#my sister sent me this video a year ago. i don't think i shared it here yet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notebookmusical · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! It's so great that you're feeling better. Aww did you not even know what was wrong? Or was it just multiple symptoms? I hope it wasn't Covid and you get good results. Those are also my favorites on Red! I know it's long..honestly sometimes usually I just play the newer verses..but it was really awesome live! I totally get loving a song cuz it's your surprise song. That's me with Castles Crumbling..I liked it of course cuz of Taylor and Hayley but now I love it even more. My favorites on Speak Now are probably I Can See You and Timeless but they switch all the time. Like Timeless is such a classic Taylor song so I love it..and Foolish One is so relatable to me lol but maybe that makes it harder to listen to all the time. But I also love Electric touch and Emma Falls in Love! I think I told you I am a huge Emma Stone fan so to have that song makes me so happy..along with Hayley on Castles Crumbling. They are my two favorite friendships of Taylor and I was a fan of all of them around that time. My favorite Fearless songs are probably Don't You and Mr. Perfectly Fine but I also like them all. I won't be trading but I am excited to have more people enjoying the show in the theater this time compared to the Twenty One Pilots livestream show. I think we are planning for a late show like 11PM so it might not be as many people though. What time are you going? I'm so excited! My bday is June 14th..cuz we are Gemini twins and I love that. It's also Flag Day on the calendar haha. But otherwise I'm not really like what people usually think of a Gemini cuz I'm shy. Your birthday is so close to Taylor's. Do you also love the holidays or have Sagittarius energy like she does?

Haha I don't know if I loved it but I do enjoy Dr Seuss stuff so I did like it. Wow..now it makes sense how you've seen so many shows! I think that's super cool that Ooh I've never seen Phantom but I wanted to go to the tour a few years ago and sadly missed it. I think it would be cool with dropping the chandelier. Oh I noticed the Waitress playbills and had no idea her mom wrote the musical. That's so cool! Haha ya I told my parents to watch it eventually..I showed them the trailer and they said it looked funny so maybe they will. I told them they might not understand the jokes though.

Oh haha..no wonder you were excited or skeptical for the musical..especially if it means a lot to you or you know it really well. I might read it eventually by the time the musical is on Broadway or both musicals are. Maybe he will..I hope. I'm happy he has the role but I wonder if someone else would be a better choice..or who it could be in the Florence one. Or is there anyone you think could be a better fit? What did you think of the music overall? Cuz ya..it wasn't like 20s really but after watching the videos a few times..it was a little better. I think the performances are next week so we will find out if the full musical is any better and eventually how the Florence version is. By the way, kinda off topic, but I remembered the Little Women ask I sent a while ago and was wondering if you were ever gonna reply since it came up talking with my sister. No pressure obviously but it was funny to me.

Oh good..I'm glad I let you know then. I've never been to Seattle but I'm excited to read it so I can learn more about it. I will definitely read it by the time the sequel is out. Aww that's special and sweet to have that connection..and ya that's sometimes why I still enjoy reading YA cuz it makes me nostalgic or remind me that everyone has similar experiences. For a while, I confused the title with Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow from your poll actually..but then realized they were two different books haha. But maybe I can read that one with you too since that one is also on my long list and I heard it was good! Yay okay I will and I know I was a slow reading partner..but I finally finished some Mistakes were made so you can finally share your thoughts. I thought it was okay. I think the conflict wasn't that developed or dramatic..but I guess it seemed realistic and the characters choices made sense at least. The ending was a little rushed but at least it was a happy ending I guess. I would probably rate it a 3..I just don't have strong feelings about it but I also wasn't like bored reading it or anything. I couldve read it sooner but there were just some days I would forget about reading. I wonder if reading it in a day made you feel differently or not. Well I don't know if I will read Enchanted to Meet You but if I do..I will tell you how it is. I read the princess diaries before but can barely remember it. Oh I am familiar with Emma Lord and Sophie Gonzalez books. I've read Tweet Cute and was in the middle of Perfect on Paper at some point.. I usually enjoy more serious YA but I still enjoy their writing. Begin Again is on my list. There was more than I thought actually and probably even more. I guess it's kinda cool but it's like using a title that doesn't have to really do with the book..but the point is so more people will wanna read it. I guess it kinda works though since that's what made me interested in Enchanted to Meet you, and having a catchy title is important nowadays and I imagine coming up with a title is pretty hard. but I feel like popular authors usually have pretty good titles..like Emily Henry. Actually one of my favorite books..which is If He Had Been With Me I read based just on the title without reading anything else. But The Stepping Off Place..which is my other favorite, I always wanted a better title but I don't know what else I would name it either. Sorry I know I talked about these before, but I just realized this right now while typing, and these are always like a pair in my mind. So sorry if that seems random. Anyway I know this is long now so I hope you have a good rest of your week and enjoy the movie if I don't reply by then!!! Even if I don't, I'll probably send you another ask at least saying to have fun and a good time! 🩷

hi hi!! so the thing is is that i had a bad bout of bronchitis which set off my asthma, but i've also just been trying to get some other things diagnosed for ... forever, including my migraines! i'm feeling a lot better now from bronchitis-y things, but am unsure where the diagnosis for other general health things is going!

also i really do love castles crumbling! what's your favorite taylor collab? i think mine is either nothing new, the last time, or castles crumbling, but i also really love cowboy like me, exile… okay, i'm just listening every collab now. 11pm is so late!! especially since it's a 3 hour movie — get home safe!! i'm going to a 6:00 pm showing on friday, and then an afternoon showing on sunday! so i'll be seeing it twice this weekend! i'm very excited! are you going to be dressing up for it? i think i'm going to dress up a bit more (not like DRESS up though, just wearing a sweater + skirt) for the first showing since it's opening night but i think i'll wear very comfy clothes (probably just my eras quarter zip) on sunday!

june 14th is really close to one of my close friend's birthdays! i think it's so fun that you're a gemini and you and your sister are twins!! i believe taylor is also a cancer moon, which is what i am! i'm a sag sun, cancer moon and a capricorn rising, if that means anything to you — and i am very much like all of those things. i do love the holidays, but i am also very nostalgic about them! it makes me think of hong kong/home, and i get a bit sad. do you have a favorite holiday?

i also was very, very lucky, and seattle has a really good program for teenagers where you can see shows for $5 — it's called teentix (they also do museum passes, and other art stuff!), which is really how i got to see a lot of shows! and then once i was no longer a teen, i did student rush a lot! phantom is SO cool with the chandelier; i saw it in london (my first west end show!) when i went to london with some family earlier ths year, and i forgot how much i really like it.

if you want to read gatsby, we can always do a buddy read! i have no idea who i'd want for the florence one, but i'm hopeful it'll be someone good! and you're fine about the little women ask — i meant to save it for a time where i could reread little women, but then i got buried in other books and then i never got around to rereading little women (hence why it is still unanswered)! i see it every time i open up my drafts though 😂

and yes, definitely down to read tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow if you want to start that soon! i think i'm going to try to start that next week, but it depends on how busy i am!!! i have not read ... much ... this week ... (aka: i have not even picked up a book this week) and probably won't get the chance to until next week). i'm glad you thought that the book was okay — i wasn't particularly like, impressed, or disappointed with the book, i also just felt like it was fine! i think it was also really predictable, and i think there were some storylines that felt a bit rushed/that could've been handled with more care. i saw if he had been with me at the bookstore on saturday and thought of you, but already had way too many books in my hands! i'm always really curious about book titles too, like how many books stay with the original title vs. publishing/marketing suggests something else!

i hope you're having a good day/week! enjoy the movie! i can't wait to hear your thoughts after (even though we've both seen the tour hehe) 🤍 xx

#post: answered #🩷 anon

0 notes

sulietsexual · 2 years ago

Note

i know you wrote it literally 4 years ago but as i revisit some of your videos i wanted to see what other meta or analysis you had written about charmed and your scenario of how paige would fit into the sisters's lives if prue had lived and breakdown of each dynamics was awesome but i got to thinking some more about parallels between phoebe and paige

both phoebe and paige grow up without knowing their mother and although both have caretakers, people who love and care for them there's that hole in both their lives, something missing and it's what drives them both to act out and get into all sorts of trouble. phoebe never became an alcoholic like paige did in her teens but she was reckless and in with crowds that were dangerous and hyde school reunion gives us a glimpse of that

in your what if scenario with the paige/phoebe dynamic you emphasized several times that they'd be partners in crime and bond over their rebellious youths but i honestly don't think they would because both of them aren't proud of that part of their lives and it was a dark time for both. phoebe was essentially an outcast, her whole look and demeanor was designed to drive people away and it always screamed defense mechanism to me

i think it's easy to look at both teen!paige and teen!phoebe and think they're just teenagers being rebellious because every teenager has that phase but i always thought for both of them it was rooted in something else. phoebe grows up never getting to have a normal sisterly bond with piper or prue but especially prue because prue is the sister and the mother and the father, she puts it upon herself to play those two missing roles in their lives because while their grandma lives she needs help

so even though we don't get to see little phoebe i'd imagine she wasn't often playing with her sisters like we see prue and piper doing in "that 70's episode" both because of the age gap between the three of them and because even if her kid sisters wanted to play with a baby or a toddler once victor left and penny died the home life probably changed a lot, i imagine the time for games had kinda passed, all their childhoods were affected not just prue's

and i also imagine there must have been a huge level of pressure for phoebe that maybe she put on herself to be worthy 'cause she's the baby the one who needs the most attention and with no one to rely on but penny both prue and piper have to step up to help raise her instead of just getting to be carefree kids, i imagine she felt there were unspoken expectations she could never live up to

and in that i see another parallel with paige. paige feeling she could never live up to the memory of prue and how brave and good she was and phoebe with this mother she didn't get to know, that she doesn't even remember but the knowledge from her sisters and grams that she was an amazing woman, the simultaneous sense of loss and wanting to make her proud, wanting to make everyone proud but not knowing how

i apologize for all these messages, the novels i sent you there i was getting hit in my paige/phoebe feels and wanted to share i guess feel free to tell me if you think i'm off about any of the points i brought up. i love reading or seeing good charmed meta/analysis and yours are always great!

Wow, that's a lot to cover Nonnie! Always happy to hear other's thoughts though.

When I said that Phoebe and Paige would bond over being trouble makers, I didn't mean that either was proud of their pasts, just that they have that in common and could probably find common ground over being "black sheep" and that would bond them. Even out bad periods/experiences can bond us with others!

I disagree that Paige had a hole in her life due to missing her biological mother - she had two wonderful parents whom she obviously loved, and while she did seem to have the normal curiosity about her lineage that a lot of adopted kids do (myself included!) I don't think that the absence of a biological mother affected her all that much, again, since she had such great parents who loved and raised her well.

Also disagree with the notion that both Prue and Piper had to give up their childhoods to raise Phoebe. We know canonically that only Prue had this responsibility - Piper herself says in the Pilot that she and Phoebe got off easy and that the two of them were allowed to have a normal childhood, while Prue had to sacrifice her childhood to help raise them. So I definitely think that Piper and Phoebe were close growing up and I don't think that Phoebe was isolated from her sisters at all.

Thanks for the ask and glad you enjoy my Charmed vids and meta!

#answered #anonymous #charmed

1 note · View note

foodieforthoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Journey through time - Part 5

Summary: Your relationship with Syverson over the years.

Warnings: fluff and only fluff.

A/N1: Last part to this mini photo series. Thanks to @agniavateira who has provided me with so much inspiration. Also thank you to everyone who read and liked and commented. You guys make me so happy. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

A/N2: I'll be taking a small hiatus from posting fics for now. But I'll be back soon. ❤️

As much as Sy adored his daughter, secretly he had always wanted a son. Two years after Adeline was born, when he was back from his oversees tour for three weeks, Sy took it upon himself to get you round and plump with his kids again. He was overjoyed when you told him over a call that you were pregnant. Although it saddened you both that this time, Sy wasn't going to be around when you gave birth to your child. When you told him he was going to be a father to twin boys, Sy had hollered with glee, making a couple of his men come knocking at his door to see if he way okay. That was a very awkward call, where you were waving at his men while they congratulated you. You sent him a copy of your sonogram, along with a picture of you with Adeline in a care package. "Mini me's," He would say while looking at the picture, "And my princess with my queen." Your heart would flutter like the very first time he had kissed you; upsetting you at the distance and yet also filling you with love. Sy asked his parents to come live with you, help you with Adeline, as you got big and started experiencing difficulty in moving around. When you went into labour, his mother tried to get him on call, just like he had requested. But they were unable to connect to his phone, wondering if he was safe and sound or just away doing things that were expected of him to do as a captain. Your emotions were unbounded when you gave birth to your sons, worrying about Sy and going through the long process without him. The next day, Sy saw his sons for the first time over the video call, happy tears springing in his eyes as you cradled the two boys in your arms. "They have your eyes, Sy. Have you thought of names yet?" You had asked, having decided long time ago that since you had named your daughter, Sy would name his sons. "James and Noah." He had sniffed out, smiling at you lovingly.

Captain Syverson retired as Major Syverson after serving 20 years of active duty. Sy joined as a coach for Little League Baseball team, becoming a favorite amongst his players and their moms. Every morning you would kiss Sy goodbye as he walked out the front door, holding little Adeline's tiny hand in his to drive her to her school on his way to work. Your days were filled with less worrying about Sy's safety and more on providing a loving family for your kids. It helped that at the end of the day, your dining table was occupied with your children and your loving husband, sharing their day's events. Weekends were spent in parks with the whole Syverson clan out for picnics, you watching your husband running around with James and Noah, Adeline who was a spitting image of her father, perched on his strong shoulders. Somedays you couldn't believe your life turned out the way it did, mostly when you would walk inside the living room to find Sy sprawled on the sofa with Adeline curled on his side, James and Noah snoozing on his chest. You would wake him up, carefully peeling your daughter away from her father and take her to bed, while Sy got both boys in his arms with little to no effort and took them to their own room. At the end of the day, when parenthood and responsibilities left you both weary, you and Sy found solace in each other's arms while drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

It was the most devastating day in Sy's life when his teenage daughter told him she wanted to pursue modelling. Adeline was stubborn and opinionated, graced with Sy's beautiful features. He had stared at his daughter with wide eyes, cup of coffee stopping midway to his mouth. "You want me to be okay with grown men gawking at you?" He had gruffly replied, anger evident with his eyebrows knitting together and his lips forming a frown. You had learned over the years to not interfere with Sy's ways of parenting. James and Noah had awkwardly slid off their chairs, both of them avoiding what was to come next. The discussion had ended with father and daughter, arguing with each other, eventually Sy sending a crying Adeline away to her room. Neither of them had spoken to each other the rest of the day, Adeline refusing to eat dinner and Sy drinking too many glasses of whiskey. "I cannot believe she thinks modelling is a career choice." He had scowled later in the night, you both staring at the ceiling while lying in bed. "Didn't you once tell me you had hated your father for sending you off to military school? Do you want your daughter to hate you?" Sy had sighed, turning on his side to face you. "That's different. Adeline's our little girl, it's my duty to protect her." Understanding completely what Sy was feeling as a parent, you had too turned on your side and placed your hand on his scruffy cheek. "You taught her to be strong, independent. She will always be our little girl. Don't you trust her to take decisions for her life? And even if she fails to do what she desires, don't you want to be there for her when she would need her dad?"

The next day you had watched from your kitchen window as Sy and Adeline talked while sitting on the swings in the backyard, ending with long hugs and lots of tears.

While Adeline roamed around the country for fashion shows, Sy groomed his sons to join the army someday. It was not an acceptable behavior, but both of you had your favorites when it came to the twins. Noah, the stronger of the two was decidedly his father's favorite, adding to his delight when by the end of high school, he wanted to go to a military academy. James, the apple of your eye, on the other hand, wanted to become a doctor, much to Sy's dismay. But lessons were learned from the time with Adeline and for that reason only, Sy did not oppose. Noah was sent off to Virginia to a military academy, going on to join the air force as it was affiliated with his school; while James buried himself in studies, moving to Connecticut to attend medical school. Weekends that were spent with picnics in the park, now consisted of video conference calls with your three kids spread out over the country. "It's just going to be you and me in the end." Sy would say, shutting the computer off and looking at you pensively. Wounding your arms around the love of your life, you would rest your head on his shoulder and agree, "Till death do us part."

On your 30th wedding anniversary, Sy gave you an unexpected surprise. He had been missing from the house since morning, only to send a vague text with "Pack your bags and come out in ten minutes." When you walked outside on the front porch, you were left stunned to find Sy dressed in riding gear on a super bike. "I think we need to relive our days from the time we were dating. Come on, I've planned a road trip for us." And with that, Sy had driven all the way to San Antonio for the weekend. With a hotel room on the river, Sy pampered you with all his love and the best Tex-Mex food he could find for you. You spent the day shopping and exploring, while in the night he made love to you with unbridled passion. "My better half," he had called you, kissing your hands while cradling you to his chest. When you both came back home from your trip, you had another surprise waiting for you: Your three children all under the same roof again, holding up a sign board with "Happy anniversary, mom and dad."

Noah had successfully climbed the ranks in the airforce to become Lieutenant at an age younger than when Sy was one. But it was when James, inspired by his twin, decided to join the armed forces as a field doctor, you saw Sy's chest puff in pride. "Syverson men always join the military." He had told his friends over dinner one night, soaking up the praises for his children. Adeline joined a major modelling agency that speared her career forward. She roamed around the globe, sending her old folks trinkets from the new city she was in, and one day added a picture of her and her boyfriend in the mail. Sy turned into a protective father quickly, inviting her and her man to have dinner. "I like him." Your old man had chuckled, when he had scared Adeline's boyfriend, making him blabber incoherently with nervousness. You could only watch in a haze as one day Adeline's boyfriend showed up to your house unannounced, to ask Sy for his daughter's hand in marriage. "Listen boy, Adeline is precious and if you hurt her, you know there wouldn't be anything worse than us. You don't want to be on the bad side of the Syverson men, is that clear?" You had heard Sy warn, a shiver running down your spine listening to his commanding tone, even if the threat wasn't meant for you. A few weeks later, when Adeline was in Paris, she had called home only minutes after the proposal, screaming on the phone that she said "yes." The rest of the night, Sy had you looking at Adeline's baby pictures from old photo albums. "This little bundle would be getting married soon. Can you believe that?" He had laughed, wiping the tear at the corner of his eye and throwing his arm around your shoulders when you couldn't hold onto your own tears.

The day after Adeline, Sy's little girl, was married, he threw a brunch for the newly weds and their families. James and Noah, back from their deployment in time for their sister's wedding, had introduced their own girlfriends to both of you before the ceremony. You knew Sy would never admit it, macho behavior of his never fading, but you could see his eyes glisten watching his family grow. He had tried to keep a straight face throughout the ceremony too, but he had let go of his tears when Adeline had laid her head on his shoulder during their father-daughter dance. Halfway through brunch, Sy pulled you away from the crowd and took you towards the orchard outside the country club. He held your hand while taking you to stand under the shade of a massive tree. "It's like I'm living in a dream." You admitted, looking out at the sprawling orchard, thinking about how you were a mother-in-law to someone. Sy pulled you close to him by your waist, encircling his arms around you. Gray hair on his temples and his face beginning to be marked with wrinkles and yet for you, Sy looked like he had never aged. "I know I don't tell this to you very often, but darlin' running into you, falling in love with you, building a life with you, is the best thing that could have happened to me." He kissed the top of your head, taking your face in his hands before planting a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you and thank you for everything, Sy." You whispered as the birds chirped on the branches above, a whistling breeze blew by carrying the sweet fragrance of fruits in the orchard and you stared at the brilliant blue orbs of the man who had owned your heart and soul since many years ago.

The End.

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x you #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic

330 notes · View notes

jung-koook · 2 years ago

Note

what the honest heck were those messages,? if you had stalker behavior (you totally don't in my opinion) you'd literally know everything and anything he or any of them does? instead you posted for a month about missing him. i'm pretty sure stalkers don't have to miss him cause guess what they're doing. and if it's things like sharing jungkooks brothers posts? he used to be okay with it idk if he still is i've never followed their siblings? but hoseok sister said don't and people still did. it's all about boundaries too. and from my point of you you seem to have a lot of them. and if you mess up like that ONE time. it quickly gets fixed and deleted. and yes stalking online is a thing and very bad and i don't agree with it. but then maybe you (general you not you you but like a you as general) should also discuss this openly with update accounts because how exactly do they have that info. idk i don't follow or look at update accounts.

stealing things from twitter usually only applies to photos and gifs or copying and pasting word for word and claiming it as your own. (and? not celebrities posting that doesn't count, (if it does almost everyone is guilty you've saved at least ONE photo of some celebrity you like has posted at some point.) the everyday fan account does and only if they say you can't share anything they post) and screenshots with usernames do not count as "stealing"copying and pasting and claiming it as yours does but you don't do that. although.. stealing is what happens with most tumblr content creators in all fandoms. their gifs get taken and posted elsewhere no credit or anything (i don't do that though). but i guess we're not having that convo huh. stealing is doing things intentionally knowing you shouldn't or didn't check if it was okay before sharing. not screenshots with usernames and credit and checking before if it's okay to even do.

people need to leave you alone you're the least problematic person here. and it's always you they go for. i'm sorry. i do hope your day gets better. i'm sorry people are mean to you. and sorry this message is probably long.

being accused of stealing from twitter was nothing new for me. a few months ago an anon sent a message to a friend of mine talking about me stealing from twitter. do you see how dangerous these anons are? my friend defended me because she follows me and is my friend. but imagine these anons send these messages to blogs that dont even know me and follow me. this is extremely dangerous :/ someone can ruin you by making up lies about you to other people and since they dont know you they can believe it and it can turn into something big and dangerous. these people dont think, they dont have empathy and dont care about anything. they just want to ruin someone on the internet. in almost 10 years here this hasnt happened to me but this year is really bad.. theres always someone trying to make up lies about me and without any proof and I'm extremely tired of this! I came to tumblr to make gifs and have fun. I never thought that this here could be something that could also bring me so much sadness. I really dont know how to deal with it, I dont know how to just ignore it. so I feel like I have to keep explaining myself even if I dont need to. then I get nervous and start to forget english and then I feel like I cant explain myself in a way that everyone understands.

I never stole anything from anyone. if i post any translation from korean to english without credits its because i translated it. i watch and listen to kdrama and korean music literally since i was born. I know the basics of korean because I learned by watching kdramas, kmovies and listening to their songs. my first language is japanese and i usually also translate from japanese but because my english is not fluent i ask sometimes my friends help to correct my translations, and they help me with that. I really always give credit for the videos and photos I post from twitter. as well as for the translations and even the news.

thank you so much. I want you to know that your message means a lot to me. please have a nice day/night! ♡

#reply #anonymous

4 notes · View notes

thecatladywife · 4 years ago

Text

That Time We Met (2)

Taeyong x Male reader

Fluff

Hello ! So turns out I really got inspired by Taeyong and I wrote a little bit more.

Here’s a short background story : You met Taeyong on a language exchange app.

He wanted to improve his english to be closer to his fans and you like to meet people from all over the world so you discussed for days... then weeks... slowly feelings appeared and he confessed to you.

You decided to be together despite the distance and finally met.

(1) <<<<<<<<<<<<<

The ride home wasn't that long in the end, it took one hour but you had such a great moment with Taeyong that you didn't see it pass.

He was his bubbly self, telling you about how excited he was to be in France again while you sat on the driver seat, one hand on the wheel and the other on his nape, playing softly with his hair.

He didn't seem to mind it, leaning in the touch and even holding your hand there once or twice.

"Y/N do you think we can go get some macaron later ? Yuta asked me for some with flowery flavour."

"You're just arrived and you're already thinking about buying gifts."

"Well I don't want to forget."

You chuckled as he smiled broadly at you and you thought about the best answer to give him.

At almost every video call you had with Taeyong, since the moment you agreed months ago that he'd come over for his next break, you started planning this trip together and out of 3 things he talked about at least 2 were food or something he saw in a movie, so you knew the first things he would want to do in Paris would be cliché. And you loved it.

"Alright then ! I know one place where they make some with rose and violet flavour... They're delicious... or we could bake them ourselves."

"Really? You'd know how to ?"

The truth was you had never made macarons in your life, you knew the basics in pastry and had some recipe books at home so it should do but you couldn't tell him that, not when he was looking at you with stars in his beautiful eyes.

"Kind of."

"Perfect. One gift done, twenty more to go."

You shook your head incredulously but you were not really surprised that Taeyong planned to bring a gift to each one of his members. His thoughtfulness was one of the reason you fell for him.

"And a few more for my mother and sister..."

"Oh my god..."

You playfully passed your hand over you face, from your eyes to the tip of your beard, pretending to be overwhelmed already. Knowing that you were teasing him, Taeyong pouted at you and you almost stopped the car to kiss him because he was too cute. Waiting for the next red light on the road, you finally leaned down to kiss his inviting lips, parting and staring lovingly as he sighed contentedly.

The second time you tasted his lips was even better than the first.

Your faces were still inches apart from each other as Taeyong brought his hands to your cheeks, caressing and playing with your beard with his feather like touch.

"I do have a gift for you.. too..."

"Me ?"

"I hope you'll like it."

"Of course I will. It's from you, mon coeur"

He didn't know much french words apart from the curses you used to utter on the phone or the lewd things you whispered low to him and this, the sweet name you had for him. You took his hand and kissed his palm, not seeing Taeyong blushing hard since your eyes were focused on the road.

You kept on driving for less than half an hour, entering the city without much difficulty since it was lunch time and there wasn't much traffic. Taeyong was quiet since a moment now, watching the cityscape through the window while playing with your hand resting on his tight, you could sensed your boyfriend tiredness and heard him yawn several time in a row so you decided to leave him in peace, the little chit chat could wait for when he'll be fully rested.

Fifteen minutes later you finally pulled into your underground parking. You drove to your spot, carefully sliding your car between the wall and a huge black motorbike already parked there.

Taeyong stared at it with curiousity while you tried to avoid bumping into it.

"That's your bike right? The one you showed me on pictures ?"

"Yeah."

You smirked at him as you turned off the engine, knowing pretty well what pictures he was talking about.

When you just started chatting with each other, in a friendly way and in order to help the korean learning more vocabulary, you shared about hobbies and sent pictures to each other.

Taeyong showed you the sneakers he liked to customize and you sent him pictures of you in the countryside when you went on roadtrips with your friends. You didn't know it at first but one day, as you were talking about what turned you on in each other, he admitted that he found you posing with your motorbike in your heavy leather jacket and jeans really hot.

You could see in Taeyong's eyes that he was aware of your thoughts but he pretended to be obvious to it and got off your car, rushing to check out your ride.

You chuckled and checked the glovebox and headboard for anything you might've forgotten before following him out and locking the car behind you. Taeyong came to your side and wrapped his arm around your neck, your hands falling naturally to his hips while he looked up to you. You could help but feel giddy at how every time you touched Taeyong it felt so good and soothing, like a old habit despite being physical with him for the first time today.

"Y/N... Remember you promised to let me ride it last time?"

"Hm...You sure I was talking about my bike ?"

"Yes what else ?"

You laughed at your boyfriend's innocence, almost feeling guilty for your perverted mind when realisation down on him and he looked at you with wide eyes.

You took his hand, pressing a kiss on his forehead before leading him away to the lift, not giving you the chance to call you out for this.

Your apartment was on the sixth and last floor which was a pain in the ass when the elevator was on maintenance but most of the time it was great because you had the most breathtaking view on Paris

You were happy to share this with Taeyong but suddenly, you also felt nervous about him discovering your place. You weren't lazy about cleaning but you did pay more attention to it this time knowing that your boyfriend could almost be described as a clean freak.

The elevator stopped and you went through the opening doors into the narrow corridor.

You lived in an old Parisian building, haussmann style so the last floor was originally reserved for maids who had their chambers there.

Nowadays, only poor students lived in those kind of place but years ago you had the good idea to buy three of them on this floor at a cheap price and turn them into a spacious one.

You opened the door to your place and went in just a few steps ahead of Taeyong, taking the luggage inside and closing the door once he was in as well.

"Welcome to your home for the next week."

>>>>>>>>>>> (3)

#nct #nct127 #nct2020 #taeyong #taeyong x reader #nct smut #nct fluff #kpop #my work #taeyong x male reader #nct x male reader #nct x reader #that time we met #nct scenarios

64 notes · View notes

6knotty6thotty6 · 4 years ago

Text

So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck:

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion.

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered, was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it.

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it."

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got.

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it.

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat.

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes.

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not.

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled.

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway.

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you?

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late!

#child abuse #abuse #domestic abuse #family #survivor #YouTube #bojack horseman #forgive #mom #mother #friend #friends #story #personal #chicken soup for the soul #free churro #monolouge #father #dad

36 notes · View notes

katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

Text

Gravity

Hi! Okay, so here’s chapter two of my growing back together story, inspired by the prompt “I won’t hurt you” @rosegardeninwinter sent me. I also posted this fic on AO3 under the title Gravity (like the Sara Bareilles song), if that’s where you prefer to read. And here’s a link to chapter one of this fic if you wanna read and haven’t yet.

Also I know I said in my first author’s note that there will be three chapters, but there might be a bit more.... we love an over-writer, right? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to post every part of a multi chapter fic on here? Or just post the link to it on AO3? But for now I posted it in its entirety on here 😊.

Anyways, hope you like it! And thanks to anyone who reads! 💖💖💖

A couple months later.

We slide back after that. I don't know if that night-the night he had a nightmare that I died and we slept locked in each other's embrace-moved too quickly for Peeta or if he thought he was protecting me from him, but when morning light came, he was gone from the bed.

I didn't see him again until the following evening, helping Haymitch feed his rambunctious geese in the yard. He didn't speak to me for four more days after that, and when he did, it was to ask what kind of bread I wanted him to bring for lunch the next day.

I pretended to his face that it didn't hurt. That waking up in a cold, empty bed, in a house he all but abandoned until I had evacuated, that sleeping in his arms and awaking so abruptly alone, didn't hurt. I did what I had taught myself to do as a child and I turned my features into an indifferent mask, shutting off all access to my emotions. Destroying any possibility of anyone witnessing my vulnerabilities.

But I knew deep down, it did hurt. It hurt badly.

I didn't speak to him directly the first week he showed up for lunch and to work on the memory book again. I got by fine without addressing him directly, as Haymitch somehow sensed the bubbling tension between us and stayed sober just enough to remain alert for all our shared meals. He helped with the memory book, helped by adding in a snarky comment here or there to reel our focuses onto him instead of each other.

I wanted to say thank you but I never knew how. I doubt Haymitch needs me to verbalize it anyway. One night, as he follows behind Peeta to leave, his hand grazes my shoulder and gives it a squeeze and I know he's much more aware of the dynamic between his old tributes than he leads on.

But weeks after the night in question, the night that set Peeta and my friendship back months, we receive a telegraph from Effie. A telegraph that shakes the small amount of stability we've managed to build in the time since the war.

Apparently President Paylor has decided to move forward with arena destruction, an idea mentioned a few times by Plutarch on Caesar's talk show. An idea I didn't take seriously until now.

Paylor has decided to build a memorial for each of the arenas, for each year the games ever took place, to immortalize our history, so Panem can never forget how cruel and inhumane things once were. But first, she wants to eliminate the actual Hunger Games arenas, once and for all, before putting the memorials in their place.

My initial thought, months ago when Delly showed me Plutarch and Caesar discussing the idea, was that this would takes years to happen.

I was, once again, so clearly wrong. The plans have been expedited and the order in which each arena will be decimated has been swiftly decided.

All that alone doesn't sound terrible. I'd like to see those death pits crushed, burned, torn down, eradicated, or all of the above, by any means necessary. Only downside, initially, is that this will extend me—and Peeta and potentially all the other victors—remaining in the forefront of the public's mind.

Since the war, all I've ever wanted was for everyone in the country to forget who I am. I don't want to be known anymore. I just want to be left alone, to a quiet and peaceful and relatively simple life, without anyone ever recognizing me again. Without anyone thinking of me as the girl on fire, as the Mockingjay, as the sixteen-year-old who volunteered for a sister who was doomed to death anyway.

But, of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch.

Plutarch thinks it would be great to have the living victors be there—televised��in the Capitol and see the arenas before they're bulldozed.

Even with this dreadful proposition, I thought I had time to think of a way out of it. When Effie first sent the telegraph, I thought that I would have years before having to worry about going back to the places where my nightmares started.

Well, some of my nightmares, that is.

After all, it takes time to destroy something as large and as vast as an arena-excluding the way I destroyed the one in the Quell, that is. I figured-I rationalized, really-that by the time they got to number Seventy-Four, I would have a solid excuse to get out of attending.

I guess though they wished to start with the big years and the first decade of the Hunger Games wasn't very eventful, apparently—lucky them—so the first arena they wish to bid farewell to is the one from the second Quarter Quell. The Fiftieth Hunger Games. The one that was so strikingly beautiful and almost entirely poisonous.

The year Haymitch Abernathy, from the lowly District Twelve, won.

And being also from Twelve, my presence, along with Peeta's, suddenly became of the utmost importance as well.

At first, I still try to opt out of the event. Even after Effie chastises me over the phone, like not a day has passed since she was my escort, and even after my mother claims in her letter that it could be cathartic for me, I do not relent.

Delly and Thom and a few of the others in the community, like Kanon who runs the candy shop two stores away from the bakery, and Greta, who helps with the dusting and mopping all over town, try to say that it could be good for me. Greasy Sae claims it can't be worse than actually living through the games, and I silently appreciate her much more blatant statement than the comforting platitudes others try to provide me.

But it all falls on deaf ears in the end.

Because the only person I truly listen to is Peeta. Even bitter and wounded, the only person I really hear is him.

Unfortunately, as irritating as it is sometimes, his voice will always reach me when others can't.

But we don't ever have an actual conversation about it. Five days after Effie calls to announce the news, to tell me unequivocally that my presence is requested, Peeta sways me to go with just a look.

He comes over later than usual and brings extra bread and pastries to go with the deer meat I hunted. We feast silently, the air between us still incredibly awkward, when, without warning, our old mentor comes crashing through the door unceremoniously.

I don't know how much alcohol he consumed, but it's enough to knock even someone with Haymitch's tolerance off his feet.

By the end of the hour, the older man is practically beating his head into the wall of my dining room, screaming the names of dead children and about force fields and axes. And from across the kitchen table, Peeta touches my arm—the first time he's voluntarily touched me in weeks—and my eyes meet his, blue pouring into gray, and silently he begs me to go for the goodbye ceremony to Haymitch's arena.

And I give in. Not just for him. But also, in large part, to repay the caustic, miserable drunk that kept us alive. To support the unpredictable, temperamental man that I do consider my family somehow.

The ceremony is set to take place weeks later and the time does little to alleviate my anxiety. Peeta and me still don't speak much, but come time for lunch or dinner, there he is, in my house like clockwork.

When I point out, a few days before we're due at the train station, that there's a very realistic possibility that the Capitol won't let me go to the ceremony, Peeta casually says, "I already cleared that with Effie and Plutarch."

I shoot him a look of surprise. "You did?"

Shrugging nonchalantly before turning back to the rabbit on his plate, he murmurs quietly, "Thought it'd give you one less thing to worry about."

The ceremony is nothing like I expect. Somehow I figured there would be an obnoxiously large television crew, loud speakers, prepared speeches on written cards, awkward directions and crowds upon crowds of people surrounding us, asking pointed questions, shooting invasive stares and pressing for reactions to their nosy accusations. I expected those accusations to be directed at me and Peeta especially.

Instead, there's none of those things. There's no crowd at all, it's just us victors. Just Enobaria, Johanna, Annie, the three of us from Twelve and Beetee—who I still can't make myself so much as look at, reminded of my sister's absence and his role in it every time we so much as stand in five feet vicinity of each other.

The camera crew consists of Mitchell, Pollux and Cressida, along with two unfamiliar, but seemingly non-threatening faces. There's no directions, no prompting, not close ups or reshoots.

All that happens is Paylor makes a statement that the crew films, stating that the arenas will be destroyed one by one, and in the place of each there will be an individual memorial made, as we victors stand in an unorganized, crooked line that will surely make Effie cringe when she sees the footage on television later.

It's almost peaceful, I think to myself in surprise, as I look around at the location. The sky is a stunning cobalt, even more brilliant in person than in the video Peeta and I watched on the train so long ago. The meadow looks like the grass is fresh, like it was just watered yesterday. The mountain is so breathtaking I have to physically tear my eyes away from it and even the woods look rather cozy. Or maybe that part is just me.

There's also arraignments of flowers, just like in the footage we watched, that spill every which way, filling our noses with soothing, floral scents. It feels unnatural to say about a place set up for murder, but with the deadly poisons lurking at every turn eviscerated, I almost can find this arena truly beautiful.

Of course though, it's not my arena.

It's Haymitch's and he looks like he's about to be sick. He's white-knuckled it for a few days without any sort of drink—to my, Peeta's and, even Effie's, visible shock—and I can see plainly now that he's absolutely regretting it. His eyes are hallow and wild at the same time and I can see his shaking palms beneath the sleeves of his jacket as he stares out at the source of his every nightmare for the last quarter century.

It shocks me that he didn't find a way out of this. Actually, it shocks me still that these ceremonies are even possible.

I never knew they kept arenas after the games were over each year. I never realized they kept all seventy-four death pits, haunted by child sacrifice, the way you keep old vases on a shelf.

At this point though, it's just another thing to add onto the growing list of horrific and unthinkable issues that the Capitol doesn't even grasp. Keeping the haunted graveyards of children as souvenirs shouldn't sit right with anyone, I don't care how you're raised.

I tell myself to not be so quick to judge, as I can't know who I'd be if I had been born in the Capitol instead of the districts. Still, the idea of condoning the things they have without remorse or shame seems unthinkable.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when Cressida speaks. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Haymitch, before we finish filming?"

Once again, catching me off-guard entirely—he's full of all sorts of surprises evidently—Haymitch clears his throat and looks down at his leather boots before speaking. "Ardor. Garnett. Dolan. Silver. Ryker. Artemis. Slayte. Pistol. Lex. Mac. Lumen. Gig. Brook. Aqua. Mary. Ripley. Lyme. Watt. Rocky. Gio. Belle. Raven. Kia. Mecko. Barker. Jack. Holly. Briar. Essie. Stitch. Coco. Paul. Mira. Miller. Coop. Harvey. Butch. Cutter. Bea. Skinna. Basil. Sunny. Rip. Spring. Oaker. Terra. Maysilee." He lists off the names in a way that is so matter-of-fact that it would almost be robotic if it weren't for the hoarseness in his tone that grows stronger with every name he utters. He hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Corentine. Alannah. Alastar."

There's a long stretch of silence, where no one speaks, no one blinks, no one even breathes. We all know instinctively who these people are—I know solely from Maysilee Donner's name being called—but we still wait until Haymitch speaks again, to confirm our assumption.

"Those are the names of all the people this arena killed." His eyes grow glassy and his brow furrows in anger as he fights desperately to repress his emotions, and suddenly I have the strangest urge to hug my mentor, to make him feel better like he tried to do for me once when Peeta was stuck in the Capitol and I was distraught. But I know it wouldn't be appreciated or wanted, and quite honestly I'm glad for that, because I don't even know what to say.

The last three names Haymitch said stick in my head for some reason I can't explain other than an odd gut feeling. But then he speaks again, an in a voice growing gruffer by the second, he says right into the camera, "that's every single person who was killed because of the second Quarter Quell."

And, like I should have known all along, it hits me the last three names are the names of his family who were murdered to punish him for the stunt with the forcefield.

The last three names are the murders of the last people he loved. Until me and Peeta came along.

As if his thoughts matched mine, Haymitch suddenly shakes his head and his eyes widen again as he stares past all the rest of us, as he continues to take in the exact place in which life as he knew it, twenty-six years ago, was altered forever.

His reaction is more understandable and genuine than I imagined he would ever allow it to be, especially on camera, and I want to say something but me and him both aren't good at saying anything, and I find myself looking to Peeta, hoping he'd know what to do.

Peeta doesn't meet my gaze though. He's solely focused on our mentor and just when he opens his mouth to speak, the older man to suddenly shake his head in our general direction and clears his throat.

"I'm done. Tell Plutarch I'm done with this crap. Just hurry up and bulldoze this place so I can go back to Twelve," is all he says to Cressida as he storms off, but his voice is rough and caustic once again, and I can only hope he recovers from this event soon enough.

Somehow, witnessing Haymitch relive his games, even through the shield he so obviously puts up to the outside world, triggers me though. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water as I look around at the meadow, at the mountain, at the golden cornucopia, and wonder how anyone could build a place where kids would eventually go to die? How could anyone have ever been so inhumane? How could a country just accept it? How did we live for so long with the Hunger Games overtaking our lives and still remained complicit? I don't understand. The more time passes, the more days I'm separated from the war and from the old world and the old way of life, I just can't comprehend anymore how we ever lived in a place so horrific.

I feel my eyes spill over and I'm grateful that Cressida has stopped filming already, because if Plutarch saw any tears on film, he would make certain it ended up on television.

I wipe my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to go about it as subtly as I can, hoping no one else notices. For the most part, I'm golden. Enobaria is already exiting, with Beetee following not far behind. Jo's back is to me while she speaks to Annie, though as per usual, she seems to be irritated.

Of course, it's too much to ask for everyone to remain oblivious to my waterworks. Even as I rid myself of them before they become widely noticeable, I feel Peeta's eyes train on me and know, despite the distance between us for the last few weeks, he isn't going to ignore my upset.

To my surprise though, he doesn't speak. He doesn't utter a single syllable.

Instead, I feel his large, warm palm slip into mine and squeeze tightly, lacing our fingers together, in a way we have done thousands of times before. Like two puzzle pieces coming together to complete a picture, like two indivisible teammates that will fight against anything that is thrown their way, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other, his hand grasps mine with a vengeance and I know I won't be the one who let's go.

He's still holding my hand when we board the train, hours later.

A couple weeks later.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenstead, I will get the chocolate nut loaf and a platter of the cranberry cookies wrapped up for you... Yes, it will be ready by the time you arrive... No, I promise they won't be cold," Peeta assures through the bakery telephone—a new addition that Thom and his wife thought was necessary to run a proper bakery. So necessary they bought it for Peeta as an opening gift.

It's not that the gesture wasn't nice or that Peeta didn't deeply appreciate it. I personally saw that he did, wholeheartedly.

But seeing it on the wall every day was just another reminder to me of my own personal vendetta against the integration between the Capitol's way of life and the districts'.

The only place telephones used to exist, outside of the Capitol limits, was the houses in Victor's Villiage, and if I'm being honest, I wish it would have stayed that way.

Maybe I'm being selfish, as I happen to still reside inside a house that once belonged to the said village, therefore I already had experienced this luxury prior to the new world. But I just can't make myself break the association between the items that had recently become readily available for all and the horror that was the Capitol.

Still though, the change was inescapable Telephones, cameras, heating pads, curling irons, quick bake ovens, cars and so many other items, were all growing in popularly across each district. Not that I was able to see a lot of these changes personally. But letters from Annie and my mom, and the occasional—unprompted and yet still begrudged—call from Jo, all kept me informed. Sometimes more informed than I wished to be.

Maybe I would feel entirely different if these inventions were brand new to me. But they aren't. I'd seen and used every one of them before. Their novelty had always been lost on me, perhaps because my only experience them was while inside the Capitol, surrounded by tacky colors and strong rose scents and itchy materials, headed for a death match, my life and the lives of those I cared always at great risk.

Of course, the new item in the bakery did make some things easier. Days like today are a perfect example.

Harvest Day is only one day away and everyone is coming in for their breads and their desserts. Peeta says it was always one of the most popular days, for as long as he can remember. Only difference is, before the war only Peacekeepers and town folks could afford to purchase anything. And generally, most citizens who even did come in, could only purchase a limited amount of items.

Not now. I don't know where everyone in Twelve was coming up with the money or if Peeta's prices are just a drastic drop from that of his mother's, but today, I swear I've seen every citizen in town inside the bakery.

Makes me glad that the portrait of me is hanging in the back, where no one else can see it. As pretty as it may be, as talented as Peeta is, I don't want a giant version of me displayed for all to see.

"Here you are," I politely say, handing two loaves of warm bread to a man who must be new to Twelve, as I've never seen him before. I'm debating on asking if he moved here recently when he passes a bill to me over the top of the pastry display.

"Thank you, hon." He smiles at me, looking at me a little too closely for my liking, as he swiftly walks out the door. His exit is met with the arrival of Val, a boy Peeta and I went to school with, who definitely was more Peeta's crowd than mine.

Val is a regular customer at the bakery, having always genuinely liked the Mellark family. His parents owned a small carpentry shop four spaces down from the bakery, and even with both them dead, he and his two sisters rebuilt the store, taking over their parents' legacy.

Peeta though is more focused on me now than Val's order. "Give me a second," he calls to his old friend, a little less polite than he had been all morning. "Katniss, what's wrong?" He asks urgently, seeing the look in my eyes.

I shake my head and push away the anxiety threatening to close in on me. "Nothing, just..." I hesitate, not even wanting to say it. Peeta's gaze refuses to lessen though and I sigh before finally mumbling, "That guy. He creeped me out. The way he was looking at me so closely..."

Peeta's hand touches my arm for a brief moment before pulling it away, making it obvious that he regrets the small act of even so much as touching me. But his words are still calming and they relax me a little. "He's gone now, Katniss. And if he scares you, I won't let him come back, okay? There's nothing anyone can do to you or me anymore. We're safe."

I nod, knowing the words like the back of my hand at this point, as it's the same mantra we always repeat to each other, every time one of us begins to panic or flail. But still, I open my mouth to refuse his offer. I don't want Peeta to turn away any sort of business. Not with the unpredictability and uncertainty this new world still rests on. We never know if the bakery will sell anything tomorrow or if all sort of income will soon dry up.

And we're the lucky ones, financially speaking, who were rich before the war and allowed—in a generous declaration by President Paylor—to keep the entirety of our money after. I don't have to imagine the anxiety others in the country must be in, knowing the curse of poverty all too well. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.

"I don't want you to turn away people," I say quietly. "Not on my account. You need business to keep this place afloat."

"I have plenty of money, Katniss," he reminds me, a little darker than I expect. "And I'd rather you feel safe than own a popular shop."

His words unexpectedly touch me, unexpectedly cut right down to the depth of my bones, exposing my soft underbelly. I'm about to do something stupid, like touch his hand, when Val makes his presence known again. "Your shop is already the most popular in the district," he points out, not even a little ashamed for having listened to our conversation. "And besides, why don't you just look at the guy's name? Maybe you can look him up, see if he's alright or not."

Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "That's a good idea, Val, thank you." As he moves towards the register to, I can only suppose, look for the man's receipt with his name and signature, he gestures to his school friend. "Katniss can get your order."

I shoot him a glare, only half kidding. I did come to help out, here and there, today but I did not intend to be an actual expected employee. For free, no less.

Instead of saying anything though, I just grab Val his three cinnamon rolls, his two snack cakes, four bagels, white chocolate donut and a loaf with raisins and cranberries.

Val, like Delly Cartwright, was always one of the few people in Twelve who had a few pounds to spare.

Peeta has a type of friend.

"Found it," Peeta now calls, bringing over a slip of paper to where I'm handing Val his three bags of treats. "His name was Rod Catamaran."

Me and Val, for the first time perhaps, exchange a look between us. "That's an odd name for Twelve."

"I've never even heard that name before."

"He may not even be from Twelve, guys," Peeta says.

I roll my eyes. "Because a bombed out district is really a tourist attraction."

"Hey, none of that," Thom calls as he walks through the front door of the bakery, with Kanon Bagley on his heels. "We've rebuilt this place beautifully and negativity is not appreciated here."

"Yeah, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, teasing me. I'm about to kick him in his only real leg, as we're the only two behind the counter and no one else will see, when Kanon speaks up.

"Can I buy a couple of pastries?"

"Of course," Peeta says kindly, walking around me to personally grab the two items Kanon requests.

Kanon is new to Twelve. One of the few new additions this place gained after all that went down. He's a large man in his early twenties, with dark skin and dark hair and eyes to match. But the only times I've ever interacted with him, he's quiet as a mouse, his eyes a little forlorn at all times and he offers more discounts then he should at the candy shop he recently opened next to the bakery.

He's from District Eleven originally and it takes no real critical thinking to realize he had a hard life, even before the war.

I'm far too familiar with the look of scars etched across the eyes. So is Peeta.

That's why, when Kanon looks down at the money in his hand and realizes he doesn't have enough to afford both pastries, Peeta immediately brushes it off. "That's okay, they're on the house," he instantly promises, handing the small bag over to Kanon with a gentle smile.

"No, I don't want to take it without-"

"I made way too much," Peeta insists, lying outright to make it appear Kanon would be doing him a favor. I know he didn't make too much, because we've been flying through everything today and keeping the ovens hot in case more is needed.

Still though, I back up the fib. "He did. We've been wondering all day how we were gonna sell enough stuff so we don't have to feed the leftovers to Haymitch's geese."

Kanon glances between us shyly, before taking the bag from Peeta's hand and slipping the few dollars he does have into his pocket again. "Thank you," he says softly and turns to leave.

Thom pats Kanon on the back as he passes him, before turning to follow. When the other man isn't looking, he turns back to us subtly and mouths, "thank you."

I wanted to tell him not to thank me. I only watched Peeta make this food, I didn't assist by any stretch of the imagination. I didn't own the bakery or do anything with the money or finances. It was not my choice to give things away for free.

But I'm far too focused on the boy in front of me to say any of that. The boy with the bread, the boy who isn't really a boy anymore. The boy who just gave away food for no reward at all, even on the most demanding and strenuous day all year for his business. The boy who just showed Kanon Bagley the same kindness I begged someone-anyone-to show me at eleven-years-old and not one single person did.

Except for him. He did for me all those years ago what he did for Kanon just now, and I suddenly have the most inexplicable, irrepressible urge to kiss Peeta right then and there, in the middle of the bakery.

I don't, however, and it's for once not because I lost my courage. It's because the door swings open again, just as Val exits right behind Kanon and Thom.

It's the same man from earlier. "Hi," Peeta greets, this time not at all sweet. Clearly recognizing the man as the one who made me nervous before. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," the man affirms, his tone brighter than you'd expect given our chilly reception. And our blatant wariness for anyone new. "I forgot to get a pecan butter cake before?"

There is a beat where me and Peeta exchange a look, before I awkwardly move towards the display case and begin to pack up his item. Peeta waits for me to decide to help the man before starting to ring him up.

"That was a nice thing you both just did," the man says as he patiently watches me fold the white waxy paper over his pastry. "For that guy."

"You were watching?" Is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.

"Only for a moment," he explains, his tone still friendly. Either he doesn't know how to read people at all or he's the most even keeled person in Panem.

Because I know I'm being rude, to a man who maybe doesn't even deserve it, I force myself to say one thing conversational. "This is my mom's favorite dessert," I offer, gesturing to his cake.

The man raises his eyebrows in an act that looks almost feigned. "Really?"

I instantly regret trying to be even slightly pleasant. Even his mannerisms seem fake. I'm contemplating if I should say anything else or go hide in the back room with the warm ovens and my portrait, when Peeta presses a button and the register dings.

He's about to say the total when the strange man shakes his head and hands to me directly an unfamiliar bill over the display case. "Have a nice day, you two," he calls, grabbing his cake and swiftly walking out.

It's not until he's gone, not until I have a moment to process the second weird encounter with the odd person, that I even glance down at the crisp bill he handed me.

It's a bill with a larger number on the back than I've ever personally seen before. I knew these kinds of dollars existed—I'm sure I could have gotten plenty after my first games—but I'd never seen one in the flesh.

Peeta sees my reaction. "What is it?" His voice sounds alarmed and he's stepping closer to me, but all I can do is gasp out his name.

"Peeta, look." I hold up the bill and point to the number on the back.

His eyes widen too, taking in the amount with a dizzy smile. Of both relief that nothing's wrong and excitement at the digit.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" I ask suddenly, looking over my shoulder towards the window, wondering if we should track the man down and give him his money back, before he evaporates into thin air.

"No?" Peeta shakes his head, the wheels in his mind turning quicker than mine. His face turns to that of elation, as the large bill takes some pressure off the bakery's sales. "No, he said he saw us give Kanon a break. He was giving us something in return."

I'm about to say something else, I don't even know what, but it all flies out of my head when Peeta suddenly wraps his arms around my waist and swiftly pulls me into his embrace.

My entire body goes into lockdown and hypervigilance at the same time. I can't move an inch but it feels like every nerve in my body is abruptly tingling and on fire.

My sweater lifts up slightly and his bare arms graze my lower back, eliciting a shiver to run involuntarily down my spine as his face buries into my hair.

I wrap my arms around his neck after a beat when I can make myself move again, and I feel him smile against my skin. I'm so glad at that moment he's holding me up, because if he wasn't supporting my weight I'd probably crash to the floor, unable to even feel my legs beneath me.

And, as a rush of heat shoots out from the place where Peeta's lips brush my collarbone, I suddenly feel only gratitude, not irritation, at the strange Rod Catamaran.

Four days later.

The world surrounding me is green. Green and brown and fire-bitten and scorched. Every which way I spin, there's embers soaring from that direction too, waiting to lick me with their burning flames, ready to decimate me once and for all.

But through the smoke and haze, I still can see between the trees two blonde braids. I still can see a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. I still can see her shirt that's come untucked in the back, creating a duck tail that I desperately want to fix.

Just as I notice her, she whirls around to face me, her blue eyes big and bright and terrified. "Katniss!" She screams, the same way she did the last day she was alive. "Katniss, help! They're coming!"

I don't know who's coming or what's happening or where we even are, but all I feel is relief somehow. Relief that she's here, that I'm in her presence again, that she's almost within my reach. Instinctively I call out, "Prim!" Just so I can finally get a response to the name I've been shouting into oblivion for almost a year now.

"Katniss, help me!" She cries again and then looks over her shoulder. She's not talking about the fire between us, as it doesn't seem too intent on heading towards her.

I don't know what's coming or who she's afraid of, but my instincts now go into overdrive. My body suddenly snaps into alert and I whip my head around, to see if I can find an opening in the fire closing in on me, if I can find a way to get to the sister I lost what feels like only yesterday, if I can find a way to save her this time.

There's no gap in the fire though. It's crowded around me, front, back and side to side. The more seconds that pass by, the closer the fire folds into my proximity, and I have to brace myself before making a split-second decision.

But it's not really a decision at all. Prim needs me and I cannot fail her. I have to save her this time.

I take a bold step directly into the fire, with every intention of running through it somehow. Of running past the wild embers, scorching myself no doubt, but still making it over to my distressed, frightened little sister. But it doesn't work like I expect.

But really, does anything?

These flames are nothing like the fires I've encountered before. And I've been around more fire in my life than anyone ever should.

No, these flames don't burn me. They don't hurt me or put me through agony or singe me to pieces. They don't melt off my makeshift coat of skin and they don't further decimate it either.

Instead the fire feels like almost nothing. Like something almost itchy, something almost irritating, something almost painful. Something that make me want to squirm and scream and escape all at the same time.

Which is real ironic considering what else it seems these flames do.

They seem to hold me into place. The second I'm in their hold, instead of the horrific pain I thought I'd be in, I'm trapped in a series of almost nothing.

I'm not in excruciating pain physically, but seeing my sister standing ten feet from me, and not being able to move any closer, not being able to protect her from whatever she's terrified of, is worse than any amount of injury this fire could have inflicted.

"Katniss!" Prim screams now, her voice only growing in its frantic nature. "Help! Why won't you come help me?"

I try to scream, try to tell her I want to but I can't move. But it turns out that these flames also paralyze vocal muscles.

"Peeta's dying!" Prim yelps out, looking behind her again, her hands beginning to shake in a way she almost never let them in life. She always tried to keep it together, to remain calm and rational in a crisis.

Her words elicit something entirely new inside of me though. "Peeta?" I yell in confusion, my voice suddenly no longer paralyzed.

"They're killing him! Katniss, please, why won't you come here? We need you!" Prim is close to hysterical now and frankly, so am I.

"I'm trying! I just," I move my hands down my body, trying to push the flames away as they rises up to my chest, trying to just break free from these fiery chains once and for all. "The fire, Prim! I can't get out of the fire."

Prim's voice drops then, loses all source of fear, every ounce of panic. Loses any semblance of emotion. "Katniss, there is no fire," she states blankly, her eyes looking directly at the embers covering my stomach and legs. "There's nothing there."

I just look at her for a moment, completely speechless. Her words are inconceivable, her eyes are haunted now, her facial expression is unrecognizable. Even her voice doesn't sound like hers anymore.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, in the distance a gunshot goes off.

Prim delicately glances over her shoulder now, her blue eyes cold as ice. "He's dead," she informs clinically, before sighing deeply, her tone almost disappointed. "And so am I."

I don't know what happens next or how it occurs, but I fly upwards in my bed with such a start, I give myself whiplash.

I hear a loud screeching noise hanging in the air, a hoarse trepidation that almost makes me feel better. I don't know why but someone else screaming in the middle of the night gives me hope, as sick as that may be.

Only it's not someone else, I realize, as my throat burns raw. I realize with startling clarity that I'm the only making all the noise. I'm the one shaking so tremendously. I'm the one who is sobbing.

"Shhh," a voice whispers against the darkness, and I flail involuntarily at the shock. "Sorry, sorry," Peeta instantly apologizes, his hands gripping my arms with a little too much intensity, trying to still my shaking. "It's okay, Katniss, you were just having a nightmare."

His words do precious little to calm me down though. "She was there," I cry, the image, the feeling, of Prim standing only ten feet from me and not being able to reach her too painful for me to unsee.

"Who was there?" He asks tenderly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Katniss, breathe."

I don't even bother listening to his advise. I haven't exhaled since I was eleven. "Prim was there. She was begging me to save her and then I couldn't, I was trapped but-but," I cut myself off, unable to form coherent words and thoughts any longer.

Peeta gets the gist though. "Come here," he whispers and pulls me into his arms, like he used to on the train, when my nightmares woke us both three times a night. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says softly now, and rubs my back in a way that elicits goosebumps. His way of trying to soothe my shaking. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You died too," I blurt out then. I don't even know why I feel inclined to tell him.

"What?"

"I was stuck and I couldn't speak and then Prim said you were going to die and I got scared enough that I could talk again and I thought-I thought," I stumble breathlessly, my tears pouring out against his shoulder now.

I feel his lips touch my cheek and I'm too upset to revel in the feeling of blood rushing there. "It was just a nightmare," he promises.

But my sentiment is unfinished. "I thought I could break free, that I could-"

"Katniss," he halts, still holding me in his embrace, rocking me slightly. "It wasn't real. I promise you, it wasn't real."

Those words, the words so often said to him by me, ring a bell that I didn't want to ring. It snaps me back into reality abruptly and without warning, I feel like my chest is going to collapse.

Because this means Prim wasn't really there, that she still is as dead as she was yesterday, that I still watched her explode into pieces all over the bombsite in the Capitol.

I still failed to protect her.

Peeta pulls back slightly then and rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Katniss," he says again, trying to calm my trembles by rubbing my arms up and down.

"How are you in my house?" I realize, with an intense sudden clarity. "How are you here? Are you real or am I still-"

He quickly puts me out of my misery. "You gave me a key, remember? A long time ago? We gave each other keys to our houses."

Oh. Right. I forgot all about that when he had his nightmare, didn't I?

Good thing he's an idiot who keeps his door unlocked at night.

He's explaining further before I can think to ask. "I heard you having a nightmare from my house. That's why I rushed over here."

I'm caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "Sorry, I really don't know what brought it on."

"Hey," he quietly reprimands, lifting my chin now to meet eye contact. "Don't apologize. No one understands nightmares like me."

I nod, accepting his words, though still a little uncomfortable with screaming for all the district to hear at two in the morning.

Then again, our entire neighborhood is Haymitch and the two of us, and our mentor was drinking like a fish last night so really, the only person who could have heard me is already sitting directly in my eye line.

To punctuate his words, when I don't respond verbally, he lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips tenderly.

And I don't know what comes over me or why. I don't know if it's because we've been growing closer again lately or if I just haven't felt his arms around me since days ago in the bakery and I miss the feel of it desperately, but I find myself abruptly throwing my body around his before I can talk myself out of it.

He catches me easily, like he anticipated my reaction and sways me for a long moment, until my breathing begins to even itself out.

"Will you stay?" I rasp into his neck, as I feel his hand tangles in my matted locks.

"Always."

#everlark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fic #fanfic #prompt #everlark fanfic #fanfiction #growing back together #userreese #i think thats what you meant when you said to tag you????#gravity ��️ 🌅 🥖

48 notes · View notes

seekingthestars · 4 years ago

Text

THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND, MR LEE SEOKMIN omg yes :DDDD

there are lots of rambles and pictures and links so. under the cut! :D

First! Before I ramble! This is a very cute interview he did for Get In The Car in July of last year! almost 11 minutes of him being a whole entire sun, bless okay now onwards to my rambles!

His birth name is Lee Seokmin, stage name is DK / Dokyeom. Birthday is February 18, 1997 (and fun fact, he shares a birthday with Vernon! same day, different year. they are the 218 bros c: picture below is from their birthday livestream this year!) He's a member of the Vocal Unit and is main vocal, a member of BSS (BooSeokSoon, a subunit with Seungkwan, DK, and Hoshi / i also believe he's leader of BSS!), and member of svt's 97 line with Mingyu and THE8/Xu Minghao (HEY BUDDY from Semicolon is a 97 line song!). and he has an older sister (three years older i believe)!

He debuted as a musical actor in 2019 in the musical Xcalibur in the lead role as King Arthur! He was also on King of Masked Singer as "Baby Demon" and made it to the third round 💪

He's VERY LOUD LOLOLOL this is a fun story, but they were at a music show during Don't Wanna Cry era and BAP was in the waiting room next to them. DK was practicing his part for the live ("If I cry now, I may never see you again") over and over stupid early in the morning and Daehyun from BAP sent them a voice message going "STOP CRYING!!!!!" also I think I read somewhere that he collects headphones? and he has a really big collection of them!

Dokyeom is a PURE RAY OF SUNSHINE, just absolute sunshine in a bottle, he is the most adorable 🥺 the members call him pure, he's just a huge sweetheart 😭 during the online concert they had in January, there was a part during encore where they played a recording of fans singing svt's special song "us, again" to them, and Dokyeom just CRIED so much, Dino and DK were the only ones who cried, sweet boys, they made me cry 😭

He loves dogs!!! He loves doggos so much 😭💘 this video compilation is svt with dogs, but 70% of it is DK, it's so freaking cute i wanna perish, he loves doggos and doggos love HIM

his favorite food is PIZZA. the boy LOVES PIZZA. he had his own pizza-making vlive, he talks about pizza all the time, he just loves pizza. in US/English interviews he has taken to introducing himself as "Pizza Boy" and/or that time in that one Buzzfeed interview when he goes "HI MY FAVORITE FOOD IS PIZZA" and forgets to introduce himself, LOVE HIM. (both of those clips are in previous linked video!!) (and did you notice his birthday cake in that picture was PIZZA SHAPED)

more fun facts, Jeonghan recently adopted a pet rock (named Doljjong) and the rest of the members were like. teasing him mercilessly for it. but dokyeom, the SUNSHINE BEAM OF A HUMAN BEING, went to visit it and took pictures with it, and then BOUGHT HIS OWN PET ROCK, he named it Dodol, i love him

pictured here are DK with Jeonghan's pet rock and then the first picture of his own pet rock, Dodol

i now include this picture of Jeonghan visiting Dodol specifically bc you can see DK keeps Dodol on a shelf with a collection of?? little fake dogs/dog figurines?? which is somehow SO DOKYEOM and also very endearing, i told you he loves doggos 😭💘

OH also to go along with him being LOUD, he's also a bit of a scaredy cat 😂 (no judgement, me TOO) the members can and have referenced this one exact moment several times since it's happened, but it's iconic, you must see (clip set to start at beginning of the sequence for context, but the exact moment is ~6:40!) See also: Going Seventeen 2020 ep 28 The Tag #2 (dk and s.coups going into a ~haunted house~ together, that's full chaos 😂)

also apparently bad at video games, see Going Seventeen 2020 ep 29/30 Christmas In August #1 & #2 lol

Hoshi started his whole "horanghae" agenda two years ago as a special way to say "i like you"/"i love you" to fans and now every member has their own version and Dokyeom's is "doahae!"

^^^^^ ilu from the vocal team ❤️

He's also one of the members who posts on weverse a fair amount and his posts are either ridiculous and funny or like. stUPIDLY SWEET and so endearing 😭💘

like for example this one time he posted a couple of pics and was like "my hair is couch-colored........"

bless his face

also this boy is so fine and fOR WHAT 😭 i cry about this. a lot.

Some miscellaneous DK videos i will link bc i can!!! : DK being an archery master at ISAC 2019 and only hitting 10pts and also knocking out the bullseye camera // that time Jeonghan went live the same time as him and he sulked about it // DK's high tone rap is legendary

And some DK covers/OST songs! She Didn't Love Me / Missed Connections / The Little Prince

And lastly, random, but he has a Spotify playlist of favorite songs you can listen to ^^

ANYWAY THERE'S SOME INFO ABOUT RESIDENT SUNSHINE BEAN DOKYEOM, SORRY FOR ME JUST RANTING ALL THIS INFORMATION AT YOU BUT. HE'S A DARLIN'.

❤️@koalamb

#koalamb #answer #typed this whole thing up and then tumbLR ATE THE REPLY #THREE DIFFERENT TIMES #so we're trying again and hopefully this works HAHAHA #anyway all the links are various youtube videos!!#and this is SO MUCH RAMBLING SORRY YOU PROBABLY WEREN'T EXPECTING THIS MUCH TEXT #i woke up today and saw this message and have spent entirely too much time rambling now #but my brain immediately went 'PERMISSION??? PERMISSION TO RAMBLE??? ABOUT SVT???????'#and then SPIRALED #i really love them a lot i like rambling about my favorites ;;#i never get chances to so when i do i just....TALK A LOT LOLLLL #ANYWAY THERE YOU GO #:D 💖💙💖💙#svt #dokyeom

5 notes · View notes

sublimazion3 · 8 years ago

Note

You such great person to translate from other when they ask you to translate,but you know in ANN Radio,myao,shimada and chiyori write letter for kojiharu too,can u translate that?And then when there is mc with sashi,jurina,kitarie,yuki and michan they talked about memory with kojiharu. if you don't mind please translate for kojiharu oshi...

Myao’s: “Dear Kojima Haruna,

I never thought it would come the day in which I’d have written a letter to you. First of all, thank you very much for letting me attending this All Night Nippon broadcast with you, being it your last one. I was sure that, for your last broadcast here, you would’ve gathered with all others very popular, up in SSK rankings members, and that my letter would’ve just gotten sent to you; yet, here I am, a not so popular member who doesn’t even know if she’ll make it in SSK this year, chosen by you to attend tonights bradcast. You really are a goddess, after all. You know, among the members we’re really asking ourselves if you aren’t a goddess for real, lately. You’re usually told that you’re beautiful, both in the inside and outside, but it’s actually the truth.

About 9 years ago, when I took the audition for AKB, I remember I was asked from one of the judges there if there was any member within AKB that I looked up to. And I immediately replied, “It’s Kojima Haruna-san!”. The reason is that I didn’t know any other member’s name aside from yours. Minegishi-san, please forgive me. - Minegishi: “I don’t know what to do with your apologies!” - However, here I am today, thanks to that reply of mine. I can’t stop peeing my pants thinking about what would’ve happened if I had given another members’ name that day, instead of yours. Kojima-san, thank you for guiding me on my journey in AKB48. Even if you graduate, we, Kojima-children, will keep living on. Shall you go through any hard times, please do not hesitate to rely on us, your Kojima-children. I will always support you. Thank you for your hard work for the past 11 years. Miyazaki Miho.”

Shimada’s:“To Kojima-san.

This is my first time writing a letter to you. When I joined the group, as a kenyuusei member, I had many chances of connection with Kojima-san. We’d shoot together for hours for AKB akiyoshi, go to locations together, and I’d always dance as under during A5th’s Renai Kinshi Jourei stages. When I got the DVDs of those theater stages, I realized I was constantly following you around. Yes, it was because I was your under, and there were many mistakes I kept makind and such, but I realized you were showing me the right way of appearing on stage and how to properly behave. For the Heart Gata Virus performance, I wasn’t able to properly say your line in the middle of the song, so in order to do that I’d watch you performing that song many times, listening to that carefully. We’ve never been in the same team, or had the chance to work that much together, that’s why, it made me happy when I was able to do things such as helping you changing quickly of your costume the other day at Music Station, or when you chose me to appear in the theater stage with you. I thought our chances of being together were slowly increasing, and it made me happy the most the fact that I could talk to you just a little bit. Oh, and it also made me happy that you praised my outfit. So I’m totally gonna do my best as new generation’s fashionista, so please support me. P.S. - do you think you can finally follow me back on twitter? By Shimada Haruka.”I found this cut video with Myao’s and Shimada’s letters, but there’s no letter written from Chiyori, you sure she read one? If she did then just send me the link of the whole ANN broadcast and the minute where she starts reading it, it will help me saving some time, you know.

From the CM, if I remember correctly;Minegishi says that she’s got many memories with Kojima, but the one that maybe is the most impressed in her mind is of when they had shootings together and when they went back to the dressing room Kojima offered to go buying Minegishi some crepes because she knew she liked them. The thing by itself is already kind and caring enough, the thing is that when she came back, the crepe she handed to Minegishi was a 1,800￥ crepe and it had truffle in the inside. Other members make fun of her ‘cause it looks like Minegishi gets the most impressed when people give her very expensive stuff lol Sashihara doesn’t really share any memory she has with Kojima, she instead praises her ‘cause she says that if otakus like her were to watch that Sexy Show thing she brought on stage few performances earlier, they prolly wouldn’t have felt excited at all, but because that sexy show was both sexy and cute and just nice to watch, she realized how fans in the audience were all excited and happy about it and welcomed it good, so she praises Kojima’s setlist choice, I guess. And inventive.

Kitarie says that she hasn’t had many occasions to be with Kojima, however she remembers of when they both got in the same group when they had shootings for Love Trip and members/group of members went to high school guys and girls and assisted them in their love confessions; however she says that hers and Kojima’s group was the only one that got rejected. Like the guy or the girl who made the confession got rejected while all other members’ groups were all successful.

Jurina brings back memories from oogoe diamond saying that on that time she was able to make friends with many senpais who eventually she felt like older sisters, and that the thing went on even years after, since lately she found Kojima-san laying on her shoulder saying that she was sleepy, but then retracting saying that Jurina is too skinny. I can’t really get what she says after that ‘cause there’s Sashihara talking on her, but I think that she says that she’s gonna become more “musuclar” so that Kojima won’t feel the “bones under her skin”.

Eventually there’s Yuki who, as everyone expected, doesn’t have many memories with Kojima (LMAO at Sashihara who is like “why the fuck you and Mayu never have memories or good stuff to share with others about other members?!”), but she says she’s gonna do her best tonight since it’s her graduation concert, and that she’s gonna try to get close to her this much↓

However, everyone else is like, “no - the fuck - that’s scary - you’ll freak her out” etc., so Sashihara says that the only thing to do is for her to hug Kojima from behind, this way↓

but Kitarie is like “Sashi, what the fuck, that is scary too. What’s that, a prowrestling move?!” - Sashihara laughs her ass off at her own suggestion, whereas Kitarie is like “(to Yuki) if you’re gonna do that, don’t hold her too tight or you’re gonna strangle her”. Yuki says she got it and that she’s gonna try her best.

The whole MC with Yuki is way more funny, though, ‘cause before all of this there’s like Yuki saying that when she and Kojima were announced as WCenter of green flash, they both looked at each other and were like, “that’s good, we’re prolly gonna have more chances of becoming colose, now. More chances of talking”, but then she’s like, “and yet, it’s been nearly two years, and absolutely nothing has changed”. Then Minegishi is like, “I know, I’ve been actually asked by fans to make you two become friends. Like fans have actually come to meet me and asked me to make sure that you two get close” and Sashihara is like, “Who the fuck is that? What kind of fan is that? You guys stop doing that!” and Minegishi is like: “But it’s honestly her (Yuki’s) own fault, ‘cause yesterday, when everyone was performing 10nen Zakura, and Nyan-nyan was in the middle and everyone was crying for the emotion, I went to her (Yuki) and was like, “Yuki, now it’s the time, you can go, just go!” and she!? She rejected me!! She was like “no–I—I really can’t. I really really can’t”. The fuck was that!?” It’s honestly so funny, I love it to death. Especially if you look at the way they talk and their expressions and all, LOL.

Anyways, here you go, I guess.

#anon #akb48 #kojima haruna #matsui jurina #miyazaki miho #shimada haruka #minegishi minami #sashihara rino #kitahara rie #kashiwagi yuki #mirokutrans

52 notes · View notes

mama-ghostie-61542 · 4 years ago

Text

A Thousand Lifetimes

Rated M++ for language and themes

If you recognize it--IT AIN'T MINE

Sorry for the OOC bits.

Chapter 2

Supper was finished and cleaned up with little in the way of words spoken after that. The evening saw me curling up in my bed with a coffee and the second chapter.

Jooheon PoV--

As soon as we were given our holiday leave, we were talking where we were all going to go. I had saved my days off for three months to have an entire week away. Just the same as I had saved as much as I could to be able to afford that first class ticket. Bryn had sent me half of the money, so that helped. As I packed, I called Bryn, just to verify the time I should get there.

The flight itself was really uneventful...unless you count the attendant openly flirting with me. That guy openly offered things that, umm, weren't on the menu, let's say. Now, don't get me wrong, I love flying first class, and I am used to having underwear thrown at me by western audiences, but getting an invitation to join 'The Mile High Club' by a dude, was a little much for me.

'Would be too much for me too'.

By the time the plane landed in L.A., I was thoroughly embarrassed, and a little pissed off. Then there was a two hour layover until my flight to Chicago. That flight was a lot better than the one from Seoul to L.A. No one bothered me. I was just the Asian guy in first class.

After grabbing my bag from baggage claim, I started to walk down to the pick up and drop off, where she said she would meet me. Bryn told me she has an awful time getting through security checkpoints. The machines pick up the studs on her implants. That was an interesting conversation, I learned my big sister had lost all her teeth due to a strange combination of factors. But, she had gotten it all squared away and everything had healed up a while ago.

'She has implants? Hmm.'

As I turned the corner, I heard a soft whistle followed by Bryn shouting.

"Jooheon! Over here, Lil Man."

'Little? He is at least half a foot taller than you!'

I turned towards the yell, and saw her. The buzz cut threw me for a second. "You cut it all off again," I remarked as I noticed her shoulder length hair was much shorter than our last video chat.

"Yep. Long hair is for men and babies, not ladies. Neither man nor bitch should be able to grab a handful and use it against me," she quipped as she ran her hand over the short, spunky, spikes on her pate. "Got your bag," she asked.

Long hair is for men and babies, huh.

I nodded.

"Cool. My truck is this way," she said as she tilted her head to the side. "Let's blow this pop stand."

"What," I asked, laughing as I followed.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand.'

Turning around and walking backwards, she said, "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

'See. I do know some idioms.'

Imagine my surprise when what she simply called 'my truck' was a tiny little Chevy Equinox.

As we stowed my bags in the back seat, I said, "Bryn, this isn't a truck."

"Is to me," she replied as we got into the front and buckled our safety belts. When she started up the engine, the cabin was filled with a haunted music. Then she said, as we backed out of the parking spot, "We gotta stop for gas before we hit the interstate, so, I suggest you visit the men's room before we leave. We still have a four hour drive ahead of us."

As she put it in drive, I replied with, "Are you insinuating I can't control myself?"

"No," she said, matter-of-factly. "I am straight telling you that you have a bladder the size of a walnut and you are riding with a fucking camel."

I laughed, 'I agree. That woman can make an eight hour drive with a bottle of pop and never once need to pee. There will still be soda in her bottle, too. She's a fuckin camel.'

As we pulled away from the gas station, and onto the interstate, She commented on my shirt. "That is a nice color on you, by the way."

"Thanks. I like red."

"I know. Just never had you pegged as a guy who actually looked good in maroon."

I looked down at my shirt. "It's red," I replied.

"No, Dear, it's maroon."

"Agree to disagree. How many times have I told you to just call me 'Honey'?"

"It weirds me out to call my little brother "Honey'. That's a word meant for a significant other. The closest you will EVER get is Dear. Ah! I know! Wanda," she laughed.

"Absolutely not," I laughed, "but I can see your point," I said, as I looked out the window for a minute, "How is Clark taking it?"

'Who is this Clark, guy?'

"Your visit? We got in a screaming match. It all boils down to the fact you are a guy."

"Wow," I replied then shook my head. Clark was one of those super insecure guys who saw everyone as a threat. "So it didn't and doesn't matter that the mere idea of being anything other than an adopted brother makes me want to poke my eyeballs out with a blunt object."

"Nope," she replied. "You're a dude, and dude's only think about getting 'stuff' from girls."

'Ok, so she is safe with Honey. Good to know.'

I gagged and covered my mouth, "Icky. Just the thought of that makes me want to vomit," I said then shuddered.

"Hey," she chuckled. "No pukin' in my truck," she quipped as she smacked my arm.

"Are you allowed to have gay friends?"

"He doesn't like them either. He would be completely happy if I had no friends at all."

"That is what I call possessive."

"That is what I call fucked up," she replied. "Getting a little sick of the double standards. He can have all the friends he wants, but I have lost most of mine, thanks to him."

"Well, you can't lose me. You are stuck with me now."

"Good to know."

"You know I love you, Sissie," I squealed as I laid over onto the console.

"Yeah, I know. Sadly," she replied and then smiled at me before focusing on the road.

After a few miles, I asked, "So he cost you your friends?"

Sighing, she replied, "Yeah. The only ones left are Lynn and Shayne. He tried to get rid of them, but Shayne threw a fit."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Shayne told him to shut up before he knocked him out. I mean, we have been friends for 33 years and nothing has ever happened. EVER. And I like Lynn."

"Lynn?"

"Shayne's wife. She is awesome!"

"So, do I get to meet the family this week?"

"Nope," she replied. "Ian, Allen, and Jason all have wives that don't like Ma...or me, much. And Los lives in Texas with his wife and their boys, so I don't get to see him much anyways. Costs a ton to board the boys for a visit"

"Los," I asked. I had heard her refer to him, but didn't really know much, other than he was the only biological brother. "I thought he couldn't have kids?"

"Carlos. Most of the family calls him Junior. Juan Carlos Jr. And he can, she can't. The boys are their pitties."

"Wow. What was his mom smoking," I asked.

Bryn smiled, "Don't know, but I wish she would have shared."

"Why?"

"My full name."

"What is it," I asked, mentally preparing myself for the answer.

"Bryn Markham is just the name I write under. Bryanna Ellyen Velvet Colline Brusher nee Loveland, legally. I go by either Annie or Bry, depending on who it is. My parents STILL call me by my full name," She replied, her embarrassment pinking her cheeks slightly.

I grabbed the pad and pen from beside my bed and wrote down the name quickly.

"Oh my god," I laughed.

"Could have been worse, though. If I had been a boy, my dad wanted to name me either Benjamin Abraham or Joshua Earl."

I couldn't help the snort that came out, right before I broke and laughed. I was laughing so hard I was starting to tear up a bit.

"Yeah. Haha. Laugh it up," She said as she rolled the window down a few centimeters and grabbed an ash cup from the rear cup holder. Then, Bryn grabbed the tin of smokes out of the console and lit one up.

"Hold up. You smoke?"

That explains the smell, sometimes.

"Not anymore. Used to, but I found this mix when I quit. I smoked because of my temper, and this mix helps. It's better than looking at the world through two panes of glass and chicken mesh cause I lost it and gave some dumbass what they really deserved."

I looked at her confused.

"A high five...in the face," she said as she glanced at me, "with a chair," Bryn deadpanned as she watched the road.

I snickered a little before I said, "Really?"

"Yeah. More than just a pretty face, little brother," She laughed as she playfully slapped her cheek.

As we settled in to the drive, I realized how much she looked like the girl in Kihyun's dreams. Granted, I could just be seeing what I wanted to see.

They both need someone awesome.

Bryn PoV--

We made it to the house in a little over 3 hours. As usual, Clarkie was pissed. This time cause I actually went and picked up my brother. I guess, he thought if he raised enough of a stink, I would do what he wanted. But, I had a bad habit of never staying in his happy little shell. Mostly because it felt like a cage and I hate to be hemmed in.

He has always said that I need safety and security, but his idea of it is a cage, fences to box me in. My idea was more like a safe place to bed down after a run with the moon, and the freedom to run and stretch out; to sprawl all out and wait for nightfall.

But, Hawkie, has always known its a nice place to land. But that's the way our connection worked, neither one of us had to say much, we just did and it all fit.

I couldn't help but think how wrong this Clark guy was. A spirited filly like that needed plenty of room to run, to roam, or she got stifled. She was right, my idea of security was always just having a good place to land.

As we walked inside, I said, "Look guys, Uncle Jooheon is here."

All three of my kids suddenly insisted on 'Uncle Joey' being his new name; even though I had been coaching them for weeks as to how to pronounce it the right way.

Grimacing, I said, "Sorry, Bud. It appears you have been graced with a new name. In the old ways, a new name is given at the time of adoption. So it looks like it's official. Welcome to the family."

"Hey. I don't mind. There are worse things to be called. Joey works," He chuckled as he shook his head, "At least it's close. I am honored to officially be part of the family."

"Don't get too comfy. Ma picks out middle names at random. So if you ever hear 'Joe' followed by some random Western name, just go with it. And if she whips out the right pronunciation and a random middle name, you are entirely on your own."

"If it's Ma, I would probably answer to it, just to keep her happy," He quipped back.

"It's better that way. She used to call Jamen, the ex, Lynn."

He let loose a belly laugh that had me laughing.

"Seriously," he asked as he wiped his eyes.

"Oh, Yeah. He used to get soo mad."

I laughed at Bryn and Honey and how they acted. Then, I thought about trying that name out in the morning.

As I laid there, curled up and ready to sleep, I felt her. She brushed my hair out of my eyes and whispered softly against my forehead, "You sleep, my love. I'll keep watch."

I fell asleep to her whispering something to me, soft and slow, in a language I couldn't understand. I knew it was no lullaby. It felt more like a blessing, like a prayer. I felt more at peace in that moment than I had for weeks. That night, the nightmares did not haunt me.

The next morning, as we all got around for the day, I took the chance.

"Hey, Joey."

All of the guys stopped.

Honey turned to me, "What did you call me."

"Story said she coached her kids for weeks. They all had it right, but, the minute you walked in the door it was 'Joey'."

"Really," He said as he looked kind of confused. "Joey?" He just snickered and smiled. "Babies. What can ya do," he laughed.

"If what she wrote is true, in her culture, when a person is adopted, they are given a new name. 'Joey' happens to be yours. Not to mention that 'Honey' weirds her out."

The expression on his face dropped. Confusion colored his face for a moment, then the look of understanding followed, "Ahh. Smaller and close to the original so the kids can learn it. Also, so the adults understand that with the small nickname, everything is ok, but the full version, pronounced right, means 'Shut up and listen'. Got it."

"Did you miss the adopted part? She knows!"

At almost two in the afternoon here, I heard her whisper, 'I'm off to bed.' as I felt her presence close to me. Next, came the burn on my cheek, followed by her soft, 'Goodnight, Love.'

Since I was finishing up my lunch, I decided to reach for her. 'Rest well, my queen. You have more than earned it today,' I said as I brushed her hair away from her face. She always looks so peaceful when she sleeps. I almost couldn't wait for the day when I could physically hold her again.

A/N--Still in hell.

#original writing #original fiction #twin souls #soul mates #soul connection #monsta x fic #kihyun fic #past life

1 note · View note