#now i need to drive an hour home i want to kms

[pxrxmoore]

…

[jujutsubaby]

after hours (part 3)

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader, satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: the parent teacher night conference is here and you finally realize how popular toji is with all the women in megumi's school. good thing you're the only one who goes home with toji at the end of the day. ☆ tags: modernAU, babysitterAU ☆ warnings: 18+ !! MINORS DNI! dirty talk, foreplay, slight power dynamic, and more dirty talk. ☆ a/n: 3/3 on mentioning jacob elordi in this series should i kms 🤭 anyway this was only partial smut but i promise you toji is going to dick y/n down in the next chapter so hard (ᵔ.ᵔ) so get read for it 😈 also i'm rly liking where the story is going esp for toji x gojo x y/n ahhhh ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑ 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

“c’mon guys, i really need to figure out which outfit to wear!” you plead to shoko and utahime, while holding up a black jumpsuit on one hand and a black cocktail dress on the other. shoko and utahime are currently too busy building and decorating their joint animal crossing island to really pay attention to any of your bullshit (and you know it) but you cannot help but feel a bit anxious for tonight. you wanted to look good for dinner and toji, but also professional and respectable for the parent teacher conference.

utahime turns to you and frowns. “i just don’t think either of those are good, if i’m being honest…” she trails off. “i mean, who wears a cocktail dress to a parent teacher conference?”

shoko also turns around and sees the black cocktail dress and eyes it carefully, before finally recognizing it. “i’ve literally seen you wear that to a frat party and now you’re considering wearing that megumi’s school?” she questioned, looking skeptically at the dress.

“okay, so jumpsuit it is.” you say, heading back to your room. you pair the black jumpsuit with some layered dainty gold necklaces and rings and a pair of slightly dirty yet reliable white sneakers with your favorite pair of frilly socks with bow ties on them. you decide to leave your hair down with all its natural curls and grab your bag. you quickly send a text to toji before heading out:

y/n: heading out soon, cya in 8 🤍

you say goodbye to shoko and utahime, still engrossed in trying to make their cottagecore witch themed island of their dreams, and drive over to toji’s house. you’re not entirely sure when you started to feel anxious, but by the time you pull up to toji’s driveway, it takes everything in you to not hurl out your insides the minute you open your car door.

c’mon y/n, you’ve babysat here hundreds of times. why’s this any time different? well for starters, toji ate you out last time. your very poor pep talk barely made you get out of the car and ring toji’s doorbell. you bite your lip and tuck your hair behind you ears, wondering if toji will say something regretful about the time you spent together last night.

sure you aren’t that emotionally attached to him by any means, but you would be lying if you said you wouldn’t feel hurt if he says something along the lines of “this was a mistake”. your thoughts are interrupted by the door finally opening, and coming face to face with toji. your eyes millk in the sight of him, and your breath is quite literally taken away. you think you’ve never seen him clean up this nice, as he’s wearing a crisp navy blue shirt and a pair dark slim pants. fuck me.

“h-hey toji,” you say, greeting him with a slight smile.

"hey, pumpkin," he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you in. he closes the door, and you walk inside. before you know it, toji grabs your arms and swings you around to face him, your body flush against his chest. you squeak at the quick movement and before you can understand what is happening, toji's lips crash into yours. you're taken by surprise, but you immediately melt into his kiss, all your anxiety evaporating.

you stand on your tippy toes and wrap your arms around his neck, moaning into the kiss. you wish there was a way to press your lips even closer to toji's, mimicking the movement of his lips while you tried to ignore how soaked your panties were even though the night just started.

toji leans down and grips your ass tightly and picks you up. almost on instinct, you wrap your legs around his hips, slightly rocking them into his torso while he lightly presses you up against the wall. god, he could just take you right here, right now.

he feels your hips rocking onto him, breaks off the kiss, leaving you whining for more. "already looking for some action?" he teases.

you don't even have a good response for him because he's right: you are looking for some action. down there if you're being specific. and you don't care that he started it first. you nod a pathetic "mhmm" and throw your head back as he leans in to lick your neck and mark his territory. you don't even care that everyone would be able to see the hickey toji is leaving if it meant he didn't stop what he was doing.

"alright, keep holding onto me, pumpkin. i wanna touch you..." toji trails off, as he lets one hand off your ass. your legs remain wrapped tightly around his waist, and your breaths get shorter and louder as his fingers trail up from your hips to your chest. wait, has toji never touched your tits before?

your brain doesn't get a chance to ponder on the thought when toji gives your tits a harsh squeeze and you illicit an almost inappropriately long sigh, trying your hardest to contain your volume. toji groans, loving the response that just his hands over your clothed chest has on you. he gives your hardened buds the attention they craved, pinching and playing with them, as you started to beg toji for more.

"please, please, you know this isn't enough for me~" you complain, squeezing your legs even tighter against his waist. at this point, you were pathetically humping his waist, desperately trying to get some friction in the area you needed it the most.

toji responds by pushing you harder against the wall, your head rolling back as the sensitive buds on your chest sent electricity all throughout your body. if you weren't horny before, you sure are now.

you're about to ask (read: beg) toji to unzip your jumpsuit, when you and toji both hear little pitter patter footsteps coming down the stairs. megumi.

toji immediately shifts you back on to the floor, and you smooth out your jumpsuit and hair while toji adjusts the tent in his pants. you're still trying to regulate your breathing when megumi comes down the stairs. his eyes wild with excitement when he sees you and dashes towards you for a hug.

"megumiii" you greet him cheerfully, your arms open for a hug. you've always had a soft spot for this kid, and you pick him up when he approaches. god, he's getting bigger and bigger each day, you think as you realize he's heavier than he was when you first started babysitting him. "how was your dayyyy" you say in a sing song voice.

"it was fine...yuji brought his fruit scented markers to class today and i used the grossest flavored marker to draw on yuta's face during nap time." he says so unbothered that your jaw drops.

"umm...wow...okay...so that's a lot. i thought we talked about drawing on yuta's face during nap time." you frown. you remember when you were babysitting megumi a few weeks ago when the landline got a call from school about megumi getting in trouble and yuta crying because his face smelled bad. poor kid.

"i know but this time this new girl, nobara, dared me to do it, i had to!" he defends, as you put him down. you watch as toji chuckles at how fond the two of you are. he sighs with content and kneels down to help megumi put on his shoes.

"we'll talk about this later but peer pressure is never any good." you lecture as you hold the door open for megumi and toji. you lock eyes with toji, and he mouths a thank you before taking over and locking the door.

toji helps megumi get into his range rover while you hop into the passenger seat. you quickly check your phone and see two texts:

shoko: how's stepmomming going? me n utahime are scamming children on discord for mushroom diy recipes :)

satoru: ugh that girl who i was supposed to hook up w tn just bailed on me should i kms?

you quickly send a response to shoko that you were on the way to the restaurant and to be nice to the children, and open satoru's message and give it a thumbs up reaction. you're determined to have no distractions tonight.

toji takes you and megumi to a nice, but not too fancy, sushi place downtown, nearby megumi's school. over dinner, you hear megumi talk more about his friendship with yuji, which warms your heart. throughout dinner, you and toji sneak glances and smiles with one another, and you feel like a high schooler again.

you notice between conversations with megumi that toji has been nonstop staring at the tv screen behind you, and you quickly take a turn to see it’s the collegiate basketball game taking place. 

“i didn’t know you were into basketball, toji.” you muse, never pegging him as someone who would enjoy watching sports in general. you get no response from toji — it’s almost like he didn’t hear you while his eyes were glued to the screen. 

“toji. toji! TOJI!” you snap, in front of his face, finally getting his attention. “what’s going on, dude, talk to me.” you ask, confused as to why his expression turned scornful when your home team missed a three pointer.

“oh, sorry. i got really into the game, my bad pumpkin.” he says, eyes still glued to the screen. “just gimme a quick minute, i’ve got some money i’ve bet on our team tonight…” he trails off, quickly shooting you a forced grin before zoning out at the tv again. 

you’re a bit irked that he’s paying more attention to the game than you and megumi but you let it slide. why would he bet on a stupid basketball game anyway, you think. 

you and megumi make small talk while you help him eat his dragon roll before the game finishes and and toji rejoins the table mentally. you hear him groan in frustration before shooting off a quick text. poor guy probably lost his bet. “anyway, what did i miss? sorry about that, guys.”

“nothing!” megumi chirps, before slightly frowning. “also…i can’t finish my dragon roll anymore, daddy. can you help?” 

“of course, kiddo.” toji grins, before taking a napkin and wiping soy sauce off of megumi’s face.

“oh my god, you’re soooo babygirl,” you unexpectedly say. you have no idea where that came from, but you mean it. seeing any soft side of a big man like toji just has your heart melt into a puddle. 

toji raises an eyebrow, while chewing his son’s unfinished dragon roll pieces. "the fuck does that mean?” he says through bites. he’s not totally offended by it -- more so intrigued than anything else.

“i dunno, it’s like when big built guys like you are soft on the inside, you know. it’s just…cute. it’s babygirl.” you laugh, while explaining. you cannot believe you’re having this conversation with toji, but you can’t believe it even more when he laughs. 

“then i guess i’m your babygirl, pumpkin.” he winks at you, inadvertently making your heart skip a beat.

all three of you share pleasantries for the rest of the dinner, the topics ranging from toji losing his bet in the basketball game to megumi trying to convince his dad to get pet dogs. when the waiter comes out with the check, toji reaches in his pockets to retrieve his wallet, only to find it empty.

"oh shit, my bad. i think i left my wallet at home." toji apologizes to the waiter and you. "gah, that's what being a single parents does to you, i guess..." he trails off, making you feel bad for him.

"it's okay, i'll grab it!" you say, covering for dinner. you recall toji promising you dinner yesterday, and you also recall your friends making fun of his broke ass and find yourself holding back a laugh at the situation you're in. god, maybe he is a gigolo, you think as you sign off on the bill and head out to the parent teacher night.

megumi’s school is close enough to walk to, so all three of you are able to take a nice stroll in the heart of the city. as you approach megumi’s fancy private school (where does toji get the money to even pay tuition for this place?), you start shivering as the cool autumn breeze starts to get stronger. you wish you had brought something heavier than this cardigan but toji immediately notices, and wordlessly starts taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders. 

“oh! toji, you didn’t -“ you start, feeling immediately less cold, partially due to toji’s sweater and partially due to your face heating up at toji’s actions. 

“don’t worry about it, pumpkin,” toji says, pulling you closer and leaning close to ear. “you can pay me back once we get home,” he whispers in a low voice, and you swallow, trying to maintain your composure as you walk into the school. 

megumi immediately finds nobara and yuji messing around in the hallways and runs to join them. you feel the warmth of toji’s arms around you disappear and you frown. 

“gimme a second, i gotta talk to one of the dads here real quick…” toji mumbles, seeming displeased about having to speak with this person.

“everything okay?” you ask. 

“uh…yeah. remember how i lost the basketball bet. well…he’s who i lost to.” toji sighs, giving the man a nod as he sulks towards him. you keep your eyes on toji as he seemed crankier than usual talk to the man about the basketball game. wait, where did he get the money to pay up? didn’t he say he forgot his wallet?

your thoughts are interrupted by irritating snickers and high pitched jeers coming a couple yards away from you. you turn to see a group of five or so older women (perhaps they were around toji’s age?) avoiding eye contact with you (but miserably failing). you’re not sure but you think you hear one of them say something along the lines of “that’s the gold digger megumi’s dad is dating now” and “i saw them kissing last night and she was barely wearing a skirt”. 

you really try hard to not laugh, but you accidentally let out a snort loud enough for them to hear. gold digger? if only they knew you had to cover for toji today during dinner, and that he hadn’t paid you in a week. ugh, fuck you really should get on that. 

trying to avoid eavesdropping on what these insecure women were saying about you, you pull out your phone and check your texts, and see one from satoru: 

saturo: do u think u would get off to step mom porn more or less now that you fucked toji?

oh my god, how many times do you have to tell this guy you didn’t fuck toji…yet. you start typing a lengthy response about the inappropriate text, when you’re interrupted by one of the women tapping your shoulder. 

“hi!” she chirps with conspicuous artificial delight. “i know it’s all the rage in your age to go thrifting, but you look really unprofessional coming to school here wearing that oversized piece of garbage.” her smile is dripping with poison. 

“i’ll be sure to let toji know you think about his coat. thanks.” you respond stoically before making eye contact with toji and marching towards him. 

“those ladies bothering you, pumpkin?” toji muses, ruffling your hair slightly. 

“nothing i can’t handle,” you wink. 

“toji, you may step inside the classroom!” megumi’s teacher calls from the homeroom door. toji motions for you to come with him and you do, not sure why you’re feeling a bit anxious about meeting megumi’s teacher. is she going to say something about how much you let megumi watch euphoria? what if you’re teaching him multiplication incorrectly, even though you’re an excellent student? your thoughts are immediately put at bay when, three minutes into the meeting with megumi’s teacher, you realize she has not looked at your or addressed you even once. 

in fact, she’s only looking at toji. not just looking at him, she’s full on flirting with him. 

“oh, toji stop it!” she laughs when toji says he doesn’t do much when helping megumi with his homework. “you’re sooo funny!” you can’t even focus on anything she’s saying about megumi’s performance in his classes. all you're focused on is how she always needs to be touching toji somewhere when talking to him — his arms, his shoulders, and (this one you had to commend her for pulling off) lightly grazing his thigh when he sat down.

“how does he interact with the other kids?” you ask, thinking of poor yuta. 

megumi’s teacher completely ignores you and pretends you didn’t ask anything, and proceeds to “accidentally” “drop” all of her notes on the floor. she bends over to reach them while abruptly stopping a couple feet from toji, and makes a show of apologizing while her pencil skirt hugs her ass. “oh my god, i can be so clumsy sometimes,” she apologizes. 

you do everything in your power to not burst out laughing at how absurd this night is, starting from the the group of women outside the hall to megumi’s own teacher. you make a mental note to tease toji about how popular he is with the moms and teachers at school. meanwhile, toji is off staring at the classroom decorations, smiling specifically at megumi’s artwork that’s being displayed on the wall. he’s so engrossed in it and other similar classroom art that he doesn’t even hear how the teacher moans pornographically when she sits down and takes off her pencil heels, saying “these shoes are just killing my feet, toji…”

“oh uh, okay. that sucks. anything pressing about my son or can we go now?” toji says, finally paying attention to megumi’s teacher. he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling your closer into him, and you take in his warmth. 

“o-oh yeah. no it’s fine, i hope to see you again tomorrow when you pick him up,” she says with anticipation. 

“um, yeah. okay, um. bye!” toji remarks, clearly not catching onto any innuendos or deeper meanings behind anything she’s saying. 

you and toji walk out of the classroom and you immediately stifle a laugh. “woooow, everyone is just sooo obsessed with you here~” you joke. “megumi’s teacher was totally hitting on you!”

“oh yeah, i know. she’s been hitting on me since the beginning of the school year,” he says, taking you by surprise. “why, pumpkin? you jealous?” he says as he squeezes you hips. 

“oh really? you just…didn’t seem to care…” you say, intrigued. you look up at him, searching for some answers but he just shrugs. 

“not my type, really.”

you raise your eyebrows, not even realizing when you start giggling. you probably shouldn’t say what you’re going to say next but you can’t help it. “well, who is your type?” you ask coyly. 

“let me just show you,” toji says and grabs your jaw with his large hand and kisses you square in the mouth, in front of everyone in the hallway. albeit, the only people who actually cared were the group of women who were jeering at you earlier in the night and you think you hear them gasp. you smile into the kiss, resulting in toji chuckling. “let’s go, yeah?”

you nod, and get megumi from his friends and all three of you shuffle back to toji’s range rover. the minute you get in, you crank the seat warmer setting to high, trying not to shiver so loudly. 

megumi immediately starts talking. “i had so much fun with nobara and yuji!” he says excitedly. 

“yeah? what did you kiddos talk about?” toji asks, backing out of the parking lot. god he looks so hot while driving. he has one hand on the wheel and the other hand resting softly on your thigh. you lace your fingers with his and squeeze. he squeezes back and you feel butterflies.

“we talked about euphoria!” he yells with excitement. you stop squeezing toji's hand and your jaw drops. you’re at a loss for words. what the hell are these kids doing watching euphoria? “nobara told us to watch it, and that guy on euphoria is soooo tall did you know? super tall just like your friend that came over a couple weeks ago, remember y/n? the one who was super tall and was wearing glasses and had white ha-“

“ohhh-kayyy megumi, thank you so much for that recap”, you say nervously, absolutely dreading asking megumi ever about his recap of the night. you sneak a glance at toji and see him smirking. suddenly, you were not shivering anymore and the car was actually really hot. “y-you shouldn’t be watching that show, you know.” you say, trying to change the topic.

“who was this guy that came over? i wanna hear more about that,” toji teases, sneaking a quick glance at you before his eyes return to the road. 

“he’s no one, i swear. he just dropped off some pain meds for me from when i got my wisdom teeth removed,” you say. it’s the truth, too. you literally asked satoru to be discrete when dropping off the medicine he picked up for you for this exact reason but he kept on trying to see the house because “no one broke could afford this place”. you don’t want to be known as that babysitter that brings a guy over when the parents are out, especially if that parent is toji. and especially if nothing happened.

toji smirks at how defensive you're getting, trying to go above and beyond to show that you were only his. to be quite honest, it was turning him on and he slams on the gas a bit harder to get home faster. toji pulls up to the driveway of his home and opens the garage, and megumi immediately opens the car door and sprints to the bathroom, while the both you chuckle at how cute he is. 

“so this guy...he your boyfriend or somethin', pumpkin?”, toji jokes. 

“what if i said yes to that, huh? would you ask me to go home?” you press, cracking a slight smile. 

toji doesn’t think it’s funny. he thinks it’s fucking hilarious. his hands touch your thigh and start roaming upwards. “absolutely not pumpkin. i’d wanna know if you guys fucked in my house.” your breath hitches and you swallow. 

“w-we didn’t, i swear,” you start, trying to control your breathing and not fold when toji digs his fingers into your inner thigh. 

“hm, a shame. would’ve loved to seen your back getting blown out from the security cams…” he trails off, squeezing your inner thigh and forcing your leg to open a bit more. even though you’re still fully clothed, you feel exposed by the action, and unintentionally shift your hips slightly which earns a smirk from toji. he leans even closer to you and whispers in your ear, “it would’ve been my new favorite porno. i'd jerk off to it every chance i got.”

this time, you audibly moan. you don’t even care that his dirty talk involves you getting your back blown by satoru. you don't care that you would enthusiastically get your back blown out by satoru if it meant toji would be watching. the thought of him seeing you in such a vulnerable exposing position just turns you on even more, and you suddenly need him. “just take me right now, please. i’ll do anything,” you plead, leaning towards toji for a kiss. 

“oh, i know you will do anything pumpkin.” toji coos, leaning back and stopping your kiss inches before you reach his lips by snaking his hand around your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure. your breath hitches and you muster a weak "please".

“let’s get inside first, pumpkin.”

[ciaossu-imagines]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~) 🌈 🌈

You're not following me on this account but this is where I'll send it anyways <3 (don't feel pressured to do this if you don't want to!)

Aww, you’re so incredibly sweet! Thank you so much for sending this in, I’m really flattered 😊 Now, finding five things is very hard for me because, as I’ve said before – self esteem? That bitch ain’t no friend of mine…so this was hard, ya’ll!! But I think I managed somewhat!

Physically speaking, I have fantastic legs. For being a short bugger, they’re long and because I walk literally everywhere because I don’t drive, and enjoy hiking, they’re well-muscled. I’ve literally had complaints from guys I’ve slept with because they saw thick thighs and automatically assumed soft, fluffy, cute thick thighs, but unless I’m really trying hard, I can’t pinch fat along my thighs or calves very much. My belly, yes. My chest, yes. Upper arms…somewhat. I have to carry groceries home about 2.3 km and then lug them up three flights of stairs, so while I have some batwing fat, there’s also a lot of muscle under there. My legs though – pure muscle, very strong, very shapely – only drawback to them at all is years of having to do 8-12 hours shifts without sitting at all means I have some varicose veins, but I think those are oddly pretty and I personally love them, no matter what anyone else says about them.

My curiosity. No matter how many times I get called nosey or told that ‘the question factory needs to close now’, I  do not think I’m wrong in being curious, in asking questions, in wanting to learn more about what’s going on, what someone means, what something is or does, and all the other various things I like to ask questions about.

I like to think I’m a person who chooses kindness whenever at all possible. I might sometimes falter, fail, or be a bitch. Nobody’s perfect, even when my OCD brain convinces me I have to be to have worth. What matters in the end is that, even if I sometimes mess up, I always keep trying and always look for the kindest, nicest option in the end.

I will fully admit – I’m a dumbass in a lot of ways. I’m not always the best at reading the room, there’s so many topics I know nothing about or need to better educate myself on, I can’t math to save my life without a calculator. Despite all that, I like to think I’ve learned to be emotionally intelligent and I know there are some topics and areas that I’m definitely very intelligent in, maybe even brilliant at.

I like my tattoos a whole lot. Of course, given how expensive tattoos are, especially cover-up work, this is definitely a good thing. In other news, I finally have a tattoo appointment made and the deposit made! It’s in four months, because the artist has a long wait list, but it’s made! For any readers out there, just because I’m curious – I have my arms, thigh, and just below my collarbones done but this is the first time I’ll be doing one of the supposedly ‘really painful’ bits of my body (back of my neck). Anyone have experience in neck or spine tattoos and what am I looking at in terms of pain compared to the other areas, where it didn’t really hurt all that much (except along the veins in my wrist and up around my inner elbow, where it felt more like really unpleasant, radiating pins and needles)?

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I was doing my morning write and I turned on an old Top Songs playlist on Spotify and the first song was “Kiss You To Death” Alkaline Trio and I went...off script.

Yall enjoy the Piarles brain rot.

.

The distance between the tiny apartment Pierre keeps outside of Cannes and Charles equally tiny apartment that he keeps in Monaco is 57.8 km. OR 1 hour and 13 minutes on his motorbike. Pierre knows it - can drive it in his sleep - but it’s been months. Months since he packed a backpack with whatever he picked up for Charles from whatever part of the world he had been in while he was gone and got to him as fast as he could.

This apartment - the place he and Alex wrote their second album, the one that got them out of playing pubs and open mics and battle of the bands - used to be one of his favorite places and now it feels hollow. 

Which is ridiculous because he and Charles never spent time here. They spent all their time together in Monaco because it’s Monaco and Pierre was afforded more privacy than even here. 

And Pierre secretly loved it. He loved the quiet rhythm of Charles life. His cat that slept curled up on top of the upright piano that Charles had shoved into what was meant to be the dining room. The squabbles they had over who had to take out the trash. The way Charles always reached for Pierre’s body before he even opened his eyes in the morning, smile splitting his face in half because Pierre was in his bed and not in a hotel bed around the world.

Yeah, they spent a magical two years in a bubble of come and go. Of believing that they could have everything without compromise. Of spending late nights on the phone and early mornings with Pierre screaming down the A8 on his motorbike to meet Alex at his place so they could work on the fourth album while the label screamed down their necks about it.

Pierre had thought they had it all and he hadn’t even noticed the first crack. The one that he thinks came after Pierre swore he’d be at a birthday party for one of Charles’ friends and then he had bailed via text. The lyrics were flowing and Alex was excited and it just...

Charles had forgiven him, of course. Had laughed and called him an asshole musician with that smirk on his face that Pierre loved to wipe off with a filthy kiss. 

Pierre had sworn it would never happen again, and it hadn’t. Not in that specific way. But it had happened again. A missed dinner. A phone call he never made because he was a little too tipsy after a night of partying. 

Until Charles told him through watery lashes and hiccuping sobs that Pierre needed to go. That he needed space. 

And then Pierre had spent a month on their LatAm leg in hell. Singing lyrics he wrote about Charles’ eyes and Charles’ lips and the way Charles’ would stay up and wait for him to come home to him and....then he spent four months hiding in Alex’s flat in London, writing and writing and writing until Lando had locked his laptop and his mixing board in a closet. 

He had been forced to think about it after that. He had to think about how Charles had been so crushed and how Alex told him he wanted to renegotiate their next contract. Maybe go independent - not like they needed a label’s backing anymore - and make their own tour schedules. Alex wanted to spend more time in England. (More time with George.) And Lando agreed. He wanted to travel for leisure - take photographs of something other than a tour bus. 

Pierre had said no, immediately. Because he had nothing to go home too. He had said it out loud. He had nothing to go home too.

Lando had rolled his eyes and shoved him - a little too hard and Pierre had tumbled over the back of the couch. “Go the fuck back to him you, asshole.” Lando had spit at him. “Don’t you see we’re doing this for you too.”

Pierre had instead flown back to Cannes and then kicked around the apartment and thought. He thought about Charles and how much he loved him. How six months ago, if Alex had suggested it, Pierre would have agreed without hesitation. Yes, he would have said. Let’s tour less. 

How the single best feeling in the world was Charles smiling over at him from across the bed before he even opened his eyes because Pierre was there with him.

And now he stands, jiggling the keys to his motorbike in his hand, staring at it. One hour and thirteen minutes up the A8. 

If Charles doesn’t let him up...he’ll do something dramatic like sell the Cannes apartment and move to London and he’ll make a solo album or something in between band projects. 

It’s one hour and thirteen minutes and he thinks the whole time about what he’s even going to say to Charles if he does open the door to his apartment and let him in. 

For someone who writes for a living...it’s startlingly awful - as in he has nothing. Nothing but the tiny carved bird that he had picked up from a street vendor while in Brazil. It had blue eyes. Pierre had picked it up, thinking about the thing Charles had said to him once. You always fly home to me.

It had been a punishment, maybe. He had stopped flying home to Charles so it had lived in the bottom of his luggage, sat in the little box the artist had packed it away in. 

It’s in his backpack now.

The drive is a damp. Pierre hadn’t checked the weather before he left and he is careful to watch where he drives, realizing that no one knows where he’s at. Which...isn’t like him. He always tells people when he’s on his bike so they expect to hear from him. 

He misses Charles. That’s all he knows. He misses him. It’s been six months of hell and he only wants Charles. He wants him in his heart and his skull and his blood and his bones and he will make it happen somehow. He will make Charles understand that he’s the one he wants to always be flying home to.

The lights of Monaco can’t distract him from his goal. The way he maneuvers through the streets with ease, pulling up to the garage of Charles’ apartment building. He tries his code with shaking fingers, cold and stiff. Zero-one-zero-three. The party where they met - Charles with a friend of a friend that knew Lando somehow. 

Pierre taking one look at him and resolving to take him home with him that night only to end up taking him to breakfast the next morning.

The gate beeps open and Pierre feels like falling apart, but he keeps it together enough to drive into the garage and park in the parking spot he was still technically paying for - a ridiculous thing he couldn’t stop payment on because if he did, it meant he was really walking away from Charles and he -

Pierre takes his helmet up with him. holding it by the chin strap, bouncing it off his leg as he walks, nervous and afraid. 

Everything looks exactly the same.

The elevator ride was a mistake. Pierre realizes. He should have taken the stairs because it’s hard to breathe in this tiny box when he still doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Charles. 

Take me back.

I missed you.

Please let me in.

No, nothing is good enough. Nothing can really explain to Charles that Pierre made a mistake and that he fucked away the best thing he’s ever had and he doesn’t really care if Charles throws him out in the morning (lie, he absolutely does) he just needs to kiss him, look at him, touch him, affirm that he’s real.

The bird.

Pierre dangles the helmet from his arm know, looping his wrist through the strap and pulling his backpack around his body so he can pull it out. 

The box is smashed in on one edge, but the bird inside is unharmed - Pierre had checked.

There’s something on the side of it - black and crusty. He thinks it might be mascara, but he’s not sure. He tries to pick it off now. 

Suddenly painfully aware that he doesn’t look his best. Hair matted down from his helmet and bags underneath his eyes. Nothing to be done about that. So, he takes the tiny bird from the box, balancing it on his palm at eye level before closing his fist around it so he can put the box back in his bag. 

It’s got to be enough.

The elevator pings open and he steps out into the hall that used to mean home. Charles would already have his door open, leaning against it, waiting on Pierre. Always waiting on Pierre to fly home to him.

Charles is there now and Pierre nearly goes to his knees. The code. Of course, Charles got a ping about the code being used. 

He’s in soft sleep pants, hanging low on his hips and a tank top, but he doesn’t look exhausted. He looks wired.

“Pierre.”

His name forces Pierre to keep walking.

The closer he gets though, the more his heart breaks. Charles is staring at him with careful consideration. 

Pierre walks all the way to the door. He wants to kiss him. He’s so beautiful. He’s so incredibly beautiful and it’s all he wants - to kiss him. 

Leo appears, yowling and winding his way around Charles’ legs, staring up at Pierre and Charles moves him back inside with the side of his foot gently because Leo has a tendency to bolt and Pierre is thinking of the night they spent chasing him down the stairwell. 

But when Charles looks back up, his eyes snag on Pierre’s outstretched hand. Palm flat and open right under his nose.

He has no words, only this bird with stone blue eyes. Flying home to Charles once again.

Charles pulls back a bit to look at it properly and Pierre watches the understanding wash over him. The bird. Pierre standing in his hallway looking like shit. 

“Pierre,” he says again, but this time it’s softer and sweeter and not at all like he had said it when he asked Pierre to go. 

“Pierre.” again, wrapping his hand around Pierre’s wrist before plucking the bird from his hand and then kissing Pierre’s open palm.

“I -” Pierre starts, but then his voice cracks. “I want to come home.”

Charles tugs him inside, shutting the door decisively. “Good.”

Pierre unravels then, letting it all spill out and Charles presses him against the door and kisses the tears from his face.

.

Pierre sells the Cannes apartment, but only because they need to move into a place where they can have a proper music room - no more piano shoved into the dining room. 

A room where Charles can teach lessons and Pierre can write and they can fill up the shelves they have built with all the little treasures that Pierre brings back home - birds of all kinds. Birds of stone and clay and wood and birds with shining blue eyes and birds with beautiful red feathers that Pierre insists are Charles and eventually...birds with tiny baby birds. 

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

love means nothing | chapter 02

leon goretzka x original female character [+18]

synopsis: 10 years ago, after winning wimbledon at the age of 18, olivia araujo was tennis's biggest rising star. she had a cosmopolitan social life, a handsome boyfriend and all the time in the world. now she was pushing 30, single, lonely and after several complicated injuries she could feel her career coming to an end. warnings: sports-typical violence; mentions of depression; angst; timeline of events are not based on real life; minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chapter 02 | Closer

“And when I see you then I know it will be next to me

And when I need you I know you will be there with me

I'll never leave you”

April, 2013, Stuttgart

It was my first time in Germany and I was playing Maria Sharapova in the Stuttgart Open Final. I was still practically a rookie at the time, having debuted at pro tennis only a year prior. At the time I already had a couple masters titles and the press was paying close attention to me. Young, rich, pretty and full of potential. I had a good sense of style and I inherited my parents' fame and connections. An ‘it-girl’, that was the term they were using. To make things more interesting for the tabloids, I would get a new boyfriend every few months. The guy at the time was Leon Goretzka, a football player, 18 years old just like me. He was playing for Schalke 04, 400 km away from Stuttgart, and we would meet in person for the first time after the tournament.

Up until then our flirting was online. We met through social media and hit it off immediately. Leon was a charming prince and it was so nice talking to someone who was going through the same things as I was. 

leon:

no way you’re playing sharapova :o think you can win??

liv:

i know right!! so cool

why don’t you watch the match and find out ;)

Getting to play with the grown ups for the first time. The pressure to be perfect. The press constantly telling the world you’re the next big thing, when you know for a fact they’re just waiting for you to stumble so they can tear you down. He just got it, he understood me when not a lot of people seemed genuinely interested in trying to.

“Feeling confident?” My dad asked before the match.

“As always.” I answered with a smile.

“That’s my girl!”

An hour and a half later I was lifting another trophy. I walked off the court, sweat pouring down my face and my heart racing. Maria had given me a run for my money, but I had managed to pull off a win in the end.

As I made my way back to the locker room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. The pressure to perform had been intense, and I knew that one misstep could have cost me the match. But I kept my cool, stayed focused, and ultimately came out on top.

I smiled to myself, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. I knew that there would be more challenges and more pressure to come, but for now, I was content to bask in the glow of another victory

After the tournament, I had a few days to spare before my next match, so I rented a Lamborghini and took a road trip to Gelsenkirchen to meet Leon. I was starting to get a taste of being an adult, with my parents allowing me to do whatever I wanted, as long as I showed up to practice on time, kept myself fit and won titles. Everything else was up to me. I packed my bags and set out on the Autobahn. The scenery was breathtaking as I drove through the German countryside, passing fields of bright yellow rapeseed flowers and quaint villages with traditional half-timbered houses. As I approached Gelsenkirchen, I could feel my excitement building. My first stop was the Veltins-Arena, home of the Schalke 04 football club. The stadium was stunning, massive and so much different from a tennis stadium. They were playing against Eintracht Frankfurt that night and Leon was in the starting 11.

“You’re beautiful.” Leon said to me after the match, we were both in my car driving to the hotel I was staying at. “So much more beautiful in person.” At the hotel room we ordered food and ate in bed.

“Congratulations on your win! That was amazing, I actually got to watch with my parents. We were all cheering for you.” Leon looked at me with bright eyes, almost like a fan.

“Well, congrats on your win, too! The game was so cool, I don’t even know a lot about football, but it was super fun.”

“Ah, but I didn’t get a trophy. You actually won a tournament!”

There was so much to talk and so much to do, we didn’t have enough time. So it didn’t take long for our clothes to decorate the bedroom floor. We were both exhausted from work, but that wasn’t an issue that night.

“You feel so good, here, let me take care of you.” Leon was inside of me, we were on the floor on our second round. Our bodies sticky with sweat and spit, our moans filling the bedroom; I was in a trance. He smelled amazing, he tasted amazing. Every cell of my body was begging for him. He had his hand on my clit while he was fucking me. “Cum on me, let me feel it.” He was behind me, pulling my hair. I could only answer him with a nod, my mouth open, my eyes closed.

Sex had never felt like that before. We came at the same time and I thought it meant that it was love. Our meeting was restricted to the hotel, in the morning we had breakfast in bed. It was raining and when we fucked again I considered just staying there forever. But I had to go back home soon, to the Portugal Open.

“I just want to stay like this.” I was laying in bed and he was on top of me, inside of me, kissing my face. “Forever.”

“I’m sorry, Liv, I don’t think I can last forever.” He said giggling.

“We’re gonna be fine, right? We can handle this.” We were outside my car, saying our goodbyes. I would drive to the airport and meet my father there. I was so nervous, it felt like insanity to turn this into a full relationship, but it also felt like insanity to walk away.

“Yes, we can do this.” He cupped my face in between his big hands. “I’m not giving up on us.” Before boarding the airplane I got a text.

leon:

missing you already

June, 2013, Nuremberg

Leon and I were inseparable then. Life was good, we were always in touch through text messages, phone and video calls. We talked about everything. When the WTA calendar gave me a chance to go back to Germany we decided to make our relationship official to our families and introduce them.

The Nuremberg tournament was on clay. After my first match, staring at my dirty sneakers and completely destroyed socks, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. I looked up at my parents in the stands and watched Leon clapping, celebrating my victory sitting right next to my 11 years old sister. By their side, there were a couple of unfamiliar faces – Leon’s parents.

The match was intense, with my opponent and I trading points back and forth, but I was overly confident that day and intended on showing off. In the end, I managed to come out on top once again, winning the match in straight sets.

As I walked off the court, I could feel the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Later, after showering, we met at the lobby, on our way to a restaurant. We were all having lunch together.

"Congratulations on the win," Leon said, giving me a quick hug.

"Thank you, baby." I replied, smiling. His parents smiled warmly at me, congratulating me while Leon introduced us. At the restaurant, which I couldn't pronounce the name of, we sat at a large table by the window looking out at Nuremberg's busy streets.

“What a lovely city, I always wanted to know more about Germany!” Mom had a smile from ear to ear. I think she was prouder from me landing an athlete boyfriend than from me winning my match.

He wasn’t the first boy I introduced to my family, but that time it felt different. Like we could actually make it, against all odds. I was in love like never before. The sort of blinding, deafening young love that I would never experience again. My mother was excited, he was all she ever dreamed for me. My father, on the other hand, looked at me as if knew. Being a teenager, I was offended by his behavior. How dare he. Looking at me as if my long distance-also athlete boyfriend and I are not gonna make it past a year. How dare him act like he knows around this time next year I’ll be introducing him to a new boyfriend.

“And this is my best friend Sofie.” My little sister was showing Leon some pictures on her phone. Chiara loved him immediately and he was the sweetest with her. By the end of the dinner they had private jokes and she was determined to learn german. His parents seemed genuinely interested in me and I was picturing us spending Christmas together. 

Our relationship continued like that, only meeting in person a couple days at a time, searching for privacy and creating our love dens in luxury hotel rooms. Still managed to pose for the Bild front page a couple times, despite our best efforts. We were walking out of his apartment once, holding hands.

“I’m so lucky.” Leon kissed me. “I don't want to let you go.” I kissed him back.

“I’m going down the street to get us some coffee, you weirdo.” I giggled, but Leon continued with a serious face. 

“Just kiss me, silly.”

For the following months, pictures of me and pages of newspapers reporting my victories would decorate Leon’s bedroom.

“Honey, don’t cry. Baby, come here.” We were saying goodbye once again, that time we only managed to spend a few hours together. I couldn’t hold back my tears. I was leaving a part of me with him every single time.

“I think I love you.” I whispered through my tears. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to let me love you too.”

June, 2013, London

While practicing for Wimbledon that year, dad and I had a big fight. I don’t remember how it started. I was texting Leon during a break, I remember worrying about him, his health, his games, and then my dad was all over my face screaming at me. “I would never accuse you of having common sense, Olivia.” My father yelled. “Where do you think he is right now? Do you think he's alone, waiting for you to find time in your schedule? This is ridiculous, just get back to training.”

When I lifted the trophy for my first Grand Slam win, that’s what I was thinking about.

September, 2013, Beijing

The distance was particularly hard on me. I missed Leon terribly and it was hard for me to focus on my matches when I was constantly thinking about him. I had to keep my priorities straight and my career came first. We tried to make it work, but besides our best efforts the distance continued to take its toll. There were times when we would argue over small things and times when we would go days without talking. It just wasn’t worth it. I couldn’t find a way to be happy being away from him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” My voice was barely audible, I had already been crying for hours before calling him.

"This is it? You’re just giving up on us?” He yelled over the phone. I had nightmares  for years about making Leon cry. I never forgave myself for that.

“That’s enough, Olivia.” My father said. I couldn’t sleep or eat properly for days after the breakup. The realization that I would never get to have a normal relationship was affecting more than anything else. If things didn’t work out with who I thought was my soulmate, who never hurted me, who I loved so much; then it wouldn’t work with anybody ever. I would die alone. “He’s just a boy, you’ll get over it.”

There was nothing else for me to do except going back to court. I deleted our pictures and texts, threw away his gifts and anything that reminded me of him. I dated a few times after that, but it was never the same. I understood what I had to do to keep myself relevant and competitive. That’s all that mattered. I learned to keep a distance, to build walls and keep myself safe.

[doonarose]

What the hell, it's almost 2am, I'm up in three and a half hours for Doctor Who. Have some in process framework for a fic it is incredibly likely I do not have the stamina/background/motivation to write. Great therapy to think it up on the drive today, though.

Okay, so. How to turn lemons (hitting a roo with my new car within the first month and less than 2500 km on the odometer, having never hit a roo in my life, and avoiding several, and deer, and a koala, during the same drive) into lemonade (Crowley/Aziraphale fic).

A framework. This is exceptionally rough and missing punctuation, exposition, style, structure, characterization, etc. But there are some buried crystals of perfection, I can sniff out already. Onwards.

It’s the middle of winter, later at night, half ten and a Wednesday. Howling wind and pelting rain and just generally the kind of night you want to be tucked up in bed or at the very least on a couch drinking hot chocolate.

Instead, Aziraphale is once again making the long trek from London out to the cottage. Normally he doesn’t mind the drive, but with weather like this, and after a long day of (whatever he does), he really would rather settle for the couch at someone’s. But the cottage needs checking over and the kids need tending since he told Tracy he’d be back. And so back, he shall be.

He’s very nearly, almost there when the brake lights in front of him blaze and there’s the shredding, screaming, breaking sound of brakes stomped on and wheels turned harshly.

Aziraphale’s too close, he always follows too close when he’s in a rush and he knows these roads so well –

He swerves without thinking and it’s probably the best thing to do and then his life flashes before his eyes – not really, just a sad sort of pang over the boringness of his last day, of Tracy and his friends, who he’ll miss, of his latest novel which really was just about to start to get good. And then everything goes a bit fuzzy and his lip stings and –

He wakes up (if he ever were really asleep) and the radio’s still playing but there’s a ball of white in front of him – the airbag – and gravity is telling him his car’s not quite at the right angle. Clambering out, his feet sink through the puddles and into mud and, squinting with only the light within the car and one headlight to go by, Aziraphale realizes just how buried and banged up his little hatchback is. In a ditch, by the side of the road, to be precise. About ten miles from home.

He huffs to himself and then starts to pat himself down. Aside from a bitten to bloody bottom lip and a faint pain in his back, he seems fine. Which he is thankful for. Far better off than the car which, he can now see, has its front crumpled and at least two tires flattened and sunk into the mud anyhow.

He navigates his way back up the short but steep embankment to the road by following the constant, increasingly angry, stream of: “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK!”

There he finds the other car, looking less worse for wear – he can’t even really remember if he hit it – both headlights on and pushing yellow light out across the narrow road from where he’s come to a stop pointing the wrong way and halfway onto the shoulder.

The owner of the voice – tall, slim, red hair that looks bright against a backdrop of so much night, and encased in well-fitting layers of dark clothes – has his hands on his hips as he says it again. “Fuck.”

Then they come up to his head, fingers interlacing and elbows bending together in front of his face as he swears again. “Fucking fuckity fuck.”

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale calls as his sodden shoes slip in the mud.

The stranger whirls around like he’d thought he was alone. “Of course I’m alright. How fucking close did you need to get up my arse?”

Aziraphale’s taken aback. Hadn’t this gentleman been the one who breaked, suddenly, on a narrow, dark, wet laneway, and caused the accident? Wasn’t he lucky that Aziraphale was quick-witted enough to swerve? Not that propriety would allow him to point any of that out. “Are you alright, though? No damage?”

That seems to take some of the wind out of the man’s sails. “’m fine, just… FUCK.”

It isn’t the most impressive vocabulary. “Perhaps we can exchange details and – ”

He’s waved off with a dismissive hand and the man disappears around the back of his car (which is facing forward) and into the dense trees beside the road. Aziraphale tries to scurry after him but a particularly sharp press of wind pushes him back.

“Excuse me,” he presses. “But we’ve been in an accident and I will need – “

The man appears, suddenly close to him, imposing but only to raise a finger to his lips and very loudly shush him. Then he stalks off in parallel with the road, back towards the ditch harbouring Aziraphale’s car.

Aziraphale watches him, pause and look around. “If you could perhaps – ” He’s shushed again. “Really, it’s pouring rain and – ” Again, the loud shushing. “Legally you are req – ”

“Shut it.” The spectre, barely more than a silhouette ghost, takes a sharp right and heads into the tree further.

Aziraphale considers cutting his losses, but the car’s not going to get him anywhere (perhaps the car needs a name here) and upon quick inspection of his phone (still intact and only slightly moist in his trouser pocket) he has no coverage here whatsoever. So not only is the stranger who is rapidly getting them lost in the forest legally obliged to hand over his details, but Aziraphale is also depending on him for phone service and/or a lift.

“I really must insist that we get back to the road and discuss this as – ”

This time he isn’t cut off by a shush, rather the man whirls around and very suddenly has wet, tight fistfuls of Aziraphale’s lapels and is stepping in close to the point of their noses almost knocking.

His eyes look entirely black but that’s probably just the cloud-dipped midnight sky being reflected. It occurs to Aziraphale that he’s literally in the grips of a madman in the forest having effectively been run off the road and into a ditch and no one knows he’s here. It’ll take them days to ever realize he’s missing.

Somehow the black stare and tightly knitted brows are too much and Aziraphale drops his gaze, but only so far as the bared teeth, sharp canines, in the sneer of the man’s face as he snarls out, “Shut your bloody mouth.” And then all in a rush, “Just for a minute, I can hear it.”

Aziraphale swallows and it’s audible and that draws a look, although this one is decidedly less murderous and rather more exasperated. The stranger goes deathly still, breath held, and Aziraphale follows suit, at a complete loss as to what they’re doing.

Crowley finds the deer. A doe, small, young, whining and bloody with a leg askew. And he swears a lot more but it had to become cooing and gentle. Aziraphale wants to call animal services, even floats the idea of putting it out of its misery, since at least one leg is so clearly mangled and it’s in so much pain. Crowley bites at him for that.

“Vey, do you know where there’s a vet?”

“I hardly think – ”

“Do you know, or not?”

“There’s one quite close, they won’t be open, but I can call the doctor, if I can get some service on my phone.”

“Done.” Crowley peels off a sodden jacket and holds it out for Aziraphale to take. Then yanks a softer looking sweater over his head, uses it to gather up the small deer, all strength and kindness and goo. And oh, Aziraphale quite likes that side of him. Murderous, bad driving arsehole that he is.

On closer inspection he Bentley’s not entirely okay. Crowley has a moment of relinquishing the deer or letting a stranger drive, and gets Aziraphale into the passenger side, deer grasped, increasingly groggy, on his lap, and then slides into the driver’s side. As soon as they start driving, it’s evident the Bentley is fucked. Crowley’s having to steer hard to the right to keep it going straight, keeping it to under 20 miles an hour, and even then it shudders and swerves.

Aziraphale remarks on this and we get a throwback of “It’ll hold together as long as it needs to, even if it’s just pure bloody will doing it. How is she?”

Aziraphale makes him stop at the top of the hill and calls, wakes, the vet, begs and thanks her for coming in.

They get to the vet and have to sit in silence (because Crowley keeps telling him to shut up, although at least first Aziraphale learns his name) for five minutes, waiting for the doctor.

Doctor shows up, clearly knows Aziraphale (his cottage has a small hobby farm attached, well, really just a paddock and some kennels, and an overgrown garden and orchard, but enough for him to have a small flock of goats, all of them rescues, most high maintenance, most runts and eccentric, and not at all worth the effort.)

She seems a bit shocked at Crowley (he’s shocking) and then more so at the broken deer. Tries to very gently tell him that these things are best taken care of. Otherwise, it’s expensive surgery and rehab and the deer rescues around aren’t really for broken legs, more abandoned young and minor injuries. It’s not like there’s a shortage of deer. (I’m going to have to learn about deer aren’t I?)

Crowley insists and becomes quite a cunt about it which Aziraphale finds interesting. The vet becomes a bit of a cunt, too, because she came in, late on a Wednesday at Aziraphale’s insistence, for nothing. And now this tall, bitchy Londoner is being a dick.

“But you could do that surgery?”

“I mean, I could try. I’m assuming it’s a hip displacement and you haven’t broken any of the major bones.” Crowley sneers at the allocation of blame. “If there are broken bones, I’d need an x-ray to see them and assess them, and I can’t do that without getting a radiologist in, and honestly, if it’s a snapped femur – and It very well could be – then even with x-rays and an orthopaedic surgeon, it’s fifty-fifty survival.”

“In the wild?”

“Through the surgery.”

“Can you get them in, the radiologist and the surgeon?”

“We don’t do this for deer, love – ”

“Yes, or no?”

“Radiologist yes, surgeon, no, but I’m trained, on dogs, anyway. But we’re talking thousands of – ”

“Do it.”

“Crowley, you don’t think – ”

“Do it. I hit her, I’m obliged to do my best to fix her up.”

“Like six grand, minimum.”

“And is that the going rate or are you robbing me blind?”

Both Aziraphale and the vet take afront to that. “Going rate, discount, if somehow you convince Mr Fell to get you on his friends and family discount plan. That’s all the materials and permits and equipment of x-rays, and then anaesthesia. Not to mention insurance. Plus I need to be here, and the radiologist, and at least two nurses because if the x-rays come back with a break and if we decide they’re operable, and if you can cough up the cash, this will likely take several hours.”

Crowley sags. “Yes, fine, sorry I didn’t mean to… Just do it.”

The vet doesn’t trust him and slides her eyes to Aziraphale. “Six grand,” she tells him and it’s clear she means, ‘what if he doesn’t pay’

Aziraphale rings his hands. He doesn’t have six grand handy and even if he did, it’s a broken little deer.

“I’ll prepay eight and trust you to keep me abreast of how much we end up ahead or behind.” And he flashes dark plastic and manages to be a total dick about saving a deer’s life.

“Fifty fifty, even if everything goes right.”

“Just do the best you can, doctor.” All false smarm.

The vet gets to work. Radiologist, three nurses, just in case. The deer sedated and put on fluids before anyone ever turns up. The vet’s wife also appears, sleepy and still in pyjamas with a thick dressing gown over the top and a raincoat on top of that.

At some point, Crowley says, “Right, I need to get back to London,” and disappears, inspects the Bentley, and returns, bellows, “If someone can get my to the train station, I can make the last train.”

One of the nurses, bustling past, laughs and points out the lines are down because of the weather.

“Fuck.”

“We have to work out what to do about the cars,” Aziraphale explains gently, hand on his arm (because oh he likes this crazy, deer-loving, rich stranger a little bit) and then immediately withdrawn when Crowley flinches. “You’ll need to have yours towed, but I can’t imaging anyone venturing out in this when it’s already safely parked here.”

“Well what about yours.”

“Sure its’s fine in its ditch. But I still need you insurance, so we can do this properly. And I need to get home and warm and… and you can wait to hear about the deer there, if you like. You’re positively drenched as well and I’m close by. I have a guestroom you could use.”

Crowley very much looks like any other option would be a better option. But there are none. The vet’s wife drives them.

It’s almost exactly what you’d expect Aziraphale’s cottage t be like. Quaint, cluttered, warm, old. The kids are excited to see him. Crowley visibly brightens to see them and hangs with them while Aziraphale disappears and changes into something warm and dry.

Aziraphale’s makes him take his soaked shoes and socks off at the door. Explains that it’s his cottage mostly during the winter, but during summer it’s rented out, quaintly, to holiday makers, and this last long weekend, he’d also made a little extra money with a couple coming though. “I do hope they left everything as it should be.”

They did. “Tea?”

“Coffee, strong.”

“Instant okay?”

“Yup.”

Crowley collapses back into the chair and they spend a little snipper of time bonding but doesn’t actually discuss the cars which is meant to be the point. Crowley learns about the kids, learns that Aziraphale is a somewhat successful writer (of books on books and also something else but that’s a secret) and then makes ends meet with his house being a holiday home, and freelance bullshit writing for magazines that draws him back to town often enough to keep him hooked in.

Crowley gives an obvious shiver and stares at his phone hopefully.

“How terrible of me! You look like a drowned rat, you must be freezing!”

“Nothing a hot shower and a good rest won’t shift.”

Aziraphale’s face falls. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but there’s no shower.”

“How can there be no shower?”

“I could only fit a shower or a bath and I wanted a bath.”

“Hot bath then.”

“Certainly.”

Another pronounced shiver and Crowley places his coffee cup down with a too-loud, shaking clink.

“Sorry, I should have gotten you out of those clothes as soon as we got here.”

“Very forward of you, but better late than never.” It’s a flirtatious grenade – when did that possibility enter the conversation?

Aziraphale ignores it until not long after, the bath is full and steaming and he has dry clothes for Crowley to change into. “high time we warmed you up.”

“Can think of better ways to warm me up.” (Yes, I seem to be going for the age old, Crowley is a slut and rather happy about it)

Aziraphale flushes bright red. “I really don’t know what you mean.”

“Sex, is what I’m saying. I’m full of adrenaline and it seems we’re cohabitating for the night. You’re clearly as gay as (?) so why not?”

“I hardly think such a shaky foundation merits a one night stand.” And ushers him back into the bathroom.

“Hows about the fact that you’re gorgeous? That a good enough reason?”

Aziraphale laughs and blushes and feels so damned good with it that he’s temped.

Crowley sneezes and Aziraphale pushes him back into the bathroom, leaving clothes and an extra towel in Crowley’s arms as he pulls the door closed between them.

When Crowley emerges, it’s in just a towel, one more attempt at a seduction, and a good fuck if it’s on offer.

And Aziraphale gives in. Because why not. Messy kisses in the bathroom door frame. Until.

“Fuck, yes,” from Crowley, turns to “Fuck, fuck,” in a bad way.

“What?”

“Shit. Is all.”

“What?”

“I… don’t know your name yet.”

“How rude.”

“I know.”

“Aziraphale.”

Crowley doesn’t tease, just tries it on. “Bit of a mouthful.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

…

And the end up in the guest bedroom (neater, and I don’t need to change the sheets out after guests.” Crowley grunts approval as they tumble back and have some fun.

They’re still just making out when Crowley’s phone rings and he tries to pull back and Aziraphale tries to stop him. Crowley pulls him off with a hand in his hair, rough, and Aziraphale loves that but Crowley’s genuinely being forceful. “Stop it, that’ll be the vet.”

And it call comes crashing back in for a bit until Crowley’s face is awash with such joy.

“Out of surgery and anaesthesia. Groggy but an overwhelming success. She still thinks I’m batshit for spending that much of a fucking deer.”

“I’m very, very pleased to hear it.”

Crowley’s eyes narrow and then he realizes. “You’re not mocking me.”

“Of course not, you clearly care, and it’s an admirable thing to care about. Though it is an obscene amount of money to be throwing around. You’ll have a queue of the goats out their tomorrow, wanting their own personal bequests for surgeries.”

Cue Crowley delivering a very life-affirming, very impressive blowjob.

[j-a-smiths-blog]

1856 5July24: Chapter 187

Anger

Spent yesterday in Angeles City for medical appointments. I have to go back to get the results of the ultra sound of my veins in my legs but the other appointment I was at, I kind of knew what was going to be said before I got there. I need to lose weight. Honestly, if I did lose the weight, a lot of my health issues would go away, I know this... but moving to the Philippines crushed any and all support systems I had.

This morning I woke up angry... but also I woke up because there was a scheduled brownout that I was not aware of. So my CPAP just all of a sudden shit off in addition to my fan.. so not only could I not breath I also started to get warm and sweaty.

I got in my car... and left.

I filled up the gas tank and then got me some breakfast. I was nice enough to message my wife, and I didn't beat around the bush. I said, "Do I need to swing back and get you, I'm not going shopping, and the dogs are not coming." She answered no.

I started my drive. I decided today was the day to do my circle around Bataan. So I drove out to Bagac and down the Bagac-Mariveles Road. You can tell it's the less traveled road as there are portions where the plant life is trhing to reclaim the roadway. Also it's not to advisable to drive it during a rain storm as half the road looks like it becomes a river. It's a 40+ km winding road through the mountainside of Bataan between the mountains and the ocean. It provides breathtaking views and gorgeous scenery. I did pull out my bmpcc4k and record a few clips. But then.... I was in Mariveles and it was time to get home. It was like a two hour drive down through there and peaceful.

But now the days are coming to a close, and my mind just still isn't one hundred percent. Part of me really wants to leave the Philippines for good.. It's not that I don't like it... It's completely other factors... the support system is #1... without that... I'm basically here to die. I can't just make a support system because then it becomes unfortunately 1... they are only around me, so I'd buy things for them, or 2. My wife would think I'm cheating on her. Now you may be asking yourself... why isn't your wife your support system... good question... but the simple answer is she doesn't have the desire to work out or be an outdoor kind of person for more than 5 minutes...

So yeah... I do love the Philippines but right now I'm basically feeling like I'm just here to die.

[loser-female]

I want to write, but every time I sit down my mind goes away.

And not in the good sense of going into the novel I'm writing, where I imagine everything and the story, but no.

Brain chooses that I need to focus on my worries instead, so I shut down.

Idk how much I can pour out of this cup. Since I have a diagnosed anxiety disorder I don't do well in stressful situations, because I go into "I need to remove myself from this situation" mode as soon as possible, i get tachycardia and the other day I discovered my pressure goes up (psychiatrist measured it).

Sometimes I can sleep it off, sometimes I get a few drops of an anxiety med, but these days neither work - I'm out of coping mechanisms except for spending my day reading, but I have to work.

My job is taking decisions too, but when your mind is somewhere else it's difficult to be able to take a choice. No matter how good I am usually at my job, I can't. I also can't take any other paid leave because I wanted to save these days but more importantly we don't currently have people to substitute me.

I had to pause everything I was doing with others, my courses, the exams I needed to take for my professions.

I'm in this limbo where everything has stopped for me but not for everyone else, and I'm somewhat expected to ~ do something ~ and just do the things, but I can't. I can't on a good day sometimes because my brain is broken, now I'm just here waiting everything out. With my poor perception of time, 9 hours of work, chores (I need to hire a housekeeper too) and the list of the things I'm supposed to do rotating in my mind non-stop.

I should just wait, I know. I've been feeling bad in a way I haven't for years but this time it's not my brain tricking me, it's true.

I jump every time my mom's phone rings. I jump every time my own phone rings because when you're expecting bad News this is how it works.

The day before we were talking like usual, then I got that call from my mom and there was a 200 km drive where I cried and half-proposed to my boyfriend.

My mom that sucks delivering information, my sister that's even more of a confrontational person than I am and keep pestering the doctors with the same questions.

I took 4 days off work, out of miracle, but then I had to restart and I have to keep the trash bin next to my desk because I feel nauseous all day long.

Fortunately my coworkers are cutting me a lot of slack btw. And I WFH so I was able to stay here with my mom with no issue.

And since my cats are not eating and peeing outside the box I need to go home (also I'm out of clothes, panties everything), because those two are used to have me all day long for themselves and I just disappeared.

It has been a hell of 10 days. 0/10 not recommended. I will also translate this post and hand it to my therapist because really, I'm out of resources.

[zeskyiszelimite]

Herbert Diess was right : Ionity sucks

Back from a 1200 km trip from Luxembourg to Normandy (France) on a BMW i4 40.

Yes, such a trip is possible with an electric car, with little hassle. In my humble opinion, it is even easier than with a petrol one : electric cars make almost no noise and especially no vibration. Concretely, you arrive in much better shape.

We had two stops on our way (one would have been sufficient, but I wanted more juice to go and visit the Overlord beaches).

On the way back, we decided to take another route : instead of driving south, direction Reims, we aim for Amiens, Arras, then across Belgium. An important detail : it was pouring all the way.

Around Arras, the electricity is running out. The car tells us that there is as FastNed station nearby and we aim for it. Oh, what a nice surprise : four columns, i.e. 8 plugs, and above all a roof above us. Clear instructions and in no time the Beemer starts loading. That’s professional, that’s the 21st century.

At 80%, we want to disconnect : no instructions, nowhere. A quick call to the Help Desk tells us that we need to pass the card a 2nd time in front of the reader. Indeed, a virtual stop button appears on the screen. Depress the physical button below and voilà...

Nice and fortunate problem : the time searching for the disconnect solution and calling the Help Desk, the battery was stuffed up to 90%, which will help us later on.

Indeed, in order to come home safely, the navigation system instructs us to have another 5′ charge at a Ionity “super”charger (you bet) in Belgium, at the Aire the Thieu.

It was still pouring when we arrived. I connect the car, notice that the columns are different to whichever I had seen wherever, that almost all 4 of them use another language and I try to connect. No way, man, we have no electricity for you... Under the typical Belgian shower, I try using the app, using my card, scanning a QR code. Nothing, sod off.

Meantime, a Hyunday arrives, connects and starts loading. Is there juice for the Koreans and not for the Germans ? We ask the guy for help, he comes and has a look, doesn’t understand either an goes back to Korea.

... just sucking in the rain...

After half an hour in the rain, and given the remaining autonomy, I decide to drive home on a slower mode and a couple of hours later, we’re home and dry.

Herbert Diess is the former VAG  boss who once got quite p... off by Ionity and made his opinion clear in the press. The guy, a visionary, was right and still is : Ionity sucks. And despite driving a car from a member of the Ionity consortium, I shall now focus on FastNed, for its far superior infrastructure and the excellence of its service.

[9stxrsan]

DRUNK IN LOVE ||K.NJ||

···

Pair-NamjoonxOC

Warnings- Ass slapping, begging, edging k!nk, praise k!nk, name-calling, daddy k!nk, choking, throat fucking, crying?, spitting?

Summary- Kayla and her best friend(crush) Namjoon decide to go to a club and get wasted, after getting bored there, Joon asks if they wanted to go back to his place, and Kayla agreed. They played a game and one thing led to another.

Word count: 2k+

A/n: Kayla is Afro-Latina, and Namjoon is Korean but he was born in Mexico. He knows spanish.

Song suggestion- DRUNK IN LOVE(by Beyoncé and JayZ) Dont play until I tell you to.

Kayla sat in her bedroom puzzled, why does nobody ever want to go out when she wanted to?

Half of her friends were either 'at work' or 'just busy'

She picked up her phone and called the only person she actually thought was gonna answer. Namjoon.

Ring! Ring!

KNJ: Hello?

KM: Hey Joon, What are you doing right now?

KNJ: Well, I just came home from the gym. I'm about to get in the shower. Why?

KM: Can we go out tonight. I'm bored and nobody wants to go with me.

KNJ: Uh, okay. Where do you want to go?

KM: I want to go to the club. I need a drink or two.

KNJ: Of course, you do, Okay. I'm on the way.

KM: Yay! Okay bye, I love you.

KNJ: I love you too Kayla.

Kayla hung up the phone in excitement, finally, she was going out!

Ding!

A notification popped up on her phone.

Joon: Put something nice on. I'll be there in 20.

Kayla smiled at her phone.

She immediately got in the shower and did her hair and makeup.

Standing in the middle of her walk-in closet, she tries to find something that's comfortable, and sexy at the same time.

She grabbed her black dress with major cleavage, some black red bottoms, a golden 4k diamond neckless her mom gave her, golden hoop earrings, and a black Louis Vuitton purse.

She looked like a million bucks.

She walked into her living room grabbing all her necessities and shoving them into her purse.

Walking toward the couch her phone screen lit up.

Joon: I'm here, come outside.

Kayla grabbed her jacket and keys and walked out the door.

After she locked her door, she turned around to see a shiny black limo sitting in front of her house.

The limo wasn't the only thing that shocked her, the tall male that got out of it did.

He wore, a black turtle neck with a plaid black and white jacket, black jeans, a silver chain, and some black dress shoes.

He looked sexier than ever.

"Hi, Kayla." He smiled walking towards her, wrapping his hands around her waist, "You look amazing."

Kayla felt as if there were a thousand butterflies in the pit of her stomach, trying to get out.

"Hey Joon." she stuttered.

"You ready to go?" Joon smiled. 

God, why is his voice so attractive! She thought to herself.

"Yeah. Let's go." She smiled.

Joon opened the car door and signaled Kayla to get in.

Which she obeyed.

"So, this your limo?" Kayla giggled.

"Nah, it's a rental. You know I can't drive." He rolled his eyes laughing.

"I know, I just wanted to hear you say it." She burst into laughter.

"Haha. Okay, scoot over." Joon said tapping her thigh.

"What club are we going to?" Kayla smiled, scooting over so Joon could get in.

"The one I work at." He said kissing Kayla on her forehead.

Kayla felt her stomach bubble.

10 minutes felt like 3 hours, sitting in the back of the limo the two, hugging and touching each other. They finally arrived at the club.

As they got out of the limo, Kayla felt her anxiety flare-up. 

Her chest felt like it was about to fall into the pit of her stomach, her head felt like it was spinning and she thought she was seeing stars. 

"RapMon! What's up." The tall bodybuilder said. 

"Hey AJ, How have you been?" Namjoon said dapping the male up.

"I've been better man, Who is this pretty lady you brought with you?" He said smiling directly at Kayla.

"My best friend. She wanted to party tonight so I brought her here." He smiled pulling Kayla closer to him. 

There goes that feeling again. Kayla thought to herself. 

"Yall can go right in." The man smiled, "Have fun."

As soon as they step foot in the club, all Kayla could see were flashing lights, wannabe gangsters, gold diggers, strippers, and drug dealers. People were fighting over money, having sex in the back of the club, and promoting prostitution.

Which was normal because it was a nightclub. 

"You sure you're alright?" Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine boo, let's just have fun!" She smiled while cupping his face. 

They found seats in the far left of the club, Kayla sat down while Namjoon went to get drinks. 

"Yo what's good ma!" a deep voice called out.  Kayla turned around to see three men sitting on the right of her. You could clearly tell that they were just some random intoxicated junkies wanting sex. 

"Do I look like your fucking mother?" People like this disgust Kayla. 

"You here with anyone doll?" The man said walking towards her.

"She's here with me. Now get the hell out of her face." Namjoon said firmly.

"My bad RapMon, I didn't know this was your chick." He said walking away.  "Your chick?" Kayla scoffed, "I didn't know I was a bird."

"I didn't confirm that you were."  "Yeah, you didn't deny it either." She side-eyed him. 

"Okay relax. Here." He giggled handing her a cup with wine in it. 

"Wine?" Kayla said as if she was disappointed. 

"I got Hennessey too. But we'll save that for later." Namjoon smiled. 

They sat there drinking, talking about their lives, goals, and dreams for a while. 

Finally, they both got bored. 

"Can we go now? There's nothing to really do here." Kayla groaned. 

"Wanna go back to my place?" Namjoon smiled. 

"Sure." Kayla smiled back. 

They called the limo back and went straight to Namjoons apartment. 

Walking up the stairs, Kayla's feet began to hurt, it felt like she was walking on hot pins and needles. 

"You good Kay?" Namjoon said looking behind him. He was further up the stairs than she was. 

"Hell no! My fucking feet are killing me. These heels aren't it." She groaned. 

Namjoon shook his head and continued walking. 

"You not gonna help me?!" She yelled. 

"You didn't ask for help. Plus you told me to stop picking you up." He said waiting for her to catch up. 

"When have I EVER said that?" She grunted. 

"When I picked you up last time you claimed your feet were hurting, and your underwear somehow was damp." Namjoon giggled, "You got horny from me carrying you up the steps." 

Kayla rolled her eyes.

She finally caught up with him and they stood at his apartment door. 

Namjoon opened the wooden door and flicked the lights on.  Kayla's eyes lit up with excitement. 

Every time she goes to his house he has something new there. Last time it was a new bed, then a chandelier, he never stops buying things. 

"Where do you get all of this money to buy this expensive stuff?" She said running to his bright red couch and laying across it. 

"My job," Namjoon said taking his shoes off by the door. 

"No way you're making that much money at that club!" She scoffed.

"I  have two jobs. I originally worked at the Busan Museum, on my free days I go rap at the nightclub." Namjoon said joining Kayla on the couch. 

"Really? How much do you make?" She sat up, tapping her hand on his chest.

"Almost 45k a year." Namjoon said grabbing the Hennessy from beside him, "Want some?"  Kayla shook her head, "Hell yeah!" 

They drank for a few and eventually got tipsy. 

"Kayla," Namjoon said in a deep voice. 

"Hm?" Kayla hummed. 

"Let's play a game," Namjoon said rubbing her thighs softly. 

"Okay, what game," Kayla said running her hands through his soft silver locs. 

"We each get to ask each other one question about ourselves, whoever gets the question wrong, the person has to take a piece of clothing off," Namjoon smirked. 

"And what if they get it right?" Kayla giggled. 

"The person who asked the question has to take a piece of clothing off." Namjoon said sliding his hand further up Kayla's thighs, "The person with the most clothes remaining, wins." 

"What does the winner get?" Kayla smiled. 

"You'll see." Namjoon giggled. 

"Fine, I'll start." Kayla sat up straight, "When is my birthday?"  He's never gonna get thi-

"June 3rd, 1995." Joon smiled. 

Shit.  Kayla rolled her eyes removing her bra from inside of her dress. 

Namjoon giggled, "Okay, my turn. What is my favorite color?" 

"Easy, its orange. Your second favorite color  is purple." Kayla smirked. 

"Ding ding ding." Namjoon smirked taking off his shirt. 

Holy shit. This man is fucking sexy. Kayla thought to herself. She felt the heat grow hotter, and hotter between her legs. "My turn again," She stuttered.

"What was my dogs name?" She knew he wasn't gonna get this. 

"Milo." he said confidently. 

"Wrong. I never had a dog." Kayla giggled. 

This is gonna  be good. 

Namjoon smiled, looked Kayla with lustful eyes and proceeded to take his pants off, only to show his clothed bulge. 

Kayla turned a bright red. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. 

"My turn again." Namjoon said leaning his back against the couch. "What's my brothers name." He smirked. 

Brother? Namjoon doesn't have a brother. Kayla thought. 

"You don't have one. " Kayla said confused.

"I do, His name is Kash." Namjoon smiled. 

Well shit. 

Kayla took her underwear off and sat them on Namjoon's lap. 

Namjoon licked his lips. 

"Okay see if you can get this one, Where on my body makes me the horniest." She said. 

Namjoon paused for a minute,  and scooted closer to Kayla.  "Is it...Here?" Namjoon said touching her inner thigh. 

"Wrong. I'll give you one more try though."  She said whispering in his ear. 

Namjoon giggled, "Is it..." He reached his hand on her neck and pulled her closer,

"Here?" He said softly biting her neck. 

"Nope," Kayla slightly moaned. 

"Too bad." Namjoon said slipping his last piece of clothing off, His boxers, releasing his throbbing cock. 

"Looks like I won, What's my prize." Kayla stuttered.

(HERE PLAY THE SONG HERE)

Namjoon smiled and immediately pressed his lips against hers, Lifting her up off the couch by her thighs taking off her dress. 

Carrying Kayla to the bedroom, Namjoon immediately placed her on the bed, kissing all over her body. Making Kayla let out small but loud moans.

The feeling of Namjoon's soft, cold lips on Kayla's skin felt amazing.

Namjoon picked Kayla up sitting her on his lp.

Kayla could feel his cock in between her legs.

Kayla kissed Namjoon from the neck down, stopping at his bottom half, looking up at Namjoon for approval to continue. Joon nodded.

She continued to lick the tip of his throbbing cock.

Namjoon let out a deep gasp. Kayla proceeded to wrap her whole mouth around his cock, letting the pre-cum drip in her mouth. .

Namjoon hitched his breath, holding his moans in.

Kayla start going deeper, and deeper, until his cock hit the back of her throat.

Namjoon gripped her hair and started taking control of her head.

Pushing his cock in and out of her mouth, leaving Kayla gagging. Which she loved.

"That's right, Take it all mi amor." Namjoon growled.

When Namjoon talked in spanish, it turned Kayla on even more.

She started going faster, moving shoving his cock in and out of her mouth, taking every inch of him.

"Fuck!" Namjoon said reaching his climax.

Kayla was going to keep going, but she didn't want to let him finish that fast.

She got off her knees and sat back on his lap.

"Why did you stop?" Namjoon gasped for air.

"I didn't want you to cum yet. I want you to finish inside me." She smiled.

Namjoon grabbed her neck, and tossed her on the bed.

"Turn over." He ordered.

Kayla obeyed.

He gripped her thighs. "Arch." Kayla arched her back as much as she could. \

Namjoon bit his lip, getting a good look of the female.

He spit in his hand and rubbed it all over his hand.

"You ready?" Namjoon smirked, using his cock to play with her hole.

"Yes." Kayla moaned.

"Yes what my love?" He said whispered gripping her neck from the back.

"Yes, daddy." She moaned louder.

He pushed his cock in her soaking wet cunt, making Kayla's body jump.

"T-too much!" She cried, "Don't move yet!"

"Breath baby, I know you can take it." Namjoon said smiling. He continued to push his cock deeper, and deeper inside of her.

Causing her to scream.

"Mi amor, Your so tight." Namjoon grunted.

"Too much, gonna cum!" Kayla wasn't even able to say a full sentence.

Namjoon pulled out, and flipped kayla over, "No, your not."

Tears were falling down Kayla's face.

Joon got on his knees, and stuck his tongue on her clit, rotating it in circles.

Kayla start going crazy. Her moans were uncontrollable.

"Moan louder, Loud enough for the neighbors to hear! So they can hear you getting fucked by your best friend." Namjoon growled.

His grip on her neck became more firm.

"Fuck~" Namjoon let out a small whimper.

He slapped her ass and continuing to fuck her.

Kayla had tears rushing down her face. The pain was unbearable, "I can't take it!"

"Your doing so good baby." Namjoon said giving Kayla a hickey on her neck. "So fucking good."

"I'm close!" Kayla yelled.

"Hold it." Namjoon growled.

"I can't!"

"You got this baby, Just a few more minutes." Namjoon said picking his pace up.

Kayla started to see stars, she hasn't had sex this good before.

"Your daddy's little whore aren't you?" Namjoon grunted.

"Yes!" Kayla moaned. "Say it! Say your daddys little whore!" Namjoon said slamming into her.

"Im daddy's little whore." Kayla said in a faint moan.

"Say it louder love, so everyone in the fucking neighborhood could hear you!" "Im daddys little whore." She yelled.

"Fuck, Cum for me, mi amor!" Namjoon moaned.

They both reached their climax, and Kayla felt her stomach cave in. Her walls were painted a clear white with Namjoon's semen.

Namjoon let out a long groan and laughed.

"Can you walk?" Namjoon said rubbing Kayla's thighs.

She shook her head.

Namjoon smiled and picked kayla up, walking her into the bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up love." Kayla's mind went blank for a while.

She just fucked her best friend, and had the time of her life.They should get drunk and play games more often.

[askagamedev]

I always see gamers make the argument that game companies should be able to do what some other game companies do. Arguments such as: This company has an online store so other game companies should have one too. This game should be released worldwide all at once instead of being released first in it's home country and then released overseas later because other companies do this. These games should be ported to all systems like those games, etc. Do you think this is a good/bad argument?

It's a bad argument, but it's one of those things that seems reasonable until you actually know a little about how development works. You see, a game isn’t made of completely discrete, separate choices. The problems we solve are all part of a much greater whole and those solutions will essentially plot a development route to our eventual destination (the finished game). Not everyone will solve the same problems the same way - they might be coming from a different direction with a different foundation and different technical availability. This will mean that many very similar destinations might have wildly different routes that brought them there. It is very very difficult to determine whether somebody could have done something without understanding the route that was taken to get to the destination. It's kind of like planning a trip somewhere.

Imagine you wanted to take a trip from [San Francisco to Los Angeles]. The distance is approximately 400 miles (643 km) directly. You could make this trip several different ways. You could take a flight. You could take a train. You could drive along interstate 5. You could drive along Highway 101. You could drive along the coast on the Pacific Coast Highway. Each of these choices has tradeoffs as well - Interstate 5 is usually fairly quick, usually around 6-8 hours of driving depending on traffic and driving speed, but you spend a lot of that driving through California's Central Valley where it's mostly empty farmland. 101 takes longer, around 8-10 hours because it drives through a lot of the near-coastal cities. PCH takes even longer, often 10-12 hours of drive time because it follows the coastline - but you get to see the Pacific Ocean the entire trip. Flying or taking a train requires following the airline or train schedule, as well as dropoff and pickup issues that need to be squared away. Most people take whatever is fastest (flying) or most economical for them (driving Interstate 5 in ~6-8 hours), because they mostly just care about getting to the destination and not as much about the trip itself.

Now imagine that somebody heard that you are making this trip from SF to LA and they asked you to stop in Monterey (a coastal city roughly halfway in between) to pick up a package for them. How easy would this be? Well, it entirely depends on how you chose to travel on your trip, right? If you're flying directly from SF to LA, there's zero chance to stop along the way. The situation is similar for a train ride, the train tracks might not go anywhere near Monterey. The story is similar for anyone taking Interstate 5 - you'd need to take a pretty hefty detour to stop at Monterey and then possibly even backtrack to get back onto Interstate 5. Going along the 101 or the PCH, however, is much less additional detour time because your route already passes by that area already, making a detour to Monterey quite reasonable. Since you would already be passing close by Monterey along the planned route already, stopping is not a big chore. But choosing one of those routes would mean other sacrifices like a much longer travel time, higher overall fuel costs, and so on. Asking for you to make the detour during the trip (or, heaven forbid, after the trip is over) also changes the cost significantly!

This is similar to how games get made - we have a destination and we have a specific route we take to get there. The route we choose is only one of many, many potential routes that we can take, each with its own set of tradeoffs (time, required expertise, cost, etc.). Sometimes those routes will take us close by other features that are easy to implement. Sometimes those routes will take us very far away and require a very costly detour to get there. And sometimes the route is like a plane ride where we can’t stop at all and adding the feature will require planning and taking a completely separate trip. Most importantly, an outside observer has no real way to determine what kind of route you took to get to the destination just by looking at what the destination is. Even though a different game has a similar destination, the route they took to get there can be totally different than the one we took.

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[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (15)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda search for their printsessa with the help of Tony.

Warnings: dark themes, gun use, blood mention, serious injury

A/N: am I devastated that this is the final part of one of my favorite things I’ve ever written? absolutely! but I’m also really happy with myself for being able to turn the images in my head for this ending into coherent words. I’ve been holding onto this idea for weeks and I’m ecstatic to see everyone’s response to it. I’ll be letting you know later on this week what’s coming next! 👀

Previous part

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With Clint’s assistance, Natasha and Wanda were able to quickly create a plan and make their way to the last base, using the fear and anger of their girlfriend’s disappearance to barrel through anyone that stood in the way of intel collection. They wasted no time in waking everyone up when they returned to the safe house.

“Is there a security breach?” Steve questioned as the group gathered, and Natasha tossed the hard drive at him.

“We got everything, and we need to get back--”

“Oh, I get it,” Sam cut in with an eye roll. “They rushed through the mission to get back to their girlfriend so they can cuddle and all that cute shit--”

“She’s missing!” Wanda growled as her eyes began to glow, causing Sam to step back a few feet with wide eyes.

Everyone aside from Clint started asking questions all at once, and Natasha shut them all down with a stern command to be ready to fly out in ten minutes. Bags were packed and bodies were dressed as the team rushed to get to the jet, afraid of what might happen if they delayed the two women any longer.

“While we’re checking out the house, I need someone looking into Wesley L/N,” Natasha ordered, nodding as Tony volunteered and sending him all the information she had.

“Who is this, her brother?”

“Her cousin, if that’s even true--”

“It is, we checked the family history,” Wanda insisted, grabbing Natasha’s hand with a shaky breath. “They’re really close, he wouldn’t hurt her.”

“We don’t know that! Anyone can do something terrible if they’re pushed far enough--”

“Stop! Just fucking stop!” Wanda cried out as she covered her face with her hands, and Natasha moved to wrap her arms around her as she sat in the seat beside her.

“I’m sorry, Wan. I’m just worried and my brain is wired to go to the worst case scenario instantly.”

Wanda simply sniffled as tears started spilling down her cheeks again, leaning her head against Natasha’s shoulder as she accepted the comforting embrace. After a few minutes of silence between the pair, Wanda dropped her hands into her lap as she glanced at green eyes already absentmindedly staring at her, lowering her voice as she spoke.

“I want to ruin his mind before we kill him.”

-

The house felt empty and colder without your presence, every step on the carpeted floor of the front room seemed to echo around the building. Tears threatened to build in Wanda’s eyes again but she held them back, intent on believing that they will find you and bring you back where you belong. Only they could take care of what you needed.

A heavy feeling washed over their hearts when they entered your solo room and discovered some of your clothes and shoes were missing, along with the travel bag you’d first arrived with. The guest room Wesley resided in was also void of his presence, and anything that could clue them into where he’d taken you. 

“Tash, look.”

Natasha followed her gaze to the security room, cursing loudly in Russian when she noticed the door left wide open. She stormed inside, clenching her fist in anger when she noticed the tiny plastic baggie holding the miniscule tracker that was supposed to be in your leg right now.

“He’s a psychiatrist, not a fucking surgeon!” she fumed as she showed the object to Wanda. “How did he get this out?!”

Wanda walked around her to get to one of the computers, logging in as fast as her fingers would allow her to type and bringing up the security footage from the last several days. For the most part, the two of you acted normally, doing all the things you’d told them about like playing games and watching TV, but the sight of the two of you emerging from the TV room in the basement and entering the game room brought something to her attention.

“Did you see that?” She backed up the footage and switched over to slow motion. “She’s limping.”

“Isn’t that the day she hurt her leg in the backyard?”

“Yes, but…” The backyard footage is brought up next and skipped through until the moment of your ‘injury’. “This happened almost two hours later, meaning--”

“It was a cover for the tracker removal.” Natasha cursed once more as she released a frustrated sigh. “She’s getting locked in her room as soon as she gets back here.”

A notification similar to a phone ringing went off on one of the monitors, and the two women scurried over to answer the incoming call from Tony.

“Everything you had on this Wesley kid checks out, no criminal history or secret ties to any Hydra related groups, or anything else you have to worry about. However, I tried tracking and hacking into his phone and it seems to be wiped clean. So I got into his phone records with his cell company and his last call was made to an unsaved number connected to someone named Kendall, last known address in Nebraska.”

“Send it to us, please.”

They were on their feet as soon as the call ended, grabbing the mission bags abandoned in the doorway and heading off to their respective rooms to repack for the trip.

In nearly the same moment, you were in your safe house in Nebraska, rounding the corner to enter Wesley’s room. He knew something was wrong by the way your eyes watered and your shaky hand held onto the bugging device.

“They found us.” There was no questioning tone in his voice, but you answered with a nod anyway.

“Pack everything you brought and get out of here, drive toward the west coast until you run out of gas and hide wherever you stop.”

“What?! I can’t leave you here! They’ll just take you back and it’ll be worse than before.”

“I’ll be fine, Wes,” you assured him with a gentle squeeze of your hand over his. “I planned for this too, and if I know them as well as I think, I’ll be free to come find you.”

-

Wesley was packed and gone within the next hour, and you worked quickly to transform the space, make it seem as if you’d been the only one to reside in the home. Once that was set, you changed clothes and positioned yourself in an armchair against the wall in the front room, a gun resting in your lap. You didn’t move when a knock was heard on the front door that night, simply waited until the visitors got impatient and picked the lock to force their way in.

“You worried us, printsessa, disappearing like that,” Natasha addressed you in a chilling tone as the two of them stopped a few feet away from you. “And we’ll deal with that later, after you tell Wesley to come out so we can punish him first.”

“He’s not here,” you told her calmly. “His only job was to bring me here--”

“And take the tracker out of your leg, which we will be putting back,” Wanda interjected with a stern expression. “Now, you can either come with us to the car willingly or we’ll drag you.”

“I won’t be doing either of those things.” You stood slowly, lifting the gun to your temple as you went. “Your only choices are to leave me here and go back to the way your lives were before I came in, or you can let me die. If you take me again, I’ll just fight you every day until you wish you’d killed me yourself. No matter how you manipulate my mind, my true self will never love someone who wants to control me. I’ll tell you how much I hate you for ruining my life every second I’m able, and I’ll kill myself the moment I get the chance to do so.”

You noticed the glassy look in their eyes as they faced each other, and you knew they were having a silent conversation in their minds. Seconds felt like minutes as they seemed to discuss their options, eventually turning back to face you. Wanda was fully crying now, and Natasha seemed to be physically holding back her own emotional break.

“We always thought we’d be able to love and care for you until our dying days.” Her shaky voice filled the quiet room. “But we understand if you don’t want that, and we’re sorry that you’ll never be able to love anyone else.”

Before you had time to react, Natasha was pulling a gun out and aiming it at your heart, the sound of the shot echoing and triggering Wanda’s instant sobbing. Natasha was quick to pull her into her arms, facing her away from you as you tumbled to the ground, your own weapon sliding away as your free hand weakly pressed against the oversized sweatshirt that covered your wound.

The two women hurried out of the house as you began to choke and cough up blood, not able to stomach hearing or seeing anymore, and the sound of a car speeding off echoed throughout the neighborhood. Waiting another minute or two to be sure they left, you got up to walk off to the bathroom, wiping the fake blood off your palm the best you could. After slipping the bulletproof vest off your torso and washing your hands, you quickly rinsed your mouth and brushed your teeth to get rid of the red stains, lifting your head to look in the mirror with a smile when you were done.

You looked pretty good for a dead woman.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @emilyprentisswife @cherrieloco @bebe404 @seventeen0 @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @fayhar @becka107 @wannabe-fic-reader @beforeoursecrets @cosmicbrownies7 @messuhp @mjaudrey @sxphiaswitch @trikruismybitch @muted-stoneheart @multi-images @just-a-normalpersons @want-to-watch-it-burn @stop-drop-and-drumroll @stickystudentlightmug @pianogirl2121 @welcometothepeanutgallery @witchxaf @natashadeservedmore @sakurat123 @darkangelxoxo @haiiiloeee2

[foreverlostindreams]

Don’t ever dump me again

Friends. That's the reason Kol invited you here, because you were ‘friends’. He seemed to be lacking any more of those, or he would not drag you out every time he wanted to go for a drink, just to be distracted by any pretty neck walking past. And while you were glad that you had moved on from being on the menu, to being an, at least right now, treasured witchy help for the Mikaelson, you could definitely go without another evening spent alone in a bar, he chose for the two of you ‘to have fun’. You didn't have fun. Who would getting basically dumped every other night? It was not the best thing for your ego, so you ordered another drink.

It was just your luck, that sitting alone at a bar like this one seemed to attracted all kinds of other lonely or wishful guests of even that bar to try their best of getting closer to you. The stool next to you was still empty, but when the bartender brought you another drink, shortly after your ordered one, you knew that was going to end very quickly. The sound of dragging wood on wood seconds later proved you right and then you saw the guy appearing in the corner of your left eye.

He was not as dubious and off-putting as the other ones you usually attracted in establishments Kol dragged you to, but you also did not get a good vibe from him right away.

A good half an hour and a few drinks later you had warmed up to him though. No supernatural about him at all, right now a fat plus on your chart and just a lot of charming talk about college and annoying friends, just what you needed. You had started college before getting sucked into all the Mikaelson mess and even though you had not liked it there a single bit, compared to some of the things you did now, hell did you miss it. He seemed to have a slight intention of getting you tipsy, based on how fast he ordered you new drinks, when yours got empty, but you knew how to handle your liquor and based on the fact, that Kol in average would take another half an hour before he would get back to get you, you were just fine with how it was.

That was before the next drink hit you very differently. Your head was spinning instantly and you could feel your balance going off. Roofies, oh for fucks sake. You stumbled off your stool trying to get away from him, but your body was not cooperating very much. When he got up as well, playing the perfect help and no word of protest that you were trying to form would leave your lips, you started to feel a slight panic creeping up. There was no witchy power protecting you from this or reversing it, definitely not while you were in this state. God, you were so stupid. The first thing you learn in College, always watch your cup and don’t take drinks from strangers. Having spent so much time with vampires and angry werewolves, you had forgotten about all those mundane dangers. You could kick yourself.

Your thoughts were racing, when you felt the cold night wind on your face. He was getting you further and further away from the back alley or whatever kind of service room Kol, aka your only chance of help and his play thing were in, to everybody else you seemed like a drunk mess, that a friend was helping. “Km” you mumbled only to try directly again, with more force “Kom'' and again “Kol!”

Thank god you were not out with Elijah, you would have never gotten his name out, even though he probably would have not let it have come to this in the first place. But ones you had managed to get the name right once, you didn't stop, repeating it like a prayer. Hoping to get through the bar and street noise like this. Annoying him like he always would with you. When you heard a car door open next to you, full on panicking now, it mobiliced all the brain capacity you could manage “Kol, help!” you nearly screamed, as your legs finally failed in those heels under you and you fell against the car door, jamming the guys hand in the progress. You could hear him swear and then smell a very familiar smell in the next air breeze.

“I said have fun, Darling, not organize presents. But I’m not complaining.” He definitely did not know, when he could be funny and when not, you determined while trying to get safely to the ground to crawl away from the danger zone your ‘nice’ college dude had maneuvered himself into. You didn’t get to crawl through, you were picked up before that. The suit sleeves covering the arms in your vision did not seem like what Kol was dressed in the last time you saw him, but the voice you had heard was his. Trying to focus was getting more and more difficult you noticed and you felt your eyes getting heavier, before you felt something wet getting pressed to your lips. The first impulse was defence, but without much effect and when the copper taste hit your tongue you gave in. Vampire blood was probably your only chance now.

When the clouds started to lift off your mind and your own legs started to support your body again you let go and looked for the guy. You’d be damned if he would get away with this, but Kol had him good and scared to death, his hand still stuck in the car door. Now that couldn’t be good. On a second thought you turned around wide eyed before you realized it was Elijah who had helped you get the drugs out of your system. Where did he come from? They had promised you, they could not read minds. “I was trying to call you, to do a spell for Klaus, but you didn’t answer, so I was going to pick you up.” he offered you an answer, before you could even ask. An oppressed scream reached your ears distracting you again.

“Don’t kill him!” you scolded Kol, trying to get closer only to realise that vampire blood might have helped, but you were not yet your balanced and stable self. “Oh come on Darling! You can not still feel sorry for him. He was not going to take you on a picnic” he shot back dramatically “I know” I hissed at him and instantly regretted it, when his grin got wider again “Oh, so you want the honor?” “No” okay, maybe a bit and you got the chance earlier than expected because the idiot really did try to make his escape in just that moment. The force with which you smashed him into the ground before he did his second step and one of the other two men made a move was entirely because of the drugs, of course.

Pinning him like this you looked back at Kol “I want you to compel him to go to the next police department, demand to speak to a female officer and confess to her about every woman he ever did this to. And about the place where he gets the drugs, if he knows about any other guy doing it. Absolutely everything” “You are no fun” Kol complained “I am in this situation, because you fucking idiot always want to have fun, drag me along and then dump me at the bar. My liver is probably going to get me in an early grave, all because of you” You went off on him and could feel Elijah's disapproving look shooting over your head at his little brother. “Are you saying, you never had fun with me?” He really seemed insulted, what did he expect? “Like I say, you always disappear and the bars you choose are not known for it’s amazing clientele, but it’s the only escape I get from the third brother in your family, that would like to see me work on something for him every waking minute of the day, so i tag along.”

“Ready to go home?” Elijah asked then and offered you his arm, like the perfect gentleman he was “Kol, you got this?” he asked in a totally different kind of voice, while leading me to the passenger seat of his car. How had you not noticed he seemingly hit the brakes and parked directly behind you and the idiots car? “We are not done talking about this Darling!” “Oh, I so am. I will not discuss anything with any of you anymore today. I will not do any spells. I will just go to bed and sleep for a day or two. Maybe wake up in a life, where mine is not so out of control” A girl could dream.

Of course, you were back at breakfast the next morning already reading the grimoire Klaus had gotten in ways you didn’t want to know anything about. He had not complained to you about the time he had lost last night, but you were sure he spent the whole time you were asleep doing it to Elijah, who had put his food down about your need to sleep, also citing that trying a difficult spell with a halfway drugged witch was not their best chance. You were also sure Kol had heard his bit about letting it get to that.

Just when thinking of the devil, he slipped into the stool to your left, looking disapproving on your cornflakes. “That was how my last evening turned from bad to catastrophic” you commented on his move without looking up from the page. “You really did not enjoy a single evening?” Was his pride honestly hurt about that aspect? “Nop” “I thought you were! I thought, that was what you wanted, a way out of this house and not see a single vampire for ones, that's what you had said'' In that moment the penny dropped in your mind. You had said that! A little over a month ago, the day after Kol had arrived back here, when Klaus had had one of his days and Elijah was not on your side the way you had wanted him to, you had stormed off slamming doors and screaming your frustration out with those words. The day after, Kol had asked you to a bar for the first time.

You looked at him, checking for signs that he might prank you, but he looked genuine. You took a deep breath “Okay, let's start again. Hi, my name is Y/N. Your family drives me insane, sometimes I need a timeout from that, but I still do not like to be dumped in shitty bars, when asked out.” Kol took your offered hand “Well then, Miss Y/N. I will remember that. Would you like to accompany me to a better bar tomorrow evening, to redeem myself as good company?” “That sound not bad at all” He grinned back at you and then got up. “By the way darling, I would not eat that, it smells bad.” “Shut up Kol, better be worried, if you ever dump me again!” You could hear his laugh, even when he left the room.

[smute]

i was tagged by the wonderful gem gem gemmaaaaaaaaaa @whenwinterfell

1. what do you prefer to be called name-wise?

name-calling? bitch (affectionate) or bro (sarcastic) but jan is also fine

2. when is your birthday?

10 april

3. where do you live?

atm im still enrolled in bremen but i moved back to [redacted] to live with my parents when i started going insane(r) in my dorm room after months of isolation. will probably move to berlin in the fall bc my plans a, b, and c fell through and i dont know what else to do but lets not talk about that 🥲

4. three things you are doing right now?

having a really bad day, drawing on my arm like a child, listening to marina

5. four fandoms that have peaked your interest?

i honestly dont even know what a fandom really is lmao my obsessions with stuff never last long enough to grow into anything substantial

6. how has the pandemic been treating you?

idek how to answer this.... i know im one of the lucky ones and im very grateful, but at the same time im doing worse than ever before... the past 15 months have been hard, a lot has been destroyed and im struggling to look ahead or feel hopeful ✌️😗

7. a song you can’t stop listening to right now?

VENUS FLY TRAP

8. recommend a movie:

Legally Blonde (2001)

9. how old are you?

29 and fuck you for asking (jk lol)

10. school, university, occupation, other?

im about to start an MA in english lit 🤡 and i justify my existence in this capitalist system with 3 separate jobs in 3 diff teams of my uni's pr department (yes its about as adhd friendly as it sounds)

11. do you prefer heat or cold?

COLD!!!! im a sweaty bitch and my skin is a beautiful, delicate shade of raw pork so i really hate the summer. i can admit that the concept has a certain appeal tho

12. name one fact others may not know about you

not really a fact but a fun anecdote: i transferred schools in first grade, just a few months into the school year and, on the first day at my new school, went home with a random girl. apparently sabrina had invited me to hang out, so we went to her house and spent the afternoon watching cartoons and eating candy. we were both latchkey kids (quite common where im from). my mom finished work around noon and obviously shat a brick when she came home to an empty apartment. my parents freaked the fuck out, called everyone they knew and eventually a major police operation was launched within hours of my disappearance... like friends and family were searching all over town for me, police were sweeping fields and the forest next to our neighborhood and 6 year old me was just chilling at this girls house lmaooooo... her mom came home later that night and asked me if my parents knew where i was BECAUSE SHE HAD HEARD A RADIO ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT A MISSING BOY. the weird thing is that sabrina had TWO older sisters who were obviously supposed to watch her (us?) but neither of them had the wherewithal to ask "hmm do the parents of this new kid you dragged in from the street know where he is?"

13. are you shy?

idk man... yeah? but then people keep telling me i come across as an extrovert and outgoing or whatever and i just think to myself omfg? i have to stop overcompensating

14. preferred pronouns?

he/they

15. biggest pet peeves?

"people who chew with their mouth open" <- yes absolutely! and when people interrupt others... which is slightly hypocritical of me but it just drives me up the wall!!!! even when it happens to others and im just a witness it makes me flip my lid

16. what is your favourite “dere” type?

my what now

17. rate your life from 1-10: idk man my brain doesnt really do long term analytics? i find a gummy bear on the floor - its an eleven. i experience a minor inconvenience - i want to kms.

18. what’s your main blog?

this is my only one

19. list your sideblogs and what they’re used for:

i feel like you're not even listening to me

20. is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends?

i guess it takes me a while to warm up to people but once we reach the friendship stage its basically impossible to get rid of me and im very loyal and committed? sounds like a dog lmao. BUT at the same time that can be hard to see for other people bc im also impulsive and not the best when it comes to consistent communication so... dont take it personally when i disappear for a few days and then message u like nothing happened🥺

tagging: @shyredpanda @mmolia ❤️‍🔥

[sharkinlovewithadolphin]

Tag game

Tagged by @died-by-the-scimitar thank you!! :D 1. what is the color of your hairbrush? shaft is made of bamboo wood, the brushes themselves are black

2. name a food you never eat: uhhhh idk, I’m quite picky, especially with the texture of food, so if the texture is gross and it’s too big to not chew in, i will usually try to avoid eating it. 

3. what were you doing 45 mins ago? watching an old try guys video

4. what’s your favorite candy bar? I don’t really have any

5. have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yes, a football game when I was 9, and I hated every second of it lol. I really want to go watch a handball game, though. 

6. what is the last thing you said out loud? “Nå” (means like.. “well then” ish) 

7. what is your favorite ice cream? chocolate, vanilla, caramel 

8. what was the last thing you had to drink? water

9. do you like your wallet? no

10. what is the last thing you ate? An ice cream 

11. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? no

12. what’s the last sporting event you watched? I mean my mom watches the eurogames in football right now, so every now and then I watch like 1 or 2 minutes when I pass the living room, but the last game i sat down and actually watched was men’s handball earlier this year. 

13. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? just... salty? lol

14. who is the last person you sent a text message to? a friend a few hours ago, telling her i would start charging her after she wrote that she lived rent free in my head 

15. ever been camping? nope. I think I want to try it though

16. do you take vitamins? no, but I should (especially d-vitamins, considering how low my numbers have been since.. always), I got them lying around and everything but I sort of just don’t take them 

17. do you regularly attend a place of worship? no

18. do you have a tan? nope

19. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? it really depends on my mood honestly, either is usually neat

20. do you drink your soda through a straw? no, i don’t drink soda and i don’t use straws 

21. what color socks do you usually wear? black or white, but i also have some pastel colored and fruit motive ones 

22. do you ever drive above the speed limit? not intentionally lol, but i do catch myself accidently driving a little too fast (usually never more than 5-15 km/h above, and i always slow down once i notice).

23. what terrifies you? life. failure. the future. death of my dog. being stuck unable to reach goals

24. look to your left, what do you see? The side of my closet that’s covered in fandom and art postcards from redbubble 

25. what chore do you hate most? dishes, changing the sheets, cleaning the bathroom, taking out the trash

26. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? g’day mate + harurinralia 

27. what’s your favorite soda? i don’t drink sodas anymore, but if i should it’s usually a wannabe cola or something citrus fruity ish

28. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I don’t go to fast food places, but if i did i would go in

29. what’s your favorite number? 4

30. who’s the last person you talked to? my mom

31. favorite cut of beef? i don’t eat beef often, and i’m not sure what this even means lol 

32. last song you listened to? Lewis Capaldi - Don’t Get Me Wrong 

33. last book you read? Reading tipping the velvet right now, last book I finished was Romeo and Juliet I think

34. favorite day of the week? Also saturday

35. can you say the alphabet backwards? no

36. how do you like your coffee? I don’t like coffee, the smell on its own is.. nope

37. favorite pair of shoes? Don’t have a favorite. I used to love my black converses, but my feet are more happy with my current sketchers. 

38. time you normally get up? usually never before 7 (after school turned virtual for most of my last semester and i also stopped having morning shifts at work), and lately not before 9 

39. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? i love both, but i think i prefer sunsets, just ‘cause they’re easier to catch and (as you said, Fra) more colorful in terms of purple and pink etc.  

40. how many blankets on your bed? one and my duvet, but I have 2 blankets across my bedframe since its made of metal and my bed is up against the always-cold wall towards our apartment stairs. 

41. describe your kitchen very typical early 2000s danish style, hasn’t been updated in 20 years (except for my mom painting the walls a pastel pink), but not like in an outdated-ugly way i think

42. describe your kitchen at the moment. some papers on the table, bread (packaged), and my mom’s figures and stones collecting dust

43. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I don’t drink alcohol either eeeeyh

44. do you play cards? no, but I used to love it when I was a kid, mainly go fish

45. what color is your car? I don’t have one, but my mom’s is silver

46. can you change a tire? I’ve never tried it, but I think I got the idea and might be able to should I ever need to. My mom’s husband usually changes them on her car. 

47. your favorite state? I’m not american, never set foot near america, BUT i think i like alaska, west virginia, and such, just for the environment (as seen through pictures)

48. favorite job you’ve had? I quite liked cleaning at private homes (of people I knew), which I’ve done a few times before. I work at a store right now (and have been for 3 years), though that is far from something I want to continue, to put it lightly. I got a job as a mentor (helping kids with homework and such), but I’ve yet to get any mentees, so I still can’t quite say much about it :/   Tagging: @hamykia @dandelionmeadow @nenufair @pilarsalazr @spacewitchqueen @happensweet @scimitar-and-longsword @ladyzeia @nicolosfaith 

[merryspark]

UPDATE

Hello there, my beautiful, and amazing friends!!! I came again to ask for your understanding.

Hopefully I can say, I’ll be back weekly, just like before. I MUST apologize from all of you, because I am through hard times, what took the most part of my free time. Nothing much happened, just life - nothing more that some of you fight already: I was hardly exhausted, depressed, scared, anxious - i worked hard at job, I had to repair the new house what we are working on, I had an ugly arguement with my boss, because they saw i am not the same as always - and look who tried to convince them about I’m fine - of course ME... Yes, many times I was only angry, yelling at everybody, then crying. Everything was about bad luck: I almost messed up my relationship, i was too jelaous on almost everybody, because i felt ugly and tired. I broke my phone into pieces on the ground accidentally. I have no money to buy a new one, before christmas, and get a bonus... but i know instead of a new phone i’ll buy a BIG gift for li’l sis instead... Though i hunger for TF Forged to Fight. I did not played it since i registered on Tumblr. So about bad luck - i made a lot of mistakes in job, I have to help my family meanwhile, and spend most of the time travelling to the countryside and back to the city. I sleep mostly on vehicles. Half hours, and standard six at night before i wake up 3:40am to start this again. So i started to fell apart between the many responsibilities, what all i wanted to carry, because I HAVE TO. I convinced myself, i have to do everything alone - that meant i had the hours of the day, one person from one salary trying to keep up two household, and look after everybody in two cities (100 km-s far from each other), not to mention being a full person at daytime at the factory, where i was stressed because i felt somewhere is happening stuff right now, and i have to be there... so i started to go mad. Slowly, but surely. Sometimes i felt i should KILL someone, sometimes that “someone” looked logical to be myself. There was two weeks when i was thinking nothing about this, and cry more. It looked so fantastic idea, because i would have some rest at last. :D So i cried, i tried to think elseway... 

I was unable to draw for two months, what made things worse... because i LOVE IT. It seemed i lost the last reason to live. My li’l sis was patient, though i had the less time for her... she is before high school, she needed to make her exams alone. I was not there. I was at job. I helped her with her animation presentation - i made a script how should it look like, and collected all her small pieces of art from my Drive into a foldier, and sent her - describing the steps she shall follow as she put it together. I worked t’il midnight that night (i woke up the same early morning, then go to job from the countryside, then go home in the city to visit her...), and when she woke up next morning, she worked immediately, because in the afternoon at 1pm she had to go to the exam. (The art teacher did not watched her presentation afterall....)

So days went by - it seemed there is only monday and friday on every week.

I felt shame because i get letters, messages. I read them while i was running, and hate myself, i can’t answer. Friends in need - i’m always afraid noone will look for me ever again in my life, because slowly they realize it is unnecessary. But i can’t help... life sometimes is like running down on the hill in a burning car with stucked doors... You can do nothing, just sit and wait to arrive in one piece.

I MUST APOLOGIZE. First of all, from you: @velvetblackjack. You facing hard times in your country, and i was not a good friend. :( Believe me, i feel shame and hate myself, i hate the life every day, i am not there for you in challenging times, when you need me. I was unable to send videos because i broke my phone. Please forgive me, and try to be strong, collect all your strenght to be here for me, when this shit ends. I am always happy, when i see, you can be happy with your followers, you find cheer to answer your letters in a “good mood”. <3

I apologize from @gearsofbellona and all of my other fams! I was away, but i feel this morning i am able to work again.

Last but not least, if you, “anon”, reading this, who wrote me the ask - what is only the SECOND ASK in my life, i am working on it. I hope you’ll like it, and you’ll get it next week. 

Thank you for still believe in me, for liking my art. It gives supernatural powers to an artist, if in deep, dark times you just hit that “heart”. It is like to drink life-essence before you wake up to continue where you finished the previous day.

I LOVE YOU ALL. LOVE EACH OTHER, AND TAKE CARE OF YOU.

Hugs, Merry :)