. Thank you for reminding me.”

“It’s Doctor Gyro Gearloose, actually,” Gyro intones, holding up a finger. “And what is that oh-so-important reason? Surely it cannot be more important than my projects. Which, may I remind you, you’ve ruined!”

The Liliputan Lizard is close enough to touch now. They stop an arm’s length away from Gyro and settle into a wide second position with their weight centered. It’s a position of power. 

“The double-sided shrink ray,” the villain drawls. “Hand it over.”

Gyro narrows his eyes. “And why should I do that?”

“Well, I’ll trash your precious lab, for one,” the Liliputan Lizard says, gesturing lazily to the already trashed-lab. Gyro growls. “More than I already have, of course.”

Gyro takes an unwilling step back, his feet moving of their own accord. Something hard brushes against his back. His hands hesitantly fall on the edge of Manny’s desk.

“So what’ll it be, Dr. Gearloose?” The Liliputan Lizard mocks, stepping forward into Gyro’s personal space again. He snarls. 

Gyro chances a glance behind him. On Manny’s desk, glinting underneath the overhead lights, lies the famed double-sided shrink ray.

Oh, if only he hadn’t given it to Manny for the finishing touches today. Today, of all days!

Gyro chances a glance back at the scene before him. Fenton’s still on the ground, and Gyro staunchly refuses to acknowledge Huey in case the villain will see him.

Is it worth it?

Gyro’s fingers graze the corners of it.

“Hey!” A bolt of electricity, sparking blue, arcs into the villain’s side. They double over, revealing Huey behind them. “Leave Dr. Gearloose alone!”

Fenton rises to his feet just in time and cracks his knuckles. “All right. Playtime’s over.”

The Liliputan Lizard whirls around, snarling, as Gyro twists and steps sideways. “Like you can stop me! I’m getting this shrink ray, like it or nooooooooooooooooooooot!”

Tinny screeches pierce Gyro’s ears, but it’s the most damage he takes. The once-mighty Liliputan Lizard stands tiny on the lab floor, joined by Manny’s desk lamp.

Slowly, Gyro lowers the shrink ray. “Stay out of my lab,” he snaps, sharp and biting as always, but with a rather uncharacteristically dark undertone. “Stay away from us.”

Gizmoduck scoops the tiny figure up in his gloved hands, muffling any protests. “I’ll get him out of your feathers, Dr. Gearloose!” he says with the awkward, stiffly polite manner they use to protect Fenton’s identity.

Gyro nods once sharply as Gizmoduck leaves. All of his adrenaline leaves him in a rush, and he sinks heavily into the nearest chair (which happens to be Manny’s, but he’s out for lunch and Gyro can’t bring himself to care).

“Dr. Gearloose!” Huey scampers over to him, eyes wide. “Are you okay?” He bustles around to Gyro’s side, not waiting for a reply. “The Junior Woodchuck Guidebook advises to rest after stress.

Gyro takes a deep breath. “Yeah, well, I did have a quiet day planned. Mostly.”

“With your track record, that’s highly inaccurate,” Huey snorts, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Gyro grumbles. “All my excitement was planned for later, thank you very much. I’ll take a quiet rest of the day.”

iv. 

Except things are never quiet in McDuck Industries’ Research and Development.

It’s a surprise when the elevator dings, signifying an arrival, but the figure that emerges is no surprise at all.

The elevator is still in pieces and sparking with remnants of Huey’s electrical blast, but that’s never stopped Scrooge McDuck. In fact, he probably finds the challenge appealing.

“Gyro, my boy!” Scrooge says, spreading his arms open wide. “

“Mr. McDuck,” Gyro acknowledges his boss with a nod. “What do you need? Progress checks?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Scrooge saunters over to Gyro’s desk, glancing around the lab. He smiles to himself, the kind of smile only a secret brings, like a joke just before the punchline.

“I thought you could accompany me out, eh?” Scrooge says, light and lilting. “I’ll let you choose where we go~”

“I sense a conspiracy,” Gyro grumbles, dropping his chin. He levels a fierce glare at Fenton, who hides a triumphant giggle behind his hand.

Scrooge tugs on Gyro’s arm, gentle but forceful. “Come on. It’ll do you good, laddie!”

“I already had one spontaneous outing today,” Gyro grumbles. “With your niece.”

Scrooge only beams brighter. “Ah, good lass!”

With a little more poking and prodding, Gyro begrudgingly allows Scrooge to drag him out the door and into his car. True to his word, Scrooge lets Gyro choose where they go. For a while he drives around aimlessly, with the intent of wasting time until Scrooge gets bored and lets them go back. But before Gyro can see his plan to fruition, he spots somewhere he’d actually like to go.

“Ah, the library. Good choice, lad!” Scrooge praises as they step out of the car. “All the wee lads and lassies prefer that blasted telly to good, old-fashioned books.”

Gyro frowns at Scrooge. “I’m not one of your kids.”

Scrooge just snorts and brushes past him, leaving Gyro to run in his footsteps.

When Gyro catches up to Scrooge, he finds the older duck humming to himself in front of a displayed stack of books about Inducknesia. Planning for a new adventure, probably. Gyro laments the lack of science books in the front and starts to head to the back in his search.

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice pipes up. “This book will likely interest you, Dr. Gearloose.”

Curious. Of course everyone should know the name of Dr. Gyro Gearloose, acclaimed inventor and mad scientist, but unfortunately that just isn’t the case. Yet.

So just who is this mysterious stranger?

Gyro whirls around to find a familiar-looking child, holding a thick leather-bound book patiently out to him. He squints at her.

“Violet Sabrewing,” she supplies helpfully after a minute of dead silence. 

“Ah.” Gyro nods awkwardly at her. Isn’t she one of Pink Niece’s friends?

Scrooge wanders over, likely to check that Gyro hasn’t somehow set the building on fire in the five minutes he’s been gone. His gaze lights up at the sight of Violet. God, all the Duck-McDucks are weak for children. “Ah, Violet! What brings you to the library today?”

“Hello, Mr. McDuck,” Violet says politely. “I’m looking for references on micronanite portal technology.” 

“Ah, micronanite portal technology!” Scrooge says blusteringly, grinning wide to hide his confusion. Gyro snorts.

Violet’s smile flattens. “You have no idea what that means, do you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Scrooge confesses abashedly. 

“It uses miniscule robotic parts to create wormholes in time and space,” Gyro jumps in flatly, earning him a nod of approval from Violet. Gyro tries not to sneer, since Mr. McDuck would likely chastise him for it. He doesn’t need approval from a child.

Even if it is a very, very smart child. Who’s working with micronanites, which Gyro didn’t get to study until he was working under Dr. Akita. Who’s also friends with the Niblings.

Scrooge chuckles softly. “Thank you, Gyro.”

Gyro nods sharply.

Scrooge turns his attention back to Violet. “That sounds… interesting! I look forward to seeing your adventure with this technology,” he says kindly. “

As they converse, Gyro wanders away to peruse the library. Every so often, he passes by Scrooge and Violet, deep in conversation.

Eventually, Violet leaves, and Scrooge finds Gyro flipping through a book of scientific theoreticals. “I’d say it’s about time we left, eh, laddie?”

“Finally,” Gyro mutters, but he makes them stop to check the book out. Scrooge smirks knowingly at him.

On the drive back, Scrooge prattles on about his latest adventure. The constant socialization is zapping Gyro’s energy exponentially by the minute, but Scrooge seems content to fill the silence himself.

It’s only when they’re walking into the Money Bin does Gyro finally initiate conversation.

“You have a weakness for children,” Gyro tells Scrooge flatly as he walks into the elevator. “You should spend more time humoring them instead of me.”

Scrooge smirks at him. “Really,” he says teasingly. Gyro feels like he’s somehow fighting a losing battle, although he has no recollection of entering any kind of argument. “Aren’t I, though?”

“I’m not a child,” Gyro tells him again.

“Neither are Donald and Della,” Scrooge responds immediately.

Oh. Oh.

Quick as a flash, Gyro spins away from Scrooge, pressing a fist to his beak. Behind him, Scrooge laughs heartily.

After he’s composed himself, Gyro steps away from the episode. Scrooge pats him on the back, harder than he usually does. Gyro stands there frozen for a moment, hesitant, before giving into his instincts and pulling Scrooge into a tight, impulsive hug.

Scrooge lets out a grunt and coughs dramatically, but he hugs Gyro back just as tightly.

Just then, the elevator doors open with a ding and out steps Gyro’s favorite person in the whole world. 

“Hi, Dr. Gearloose!” Boyd chirps. “I went down to the lab to see Huey, but he just went home, and Dr. Fenton said you’d be up here!”

Gyro smiles fondly and turns away from Scrooge. “I was just about to head down there, but now I guess I don’t need to.”

Boyd takes Gyro’s hand as they leave. Gyro smiles down at it, soft and loving. Lil’ Bulb hops from Boyd’s shoulder to Gyro’s, and he keeps carefully still as Lil’ Bulb clambers across his head to perch on his favorite shoulder.

As they pass, Gyro turns to say goodbye to Scrooge, who looks like the cat that caught the canary. Gyro raises a questioning eyebrow.

Scrooge’s triumphant smirk turns into an all-out, unabashed grin. “Where do you think you got it from, lad?”

Gyro looks at Boyd blissfully clinging to his hand and Lil’ Bulb contentedly perched on his shoulder, and chokes.

v. 

Within minutes, Boyd and Lil’ Bulb are safely packed away into Gyro’s rickety car and on the road. Gyro slides in one of his cassette tapes Boyd likes, one of the eighties soft rock tracks his dad gave him. Lil’ Bulb perches on the dashboard, fiddling with the volume dials. They coast through the streets of Duckberg with Boyd’s bright chatter and electric guitar notes floating through the car.

Gyro relaxes at the wheel, slumping back in his chair and exhaling gently. He’s often the personification of road rage. It feels odd to not white-knuckle the steering wheel today. But when Boyd came back into his life, and subsequently into his car, he has made a conscious effort to not let frustration get the better of him. At least, not when he’s driving a two thousand pound death machine with a child inside (robotic child or no). 

But to Gyro’s delighted surprise, he’s found that Boyd’s mere presence calms him more than any of Donald’s breathing exercises or Dickie’s yoga classes. When he’s with Boyd, he loses tension he didn’t even realize he had.

After a quick drive, Gyro pulls into an offshoot of the Duckburg Mall. Boyd’s out of the car before Gyro’s fully parked, making the chicken roll his eyes and grumble under his breath. When he’s ready, he steps out of the car with the full intention to admonish Boyd. But one look at his excited face and the way he bounces eagerly on his toes, and all feelings of frustration vanish.

On Gyro’s shoulder, Lil Bulb cackles via Morse code. Gyro pointedly does not look at his other son as he takes Boyd’s hand and lets him lead them to their destination.

“Huey and I come here all the time,” Boyd babbles as they cross the parking lot. “We always get the Sugar-Free Butter Pecan, because Huey doesn’t do well with sugar.”

Gyro ruffles where Boyd’s head feathers would be. It’s metal, but warm to the touch, just like Boyd. “You can have sugar, though.”

“Yeah,” Boyd replies, unperturbed. “But I like the routine.”

Gyro nods in understanding. They reach the ice cream shop and peer up at the menu. “Do you want to get that today?”

“Hmm.” Boyd puts a finger to his chin, contemplating. After a moment, he brightens like a lightbulb - somehow more than the actual lightbulb on Gyro’s shoulder. “I think I’ll try something new today! I’m not with Huey, after all.”

Gyro hums in agreement and examines the menu himself. They order and choose a small table outside the restaurant, overlooking the parking lot.

“Did you have a good day?” Boyd asks, digging in with his spoon.

Gyro thinks about how his day started crappy and unproductive, but immediately flipped when Fenton and Manny came into the lab. He thinks about how Della’s impromptu visit, for all of his frustration at the break in routine, provided a much needed excuse to see his friend. He thinks about his terror and fury when a supervillain entered the lab, and the rush of adrenalinic joy helping Gizmoduck gave him. He thinks about his quiet afternoon out with Mr. McDuck, and how he’d missed researching in libraries as well as hands-on in labs. He thinks about how the people he cares about shaped his day. 

He turns his gaze towards Boyd and Lil’ Bulb, who fit perfectly into that category.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling softly. “I did.”

Behind Boyd, the sun is setting, with pinks and purples blossoming across the tangerine sky and seemingly setting the clouds ablaze. The grapefruit-orange light of the setting sun makes Boyd and Lil’ Bulb shine. Gyro’s heart clenches and aches, but it’s with love.

Boyd beams back at him. “I’m glad.”

“You’re my favorite person,” Boyd says, tilting his head back to gaze unflinchingly into Gyro’s eyes. Although the self-deprecating side of Gyro vehemently denies the sentiment, but somehow his words ring with a truth Gyro can’t deny. He may not believe in himself, but Boyd does wholeheartedly.

Gyro splutters and coughs, still unused to open affection after all this time. After a minute of struggling to cope, he settles on setting his ice cream down so he won’t squeeze the cone so hard it cracks. (It’s happened before, but it was fueled by anger, as many things are in Gyro’s life.)

Boyd reaches up to take Gyro’s free hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I know this is hard for you. But I want you to know how I feel.”

Gyro bites the inside of his beak and rubs his thumb over Boyd’s hand. “I… I wish it wasn’t,” he whispers, surprising even himself with the rare display of vulnerability. 

Boyd scoots his chair over next to Gyro’s and leans against him. Gyro exhales, feeling a knot of tension leave his chest, and leans back. 

Lil’ Bulb, already perched on Gyro’s shoulder, scampers over his head to settle on Boyd’s shoulder. He rests his head against Gyro’s shoulder, settling directly between them.

Gyro squeezes Boyd’s hand tighter. Boyd squeezes back.

“You are loved,” Boyd says. 

Gyro smiles. “I know.”

“Thank you.”

~

this is my piece for the Gyro Gearloose zine run by @georgiarose and glo.draws! I had a wonderful time working on this zine, and there are so many amazing pieces in it! It’s free to download, and we’re asking for donations to the Crisis Text Line in lieu of payment. I highly recommend checking out the entire zine!

For this piece, I wanted to explore the variety of relationships Gyro has with the people around him. he’s such a fun character and i love writing for him so much!

both the micronanites and huey's gadget are references to existing tech in disney animation (which i probably spent too much time researching to represent accurately akfghak). cookies if you can guess them!

thank you to @mrpinniped for the beta and to the entire Gyro Zine server for the lovely encouragement and feedback!

[thecosmicsen]

TIKTOK INSPIRED CHALLENGE MEME. answer this from the POV of one or more of your muses.  

how do you take your coffee ?  “ I don’t go well with coffee but with lots and lots of sugar . . .  I like five teaspoons of sugar but then if you go to Starbucks they do that for anyway so I really like their mochas with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in it  !  ”

do you prefer summer rain or when the air turns frosty ? “ you can dance in the summer rain with your loved one without dying of a cold.  there’s more of a chance of a rainbow occurring with the sun more likely to peep out during the rain but there’s something about the summer showers clearing everything up and bringing out the tang of freshly cut flowers even more.  so summer rain for sure  !!  ”

if you had to take your pick  ;  is it vanilla or chocolate  ?  “  ugh do I really have to pick  ?  I prefer vanilla because it’s more understated but still has way more flavour.  ”

how to cheer you up when life gets rocky  ?  “  if Inés isn’t around then going out to do anything  !  messing around in the playground with friends is always fun or going out to share food and drinks is always a mood booster.  sometimes I need to be alone but seeing texts messages checking in on me always make me feel a lot better too.  telling me that you’re coming over or that we are going out to do something or play board games at home has the same effect too.  then bringing over some ice-cream or anything sugary does help a ton too . . .  I really like a box of glazed donuts.  ”  cue him staring off in the distance shyly.

what’s your favourite movie  ? “  in my opinion,  everyone has to go see  “  Always  ”  that has Han Hyojoo as the main lead because that movie shows what true love is and the kind of lengths and sacrifices you would without hesitation for your loved one.  love is so simple but so deep,  way beyond our understanding.  how can the simple things show how much you’re in love with someone  ?  the movie shows that really well and builds it up.  great chemistry between the two leads.  I always hoped they would get married in real life,  ahh . . .  ”

what do you like about your life,  how can I make it better  ?  “  oh you don’t have to do anything  !  but let’s do something together sometime soon,  okay  ?  I always like spending time with people like you  !  but otherwise,  I’m good.  I’m really lucky that I found Inés.  she gave me a home to come back to and I never felt so loved like this in my . . .  life before.  do you know how amazing it feels to give someone a million kisses and have them all returned to you  ?  I don’t even have to ask her to slap my butt,  she just does it all the time anyway.  ”

what do you value  ?  “  my family,  my friends,  good people,  good music,  good nights,  love,  all my time spent with Inés.  ”

who do you care about  ?  “  my family which includes Inés and my old mentor,  every single one of my friends,  people or entities who need my help and also God . . .  he’s been too merciful to me.  ”

five star restaurant or camp out  ? "  you mean if I have the option of going out in the wild where not many people are around to eavesdrop and get to be all up and cosy and united in the spirit of survival with gorgeous sights and fire-cooked food  ?  camping out for sure  !!  I want to go now  !!  ”

would you rather learn to surf or ski  ? “  I have seen too many online videos of dolphins and other scary sea stuff shoving people off their surfboards and send them flying in the air.  no thank you  !!  I rather go viral for my awesome ski tricks which I’m sure I’ll pick up in no time.  whizzing down the slopes in snow for me  !!  ”

lemonade or iced tea  ?  “  iced peach and lemon tea is one of the best things humans have invented  !!  ”

would you rather have a normal life,  or be a celebrity  ? "  it is so taboo to date as a celebrity,  I would hate having to hide who I love.  it would be cool to be the centre of attention for your talents and achievements though . . .  but it’s the normal life for me.  I enjoy the simplicity of things even if it means I can’t afford Gucci.  I get to hold hands with Inés and kiss her in public instead even though she wears and affords Gucci but you know what I mean.  ”

day at the pool or day at the beach  ?  “  the beach is a better sensory experience with the sea salt,  melted ice-cream,  choppy breezes,  the background noise of the lapping tides,  thinking some slimy fish got to you but it’s just some floating seaweed,  dolphins knocking people off surfboards . . .   the beach is so much more fun  !  ”

what’s your favourite childhood memory  ? he lapses into uncharacteristic silence,  his memory ever faint and fragmented with the pieces that he is unsure of whether he wants to mend in the first place.  after a few good minutes of quiet contemplation,  he softly murmurs out.  “  I used to go out to the parks with my brother during the summers.  we would float paper boats,  eat ice-cream,  read books and mess around.  ”  just the mere thought already fills his eyes with tears that he hurriedly blinks back with a wobbly smile.  “  that is when I used to feel my happiest.  ”

tagged by:  @spoiledsovls  (  Gunwoo’s responses were so cute I was dying omg  ) tagging:  @shesin  /  @lavtiena  /  @phantombs  /  @infernoath  /  @lapeirla  /  @pcstilnt  (  Obi Areum  :}}  )  /  @cvntagiious   (  Miyeon  !!  )  /  @lupusxdei  (  ****** Seolju :}}  )  /  @cvvalier  (  Mi ha pls and thank you )  /  @moonsseas  /  @celestiialmechanics  (  bb Haeil pls  )  /  @traumableeds  /  @querenciant   +  anyone else who would like to  !

[2-player-game]

Tamaki amajiki x reader

"Come on Tamaki! It's recess, let's play together!!" You cheered, smiling brightly as you stared at your kindergarten best friend Tamaki Amajiki.

"I.. I don't know, what if p..people start talking to us.. I don't like anyone.. anyone else, they're too loud" the boy stuttered, he was so shy it was almost adorable!

You huffed, crossing your arms, standing there for a bit, "fine, how about we hang out by the tree then, we can talk and it will just be us together!" You suggested, grabbing his wrist and running towards the large tree in the playground.

"See? This place is much better right Tamaki!" You smiled brightly

He nodded shyly, smiling a little. His smile soon disappeared when he started to speak. "I.. I need to... to tell you.. something" he stuttered, not making eye contact with you.

You tilted your head as if you were a puppy, "huh? What do you need to tell me?" You asked, smile fading slightly.

"I'm.. I'm uh moving to a different school" he mumbled just below a whisper.

Your face immediately dropped, "but what about me? We haven't even gotten to see our quirks yet! Can't you convince your mommy and daddy to let you stay?" Tears began to prick your eyes. "Please Tamaki"

Tamaki froze for a while, not saying anything, "I'm sorry.. y/n. I can't" he murmured.

You hugged him tightly, you began to sob quietly. "Tamaki, never, ever forget me. You then remembered something, you pulled away from him. "I.. was going to give you this for your birthday, but I feel like now would be better" you said, you reached your hand into your pocket, looking for something, it was a set of two rings. "They're friendship rings! So you'll always have a part of me with you. We can both wear them, see?" You smiled ever so slightly, handing him one, it was a little big on him but it fit, you put yours on yourself.

The next day, you didnt see Tamaki at all, and you spent lunch and recess alone, crying a little by yourself. You never told your mom and you eventually stopped talking about him to people.

15 years later, you didnt make it into hero school, so you got a job at a heroes office. They weren't a big hero, and you just did paperwork and other things, it paid pretty well so you weren't complaining, you just wished your life was more exciting.

It was your day off and you were just looking through a hero magazine while the tv played for background noises. You sighed as you flipped through the magazine, you over and over it was about something either about pro hero Deku or Nejire chan, sometimes it was Ground Zero, or Shoto. Yeah, they were cool, but sometimes the ones about heroes who don't get enough attention are way better, this one surprises you. It was an article about the pro hero Suneater, something about how he easily took down a powerful villain. It was pretty interesting, but you quickly got bored seeing the next articles after, so you closed it, "it's pretty late, I should go put and get some dinner for myself" you said to yourself, sitting up, you brushed your hair a little and slipping your shoes on, you exited your apartment and started walking to a nearby restaurant, you didnt need to drive there since it was a really quick walk there. You smiled to yourself as you walked alone, it was really dark out so you couldn't see much, plus the streets were empty, the most noticeable sound was your foot steps as you walked there, not a word was said.

You heard footsteps slowly behind you, you thought nothing of it, but as you walked, they seemed to be quickening in pace.

Step, step, step.. they were approaching you, chasing you even. You started to jog, how far was this restaurant again!? You needed to get there fast. They were right behind, no doubt you were scared, you felt the stranger grab your mouth roughly, another hand wrapping around your neck. You were slowly losing oxygen as you tried to scream, tears pricked your eyes, what was going on!? You were so scared, so frightened.

You looked around, seeing a hero quickly run into the scene, thank god they were coming.

You kept your eyes open, watching as the villain was in the air, next to you, he was about to attack the villain. Something flashed in your vision, you could see that it was something shiny on a string around the hero's neck, like a gem or something metal, it definitely wasn't a normal necklace.

In what felt like seconds, the villain was scurrying away in fear and you were alone with the hero, you fixed your posture, "you're the hero Suneater, right? You're a big inspiration to me, thank you" you said, bowing down to show respect.

Tamaki knew that kind voice from somewhere, it felt all too familiar. "It's.. it's no big deal.. please, tell me your name..." the hero stuttered, he wanted to make sure he knew he had met you before.

You were a bit taken back from his request, but complied, after all he was a hero. "It's y/n. Y/n l/n." You said, making eye contact with him, Suneater seemed a little shocked by your answer.

After a while, Tamaki had finally processed what you had said, he grabbed his necklace, on the end of the string was the same ring you had given Tamaki Amajiki on that day before he moved away, he showed you the necklace. "This.. you gave me this r-ring years ago, right?" He mumbled, refusing to look at you.

"Tamaki? You.. Tamaki, you're a hero now" you said in shock, it was really him. You were so surprised, you just hugged him tightly.

"I'm so glad you're here."

[lgcyunhyeong]

hey there!! this is my first time in lgc and i’m super excited to be here! i’ve been eyeing this place for a while and i’m glad i finally mustered up the nerve to join. this is cho yunhyeong, 21, works part time at his local gs25. he’s been a trainee for little over a year and is hoping to eventually debut in a band! he plays the bass and sings a little bit, and he also wants to get into songwriting and composition eventually. he’s generally kind of a weird kid--super spacey, often distracted, your local space nerd--but he’s a good egg in spite of that. compared to some of the other trainees, he’s pretty aimless and chill, but he does genuinely love music and performing, so...!

you can find some more info about him on his about and background pages but they’re kind of messy so i’ll drop some quick facts about yunhyeong under the cut, along with some connection/plot ideas to hopefully kickstart things! if you’d like to plot, please hit like on this post and i’ll hop into your ims! i also have a discord if you prefer to plot there - just ask me for my username ♡

quick facts:

born and brought up in seoul - very local, most comfortable in his neighbourhood, the most exciting vacation he ever took was to busan (and it was #lit). his parents own the best hot pot restaurant in seoul, and yeah he’s biased but that doesn’t mean it’s not true! 

has an older brother currently in law school and their relationship is best described as ‘i tolerate you’. they’re complete opposites - his brother is super driven and loud and outgoing while yunhyeong is not so they’ve never really clicked beyond the fact that they are siblings and therefore are obligated to love each other

was the quiet kid growing up, had a very chill and subdued personality. didn’t really speak unless spoken too, didn’t play much with others. most of the time he kept to himself and focused on his hyperfixations - first, it was dinosaurs, and then space! and he’s been stuck with space ever since

his mom put him in music lessons when he was younger in hopes that a relatable hobby might help him make friends?? also that it’d work as a conversation starter but it didn’t because yunhyeong remained as weird and solitary as ever! he did fall in love with music as a result though

in high school he decided to branch out and make friends by starting a band - new age sexy aliens or NASA for short. his recruitment process was like: whoever shows up to join is part of the band! it worked out for the best since he and the band members got really close

they started off playing covers but then branched out into their own original music (yunhyeong helped write some of their lyrics). most of their songs used heavy space imagery and they were really pretty but also low key about aliens

yunhyeong loves aliens

nasa had a pretty dedicated fanbase both online and in their school! did well, were thriving, living their best lives and playing hella gigs, and then their lead singer got scouted by an entertainment company. it was the beginning of the end for them; the rest of the members went their own ways as well and the band officially disbanded in 2018 rip

yunhyeong started to busk on/off since he wasn’t attending university and didn’t really know what the heck else he wanted to do with his life outside of the band, and that’s where he got scouted by legacy! joined the company because like... well... why would he not...

wants to debut in a band if he can... and focus on songwriting and music composition as a secondary career path. he isn’t like... super motivated though? has always had issues with setting goals and being ambitious... he’s more like, eh, i’m just gonna go where life takes me! 

personality wise, he’s still a pretty quiet kid unless you get him talking about one of his interests, in which case he will never shut up EVER. he gets distracted easily and will sometimes zone out when you’re talking to him but has a good memory of like, the most random shit you wouldn’t expect him to recall

easygoing as hell, rarely gets riled up over anything. on the flip side, he doesn’t really come across as sincere (even though he almost always is!) in his emotions because people are like... hm... just feels fake. tries to stay as positive as he can and doesn’t dwell on stuff that might upset him. sometimes people think he’s shallow! but he has #deepthoughts. he just doesn’t share them

unmotivated when it comes to most things! has no goals, no ambition, doesn’t care much for academia or being forced to like, conform to things. his mom calls him a free spirit but she’s probably just making excuses for him. it’s more like he’s stuck in some sort of limbo?? scared of growing up but scared of being left behind. it’s complicated

he’s really a sweet guy though. a little odd - he’s not the best at showing affection and sometimes he can be really... strange? offbeat? you never know what the fuck is going on in his head. but he’s a Human Being Just Like You (sadly) and simply trying his best to live every day

connection/plot ideas:

he didn’t really have many friends growing up, but still - childhood friends! maybe you were the exception. maybe you didn’t mind that he was awkward and quiet and a little weird! maybe you tripped and fell on the playground and he gave you a star-patterned purple band aid and you decided you would die for him. who knows! 

friends in general who understand him and look @ him with fond exasperation... must be able to tolerate his antics. liking aliens is a bonus. jk, but he’s a sweet guy who loves his friends! please be kind to him

fans of his former band, nasa (or antis?). he was the bassist and a sub vocal and didn’t stand out too much compared to some of the other guys, but he always did the intros and he’ll happily talk about nasa all day! discuss the symbolism of their songs with him

exes? i genuinely cannot think of a single reason why anyone would want to date him but i feel like he’s had at least (1) relationship before... maybe you took a chance and after you started dating you were like, god, i’m running away

crushes, whether one-sided on his part or your part or reciprocated but you don’t know it yet?? he’s holding out for his alien bae but maybe you don’t know that and just think he’s like, this quiet mysterious pretty boy. maybe he thinks you’re cool for a human! 

fellow trainees who can play instruments... yunhyeong needs someone to #jam with because playing the bass alone is kind of lonely (and since he’d like to eventually get on the band track, making some connections would be cool) 

fellow trainees in general, especially ones in his training group!! he’s not as hungry for debut or as ambitious as some which means he’s a) non-threatening and b) chill to hang with. you could be into that or it could absolutely infuriate you since he doesn’t seem to be taking things seriously! maybe you think he doesn’t deserve to be here

met online on an alien enthusiast forum and you talk almost every single day about various theories and moves and all that kind of stuff but you’ve never met irl! and yunhyeong really wants to meet you in person! 

idk bully him 

you’re buying a bunch of weird shit from the convenience store where yunhyeong works at like 2 am and he has so many questions and won’t let you pay and leave until you answer them

alternatively, you find him sleeping on the job and you want to wake him up but the moment you touch his arm, he makes this high pitched screeching noise and you fall over and take an entire shelf of candy down with you

you invite yunhyeong out for drinks but he took one sip of soju and he’s a mess... you didn’t sign up to take care of a giant drunken baby but guess what! you will be! if he tries to kiss you, dodge him

you always bum free meals from yunhyeong’s parents’ restaurant because his parents think you’re his best friend. tbh you actually don’t really like him but he doesn’t realize it so he never bothers correcting his parents either!

you didn’t realize yunhyeong was allergic to cats and dogs and you brought your cat/dog near him and oh my god he is having the UGLIEST allergic reaction

yunhyeong can’t swim. you push him into a pool as a joke. chaos ensues

you play various video games together and yunhyeong is really good but he’s more interested in stardew valley than in league of legends and you keep pestering him to play with you dammit i need you on my team

you slipped a love letter under his door for one of his roommates but yunhyeong thought it was for him and now he keeps (kindly) rejecting you whenever you see him and you don’t even know how to react

Oh No We Are Trapped In This Room And The Power Went Out And I Am Scared Of The Dark Please Hold My Hand For Science

yunhyeong loves smoothies and one day you catch him trying to blend a slice of pepperoni pizza into a smoothie because he is, and i quote, “tired of chewing”

IDK ALL THESE IDEAS ARE BAD BUT PLEASE PLOT WITH ME ANYWAY

[deniigi]

Hey idk how many asks ur getting but I hope ur not being bombarded or anything. If u could, would u write a scene where jack loses little!matt cuz oops Matt just ran off during errands. He runs into various NYC heroes/vigilantes and in the end Matt has them all trailing him as they try to find jack together. Meanwhile jack panics and anxiety.

This got long and definitely wasn’t quite what you were thinking of, but I think it’s still pretty okay.

I’m putting the 2nd half under the cut since it’s so long (sorry mobile folks)

—

There was a huge fanfare in the streets; some guy with money was apparently strolling through the Kitchen and folks had come out to stare back at him when he started eyeing up their buildings, as was their way. Santiago’s was helping this by leaving a couple of folding tables outside the restaurant doors with ‘Make Peace Not Weapons’ fliers on it next to a couple of flats of eggs.

What was to be done with said eggs was not stated. People around here just knew.

None of that had ever been Jack’s bag, honestly. He was busy. Politics had always been background noise to his daily scrounging and scraping and really, this crowd was going to be the death of him.

He caught Rudy and the others crowded around the doorway of the gym and scream-asked over the noise of the crowd gathering around the edges of the streets if they’d seen Matt.

No, they hadn’t. He wasn’t out playing with Rudy’s kids; they were at their grandmother’s.

Rudy told him to try the church’s playground. A lot of the local kids had climbed up on the fence over there to watch the protest.

Aigh.

Matty knew better than to go that far without asking, but Jack went anyways.

Normally, he’d be panicking, but these were the streets that Matt grew up in; that he himself had grown up in. Th folks lining the pavement here knew him and his kid. They’d keep an eye out and make sure Matt didn’t get kidnapped or anything like that.

He got to the church and saw that Grace was standing outside, shaking her head at all the kids lining the top of the fence. He made wide gestures to catch her attention. She met him at the front of the church with a frown.

“No, he’s not here,” she said. “I saw him go past, though, with the McKenzies’ girl. They’re alright. They went and found a football, the two of them.”

Ahhhhh.

That was 100% Mrs. Green’s doing. She’d had a yard sale for her kids’ shit the other day. Jack had seen a couple of basketballs and footballs in among the stuff. She must not have gotten rid of all of it.

Grace waved him in the direction of the green lot the next street up. It was where most of the neighborhood children spent their time—in the daytime, playing and in the nighttime, for the older ones, experimenting.

Jack struggled through the crowd that way but got caught up in a mass of jeering and jostling when Mr. Moneybags, Whoever finally got out of his car.

Are you serious, y’all?

He called over folks to move, that he was after his fuckin’ kid, and they tried as best as they could to let him back.

Finally, blessedly, he stumbled back out on to the pavement and blew out a breath. Then headed off towards the park.

Sure enough, Matt was there, holding a football that was way too big for him with Perry, the MacKenzies’ girl. They’d evidently been playing the first-grade equivalent of tackle football, if Jack was reading the color in their faces and the dried grass all over them right.

He started that way and was so preoccupied with planning out the conversation he and Matt were about to have that he didn’t hear the folks shouting behind him. Matt saw him and perked up. He handed off the football and met Jack at the water fountain in the middle of their paths. He knew he was in trouble.

Jack put his hands on his hips to emphasize it and was validated at the guilty dropped eyes he got in return.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “That’s what I thought. Come on, then. You know what comes next.”

Matt scowled and dropped his face, mumbling out excuses.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” Jack said.

Matt pouted.

“Hey, you’re in the way,” a new voice said. Jack stood up straight and glared over his shoulder.

“You got the whole pavement, asshole. Go around,” he snapped.

And the next thing he knew, there was a man in a suit manhandling him off the concrete onto the grass.

“You need to move,” the guy growled.

Oh hell no. Not in this neighborhood, pal.

Jack shoved him back; the guy wasn’t prepared for that, it would seem. He fell back right on his ass and stared up, stunned.

“Who do you think you are?” the man babbled, struggling up. He had some kind of thing in his ear, like a secret service man.

Jack huffed at him and went back to collect Matt. They evidently couldn’t have this discussion here.

“HEY. I’m talking to you.”

The second the hand hit his shoulder, time fast-forwarded and Jack came back to himself with the dude with a bloody hand slapped over his face and a fucking roaring crowd of neighbors all around him.

Oh, shit.

“Shit,” he said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” the asshole snarled, ripping his hand away from his mouth to reveal a split lip. “You come out here to assault one of Tony Stark’s bodyguards, huh? You one of these fuckin’ low lives who think they own this city? Hit me again, pal. We’ll see who’s the real winner in the court of law, huh?”

Woah.

Hey, now. Jack had just been trying to apologize.

“FUCK ‘IM UP, JACKIE,” Someone shrieked from the middle of the crowd in the street.

“Jackie? Your name’s Jackie? Jackie what? Full name and address, asshole, give it to me,” the suit demanded.

This.

Was not excellent.

“Listen man,” Jack said as calmly as the roiling, bubbling heat in his chest would allow. “I’m just trying to pick up my kid, alright? So why don’t you fuck off and we both pretend like none of this ever happened?”

The suit scoffed.

“Sure,” he jeered, “Yeah, you pick up your little bitch and clear out. Why don’t we do just that?”

Um.

Oof.

Mm.

“Daddy?”

MMF.

Jack could not break this man in half in front of his son.

He could not make this man beg for mercy in front of his son.

No. That wasn’t true. He could. But he wouldn’t. He had an example to set.

“Yo, what’s going on here? Will, is everything alright?”

The suit suddenly broke eye contact with Jack and turned to a short dude dressed in an obnoxious hoodie and flip flops.

“Everything is just fine, Mr. Stark,” he said, all prim and proper. “This guy’s just impeding the walkway.”

Mr. Stark—fuck, that explained a lot—had to be around Jack’s age. He had dark eyelashes and was probably pretty in other parts of the city. But here? Nah, a pretty man was a working man and this guy, for all his unshaven jaw and tousled hair, was not it.

“Alright, so move, man,” Stark said towards Jack. “It’s public property. You don’t own it.”

“You don’t either,” Jack pointed out to another uproar in the crowd.

Stark chewed on his tongue and chuckled.

He held his hands up.

“That’s fair,” he said. “Leave it, Will. He’s not bothering anyone.”

Will the Suit blustered all over.

“He’s assaulted me, sir,” he said, pointing at his lip. “Not to mention, he’s obviously out here to rile up the crowd.”

“I’m just out here to pick up my son,” Jack snapped.

“So pick him up and get out of the fuckin’ way already,” Will growled.

Ho, ho, motherfucker.

Jack did not move. He held the guy’s eye.

“Daddy.” Matt’s little hands found their way to his wrist.

He was scared. And the thought sent another ripple of heat through Jack’s body.

This was their neighborhood. This was Matt’s home. Jack’s home. And he wouldn’t be treated like shit in it. He wouldn’t teach Matt to bow his head to people with more money.

“You heard your kid,” Will the suit said, “Good to know the next generation here’s got some kinda brains in their heads. Lay off.”

“You ain’t better than us,” Jack spat. He stood up tall and breathed slow. “None of you. This is our city, not yours. So get the fuck out. We don’t need your fuckin’ money, Stark.” He twisted his head to make direct eye contact with this man and his tousled hair and eyelashes.

This wasn’t about some shithead in a suit anymore.

Stark tipped his own face slowly to the side.

“You got guts,” he said. “But honestly, man, you all actually could use my money. You got holes in your shirt, friend. You think—”

“We’d rather have a park than a store we can’t afford to buy from,” Jack said.

“So shop somewhere else,” Stark replied with wide hands. “But this isn’t about a store, you know. This is about an office; a whole five floors of new jobs—”

“Yeah, as janitors,” A gal with a sign on her shoulder said, squirming out of the crowd. “As service people to the rich lapdogs you drag in here to do your business for you.”

“You’d have new patrons for your fine establishments,” Stark said calmly to her.

“Oh sure, I bet they’d flock here, yeah,” the gal drawled. “Them and their pretty white families, with all their pretty, GAP clothes. And you know what they’d do, Stark? They’d start complaining about the quality of our ‘fine establishments.’ They’d start demanding shit we can’t afford, to the point where we’d have to find ways to afford ‘em, just so that we could make an honest living—and by then, our own moms and neighbors wouldn’t be able afford to pay for our so-called fine services.”

“So they would go somewhere else, and you would still be making a profit,” Stark reasoned.

“I should be able to do laundry at the laundromat closest to my house,” the gal pointed out to a chorus of support. “It’s not about money. It’s about community.”

Stark huffed.

“And what a community it is,” he said sarcastically. “You got this guy out here, punching people on the streets ‘cause he can’t keep his kid under control, you got used needles on every corner, trash piling up in the gutters—you call that ‘community?’”

“I call it poverty,” the woman said.

“Business and investment will help alleviate—”

“Mr. Stark,” the woman interrupted, “For all them brains in your head, you sure aren’t good at thinking. Or listening. So why don’t you just take a moment for the next minute and practice. Just listen. Look at me—really look, sir.”

Stark did, but he made it real clear that he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart.

“If you really cared about poverty,” the gal said slowly, “You and all your war money and all your millionaire and billionaire friends would fund community programs. Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t need new businesses, Mr. Stark. We have plenty of our own. What we need are services. Better services. More services. We need people who want to help us as people. Not clients. Not customers. As a community of human beings. And until you really, truly understand what that means, you and your friends aren’t welcome here in Hell’s Kitchen. So, sir, what do you say?”

The crowd fell silent. Jack lifted his chin and stared down at Stark around it just in case he or his security detail got any ideas.

Stark glanced up at him, then back at the woman and then, for the briefest second, at Matt barely peeking out from behind Jack’s hip.

He cleared his throat.

“Well, I see that we’re not welcome here,” he said. “Perhaps we can table this discussion for now due to community concerns, which I’m sure we can overcome in the future. What do you say, Miss?”

“Mrs,” the woman corrected. “I say you’re welcome to try as many times as you want.”

Stark looked her over and scoffed.

“Oh, I will,” he said, “I got this little thing called ‘spite’ in me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman said peacefully.

Stark didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. He puffed himself up and told his guards that he was ready to go. This visit was not worth extending.

The crowd parted to let him and his suits through and was more or less quiet as they all watched him get in his fancy car and drive away.

Jack felt the tension in his shoulders settled down. He stroked a hand over Matt’s hair.

“Thanks for the rescue, Bess,” he said.

Bess beamed up at him.

“Anytime, Jackie,” she said. “Anytime.”

—

AHEM.

Bess Mahoney was Hell’s Kitchen’s main superhero before DD. Thank you and good night.

[starry-satoru]

EXO’s Xiumin Scenario: How Would You Feel?

A/N: I’m so happy to be back into writing! Thank you to the lovely person who requested this. Xiumin is my Exo bias, which may show quite clearly in this writing. Hope you enjoy! Also, this is inspired a little bit by Ed Sheeran’s song “How Would You Feel”. 10/10 recommend 

Genre: A little angst and fluff

Warnings: Minor cursing

Word Count: 2.6 k

Requested?: Yes

   Your little fist was clutched tightly around a freshly picked batch of dandelions from the playground. Your heart was beating faster than it ever had up to that point in your life. Minseok stood in front of you, head cocked curiously to the side, his eyes watching you carefully as you approached him. You thrust your hand forward and looked at your sneakers.

   “Here, Minnie, these are for you,” you mumbled. His face lit up as he took the flowers and you mustered the courage to look him in the eye. 

   “Wow, thanks, (Y/N).” You blushed deeply and said the next words in a heated rush, “I really like you, Minnie.” 

   He smiled slightly, “I like you, too, (Y/N). You’re my best friend.” With that, he gave you a side hug and giggled. “Hey, race you to the swingset,” he challenged, taking off in a run. You sighed and followed after him. Your best friend.

   You shake yourself from the memory. It’s amazing how something that happened years ago can stick with you. That was the first and only time you confessed your feelings for Minseok. They persisted for several years after the incident, but they have finally subsided to a dull ache in your chest. Of course, you still loved him. After all, you were best friends. 

   “(Y/N)!” 

   You whirled around at the call of your name. Minseok was rushing towards you, arms wide open, a childish glint in his eyes. He always transported you back in time, made you wonder what could have been. 

   “Minnie!” You shouted in return, wrapping your arms around him once he finally closed the distance between the two of you. 

   “I’ve missed you,” he said, squeezing your body tight. 

   “I’ve missed you, too. How was the tour?” You ask, pulling away and giving him a bright smile. Exo had just returned from yet another world tour, their biggest yet, to be precise. You were so proud of your best friend for all of his accomplishments, but damn did you miss him.

    “Amazing, you wouldn’t believe, (Y/N). The stadiums we played and our fans, it was all more than I could have hoped for,” he said wistfully. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about performing made you want to get lost in them, but you couldn’t afford that. Instead, you looked down at the bag hanging in Minseok’s grip.

   “What’s that, Minnie?” He looks down at the bag in surprise, like it’s the first time he’s seen it. 

   “Oh, yeah. This is for you. A little gift from your favorite idol.” He winked and handed you the bag. You rolled your eyes and reached into it, your fingers folding around a flat object. Pulling it out, you couldn’t help but giggle. It was their most recent album.

    “You know I buy every version of all of your albums already, right?” He nodded and motioned for you to open the actual album. 

   “Yeah, but this one is special, trust me.” He was practically bursting with energy, bouncing on his toes. Man, he looked like a kid in a candy shop. He never really grew up. You carefully open up the album, eyes searching for what exactly made this album so much different from the others. Then you notice the black squiggles in the corner.

   “Uh, Minseok, did you sign an album for me?” You tried to keep your laughter at bay while he gave you a look of exasperation.

   “No, no. Ugh, it’s Suho’s signature! I know how he’s your bias, so I asked him to sign a copy for you. I thought it would take more convincing than it did, but, look, he even put hearts!” He pointed excitedly at the tiny hearts that decorated the page. 

   You smiled slightly and pulled him into another hug. “Thanks, Minnie. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.” He shrugged nonchalantly and flashed his cute, gummy smile.

Your bias wasn’t Suho. Sure he was great and an amazing leader, but your bias was standing right in front of you. Of course, you would never tell him that, so when he questioned you about your bias in Exo, you had to pick someone. So, Suho it was.

   “Are you ready for dinner now?” He asked, holding out his arm for you to grab. You hooked your arm around his and nodded. To anyone with eyes, you would have looked exactly like the perfect couple. But you were only best friends.

   A few weeks later you found yourself at yet another dinner with Minseok, but this time the entirety of Exo was joining in. Okay, technically you were joining in on their dinner, but you were invited by the leader himself apparently, so you weren’t intruding. Minseok sat across from you, looking as handsome as ever. You always wondered how he can manage to look so damn good but still boyishly cute at the same time. You were convinced it was in his eyes, your favorite feature of his. They held so much love and tenderness as well as mischief and playfulness. You mentally cursed yourself at your feelings. Minseok was your best friend, nothing more. And that was okay, you told yourself. 

   “Are you having fun, (Y/N)?” Suho leaned over and whispered in your ear over the noise of the boys. Despite his soft tone, he startled you, causing you to jump back slightly. 

   He smiled sweetly and rested a hand on your arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

   You laughed and shook your head. “No worries, I’m just jumpy. I’m having fun, thank you for inviting me. I hope Minseok didn’t bother you about it too much.” 

   He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Minseok didn’t bother me about it at all. It was my decision. I wanted you here.” 

   You could feel your face reddening by the second. Suho wanted you here? “I-I, sorry. I just thought Minseok was the one that insisted on me being here.”

   “Hey, Minseok can’t be the only one to want you around,” he said shyly, looking down at the floor. You glanced over at Minseok, who was already eyeing the two of you. When you caught his gaze he shot you a playful smile and turned back to bothering Sehun.

   “(Y/N)?” You turned your attention back to the man beside you. “I like you and I would love the chance to get to know you better. Would you like to go on a date with me next weekend?” Your heart stopped and your eyes fluttered about nervously until they landed on Minseok. The man you have loved since you were seven. Your confidant. Your rock. Your best friend.  You tore your gaze away and made your decision. 

“Yes, Suho. I would love to.” 

   Later that night as you were laying in bed, your phone dinged with a series of texts popping up on the screen.

10:58 PM // Minnie: Soooo, I heard someone has a little date next weekend

10:58 PM // Minnie: I had to hear it from Suho

10:58 PM // Minnie: Why didn’t you tell me?? I’m your best friend

Your heart clenched at his last message. 

11:00 PM // You: Sorry, Minnie. I got caught up in the excitement of the night and forgot when I got home :/

   The truth is that telling him would have felt too final. Your silly heart still wanted to hold onto hope.

11:01 PM // Minnie: I forgive you this time. But you have to let me know everything afterward because I know Suho won’t spill shit 

   You giggled and shook your head. 

11:02 PM // You: Of course, Minnie. I’m going to sleep now, it’s late and I have work tomorrow. Goodnight :)

11:02 PM // Minnie: Goodnight, (Y/N)... 

   You chewed your bottom lip in thought. An ellipsis?? He had never used those on you before. What was he not saying? You almost asked him when you shook your head and placed your phone face down on the night table before turning over. So much for sleep. Those three dots had you tossing and turning all night.

   As the week dragged on, your contact with Minseok become less frequent. His messages became short and he didn’t even respond when you asked him about which dress you should wear on your date. This was unlike him but you just assumed he was busy. It was the night before your date with Suho and you were trying your best to relax. You had a face mask on and some shitty celebrity news show on the television. It was mainly for background noise as you scrolled through your phone. You had reached the end of your feed when you heard a familiar name from the TV. 

   “EXO’s Xiumin pictured out with a new mystery girl. Hm, is the oldest EXO member officially off the market?”

    A picture of Minseok cozied up to a girl in a cafe flashed on the screen. You had no clue who she was. Maybe that’s why Minseok has been so distant lately, you thought. You shook your head and shut the TV off. You decided to ask Minseok directly. He’s your best friend, there are no secrets between you, right? 

8:32 PM // You: When you were gonna tell me you were seeing someone new, Minnie? I want to hear all about her!!

   That was a blatant lie, but you desperately wanted him to respond. You stared at your phone as the dreaded ‘read’ popped up under your message. He never responded. Tears filled your eyes but you blinked them back. Puffy eyes from crying yourself to sleep was not the look you were going for.

   Nervous butterflies had made themselves at home in the pit of your stomach as you got ready for your date. Suho had texted you telling you how excited he was and you smiled a genuine smile for the first time that week. You were determined to make this a fresh start. You had tried dating in the past to get over Minseok, but they hadn’t worked so you gave up trying for a while. Suho was different, at least you hoped he would be. As six o’clock rolled around, you were preparing to leave your apartment and head to the restaurant to meet Suho. You went through a mental checklist of things you needed to have before leaving. Phone? Check. Lipstick? Check. Keys? Check. You opened the door to leave. Minseok? Check. 

   “Minseok?”

   He stood at your door, out of breath and disheveled. “(Y/N).” That’s all he could breathe out. 

   “W-what are you doing here?” You nervously wrapped your arms around yourself and avoided his eyes.

    “I’m here for you,” he said, his voice shaking. 

   “For me?” You were genuinely confused. “Did Suho send you to get me or something?”

   Minseok let out a short laugh and shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Quite the opposite actually. He would rather me not be standing at your doorstep right now.”

   “Minseok, I don’t understand.”

    “I know, I know. Can I come in? I’ll explain everything.” 

  You sighed and opened your door for him to come through. He immediately collapsed onto your couch and ran a hand through his messy hair. You stood in front of him nervously, pressing your lips together tightly. 

   “(Y/N),” he started, “How would you feel if I told you I loved you?” His words knocked the breath from your lungs.

   “Min-Minseok, you tell me you love me all the time. You know I love you, too.” 

   He shook his head adamantly. “If I told you I really loved you, (Y/N). More than as a friend.” His eyes were desperately searching yours the way your own had done to his many times before. You couldn’t respond. He sighed and reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

   “(Y/N), do you remember what you gave to me on the playground that day when we were little kids?” He stood up and walked to your frozen figure, his wallet in his grip. You slowly nodded, finally looking in his eyes. For once, they were unreadable. He reached into the fold of his wallet, his fingers searching for something between the crisp, new bills. When he pulled his hand away, there was a pressed, dry, dandelion between his fingers. 

   “I have kept this with me ever since. It’s been my good luck charm. It was with me when I auditioned for SM. It was there for Exo’s debut, and it was right there with me for every last one of our tours. (Y/N), you’ve always been with me, and I don’t know why it has taken me this long to realize it, but I need you here with me. Actually with me.” Your eyes stared down at the fragile little flower in his palm and a tear slipped out of the corner of your eye. 

   “Minnie, I-,” you cut yourself off, trying to choke back the other tears threatening to spill. 

   “(Y/N), just answer that one question for me, okay? I promise I’ll leave you alone if you want nothing to do with me. How would you feel if I told you I loved you?” You looked up at him and saw his eyes brimming with tears as well. Within a second you were pulling him into your embrace and burying your face in the crook of his neck. He slowly wrapped his arms around you and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief.

   “I would feel like the luckiest woman in the world, Kim Minseok. I love you, too. Really love you.” 

   He pulled you onto the couch with him and held you close, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck. That’s when you caught a glimpse of the clock and shot straight up.

   “Minnie, what about Suho?” 

   “Don’t worry, I talked to him. He did like you, but I think deep down he knew my feelings before I did. He told me it was your decision, and if you wanted me, he would respect that,” he told you, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. You nodded and pulled out your phone to send a message to Suho, explaining everything in the best manner possible. A moment later he had responded.

6:15 PM //  Suho: It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m happy for both of you. 

   You smiled sadly before putting your phone away, relaxing back into Minseok’s side. He carefully stroked your hair, something he had done thousands of times over the years, but this felt different. Everything felt different now. His touch, his presence, his words, his eyes. All because he was yours… 

   “Wait, Minnie?” He hummed in response. “Who was that girl with you at the cafe?”

   A laugh escaped his lips and you turned to look at him. “Don’t worry. She’s a trainee I am mentoring for a new project with SM. The press will distort anything, but my manager is supposed to be handling it.” 

   “Oh, but why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?” You swatted his chest playfully.

   “I don’t know. My emotions and mind have been all over the place this past week. Every time I saw your name on my screen I lost track of all my thoughts.” 

   “Hmm,” you rested your head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. “I can’t believe you love me, Minseok,” you whispered, your fingers grasping onto his shirt tightly. His finger found its way under your chin and tilted your face up to meet his.

   “Believe it, because I’m not going anywhere.” 

   Your eyes wandered down to his lips, territory that was once forbidden but now seemed as inviting as ever. Minseok closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours, loving and playful all at once, just like Minseok. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The love of your life.

[yougotthatbilly]

Electric

→ member: wong yukhei → genre: fluff | crack → song rec: electric x alina baraz & khalid → word count: 9.3k ↳ summary: yukhei is very easy to fall for, and that’s okay.

You’re a great friend.

You’d much rather be in bed scrolling on your phone with a movie playing for background noise after your shift today, but right as you hopped out of the shower, Mark called.

And now you’re pulling up to the diner down the street that stays open until the wee hours of the morning with Yerim to meet up with her boyfriend and his close friend. Mark had double booked himself and didn’t have the heart to cancel on either people so he asked (read: begged) you to come along so his friend wouldn’t be a third wheel, with the promises of free food and his friend being attractive and cool people.

Who are you to pass up free food?

The pair of you spot Mark quickly when you step into the diner, his friend beside him and tall even when slouched, his elbow on the table before him and attention on his phone. Mark stands to greet the two of you, giving you a hug and whispering another thank you in your ear and giving Yerim a chaste kiss before he swats the male beside him on the arm. His friend blinks up confusedly before realizing you and Yerim have arrived, pocketing his phone instantly and you’re met with the sight of wide eyes, a button nose, and pink, plump lips.

“Hi, I’m Yukhei,” he introduces himself with a smile, reaching over the table to shake Yerim’s hand before moving to you.

Well, Mark was definitely right about him being good looking, his smile and raspy voice causing you to falter before shaking his hand and telling him your name as well because wow. His golden brown hair is messily parted off-center and pushed back, his shoulders broad under his black hoodie.

He sure is a sight for sore eyes.

Yerim discreetly pats your thigh, already having a good idea of what you’re thinking without even having to look at you because she can read your body language exceptionally well after all these years.

“You’re really gorgeous,” Yukhei compliments, followed by, “and your hands are really soft.”

Both you and Yerim are left blinking at him, watching as he flips your hand to run his fingertips over your palm, and your heart skips a beat at his bluntness and actions.

Mark sighs deeply, not looking surprised at his actions like you and his girlfriend are, but instead over it. “Yukhei.”

He just smiles and slowly lets go of your hand, letting his finger drag before folding his hands in front of him. “Sorry.”

You can’t help but return his smile due to how he doesn’t look nor sound apologetic one bit. “It’s cool. You’re pretty cute, too.” And Yerim’s hand is back with more persistence because your comment has the male in front of you biting his lip, happy the feeling is mutual.

Oh, he is fine.

From then, Yukhei doesn’t care to be discreet about his interest in you or how much he enjoys looking at you, and you don’t mind, being in the same boat. When you speak, you’ve got his undivided attention (he missed his mouth when trying to eat a fry one time), when you laugh at the banter between Yerim and Mark, Yukhei is smiling in your direction. You occasionally find your eyes wandering over to him throughout the night, even when he’s not speaking, not bothering to divert your attention immediately when he catches you, instead, giving him a tiny smile that he returns before looking down at your food or the couple to the right of you.

(You find out Mark had no qualms paying for you because he had enough points on the restaurant’s app to get a free meal. You still help with the tip, though.)

Yerim and Mark break away from the small group as you exit the diner, Yerim leaning into your side to whisper that there’s something she needs to discuss with him really quickly, leaving you and Yukhei in front of the diner. He’s leaning against the wall coolly, looking at you as you just kind of stand there.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“Shoot.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Wasn’t really expecting you to really shoot your shot when I said that,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “No, I do not have a boyfriend.”

“You talking to anyone?” Another shake of your head. “Can we exchange numbers, then? I’d really like to see you again.”

You pull your phone out of your jeans, unlock it and hand it to him, soon getting it back to see the smirking emoji next to his name and that he texted himself from your phone.

“Will you actually text me or ignore everything I say?”

You shrug, forcing your lips not to curve up. “I guess we’ll see.”

Before he can counter you, the couple is back and goodbye hugs are given, first between you and Mark and Yerim and Yukhei, then the latter in walking up to you with a faint smirk and outstretched arms. Whatever cologne he’s wearing makes your eyes flutter shut, your arms coming up to return the embrace.

“Let me know when you’ve made it home, ‘kay?” His voice vibrates the side of your face and you nod briefly, cheek rubbing against soft, dark cotton.

◅ ▻

“Hey, babe. Watcha doin’?”

“Getting ready,” you answer, putting Yerim on speakerphone to resume doing so.

“Ooo, where ya headed?”

You take a skeptical glance down at your phone. “Something tells me you already know.”

There’s a moment of silence as you sweep your hair back into a ponytail before she speaks again. “Yeah. Mark told me.” You snort. “What are you wearing?”

“The dress you got me for my birthday,” you supply, adjusting your spanks under the loose but still flattering blue sundress in question.

You can practically hear the smirk on her face as she asks, “Hmm, so we’re showing some skin today?”

Shaking your head, you hum to confirm, pulling out your makeup bag from underneath your bathroom sink. When he saw you last week you had messy hair, a thin sweatshirt, and jeans on with sneakers. Of course you want to make a better impression this time, especially since it’ll just be the two of you. And on top of that, it’s pushing ninety degrees outside.

“Aw, does this mean we can go on double dates and shit?”

“We’ll see how today goes.”

It’s twelve-thirty when Yukhei knocks on your front door, clad in a simple white tee and light-washed jeans, looking like something right out of a magazine. He’s all smiles when you open the door, long fingers brushing his locks back and out of his face as he greets you. Once your door is locked he leads you to his Tundra, opening the passenger’s side door for you before jogging to the driver’s seat, leaving you briefly to nibble at the inside of your cheek at his chivalry.

“Have you eaten?” Yukhei asks, starting up his truck.

“Mhm. ‘Bout an hour ago.”

He hums, fingers tapping rhythmically against his steering wheel, the sound stealing your attention as he takes some time to think. His hands are gorgeous.

“How does the Boardwalk sound?”

“I’m down,” you nod.

The first trip is to the shop that sells both frozen yogurt and boba tea, Yukhei getting a concoction of fruity flavored froyo and making a face when you order avocado boba. The Boardwalk isn’t empty but definitely not packed like it gets on Friday and Saturday evenings, the people here walking in summer attire, some feeding ducks and turtles, others riding in pedal boats, and the happy squealing and laughing of the children in the playground all coming together to match the mood and weather today.

The pair of you stroll down the main path, over a small bridge.

“I didn’t even know avocado boba was a thing,” Yukhei scrunches his nose, eyeing the plastic cup in your hand.

“You’re missing out. It’s the only thing I get.” He watches in interest as you take a sip, a few tapioca balls slipping up the straw along with blended ice, milk, and avocado. You lift the cup to his face when he can’t seem to take his eyes off of it. “Try it.”

He hesitates, then his plump lips wrap around the straw and he takes a baby sip, to which you roll your eyes at because you need more than that to get a good taste. Not even two seconds later his face twists up and he’s coughing, gagging a bit with his tongue out, being extra, and if you roll your eyes any harder they’ll fall out of your head. His theatrics stop the motion of your feet and bystanders stare at him in worry and funnily. Granted, it may be an acquired taste, you weren’t the biggest fan of it your first time trying it but he’s acting like it’s the worst thing he’s ever—

“Wait,” he smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times, giving you whiplash at the lack of transition between his dramatics and how calm he just became. His hand covers yours to bring the straw back in between his lips to get another taste, and your body feels a warmth that has nothing to do with the blazing sun at the feeling and sight of his palm dwarfing it. “That’s not that bad.”

He softly nudges your arm at the completely done expression you shoot him.

Small talk isn’t dreadful with him, and it’s no surprise because from the first meeting you could already tell he has no problem in the communication department, and you aren’t so bad yourself in most cases. Not to mention over the course of the week, texting had been smooth (and full of memes).

You migrate to a bench on the opposite side of the parking lot in which he parked in, the view of ducks, some turtles, and a couple of swans minding their business in the body of water ahead. The tree above you gives the perfect amount of shade.

“This weather makes me wanna go to the beach,” you muse, crossing your legs and slouching into the wood behind you.

“We could make that happen,” Yukhei shrugs. “The four of us could take a day trip or something.”

You hum, nodding your head to his idea while nibbling on a few tapioca balls. “You seem like the type to pick people up and throw them into the water,” you eye him with faux weariness, and he just smiles brightly, nodding to confirm your suspicions.

“It’d be the best beach trip you’ve ever been on,” he sing-songs confidently, draping his arm along the top of the bench behind your shoulders. “You got any other plans for the summer?”

Plans that consist of mostly chilling and working get discussed, following topics ranging in importance; from what your majors and minors are, which universities you go to (to which you find out he lives in the town south of the one your currently seated in), to one of your favorite animals being turtles and wanting to feed them. He graciously pays for the food to feed them, both of you purposely avoiding the ducks that try to get some and laughing at the one that gets angry and trips over its own feet.

Yukhei’s feet noticeably drag as he walks you to your door and his face shows he’s content with how today went but isn’t ready to part way just yet--or just isn’t ready to go into work, you’re not too sure.

“We should do this again,” he suggests once you’ve made it to your doorstep.

“Soon,” you agree. “I had a nice time.

“I’m glad,” he smiles that boyish smile that makes your stomach do something weird. “You think you’ll be up around one?”

“Probably, why?”

“I’ll call you after my shift?”

You’re going to lean more towards he isn’t ready to part ways side.

At the nod of your head he steps forward to softly pull you into his chest, mumbling he’ll talk to you later, you telling him to drive safely.

◅ ▻

The guy at the entrance of the grocery store greets you with a head nod and you do the same, pushing your cart at a slow speed as you think about where you want to start first. Your shift ended maybe thirty minutes ago and the only food waiting for you at home is a half-eaten bag of chips and maybe a bowl of cereal left in the box. You ate the last apple for breakfast and you almost had the mind to just grab some fast food on your way back home, but then that would mean you’d have to get up early in the morning to go grocery shopping or wait until the night because you refuse to go anytime in between.

Might as well make your way back and around.

Soon there’s a variety of fruits and vegetables, protein and a much needs bottle of salt in your cart. You don’t have to get much because you’re alone for the next month or so, you roommate in her hometown with her parents until school starts again. Water and juice are in a couple of aisles, your feet on autopilot while you yawn and rub your eye with your pointer-finger, not caring about your mascara flaking or giving you raccoon eyes.

In the midst of bending down to get a good grip on each side of the thirty-five pack of water bottles, two hands slide their way next to yours and lift it with ease, your body convulsing in its tired state and you don’t know if you want to punch or thank Yukhei because of the scare.

“You can’t just roll up on people like that,” you whine instead, hand on your chest as if it’ll calm your heartbeat, discreetly wiping under your eye now that you definitely do care about having raccoon eyes.

He just flashes you his signature smile, dipping down to fit the package on the very bottom of your cart. “Why are you full out grocery shopping so late?”

“I just got off and this is the best time to shop,” you supply, enjoying the height difference, moving a strand of hair out of his eye. “Why are you here so late?”

He uses your hand for leverage to stand to his full height, knees cracking along the way as he answers with, “Mark only has bullshit snacks like veggie chips and watermelon and I didn’t wanna take anything from Donghyuck’s stash.”

“Grandpa,” you snort, pushing the cart again. “I want some veggie chips now,” you hum to yourself, walking straight ahead to the chip aisle.

“You disgust me.”

“Glad the feeling is mutual,” you smile sweetly, stumbling when he bumps his hip into your side.

You learn that Yukhei’s idea of legit snacks are Hot Cheetos, ice cream, and powdered donuts, all in which he put into your cart, soon taking over said cart without you even realizing it until minutes pass.

“What else do you need to get?”

With a glance at your half-full cart, you shake your head, tiredness creeping up again and causing you to yawn just bread behind your hand.

“Long shift?”

You nod. Eight hours that felt like twice as much because customers really like to be a pain in the ass on Saturdays. “Closing sucks.”

“Get on the end of the cart,” Yukhei points.

“Huh?”

“Stand on the end of the cart,” he points with more aggression. “I’ll push you.”

You haven’t done that since you were a small child… but you still follow his instructions because who are you to say no to a man offering to push you around the store—and who are you kidding? You’re still very much a small child on the inside. He starts pushing you in the direction of the bread easily, getting a funny look from a kid holding his mom’s hand, and a fond one from his mom. There’s small smile that never seems to go away on Yukhei’s face as he strolls, face relaxed and content in the midst of making smooth turns. He catches how you’ve been admiring his features like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him all over again and his smile only grows, and you’d be enchanted by it if it weren’t for the new look in his eyes.

“What?” you inquire wearily. Your answer is his pace quickening gradually until he’s jogging, your fingers fisting the bars of the cart harder and harder the fast he goes, a dull pain coming from the metal but you pay no mind to it. “Yukhei!”

It’s clear how much he lives for the fear and excitement in your eyes. You’re definitely awake now. He turns down an empty aisle and starts to run, laughing maniacally at the screech you let out before becoming to an abrupt stop at the end of it, your body snapping forward at the force.

And then he does the same thing down the next aisle.

The fear that was running through your veins is replaced with pure adrenaline and elation by the third aisle, but a different fear soon replaces it when you look back at the way Yukhei’s face straightens and he slows down, a pissed looking security guard at the end of the aisle.

“Does the store need to put up a ‘No Horseplaying’ sign up like a Kindergarten classroom?” he deadpans, eyeing you as you quietly get down to stand next to Yukhei. “This is a grocery store. Stop being disruptive.”

There are literally five people here. And Yukhei seems to read your mind because soon he’s speaking up to say, “with all due respect, there’s nobody he—”

The grumpy guard interrupts with a raised hand.“Don’t make me repeat myself, or I will personally carry you out,” is said before he turns on his heels and walks away, leaving the two of you with your heads down, both biting the inside of your lips to stop yourselves from cracking up until the faint tap of hits boots disappears.

Yukhei’s the first to let a chuckle out, and it’s only a domino effect after that because then your laughs feed off of each other’s until you’re both fill out guffawing, Yukhei wiping the tear that slips down your cheek.

“Shh,” you try to calm down, not wanting the grumpy old man to come back and personally carry you out, “Let’s go. Your ice cream is probably soft by now.”

Giggles are still let out as you check your items out at the self-checkout station, smiles still in places as the warm night air hits you when the automatic doors open for you. He helps you put your groceries into your trunk and gives you the longest bear hug, rocking side to side and making you tired all over again. His scent is so relaxing, his warmth calming. You don’t recall ever being so comfortable so quickly with someone, but Yukhei doesn’t really leave room for awkwardness and you’re sure even the most awkward person would crawl out of their shell fairly quickly with him. Only Yukhei can turn a simple night of grocery shopping into a night of almost getting kicked out of the damn grocery store and manage to have your heart beating wildly and stomach flipping from more than just the thrill.

You push your next set of thoughts to the back of your mind with a deep sigh.

“If you don’t let go I’m gonna fall asleep right here and now,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes closed and arms making no move to let go.

His words vibrate the side of your face as he replies with, “I’m cool with that,” arms squeezing you a little tighter.

“But I have to drive home,” you whine lowly.

“Fine, you big baby,” he sighs, letting go and picking his bags up from the roof of your car. “When am I seeing you again?”

“We can plan that tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Yukhei nods, slowly walking backward.

“Alright,” you parrot, unlocking your car and opening the door.

“Okay.”

“Mhm.”

“Cool.”

“Yukhei.”

“Sorry,” he pouts. “I haven’t seen you in like a week and I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can see your beautiful face again.”

You’re stuck between being flustered and gagging at his cheesiness, choosing something near the ladder choice by sighing and rolling your eyes.

“You’ll see my beautiful face in a few days if our schedules allow it. Now good night, Yuk.”

The last thing you see before swooping down into your car is the smirk on his face from the nickname slipping out of your mouth.

◅ ▻

When Yukhei said what he had planned for the two of you was ‘super chill,’ you had a hard time believing it. Granted, the first couple times you were with him were laid back, but with how your grocery run went and how his voice was a little too nonchalant when discussing when you’d go through with said plan, you were weary but didn’t ask further questions. And now a couple of days later you realize you indeed had great reason to be skeptical.

“Wear a bathing suit.”

You blink at him through your phone screen. “A what now?”

“You know, what you wear to swim in,” he elaborates as he unlocks his truck, swooping inside of it. You can’t even tell if he’s actually serious or being a smartass.

“Yes, I kno—”

“Great, I’ll be there in fifteen.” And the FaceTime call ends, leaving you to stare blankly at your lock screen.

You do as told, shaking your head as you switch your bra and panties out for a two piece under your shorts and graphic tee. Soon you get a text him telling you he’s outside, and he smiles brightly at you as you buckle your seatbelt. The ride is short, and you find yourself in an apartment complex you’ve never been in, parked in front of a pool.

A closed pool.

“You’re kidding,” you scoff.

Yukhei beams, grabbing a gym bag from the back that reminds you that you didn’t bring a towel or spare clothes because it really didn’t occur to you that you’d be sneaking into a fucking pool in the middle of the night, and tonight of all nights there’s a breeze.

You judge yourself for not questioning him and just going along with his shenanigans. He climbs the fence easily with his long and sturdy limbs, gracefully jumping down and onto the ground on the other side of the locked, black fence. You don’t get up with quite as much finesse, your feet slipping because Birkenstocks have no damn grip, and you don’t even have to look at Yukhei to know he’s smiling at your struggles. Eventually, you make it to the top and look down at him to see his arms held out, and you don’t think twice before falling into them bridal style.

“This is your idea of a super chill night?”

“Is relaxing in a pool without a bunch of obnoxious children around not chill to you?” he raises a thick brow, having yet to put you down.

“You are an obnoxious child, Yukhei,” you deadpan. He pretends to drop you (and you let out the ugliest choked scream) before letting you find your footing.

He doesn’t waste time in stripping; his shirt, Adidas sweats and socks in a messy pile beside his shoes within seconds and you barely get the time to appreciate the new amount of skin shown because he’s running, then his long limbs are curling into a ball, the impact of his cannonball strong enough to have water splashing onto you.

The water is fucking freezing.

“Jesus—fuck it’s cold,” Yukhei emerges, shaking his hair and resembling a puppy. “Hurry up and come in.”

You snort. There’s no way in hell. Freezing water plus the wind blowing? Pft.

You kick your sandals off next to his slides and pad over to the edge of the pool, sitting down and very slowly putting your feet into the water until it’s at your knees.

“I’m not trying to get sick,” you roll your eyes at his puppy eyes. “I didn’t bring or a towel.”

“And you think I didn’t?” Yukhei scoffs, walking up to you. You get the chance to let your eyes roam this time, and he’s nothing but lean muscle. You quite literally have to force your eyes to meet his own again when he’s made it in between your legs, a knowing look in his iris.

“I mean you’re not the wisest guy out--”

He cuts your sentence off with a sassy hand in your face. “I brought two towels and some clothes for you.”

“So you just knew it would slip my mind to bring some, huh?”

“Nah,” he breathes, running slow hands up the sides of your legs from under the water. “I just wanted to see you in my clothes.” The cocktail of his honesty and gentle touch are enough to have your head dizzy, and at this very moment, you realize how weak you already are for him. If you were in this position with any of the guys from your past you know you would’ve mushed them in the forehead and laughed, but you’re already convinced.

“I’ll turn the heat up as high as you need on the way back,” he singsongs, clearly already knowing he’s got you hooked, a twinkle in his eye. Large hands stop their journey at your knees, palms covering them before taking their times back down your shins. “Pwease?”

You gag. “If you ever say ‘pwease’ again I swear I’ll block you.”

He pays no mind to your empty threat and instead focuses on how you lift your shirt up and off of your torso, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin, only snapping out of his trance when you gently flick him upside the forehead. You stand to remove your shorts. Descending down the stairs takes way too long because once the water hits even just an inch higher up on your legs than before, your first reaction is to freeze until it’s bearable. Yukhei is over the awe of seeing you with little clothing and over you in general by the time it takes more than a minute just for the chlorinated water to be mid-thigh, swimming up to you and encircling your waist with his arms to pull you down and flush into his chest. He laughs at the shriek you let out, telling you to hush before you get the two of you caught, and your instincts tell you to stay as close to Yukhei as possible to steal his warmth.

“See, it’s not so bad.”

You grumble something incoherent and his hold on you tightens in retribution. It’s actually not bad at all after the freezing of your blood passes, being in his arms like this. The contrast of his hard torso with your soft chest, the way you feel his heart beating at a faster pace than deemed normal. Matching your own.

He’s right. This is relaxing. You wouldn’t mind staying like this until the two of you are prunes.

It’s a little surprising how it suddenly becomes quiet; no teasing or usual banter going on. Just the two of you standing near the steps in the shallow end wrapped in each other’s embrace and listening to the faint sounds of your breaths and the occasional sound of cars passing by in the distance, seemingly both deep in thought and enjoying the proximity.

It’s intimate, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t scarily so.

Yerim’s text tone interrupts your thoughts and the silence and you almost choose to ignore it, but then it sounds a few more times back to back. You reluctantly push away and through the water to get where your clothes are sitting, Yukhei reluctantly letting you go, and use your shirt to dry your hands before getting your phone out of your shorts.

Her messages are not as important or urgent as you figured they’d be, just a screenshot of a conversation some guy from Instagram tried to have with her and her laughing about it, in addition to a couple of memes.

The water sloshing behind you is the only warning you have before arms are caging you in, Yukhei’s head hanging over your shoulder. He presses forward until you’re against the concrete edge, flush against your back.

“This is okay, right?” his deep voice vibrates against your skin, halting the movement of your thumbs on your screen. Goosebumps form along your body and you shiver for reasons other than the weather, and there’s a kitten lick of arousal in your gut. “I’m not going to fast for you, am I?”

You look up and to your right and consequently, Yukhei lifts his head, genuinely worried eyes staring down into your own. Granted, this is only your fourth time seeing him, but it’s your first time sensing anything other than confidence, and something else takes a lick. It makes you feel better that you aren’t the only one who isn’t completely sure about this thing you have going on, but at the same time, you’d rather not think so hard about how you feel and what exactly is happening, you just want to let it happen. And at that thought, you put your phone down to reach a hand behind his neck, guiding his face to be even closer to yours. Yukhei’s eyes roam your face slowly, checking the sincerity of your actions in your eyes, then dropping down to your parted lips, his tongue poking out briefly to wet his own before he dips down to close the distance.

His soft, pillowy lips lightly brush against yours once, deep exhales coming out of both of your noses. There’s this current that goes through your body even at such an innocent kiss, and you let yourself revel in it.

“I’ll take that as a yes? And a no?” he mumbles, eyes fluttering open.

“Yes this is okay and no you’re not going too fast,” you giggle quietly, leaning back into his chest, eyes closing again. “It’s perfect.”

His wide palm rubs up and down your stomach, reeling you into a deep state of relaxation. “Yeah, perfect,” he hums.

The calming atmosphere disappears in the blink of an eye, your body jerking backward and submerging into the water. You struggle out of his grip to come back up for air, and the glare you send Yukhei as he rises up and rubs the water out of his eyes has him cackling madly. You lurch forward to slap a hand over his mouth while simultaneously hitting him on the shoulder gently for scaring the shit out of you like that.

He doesn’t pay any mind to your small hit and soon you’re being lifted by hands on your waist, but before he can throw you into the deeper end you wrap your legs above his hips, locking your ankles behind his back.

His eyes widen and you smirk in victory, your arms encircling his neck for extra security.

“You can’t be serious for long, can you?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” he grins, hands snaking down until they grip the very bottom of your ass, elated with the startled squeal you let out. “Hold on tight,” is his warning before you’re back underwater.

The rest of your time at the pool consists of seeing who can hold a handstand longer, childishly giving each other facefuls of water, you timing how long it takes for him to get from one side of the pool back to the other. It ends with wrinkly fingertips and toes, shaking bodies drying off with fluffy towels, and you drowning in his grey sweatpants and matching sweatshirt.

“If you let me take a picture of you right now I swear I’ll give you my entire wardrobe.”

“That’s a win-win situation for you, Yukhei,” you state dryly, adjusting the pants. “What am I getting out of it?”

He scoffs, getting his phone out. “Don’t act like you don’t love the way I smell, I’ve peeped it.”

He captures your pout at getting exposed.

Yukhei keeps his promise and turns the heat on, letting you adjust it as you please. The fingers of his free hand slide in between the spaces of your left hand, and when you’re out of the car they’re back. It’s like it gets harder to part ways each time it comes time to, Yukhei being ever the gentleman and walking you to your door again.

“Text me when you get back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The squeeze you give his hand is returned, but before you can let go and say goodnight, his grip doesn’t let up. Instead, he gently tugs you into him, placing another innocent peck on your lips.

“Good night.”

◅ ▻

“My feet hurt,” you pout.

Because what does Yerim do when she’s tired of being home on her day off and Mark is busy at work?  Beg you to run errands with her because you’re the only other person she wants to be with today. Errands that take all day, at that.

First on the list was lunch around twelve, where the two of you caught up on how work and finding more scholarships have been going, where she tried to get more information out of you about how you and Yukhei have been, which ended in her side eyeing you because you were short and vague. Grocery shopping happened after two and she bought you your favorite snack because she knows you don’t like being at the grocery store when everybody and their mother is there, too. And now, with her and Mark’s first anniversary coming up in a couple of weeks, you’re in the mall going from store to store to find the perfect dress, skirt, or romper for the occasion. She dresses very simply and while Mark loves her simplicity, she can’t exactly show up in mom jeans and a crop top to wherever he’s made reservations. You’ve been here for about two hours already, both of you losing sight of why you’re at the mall and getting distracted by people watching and buying match bathing suits in different colors.

“Mine, too,” Yerim mumbles distractedly, focusing on the dresses in front of her.

You look at the rack of clothes beside the one she’s observing. “Red, right?”

She hums.

You pull out the blood red dress from the back of the rack; a simple number with spaghetti straps, a neckline that would show a decent amount of cleavage and a slit that doesn’t seem too high. “How about this one?”

It doesn’t even take her a few seconds to say, “She the one.”

It fits her perfectly and the price isn’t so bad either, and you treat yourselves with food, only the choices in the food court aren’t really doing it for either of you today so you pick up Chinese on your way back to your place, the two settling on your living room floor with your plates on the coffee table.

“I’m thirsty,” Yerim pouts around her fork.

You roll your eyes and get up to get her a bottle of water without a word, and you don’t even have to turn around to see the way her eyes crinkle in an admittedly cute smile.

“I don’t have any cold water,” you raise your voice some, closing the fridge.

“Room temperature is fi—ooh your boo texted you.”

You grab her a bottle and make your way back to the living room embarrassingly quickly. Ignoring the smirk on her face, you hand her the water and reach for your phone simultaneously, sinking back down into your former position.

[6:23 pm] yukhei: you free tonight/tomorrow??

“What did he say? Why are you smiling?”

Your face straightens immediately. “Nothing.”

Her eyes squint at you. “Right.”

She doesn’t open her bottle nor does she resume eating in favor of watching you closely as you text him back.

[6:25 pm] you: possibly

And even when you’ve picked up your spoon, her eyes don’t move.

“What?”

“You confuse me.”

“How?”

Her face turns comically straight. “You get all smiley from a text, but when I was asking about him earlier you practically waved me off and gave me short answers.” You choose to stuff your mouth instead of answering her indirect question, but that only urges her to go on. “You usually tell me about the guys you’re seeing without me even having to ask… what’s different this time?”

You really didn’t want to have this conversation anytime soon, or at all to be honest. And you really weren’t expecting the conversation to happen with Yerim instead of Yukhei himself, but your best friend holds that very titled for a reason.

“Previous guys weren’t just here for a couple of months,” you mumble, shoving another spoonful of fried rice into your mouth.

Her head tilts. “I’m not following, babe.”

With a deep sigh, you drop your spoon on your plate and give Yerim your full attention like you know she’s silently been begging for since you say back down. “Previously guys never made me fall so quickly in just a month, Yerim. Previous guys that pursued me also lived right around the corner or attended the same school—well, except for Jungwoo.”

She takes the time to process your words.

“You think that this will all end once school starts again?” she concludes.

“I mean, why wouldn’t it? I’ve been cool with Mark for years and he’s just now coming around, only for the summer.”

The look of pity she shoots you along with the comforting hand on your thigh is exactly why you kept pushing these thoughts to the back of your mind.

“You really like him, huh?”

“That much is obvious, isn’t it?” you chuckle dryly. “Wasn’t exactly expecting legit feelings to come into the picture when he asked for my number. I was thinking it would end up like another Jungwoo after finding out he’s at least an hour away, you know? Fuck around little until school starts.”

“So you were just gonna let yourself continue to fall even though you—knew,” cue her air quotes, “that it was gonna be short-lived and you would end up sad?”

It sounds pretty dumb when she puts it that way.

“I’m just trying to live in the moment and not think about how I’ll feel when the time comes.” As bad as it may seem, you’d rather be happy and enjoy what you two have right now than to be alone or find someone else to keep you company in a way your friends can’t. Maybe you’d rather not find another guy because Yukhei is one of (if not the) most attractive guys you’ve ever laid eyes on, maybe because as far as you can tell, he’s the man of your dreams, or maybe because no one has ever made your heart beat as fast or stomach flip as much as he does. To be this comfortable with someone you just met is foreign even to someone as social as you, and while it’s scary, it’s something you don’t want to let go of until the actual time to comes. And if that’s when schools about to start again, then so be it.

“Have you two messed around?”

“Nah. Just a small kiss or two.”

Her brow arches and if it weren’t for the serious moment you have going on right now you know she’d be on your ass for not telling her sooner. “Define ‘small.’”

“Literal pecks.”

Yerim looks at you like you’re stupid. And the longer this conversation goes and the longer you think about the situation in your head, you start to think you might be. “And after that, you still thought it was just a summer fling,” she deadpans.

You shrug, though you know she has a point.

“Has he actually said or done anything to have you thinking whatever you two have going on wouldn’t progress beyond the summer?” You take a moment to wrack your brain and come up with nothing. You shake your head. “Has he said or done anything that made you think it wasn’t just a fling?”

This time when you think about it, multiple things resurface. “Last time we were together he was touchier than normal and though it wasn’t anything super bold he still asked if he was going too fast for me…” Her hand moves in a winding manner, telling you to tell her more. “He looked like he was really concerned that he was overstepping boundaries and not like he was just asking to be polite.”

“Anything else?”

“I was the one that initiated the kiss.”

Your phone dings twice.

[6:30 pm] yukhei: i get off at 10

[6:30 pm] yukhei: can i get you around 11 or 12?

“And you have the nerve to constantly clown Mark because he was shy,” Yerim scoffs. “You’re a whole dumbass.”

The corner of your lips tries to lift. “Shut up.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

You glance at the messages again. “Possibly later tonight.”

The hand on thigh squeezes. “Talk to him about this tonight, okay? Though I’m one-hundred percent sure he likes you as much as you like him or maybe even more, this is something you need to get cleared up by the primary source.”

Mark is really rubbing off on her.

“One-hundred percent, huh?”

“When I was at Mark’s the other day he wouldn’t stop looking at his phone and may or may not have been very vocal about how beautiful you are, inside and out.”

A wide smile takes over half of her face at the glare that appears on yours.

“You couldn’t have told me that in the beginning?”

She grabs your thigh again, “you needed to say certain things aloud to realize how much of an idiot you are and I wanted you to come to the realization on your own with a little push.”

Food is finished and the table is cleared, Yerim leaving soon after to go to Mark’s. You hop in the shower and come out with tired eyes and sluggish limbs, the day’s activities finally catching up with you, and you crawl into bed bundled in a hoodie and leggings. You turn the t.v on and try to stay in an upright position so you don’t fall asleep before Yukhei’s shift ends, but you fall before it even hits eight.

Your ringtone and your phone vibrating next to you wake you sometime later and you blindly reach for the rectangular device.

“Hello?” you croak, clearing your throat and trying again.

“Aw, you were asleep?”

Your eyes shoot open at the voice.

“Shit,” you mutter, checking the time.

A quarter past ten.

“I was calling to make sure you were alright since you didn’t text me back, but we can do something another day. Go back to sleep, love.”

“No, no. S’fine,” you push yourself up. “Tonight is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Jingling keys sound from the other end. “Alright. I’ll see you soon. Then.”

The warmth of Yukhei’s hand and the comfort of his thumb caressing your own plus his deep voice telling you about his day at work after you asked about his day is enough to lull you back into an unconscious state. Eyes that were once focused on his gorgeous profile become unfocused until you see that you’re downtown, and you remember you didn’t question where you’d be going and what you’d be doing.

You never do. And if that isn’t enough of a sign that you already have trust in him, you don’t know what would be. Your conversation from earlier with Yerim resurfaces. Tonight is the night you stop running away from confrontation, the night you get peace of mind.

Your confusion grows as he drives up to the roof of a vacant parking deck. With curious and half-lidded eyes you watch as he sets up the blankets and pillows in the back of his truck, and moments later you and Yukhei are side by side, laid out, both in hoodies he owns.

To be in the extended back of a truck, looking up at the stars in the middle of blankets after a long day is exactly what you need.

“You’re gonna fall asleep, aren’t you?”

“Most likely,” you hum, taking a glance at him to find him already looking down at you. “I’m tired and very comfortable now.”

The fond expression written on his face draws you closer to him. You wouldn’t mind falling asleep and waking up to this view.

“You want me to wake you up when the sun starts to rise?”

“Is stargazing and watching the sun set and rise that much of a cliche or did Yerim tell you what I like?”

“Mark told me you and Yerim indulge yourselves occasionally,” he shrugs, draping a long arm over your waist at the next proximity. “Plus, I like this kind of stuff, too.”

Positions shift until the side of your face in on his shoulder and you’re on your stomach, eyes slowly blinking up at the sky. You get a bit cuddly when you’re tired and there’s a warm body near, and Yukhei doesn’t seem to mind one bit, his arm gently squeezing you further into.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to get clarity on what the two of you are doing, but at the same time, it’s not even your hatred for confrontation, it’s also your pride that’s getting in the way. You don’t want to be that person that asks what are we. Plus, the silence is too nice to interrupt, so you let the rise and fall of his chest lull you closer and closer to dreamland.

Well, Yukhei doesn’t seem to think so when he clears his throat moments later.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” you mumble, a slow smile stretching your lips at the soft pinch he gives your side. “What’s up?”

He takes a few more moments to get his thoughts together before taking a deep breath. “Do you believe in pronoia?”

Ah, late thoughts. That’s why he’s been so quiet.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so. Do you?”

“Promise not to laugh or judge me?”

“I can’t promise th—” another pinch. “I promise.”

“Promise not to run away?”

Run away? Why would you do that?

You worriedly glance up at him. “Yukhei…”

“I’m staying with Mark for the summer because I needed to get away from home for a lot of reasons, and my life has just been shambles since last semester,” at the sight of him rubbing his lips together, looking like he’s contemplating if he should really continue or not, you sit up on your elbows to look down at him and try to convey with your eyes that this is a judgement-free zone and that you’re all ears. “I mean, I’m goofy as hell, but lately I’ve been having to fake it till I make it… but I don’t have to fake it with you.”

Oh.

He looks away from the stars above to gauge your reaction, and apparently takes your expression the wrong way. “I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything because we’ve only just begun whatever it is we’re doing a—”

You put your weight on one arm so that you can cup the side of his face, his words quickly dying on his tongue. You never doubted he had this side to him, you just weren’t expecting to witness it so soon, but you’re not complaining. You’re also not complaining because you’re glad this conversation has been brought up regardless of your overthinking.

“You don’t have to fake it with me?” He shakes his head. “Mind explaining why not?”

“You just…” Yukhei struggles, eyes trailing back up to the sky. “Things have been going really smoothly for me since I’ve met you? It could be a coincidence but I feel like it’s not.”

The last bit of tiredness washes away as you do your best to understand his words.

“So… you’re saying the universe…” you struggle to make the sentence make sense. “The universe put me into your life as a benefit?”

“It made more sense in my head,” he admits, sounding defeated. “You’re basically a good luck charm.” He takes another moment to words things correctly in his mind and you wait patiently, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “The day after I met you I got a call for an interview and got the job, and after that, I’ve had this motivation to patch things up at home and do better in general…” he trails off when your thumb stops. “I’m sorry this is a lot to put on you—”

You roll your eyes and dip down to peck his lips once, twice, until his lips press back, then you slant your lips over his. His words are definitely a lot to take in, and overall make you feel better yet even dumber about overthinking because he’s in the same boat.

“So this isn’t just a summer fling?” you mumble a hair away from his mouth.

The way he pulls back and his brows furrow take a jab at your heart. “Is that what this is to you?”

“No,” you chuckle, rubbing his cheek again. “I thought it was a possibility but then I realized I wasn’t thinking straight,” you admit, all of a sudden shy, eyes roaming everywhere to avoid his face. He just confessed you’ve done a great number on his life and you have the audacity to be timid in admitting you were worried about this ending once the summer did. “We just got so close so quick it seemed too good to be true?” and now you’re speaking in questions, too.

“I mean… does it bother you that we don’t go to the same school and that there’s some distance?”

“Not anymore.”

He blinks up at you cutely. “Really?”

“I’d rather not think about it until the time comes,” that much hasn’t changed. “but really,” you nod. “I really like you, Yukhei.”

His smile is scintillating, even more so than the stars above, and you do your best to engrave the sight into your memory before he’s leaning forward to capture your lips in the sweetest kisses, the stretch of his mouth still present as it moves slowly against yours.

Periodic lazy kisses, other late night thoughts said lowly to each other and your mind buzzed and running with nothing but positive thoughts that keep you up until the sun rises, all in the strong hold of Yukhei’s arms, is the perfect way to end a long day and a new one.

◅ ▻

“Put me dOWN.”

You look up from rubbing sunblock on your legs to see Yerim being carried into the ocean. Mark holding her ankles and Yukhei holding her wrists. Both males are laughing loudly, bystanders chuckling along and watching Yerim struggle to break free to no avail, and then she’s flying before sinking.

Mark and Yukhei high-five childishly, pointing and dying laughing at Yerim when she emerges, pissed. You can’t hear what she says angrily to Mark or read her lips, but whatever she says makes Mark shut right up and Yukhei cackle even louder.

Poor Mark is pouting.

You shake your head at their shenanigans, a smile pushing your cheeks up as you resume spreading the lotion on your lower half.

“Babe,” a gravelly voice calls, the owner of it jogging up to where you’re seated. He blocks the sun perfectly when he’s in front of you.

“Need help putting some on your back?”

You snort unattractively at the smirk he shoots you but pass him the bottle anyway, turning your back to him.

The sound of him squeezing your almost empty bottle hits your ears before you hear the wet sound of his hands rubbing together.

“What did Yerim say to Mark after you guys threw her?”

He lets out a reminiscing laugh, smoothing his hands up the middle of your back. “He’s not getting any tonight.”

Your eyes close as you chuckle, leaning into his touch as your head hangs forward. The sun above is perfect, the occasional breeze working in harmony with it, and Yukhei’s hands working the lotion on your skin to top it all off gives this weekend trip the perfect start.

“I’m sure that was an empty threat. She can’t stay mad at him for too long.”

His fingers creep under the straps on your shoulders to gently knead them. “Like you can’t stay mad at me?”

“You’ve yet to make me mad, Yuks. But don’t think too highly of yourself.”

His presence disappears from behind you but reappears in front of you, and you open your eyes to see him squatted down with a smile. You spread your legs to let him come closer.

“I guarantee you it’s impossible to stay mad at me.” His hands are back on you, only this time on your thighs the up and down motion smooth from the residue on his hands and your legs.

You squint at him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Yukhei’s eyes blink in faux confusion. “Think about what, baby?” His hands continue up, fingers running across the fabric of your bottoms. “This color looks really nice on you, by the way.”

Yes, that is why you choose it instead of the one currently on Yerim. Your lips go thin.

“Stop while you’re ahead.”

“Stop what?” You honestly can’t tell if he’s purposely acting terribly or not and you’re stuck between finding it funny or not. “Don’t look at me like that. After working all week I just wanna be in your presence,” he shrugs, hands stopping at your sides.

“Uh huh,” you muse, carding your fingers through his hair to push his bangs out of his eyes, keeping your hand on the back of his head. “I keep my promises, baby boy.”

He simply grins, not at all taking what you’re saying seriously, and you can in his eyes he’s already got his mind made up. Yukhei leans forward to press a soft peck to your mouth, the repeats until you return the affection. You mentally roll your eyes at the way you relax and give into him, knowing you’ve fallen right into the blatant trap when the kiss turns languid.

You’re prepared for the way his grip on your waist tightens, and in the blink of an eye his lips are no longer on yours and you’re upside down, flipped over his shoulder. Yukhei laughs maniacally as he stands up, gets a good hold on your under your ass and starts jogging in the direction of the water, and you put on the theatrics just for his amusement.

In the midst of your limbs flailing you pass a Yerim that’s smiling at the show while Mark is ooo-ing excitedly and clapping like a seal, and he’s the last thing you see before closing your eyes and holding your breath at the feeling of being tossed. The water feels great on your warmed skin, and you take your time emerging.

The glee on Yukhei’s face is instantly wiped off when you walk past him and lowly tell him, “you’re sleeping with Mark tonight.”

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

How I Overcame Reader’s Block (And So Can You!)

As a kid, I adored reading.  Okay, more specifically, I enjoyed reading about dragons, but that’s not the issue here.  

It frequently coincided with my equally as intense love of climbing trees, and some of my fondest memories involve being perched in a small tree and reading some hopelessly goofy, dragon-related literature while my mom and toddler siblings used the playground equipment.  If no climbable trees were available, I’d settle for reading under one and drinking a thermos of chocolate milk while they ran around in the park. 

As I got older, my tastes got a little more eclectic as I encountered Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Anne Shirley, the residents of Narnia and Middle Earth, respectively, and much to my mother’s horror, Stephen King, but my passion remained more or less the same.    

Bottom line is, I loved reading.  It was my paramount joy, my primary source of entertainment, and I didn’t think that would ever change.

So imagine my shock when, around my sophomore year of college at the age of seventeen, it occurred to me that I hadn’t really read for pleasure since I discovered the Hunger Games a year or two prior.  Moreover, and equally as horrifically, when I tried to read I found I couldn’t focus;  regardless of the quality of the story and how much I wanted to read it, the investment was gone.

Whether this was due to my first stint with organized education (prior to college, I was homeschooled) or the fact that I’d grown accustomed to the bite-sized chunks of candy-flavored, insubstantial information served up by the internet, the sad and simple fact was that I had fallen out of love with reading, and it looked like it was going to stay that way forever.   

Well, flash forward two-point-five years to Present-Day Brooksie, and since school got out in early May, I’ve read Chuck Palahniuk’s Make Something Up: Stories You Can’t Unread, Ruth Ware’s In a Dark, Dark Wood, Emma Straub’s The Vacationers, Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, and Celeste Ng’s Everything I Never Told You.  Despite the disappointing lack of dragons, I loved all of them.    

I drink books like nectar again, if you’ll pardon the floral language, and everything from the quality of my writing to the quality of my life has improved as a result of it.  

So how did I fall back in love with reading?  Well, I’ve spent a lot of time pontificating on this, and as far as I can tell, it can be narrowed down to three factors:

1.  Reading every day.

It started with lunch.  Every day, when I’d sit down at my university cafe, I used to get out my laptop and watch YouTube or whatnot while I ate my sandwich -- a cool idea in theory, but really sort of gross whenever I rubbed my greasy fingers on the mouse and keyboard. 

When I made a conscious decision to read more, I began taking out my book and reading during the lunch period instead.  It didn’t come naturally at first -- I was easily distracted and kept zoning out -- but I ultimately found it very pleasant, especially when I listened to some classical music in the background as well (nice for atmosphere, and for drowning out noise and distractions.)  

I kept doing it.  

When that summer rolled around, I rediscovered an amazing little outdoor cafe by the harbor.  It had no wifi, which for my purposes, was absolutely perfect.

I went there to read Good Omens and eat home baked lemon squares, pie, and banana bread, listening to international tourists speak in other languages, and watch the boats go by.  It was a beautiful environment, and that (coupled with the fact that Good Omens is just really fucking awesome) made it easier than ever for me to want to stay longer and become more engrossed in what I was reading.

Afterwards, I’d take out my notebook and work on my own stories and journal.  Overall, I’d say that summer was one of the most intellectually productive I’ve had.  

Once school started again, it got a little harder to read every day, but by then my love of reading had pretty much caught:  it had become an intellectual drug for me again, a source of comfort, pleasure, and inspiration.  Also, it was another viable excuse to procrastinate on my academic responsibilities, which was always welcome.  So I kept reading.  It was still a relatively slow process, as I had to work around my already busy schedule, but the more I read the more adept I became at drinking in the information in hungry, satisfying gulps (a bit more suggestive than I’d initially intended that metaphor to be, but I’m going to go with it.)

But this isn’t to say that there were no bumps in the road back to bibliophilia.  There was another factor that I had to grasp before I reached the point where I could unabashedly adore reading once again.

Which is: 

2.  Reading what excites me.

No, I’m not speaking sexually, you pervert.  I’m talking about books I actually want to read.  

When I first started trying to get back into literature, I started trying to read the classics exclusively, like Around the World in Eighty Days and Little Women.  Let me be clear, these books are amazing (excluding the jarring amounts of racism and endorsements of British colonialism in the former) but after semesters of reading similar works for my literature seminars, they just felt a little like...academia.  

In fact, the only reason I was insistent on reading classics exclusively, I now realize, was because I was a pretentious, pseudo intellectual little shit back in those days with a horrible case of impostor syndrome.  What I needed to re-learn was what dragon-loving, Ten-Year-Old Brooksie long since already knew: the best way to enjoy reading is to read what you actually enjoy.

It was a lesson I slowly but surely remastered, and it took me a while to realize that modern literature is teaming with smart, enriching reads, like Life of Pi, American Gods, Where’d You Go Bernadette, The Twelve Tribes of Hattie, The Help, Everything I Never Told You, and countless others.  

Moreover, these were books I didn’t have to force myself to read;  they were books I found myself reading at four AM because I didn’t want to stop.  

I’ve also discovered classics that I can eat up in a matter of days, like A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Which absolutely everyone should read, by the way:  Francie Nolan is a feminist icon, and way, way ahead of her time, not to mention it’s fucking hilarious and will make you cry like a little bitch), Jane Eyre, and basically anything written by Jane Austen.  I love these books for their sharp wit, applicable and timeless life observations, and striking lack of the pretentiousness that I’d come to associate with a lot of classic literature.

This summer, I my reading list includes Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5, Douglas Adams’ The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, Louis Sachar’s Holes, Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See, and Neil Gaiman’s Anansi Boys.  I’m looking forward to reading each and every one of them. 

Ultimately, the point I’m trying to make here is that there’s no joy to be found in pretentiousness:  don’t read to prove yourself as an intellectual.  Read to enrich your soul, read what you legitimately enjoy, and read what inspires you.  

Which brings me to my next and final point...   

3.  Reading what inspires me.

This one might be true specifically for my fellow authors, but since I know a large portion of my followers are fellow authors, I think it’s applicable here.  

Ever since I was an infinitesimally small child, I’ve wanted to write stories.  When I was fourteen I wrote a hopelessly angsty YA novel about a half-dragon girl named Freedom and her misadventures with an ambiguously lesbian vampire and werewolf duo, a seductive and ambiguously bisexual elf (it was a time of self discovery for me), and a talking lion.  When I was eleven, I wrote a middle grade novel about a little boy who befriends a dragon.  When I was four, I wrote *ahem!* drew wordless stories about a winged wolf-creature named Starlight and his (in retrospect, overtly gory) battles with monsters.

It was bizarre, cringey, and I’m not gonna lie, pretty fucking awesome.  

Around the time I started college at around sixteen, I’d just decided I wanted to start writing again.  I had lots of ideas, and I remember in detail getting yelled at by my manager for scribbling in my notebook behind the counter instead of dutifully smiling at customers the way I was supposed to.  

But my writing was...well, to put it bluntly, it was really, really bad.  It only began to improve when I resolved to write every day.  It noticeably and drastically began to improve when I began to read works that I found creatively inspiring. 

While I was revising my manuscript, I read a lot of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, both masters of the kind of urban fantasy I was attempting to write,  and spent a lot of time figuring out what I loved most about their writing and how to best apply it.  This was also around the time I began reading Douglas Adams, which was, let me tell you, a magical experience.  It involved a lot of delighted gasping on my end and thinking you’re allowed to do that?

It really showed me what the barriers were for creative writing, or in this case, total lack thereof.

I think I owe these writers a lot for helping me to create several novel-length manuscripts I’m incredibly proud of, and one that I’m currently preparing to get published.

So in closing, for anyone suffering from reader’s block, feel free to try my approach:  read every day, read what you love and not to stoke your ego, and for my writer peeps, read what inspires you.

Either way, my books and I are enjoying a passionate long-term relationship, and every day I find myself loving them more.

[carp3n0c73m]

Frozen in Memory: People, Activities, Objects - Chapter 1

It was a gray, rainy late afternoon on the streets of Manhattan. Times Square lay half-obscured behind a misty haze of moisture, less crowded than was typical for early December, but still overrun with incorrigible tourists ensconced in human-sized plastic bags, waving skeletal frames of flimsy aluminum and cheap, multicolored canvas to-and-fro, oblivious and indifferent to the fate of strangers' eyes, determined not to let the weather rob them of their New York experience. The air smelled of wet asphalt, a glorious smell, evoking sense memories of splashing in puddles on the playground in grade school during recess while the more cautious of classmates huddled beneath the awning of the school, nervously attempting to remain dry, all the while looking on in vicarious fascination at those who braved the storm without boots or slickers, romping and stomping like wild things in celebration of their king in wolf skin. And though most assuredly nothing more than an olfactory placebo effect, it seemed that the rain cleansed the streets of the odors and leavings of humanity, bringing slick rejuvenation to the sidewalks and storefronts. 

I do not actually remember walking to the corner of 47th St. and Broadway, but I suppose there was nothing disconcerting about that being that New Amsterdam-That-Was is a city particularly well-suited to wandering and I would often find myself, absorbed in thought, setting out upon the bustling streets with no destination in particular and finding myself in one neighborhood or another, my prize being some new, untried restaurant or curio shop off the well-beaten path; I loved discovering my city. So the fact that my last concrete memory was of me soaking in the bath did not entirely disturb me, although I am usually at least peripherally aware of my spatial-self and my perambulations even while on walkabout. 

I decided to set out walking east, figuring that since it wasn't terribly cold or uncomfortable, I might wander over towards Rockefeller Center, perhaps with a view of stopping in at Arcade Coffee in the Diamond District, but out of the corner of my eye, standing as I was out in front of the ticket booth on the northeast corner of the square, I glimpsed something that arrested my attention. At first, I was uncertain if the contact lenses in my head which were providing me my 20/20 vision had simultaneously become blurred or conversely mayhap some other, less likely occurrence had transpired against the expected odds such as a small quantity of cheese cloth, perhaps carried on the (albeit nearly non-existent) breeze, had fallen over my face in such a fashion so as to confound the sharpness of my sight. Either way, I espied the marquee on the Palace Theatre and was stopped in my tracks for the fact that I could not read it.

There was most definitely writing, and graphics as well, both of which combined to proclaim the theatrical spectacle housed within and to all appearances it read, "The Illusionists: Turn of the Century". Yellow lightening rippled 'round the edges of the marquee, caressing the various magi while causing them no harm possessed as they were of magic beyond comprehension, but I was unable to accept this sight as I knew, unequivocally, that the advertised show before my eyes had closed some eleven months prior. Some of the letters were dim, not missing exactly, but rather shrouded and difficult to make out and some of them didn't look right, enough that it forced my brain to fill in the gaps. Looking away momentarily and then back at the façade of the theatre I saw that it actually read:

 "T|e  llu51on1 ts: T rn of the c ntu y". 

 I looked away again and then, in a cliché manner, rubbed my eyes as if I could alter reality by applying pressure to them. I glanced across the square to the ball that drops, ever the slave to midnight, ushering in the New Year, and it was then that I realized that everything was dim. There was gray light filtering through the clouds above such as I had seen numerous times before on New York rainy days, but it was a dark light, of the sort one might see during an eclipse just before full totality has been achieved. 

I turned back to the marquee just in time to see one of the magicians turn his gaze upon me. His whole head did not move, but rather it was a subtle movement of the eyes, as though he did not want anyone else to see what he was up to. He had a bowler hat on and a large cigar protruding from his lips, which were pinched around the stogie in a sardonic grimace, but his eyes pulled free of their straight-ahead focus and descended to the street. 

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote that, "... when a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey." So to my credit, I was not afraid or bewildered, only curious. And as my eyes made contact with his, I noticed that it was silent. New York is a city of many things, but silence is definitely not one of them. The symphony of the city reverberates around its streets at all hours, creating a constant background din, a quasi-metallic white noise filled with sirens and voices and rumbling. 

All of that was missing.

The magician's eyes widened slightly on the marquee as if to say, "Well, what do you think?", but before I could respond I became aware of a sense of emptiness all around me. It was as though I had awoken in the middle of a field all by myself, a vast feeling of openness abound. The mischievous eyes were spinning in their sockets up above, darting about, looking hither and thither, inviting me to take a look; daring me to take a look around. Dragging my gaze to the sidewalks and streets, I found that I was not entirely surprised to discover all of the people and all of the traffic that usually overrun Times Square were now all gone. Disappeared. Not frozen in time. No piles of discarded clothes. No abandoned vehicles. Just gone.

I chuckled at myself after pausing to look both ways before crossing the street and approached the misbehaving marquee. I was not surprised in the slightest to see that the magician's photograph wink at me as I arrived on the sidewalk in front of the theatre. The magician began to sweep his eyes to the right, repeatedly, I assumed to point me in the right direction to continue what was quickly becoming an adventure.

"You want me to go uptown on Broadway?" I asked aloud, not feeling silly in the slightest; like I said, I love discovering my city and this was a find of epic proportions, an entire side of New York that I had not even dreamed could exist. 

The eyes stopped sweeping to the right and got a sad look in them. Then they blinked twice. 

"No?"

The eyes blinked once. I had been exposed to enough literature to ascribe proper meaning to those blinks, so I forged ahead, quickly forgetting the damp and the slight chill. 

"Okay. So now what?" I enquired. 

The eyes started repeatedly sweeping to the right again. I pointed along 47th St. and the eyes stopped and then blinked once. I smiled and nodded my head. A single blink followed again. I raised my hand in thanks (because it is always important to be polite) and set off along 47th St. passing the abandoned hotdog cart on the corner. Part of me contemplated grabbing a pretzel, but I remembered reading something connected with the Arthurian legend once that said it was a bad idea to bring back an object from a different plane and I figured that if that's where I was, it was better to err on the side of caution; no sense in unleashing a legion of voracious, man-eating pretzels bent on vengeance if I could help it. I continued on my way.

The cracks in the darklit sidewalk stood out in stark relief in the illuminated gray haze and the stains and trash in the gutter seemed to fade in and out. Beyond the hotdog cart there were a series of tables set up selling scarves and hats and gloves and umbrellas. Another just beyond that was selling cheap watercolor prints of various New York scenes and, I found amusingly enough, Marvel characters. Actually, being that there was not another soul around, perhaps I should say that the tables were "displaying an array of wares", the act of selling requiring both a seller and a buyer. 

On the other side of the sidewalk, across from the tables, along the side of the theatre were a series of repeated show posters, all advertising variations of the marquee. I noted that while these looked similar to the one on the marquee, they seemed almost to glow or thrum with an inner light; it's hard to describe, but they seemed more alive. And more easily perceptible were that they were not quite right to a larger degree, some with jarring differences and not only in the letters: in the first one, the male magician with the top hat and green frock coat had the head of a duck, but in the next poster his regular head was back while both of the female magicians had grand, glorious mustaches. In the third poster, the bald, good-looking daredevil possessed the body of a centaur, but in the fourth he was in a dress with scary long, needle-like fingers. However, the one constant was the eccentric magician with the cigar. 

I proceeded along under his gaze when I noticed that his eyebrows were bouncing up and down as he kept vigil on my progress. Whether as a consequence of my senses being heightened due to the unfamiliar territory in which I now found myself or whether it was a mere fluke of attention to detail, I noticed that with each successive show poster, the magician's hand changed positions slightly. Seven posters in all ran along the side of the theatre. I found that if I stood in the center of that progression and moved my head rapidly back-and-forth, right, left, rightleftrightleftrightleft, it looked as though the magician was raising his hand to point at the stage door, located at the end of the show posters.

I approached the stage door, which was painted a nondescript black with the address of the theatre stenciled on it in faded white paint. There was a small security camera housing to the left of the door, at about chest height, with a button to ring the security office in order to gain entrance. I pulled on the door in the off chance that it would be unlocked, but it didn't budge. I turned my head back to look at the magician in the show poster and I was startled (and if I am being completely honest, a little freaked out) to see his head craning out of the frame to get a better view of me at the door. However, as soon as he saw that I had seen him, the head went right back into the poster and the entire progression of them, marching back to Broadway, grew dull. I can't explain how I knew that he was no longer in there, but he was gone and I was truly alone.

I turned back to the door and pondered for almost a minute before the obvious punched me in the face: press the button! I did so and a small, white LED light illuminated my face momentarily and then blinked out. I waited for the click of the unlocking mechanism, but it never came. I stood there, patiently waiting for the space of probably 60 heartbeats before turning back and taking a few steps towards the posters again as if an answer would present itself from that direction. I placed myself in front of the last show poster and though I knew it would do no good, I addressed it.

"What do I do now?" I exhaled. My question faded away into the mist and the now-dim magician with the cigar obstinately stood, unresponsive and stoic, disinterested and departed, once again nothing more than faded ink on dying paper. 

"You have never seen something like this, have you, my boy?" came a voice from over my shoulder. An explosion of slightly off clucking and bocking immediately followed the voice. 

I turned to ascertain the source of those slightly-out-of-context words and sounds and saw, what was up until that moment, the strangest sight of my life. Over the course of the next 20 minutes, however, it dropped to probably seventh or eighth place, though I mean no disrespect by that remark. There before me, just in front of the stage door to the Palace Theatre and set back a bit from the sidewalk, in a version of New York that thus far only contained me and a sometimes-there-and-sometimes-not, 2D/3D, ink and paper magician, sat... the dead man. 

[hotcocosharing]

Glory Days Part 6 (IM RP AU- Shun & Midi)

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ Maki’s POV It’s as if every bad decision I have ever made has decided to taunt me today; only being levelled out by the feeling of Eri’s hand working wonders between my legs which has got me wishing we had a little more privacy - and that I wasn’t restricted right now by the restraints of my jeans. Toshiaki sure has some fucking explaining to do. What favor from the other night is Eri talking about? Frustrated at the fact that I’m completely out of the circle when it comes to the information I’m wishing I had right now, I continue to ignore the women who are practically throwing themselves at me and focus my attention on the one woman who is successfully getting under my skin. Goddamnit this shouldn’t be happening! I’ve got my pick of the crop at my fingertips and the one troublesome type which I usually only see as a challenge for a single night of fun has got me wrapped tightly around her finger. She could say jump and I wouldn’t even bother asking how high. This isn’t right; it’s time for me to set down the playing rules and show her who’s boss again. Asking - no, telling Eriko that she’s coming out side for a cigarette with me, I practically leave the rest of the group for dead as I  drag the peppy, happy-go-lucky girl out of the restaurant with a tight grip around her wrist, pulling her into me once we reach the street. A hand snaking through her hair to keep her head still as I crash my lips against hers, my free hand trails to loosely wrap around her waist and hold her close, only breaking the attention that I’m giving her to hail down a taxi. As soon as the car comes to a stop, I open the rear passenger door for her like a gentleman should and close it behind me with a slam as I get in; giving the driver my address and slipping a twenty dollar bill over into his hand so that he won’t ‘glance back in the rear view mirror’. “Now where were we?”, I ask near out of breath into Eri’s ear as my hands quickly find their way back onto her body, toying with the hem of her top which I lift only just enough to gain access for my fingers to slip beneath the waistband of her jeans. “A bit tight”, I manage to mutter stupidly as my lips begin to start sucking at her neck; hopefully to leave bruises which will last the rest of the week, “..I wonder what else might be.”

Midori’s POV It seems that the ditching doesn’t have to be done once 2/5th of the group hurriedly disappear out of sight leaving Shun and I wish a very confused Toshiaki that says he’ll figure out on his own what he’ll do with the rest of the night. “Keep us both warm huh?”, I ask with a raised eyebrow as we make our own exit, not complaining at all that I have a guys arm draped over my shoulders, taking the opportunity to snake my own around him into a half hug which stalls our walking, “It’s still summer… nice try though.” “So do you have anything in mind?”, Shun asks and I half roll my eyes at the suggestion - he’s been touchy feely all night. My mind instantly jumps to the acronym WWED which translates to what would Eri do? but I do my best to counteract the thought - the idea of dragging a guy back to my place or even to a semi secluded area for a bit of what most women call ‘fun’ isn’t a priority or aim for me right now. “There’s a playground close by”, I suggest - only before wanting to punch myself in the face for the worst idea possible slipping from me like word vomit, “Or um.. it’s still early enough that we could see a movie, or maybe… like.. we could go.. watch the stars… somewhere?” I can hear my voice getting higher and higher in pitch to almost a squeek and end my suggestions there; a hot red hue burning across my cheeks. It’s then that I can feel more word vomit creeping up the back of my throat - ughh… shut up Midori just shut up. “LookIReallyLikeYouAndIDontWantToFuckThisUp.” The words come out at a million miles per hour so I’d be surprised if what I said even was coherent. Unsure of whether I should wait for a response or not, my nervousness keeps me talking. “There’s a bar close by I know. What about a drink?”

Eriko’s POV

Sex in the cab wouldn’t be a first for me but the seemingly fun gentleman from the night of the frat party to our regularly disturbed dinner ten minutes ago, Yukihisa Maki strikes me as a major ass though sleeping with jackass isn’t a problem for me. It is my ego that doesn’t want to give in to his statement of "I’m the man and I’m the boss.” Sure, it’s sexy every now and then when daddy kink is in play bit given how turn off I’m right now, I only want to tease this playboy one more go.

Despite how magical his fingers are, I gently push him away and lean in front to slip another twenty dollars note to the driver and whispers for him to drop me off first then back to punishing the man in charge.

Holding up my hand, I silence him with a fingertip to his lips. “You’re very popular, aren’t you doctor?” Letting my finger fall, I slowly pluck at his bottom lip as I straddle him, his eyes burning with lust. “So you like them young.” I sigh, fingers running down his muscular chest before grabbing his chin gently and pull his lips to mine.

Running his hands up and down my sides while I unbuckle his belt and slide the pants down just with his boxer brief showing his eager bulge, he groans against my mouth as I buck my hips against his creating a friction that nearly makes him burst I assume.

I could feel his crotch twitch beneath me so I shift my weight forward, grinding him further, faster and harder. His eyes remain closed as I make my way down and nibble his neck while stealing a glance out the window that we are only few blocks away.

“Do any of them make you feel this good?” I whisper before planting small bites and swirling my tongue over his obvious soft spot.

“Oh god!”

His true expression only earn me a bigger grin on my face, I pull away and his eyebrows raised.

“Oh don’t worry, big boy. You’re getting there.” His grips on my hips tend to slow down, sign of withholding his explosion till he’s back to his place- as if that’s going to happen.

Taking his wrists in mine, I pull them away from my bottom and lock them above his head- men just love that, don’t they?

Maki groans in frustration, possibly battling between how much he wants to come and finding a way to tease me the same way I’m teasing him. “Oh…Eri,” he half maons, half begs- so much for a boss.

Rocking his manhood rapidly, I watch his every change of expression till a loud fuck leaves his lips and the moist stain on his boxer.

“We’re here!”

The driver announces, his voice a little cracked and I hurry out the cab, slamming the door back at Maki ’s face.

Shunichiro’s POV

“Look I really like you and I don’t want to fuck this up!”

I have never met someone as adorable as Midori, as tempting as it is to seal her lips once again which most likely would only make her more nervous than she already is, I have zero intention to let her think I’m a perv like Maki. “I prefer you sober and get to know the real you so I have another kind of bar in mind.”

Her eyes sparkle when we arrive at one of the most popular dessert bar cafe near by, she seems slightly out of breath and overcome by her excitement of our extended date but at least it looks likes she approves of the cakes here unlike most girls in college who watch their weigh like hawks.

Tilting my head sideways and rest my chin in my hand, I take a quick scan from her head to toe. Eriko has done more than a good job at this make over, Midori is perfect the way she is and all she needs is just a bit more confidence.

Wiping off the cream from the corner of her lips, her pink lips glowing and inviting. I lean forward, all the noise and chattering fade in the background while I melt into her never-ending sweetness.

Eriko’s POV

There is a familiar figure in front of me, face to face. “What are you doing here, Toshi?”

The lonewolf of the campus has wandered around to avoid walking into my steamy session with his best friend.

“Hey, there’s no pancakes but I have ice creams and horror movies, you interested?” Hooking my arm onto his elbow after his hesitate nod, I giggle as the night breeze bring us a little closer.

[charlesking830-blog]

What is the preschooling secret of teachers?

You wrestle for ten minutes with your 3-year-old to get his jacket on, yet his preschool teacher has ten kids (including yours) dressed for the playground in less than three. What's her secret? Partly, of course, the advantage of not being a parent—kids really are more inclined to behave for outsiders.

But it's not only that. Teachers develop all sorts of tricks to help young kids learn, keep the classroom more efficient, and make their job more enjoyable. This is hardly surprising. Preschool teachers have year after year of experience with this challenging age group. Fortunately, they're more than willing to share the keys to their success with eager (and sometimes frustrated) parents:

multiplication learning toys  

Secret #1: Preschoolers don't have to dawdle . Why does your child seem to thwart your attempts to get you both out the door each morning but promptly turns on her heels when her teacher announces it's time to head back in from the playground? The explanation is simple enough, says Barbara Roth, director and teacher for more than 20 years at the Hanover Nursery School, in New Hampshire: "When we say something, they know we mean it." Roth says she routinely sees parents tell their child it's time to leave the playground but then stop and chat with another parent themselves, or indulge countless delays and requests for "just one more slide." "You've got to follow through," she says. "Otherwise, it becomes clear that your child doesn't really have to do what you say when you say it." This means giving a few gentle but firm warnings starting five minutes before it's time to leave (or come to the table, and so on), then announcing departure time definitively and matter-of-factly. You may have to just go and scoop her up the first few times (which you should do without hesitation) until she knows you're serious.

Kids also respond to cues they can see, hear, or count. If a child has trouble saying goodbye, "decide on a certain number of hugs and kisses," suggests Jenny Raffaelli, lead teacher at the Kinderberry Hill preschool, in Roseville, Minnesota. Soon she'll come to both expect and accept the routine.

counting toys for 3 year olds  

Roth plays the same few notes on the piano each day as a signal that free play is over. You might regularly use a bell or an egg timer or blink the lights in the room for the same effect, whether to get everyone to come to the dinner table or to mark that it's time to put away toys. Counting (as in "I'm going to count to thirty, and then I want to see a clean room") also inspires students to finish picking up in a hurry. "I often hear parents promise kids a treat to get them to do something," says Roth. "But that's rarely necessary—praise and accomplishment on their own mean just as much as material incentives."

Letting a child race against herself helps her hurry and also provides a great learning opportunity, says Joyce Drolette, director of the Big Sky Preschool, in Big Sky, Montana. She suggests timing getting ready for bed, school, and so forth with a stopwatch, then graphing or charting the results on the wall each day. In addition to teaching about graphs and charts, this method lets your child compare her speed on different days, says Drolette, and may even push her to beat her best time.

Secret #2: Kids can handle scissors and pens earlier than you think. Wanting to help their child develop writing and other fine motor skills, most parents simply hand him a pencil, kid-safe scissors, and paper. But a little practice may forestall frustration later. Raffaelli has her students learn basic skills and movements with such activities as picking up nuts and small blocks with kitchen tongs, stringing beads, rolling out play clay, and even cutting it with scissors. "With clay, it doesn't matter how kids cut," she says. "They can snip any which way and really build the fine muscles in their hands."

Once your child becomes adept, let him cut real paper—but in a way that guarantees his success. "For a preschooler, trying to cut out a picture is often too much—the scissors get caught up in the paper and he can't go anywhere," says Ann Curtis, director of the Infant and Preschool Center at Western Illinois University. "Thin little strips of paper work better: One snip and he feels a great sense of accomplishment." Set him up with a bunch of thin strips of different-colored paper and a container to cut them into, then let him cut strips to glue onto a paper plate for a wall hanging. Yarn also works well for scissor practice.

electronic alphabet learning toys  

As for writing, if your child shows an interest in using pencils and wants to move beyond scribbles, loops, and doodles but is frustrated that he can't make letters, he'll probably get a kick out of fooling around with stencils or tracing, says Raffaelli. Both let him practice holding the pencil and using it like a grown-up, and they won't prevent him from writing without them later on.

Also let him copy or trace your grocery or to-do list. "We play restaurant and store all the time, with the kids copying menus and lists right off the blackboard," says Drolette.

Secret #3: Structure and routine are critical for easy naps. It may seem amazing that your child manages to nap with a bunch of other kids in the room when you can't get a short snooze out of her in her own comfy bed, but preschools have an advantage over home, explains Raffaelli. "Your child is with a group of other children who are doing the same thing, so it's just easier to go along with the rest." Even if you can't import ten other 3-year-olds every day at naptime, there are some other tricks.

Mary Eltgroth, assistant director of New Horizon Child Care Center, in Savage, Minnesota, recommends that you first give her time to unwind before her nap—a half hour minimum—being careful not to suggest an activity that engrosses her so much that she won't want to interrupt it to sleep. Next, create a routine: the same time, the same music, the same bed, and the same expectation: quiet or sleep.

Cutting down on distractions can also help, says Drolette, who runs a fan (out of reach) to block out background noise and suggests that restless kids cover their eyes with a blanket so they're not tempted to keep looking around.

Secret #4: How you say things is as important as what you say. Having trouble getting your child's attention? Don't raise your voice, unless it's to sing. "Kids don't care how you sound," says Curtis. "If I'm reading and they aren't listening and I start singing the story, they quiet right down."

But you can't rely on song alone. Teachers try to alternate verbal tactics, using whispering or different voices or silently mouthing the words to get children to focus on them. They also employ visual cues, such as putting a hand up in the air or touching their finger to their nose and asking the children to do the same when they're quiet. Amanda Johnson, who used to teach at Radnor Nursery School, in Devon, Pennsylvania, has even been known to lean playfully over her charges and "blow the dust out of their ears."

And once you've got your child's undivided attention, keep your instructions clear, short, and direct, says Barbara Hill, director of administration at the Child and Family Study Center, the Lab School for California State University, Northridge. "Don't start by saying that if they get on the table it might break. Say, 'Get down'"—and explain later.

stem toys for 2 year olds  

Secret #5: Your child wants to get dressed himself.

Most young kids really want the feelings of independence, self-confidence, and achievement that dressing themselves brings. It's just that their clothes get in the way. To make it easier, "take into account where your child is developmentally when you buy his clothes," says Hill. For instance, a 3-year-old won't do as well in a pair of jeans with a zipper and a button as he will in elastic-waist pants.

Then develop specific ways to help him succeed. This might mean arranging his outfit the night before in the shape of a person on the floor, getting in the habit of putting on dress-ups and costumes when you aren't under time pressure or labeling clothes so that your child is able to distinguish the front from the back.

Raffaelli suggests marking one shoe with a star, dot or little sticker and teaching your child that that shoe always goes on the same foot. Another right/left shoe teaching method, from Curtis: Ask your child whether his shoes are mad at each other. If they're on the correct feet, the toes will be kissing (touching); if they're angry at each other (on the wrong feet), the toes will be turning away.

To help your child learn how to manipulate zippers and buttons, let him practice on someone else so he can see what he's doing. "It's important to do this with real clothes—doll clothes are much more difficult," says Roth. "We let our kids put their snowsuits on large teddy bears." And offering to let your child button or zip your coat after you have buttoned or zipped his gives him a feeling of accomplishment as well.

Secret #6: Taking turns and sharing don't have to be traumatic.

As an adult, you know you have to wait in line sometimes, and you're comfortable with it as long as no one cuts in front of you. Kids have the same expectation of fairness, say teachers. Most will share and take turns as long as the system is fair. "When two children are arguing over one object, we talk about how fighting won't fix the problem but will only make them cry and feel angry," says Drolette. "I tell the one who's most upset, 'Let me hear Billy and then I'll hear you.' He'll immediately calm down because he now knows that I'll listen to both sides." Then she gets the children to agree that in the future they'll ask for the toy nicely and relinquish it when they're finished with it. "Seven times out of ten, the child will hand over the toy right then and there."

If this approach doesn't work, you may have to formalize the sharing process. Give the child waiting for a toy (as well as the one already playing with it) an accurate measure of how long until it's her turn, rather than just saying wait until "later" or that she'll get her turn "in a little while," says Johnson. She's had success using egg timers and clocks to schedule use of a popular toy. Curtis has even used a sign-up sheet for some highly desirable items. "Even a three-year-old can understand that it will be her turn when her name comes up. It also serves as a graphic representation of the concept of waiting your turn, and it's good practice for kids to print their name on it," she says.

Secret #7: Play may be all the education your preschooler needs.

"I'd like to think kids go home from my class and say, 'I had great fun. I played all day,'" says Johnson, "because that's how children learn." So even if you decide to push some academics at home, the focus should be on fun rather than rote learning. It's easy to use letters in projects and games, such as Raffaelli's favorite literacy project: personalized math and counting books. "We take photographs or cut out pictures of everything that begins with a certain letter—or look for groups of one, two or three objects and so on—and make them into books."

And remember, one of the reasons your child can let loose and enjoy himself in the first place is that he has his own secret weapon: a foundation of unconditional love waiting for him at home.

[pauldeckerus]

Google Unveils the Pixel 3 and 3XL with New AI Camera Features

Google has unveiled the new Pixel 3 and Pixel 3XL smartphones. The new generation of Pixel phones features an improved camera that’s backed by Google’s AI.

The Pixel 3 features a 5.5-inch screen and the 3XL has a 6.3-inch screen. On the back of the phones is a 12.2MP 28mm f/1.8 (35mm equiv.) dual-pixel camera.

A new feature called Top Shot uses AI to capture alternate shots in HDR+ and then recommend the best one from the sequence, which you can flip through and select a photo from yourself.

The zoom is now aided by a Super Res Zoom feature, which uses computation photography from the world of astronomy and scientific imaging to provide sharper details when you’re zooming.

When shooting in low-light environments, an upcoming feature called Night Sight will help you shoot natural-looking photos without the aid of a flash. The feature combines multiple exposures to create low-light photos with less noise and more detail.

The fronts of the phones now have two separate cameras: an 8MP 28mm f/1.8 (35mm equiv.) standard one and an 8MP 19mm f/2.2 (35mm equiv.) wide-angle one. For selfies, a feature called Group Selfie provides 184% more room in the photo while shooting with the wide-angle camera.

Like the new iPhone XS and XS Max, the new Google Pixel 3 and Pixel 3XL allow you to adjust the blurriness of the background after shooting Portrait Mode photos. In addition to tweaking the depth of field, you can even select a different focus point after the photo is captured.

Other new camera features include a Photobooth mode (AI that snaps photos when it detects facial expressions), selective color mode, a Playground mode for playful photos (with stickers and captions), and super smooth video (with Motion Auto Focus and front-facing video stabilization).

Here are some official sample photos captured with the new Pixel 3:

All photos and videos are given unlimited Google Photos cloud storage at their original resolutions.

Non-photo features and specs of the phones include Google Lens, Smart Composite in Gmail, Google Assistant (the AI can now handle real-world tasks like calling restaurants to book a table), AI call screening, wireless charging, IP68 water- and dust-resistance, Android 9 Pie, a secure custom-designed Titan M chip, Qualcomm Snapdragon 845, 4GB RAM, and a 2915 mAh battery.

The Google Pixel 3 and Pixel 3XL are available for pre-order now from Verizon, Project Fi, and the Google Store unlocked. Colors are Clearly White, Just Black, and Not Pink.

from Photography News https://petapixel.com/2018/10/09/google-unveils-the-pixel-3-and-3xl-with-new-ai-camera-features/

[autisticmay]

Day 3: my diagnosis/discovery story

(I’m working off of this list of prompts)

This is going to be kind of a long story, wow. I already mentioned in my intro post that the turning point of my self-discovery was learning about auditory processing disorder. But I'd been following various bits of the autistic community online for a long time before that. 

 I first stumbled into the autistic community through a now-inactive website about feminism and disability called FWD/Forward. Some of the contributors to that site were autistic, including Mel Baggs (ballastexistenz/withasmoothroundstone here on tumblr); from their blogs I found other parts of the online autistic community. 

 When I first read them, I thought Mel's descriptions of being nonverbal and the way hir brain works were interesting, but I didn't see myself in them at all. (Now, I feel like I have a surprising amount in common with hir, considering how outwardly different we are.) From what I remember, the main thing that did resonate with me, and that kept me reading autistic writers' work, was discussions of bullying, abuse, and ABA therapy. Those descriptions of the pain of being rejected and harassed by your peers, of being dehumanized by teachers and other authority figures, felt familiar and important to me long before I ever considered that I might be autistic. 

So that kept me following some autistic bloggers, both on Tumblr and on other sites, and then sometime in early 2012 I saw someone talking about auditory processing disorder. Realizing that it was possible to have difficulty processing and understanding sounds without being deaf/hard of hearing made so many things I'd struggled with my whole life suddenly make sense. Ever since I could remember, I'd had difficulty understanding people whenever there was background noise. I was dazed and overwhelmed in noisy cafeterias, restaurants and playgrounds. 

I always loved my foreign language classes, but got frustration from my teachers over how my speaking and listening skills lagged behind my writing and reading comprehension. I shed a lot of tears over those classes, because I knew that the things I was being asked to do in my foreign language classes would still have been difficult for me to do in my native language. It wasn't a lack of effort, or a lack of understanding of the language. But I had no idea how to explain that to anyone else in a way that would be understood and respected. 

 When I read those articles about APD, I felt pretty silly, honestly, for having gotten to the age of 21 without ever considering that the way my hearing worked might actually be significantly different from most people's. But I just didn't have the concept to map onto my experience. I had the concepts for "background noise makes it harder to understand people" and "if you're not paying attention you might not notice what someone is saying to you," and those were normal things that happened to everyone (I thought), and as I spent every lunch period so awash in the noise of my peers' happy conversations that I could barely think, I somehow never put two and two together that maybe background noise was *more* of a problem for me than for the people around me. 

 It still took a while- about two years- after that for me to decide that I really was autistic. I started following more and more autistic people's blogs, and gradually discovered a lot of other similarities. The final straw- which I blogged about at the time- was a checklist describing the typical autistic woman that I checked nearly every box on. 

That was the point where I started seriously thinking of myself as autistic, but I didn't see it as the end of the story at all. In the next year or so after that realization, I spent a frankly ridiculous amount of time trying to collect and synthesize all the things I'd read about autism and realized about myself. The results of that are here. I don't know if that series of posts will actually be useful to anyone else, as I sort of assumed it would be at the time, but taking the time to think through it all definitely helped me solidify my understanding of myself.