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1dfangirls35 · 5 years ago

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Voir Dire (N.H.): A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates, and risking it all for love

prologue one two three

four

Kelsey had been right about it being a busy night. Since the second the doors had opened the bar had been bustling, and it wasn't showing any sign of stopping soon. Tom had just let them know that the AMAs had just ended, which meant a bunch of drunken celebrities were headed their way, wailing in their sorrows of not winning the award they had been nominated for.

Maya came up behind Kelsey with the drink she was mixing. "Tonight we're gonna see someone big-I can just feel it. I'm thinking Taylor Swift- heard she got beat out for Female Artist of the Year."

Kelsey rolled her eyes, throwing some ice into the glass of the whiskey sour she was mixing. "Please Maya, Taylor Swift's not the Manhattan type. She'll be home with a bottle of wine and her cats."

Maya stifled a laugh and headed back to her customer. She couldn't keep them waiting if she wanted a nice tip. Kelsey glanced at the time. It was only ten pm, which meant she had four more busy hours before bar close. Kelsey had thought that maybe she would be let off a little early tonight after working so many shifts this week, but with the amount of traffic in the bar right now, she knew there was no way that was going to happen now.

"Kelsey, can you deliver these Manhattans to table twelve please?" Meg, the bar's manager shouted in her direction.

"Of course," Kelsey responded, wiping her hands on a dish towel, before setting it on the counter and grabbing the tray of drinks. She navigated her way through clumps of socializing people towards the table in the back corner. Then set down the drinks in front of each of the women in the back corner. Although she didn't recognize any of them, she was guessing they had come from the awards show by the way they were dressed. Full length ballgowns and jewelry she only could dream of affording.

The woman handed her a twenty dollar bill and Kelsey placed it in her pocket after giving a polite thank you. She headed back towards the bar. She made her way through the crowd, pushing when her 'excuse-mes' go unnoticed. She had nearly made it back, when a man started backing into her. Like some kind of bartender premonition, Kelsey could tell what was going to happen before it even began.

"Shit," the man exclaimed in a thick accent. His beer splashing onto Kelsey as he bumps into her, leaving her shirt drenched with the sticky substance. Kelsey glances down to see just how bad the damage was before her eyes travel upward to meet those of the man that had so kindly spritzed her with his beer.

His face was soft, with a slight scruff along his jawline. His blue eyes full of apology. Kelsey was sure that she knew his face, but at the moment she couldn't quite place it- not that she could acknowledge it even if she could- another of Manhattan's strict policies to ensure its elite patrons were not bothered.

"I'm sorry, wasn't watching where I was going," he apologized.

"Don't worry about it, happens all the time," Kelsey replied. It was for occasions like this that Kelsey was now sure to pack at least three different shirts with her when she came to work. Even the elite could get a little sloppy.

"Can I get you another one of those?" she asked, gesturing to his now almost empty glass. Kelsey had never understood why they had to provide compensatory drinks to patrons who had money coming out of their ears, but it was yet another policy she had to follow.

"Think I should be the one buying you one," he said with a laugh.

"No drinking on the job unfortunately, but just give me a minute to change and I'll get you a fresh one."

The man's eyes flashed with the realization that Kelsey was an employee, as always. Once this occurred, there were usually two outcomes. The first being the guy lost all interest in her and pretended her ever offered to buy her a drink in the first place. The second being the guy took this as an opportunity to continue to flirt in hopes of getting stronger drinks and someone he could talk the ear off while he continued to drink. That was the bad thing about being a bartender, you couldn't exactly run from the creepy guy at the bar.

Kelsey hoped he was the earlier, because although this guy was attractive, she was far too busy to feign interest for some lonely drunk. Grabbing her bag from behind the bar, Kelsey headed to the bathroom. Throwing on a new black tank top to replace the wet shirt she was currently wearing, then stuffing it into her bag to add to her pile of dirty laundry.

It suddenly occurred to Kelsey that the man who spilled his drink on her was the 'Slow Hands' guy. His name was on the tip of Kelsey's tongue, and she tried to mentally recall the names of the One Direction members. Her mind came up blank.

"What happened to you?" Maya asked Kelsey as she slid back behind the bar. Grabbing a glass to fill a new beer for Slow Hands guy.

"Beer spill. What's the name of that guy that sings Slow Hands again? You know the one in One Direction? He's not Harry Styles but..."

"Niall Horan?" Maya said in a hushed voice. Kelsey knew she could always count on Maya to identify celebrities. "He's the one that spilled a beer on you?" Kelsey looked at her friend's incredulous face. She could only hope Maya was smart enough to not try and sneak the poor guy a copy of her demo on a night that was as busy as this.

Kelsey nodded.

"Can't believe you don't remember his name," Maya said with a laugh. "You kept raving about how he could use his slow hands any day on you last month when you were drunk."

Kelsey felt heat rise to her cheeks. She may or may not have had a bad habit of making remarks about celebrities while she was drunk. She blamed it on being ridiculously single- not that she didn't want to keep it that way.

"I better get him his beer," Kelsey rolled her eyes, filling the glass and bringing it over to where Niall was now seated at the bar.

"Ye didn't have to do that," Niall said as Kelsey set the beer in front of him. Niall didn't like to be the kind of celebrity that demanded things. Pop superstar or not, he wanted to be treated like everyone else, especially when it was his own fault. "I've been the center of attention all night, would've liked to just be a clumsy lad in the bar for once," he admitted.

"Company policy," Kelsey responded, but she couldn't help but be a little impressed with the fact that this celebrity didn't expect to be treated as such. "Let me know if I can get you anything else," she said with a smile, and then moved on to helping the next patron.

As Kelsey filled drink order after drink order, her shift kept gazing back to Niall, sitting quietly at the bar sipping on his beer. She wondered what was going through his mind, and what kind of international popstar comes to a bar alone after an awards show. She shakes it off her mind, moving on to pour another glass of wine for the publicist that won't get off her phone for more than a second.

"You've caught someone's attention," Maya said as her shoulder brushes Kelsey's. Kelsey glanced over at Niall once again. The two make eye contact before Kelsey quickly turned away.

"Probably just wants a refill, I go check on him," Kelsey said, beginning to move in Niall's direction.

Maya grabbed Kelsey's sleeve and pulls her friend back in. "He's been staring at you for over twenty minutes now. Go talk to him. I got it covered." She pushed Kelsey in the direction of the Irishman.

Kelsey approached slowly. "Need another one?"

"That would be great, thank you..." Niall paused and Kelsey realized that this was his way of asking for her name.

"Oh, Kelsey, I'm Kelsey," she stumbled.

"Nice to meet you Kelsey. I'm Niall," he replied . Of course, Kelsey didn't need that introduction.

"Another beer coming right up," Kelsey smiled and headed back to the tap. It was only when she felt the foam begin to overflow from the cup that she realized she had been staring at Niall.

This was out of character for Kelsey. She didn't get intrigued by cute guys talking to her at the bar. After all, that was part of her job. And she certainly didn't stare at them from across the bar. The people at this bar weren't the kind of people that were interested in bartenders. And quite honestly, Kelsey knew that if an average guy could break her heart, it was even more likely with this clientele.

Kelsey tried to shake the feeling in her chest as she approached Niall and set the beer in front of him. "Long night?" she asked.

"The longest," Niall said with a sigh, taking a sip of his beer. "Red carpets and awards shows aren't really my thing if I'm being honest."

Kelsey raised her eyebrow.

"Oh no, I'm not complaining about it. I mean I am...ahh dammit," Niall said, running a hand through his hair. "Now you think I'm one of those people that's ungrateful to be in the position I am. I'm grateful, I really am its just..."

"A bit too much sometimes?" Kelsey finished his sentence for him.

"Ya something like that. What ever happened to it being about the music anyway?" Niall spun his glass in a circle in front of him before shaking his head. "Sorry, look at me just being like any old grump at the bar telling you about my problems. Tell me about you Kelsey."

"Me?" Kelsey asked with confusion. People rarely asked Kelsey about herself at the bar. Niall nodded to confirm, that he was in fact, asking about her.

"I'm Kelsey. I've been in LA for three months and I'm a bartender here at Manhattan."

"That was a bullshit answer if I've ever heard one," Niall said with a laugh, taking another sip of his beer.

Kelsey crossed her arms over her chest and feigned offense.

"Why'd you come to LA? We both know no one comes here to be a bartender," Niall asked, his eyes scanning Kelsey's face in a way that sent her stomach in knots.

"Bashing on bartenders now? It just so happens that my life aspiration is to become a world renowned bartender," Kelsey answered with a smirk. She sighed and rested her elbow on the bar in front of her, leaning a little closer to Niall. He shot her a smile of amusement.

"I came for a fresh start. Plus, I'm hoping to get into Stanford law in the fall so I figured might as well move to California sooner versus later."

"You want to be a lawyer?" Niall said with an incredulous look on his face. Kelsey wasn't sure if it was him being impressed or mocking, in her experience it was often the latter.

"You think I'm crazy right," Kelsey said, shaking her head.

"Not at all," Niall replied. "I think it's brilliant." He offered her a sincere smile and Kelsey felt her mouth move to mirror one. She caught herself, and quickly returns to a neutral expression.

"Why do you want to be a lawyer?" Niall questioned.

Kelsey knew that was a loaded question and a complicated answer. One that boybander Niall Horan likely didn't care to hear the explanation to.

"I like to argue," she said with a shrug.

"I can see that," Niall laughed. "But seriously."

"That's not a simple answer," Kelsey said, grabbing a strand of her brown locks and twirling it in her fingers. "Guess I like the idea of building a case. Seeing all the aspects of something and using it to put together an argument. There's also a lot of psychology involved, a lot of personal relationships. You have to be able to integrate a lot of complex skills at once and I like the challenge."

"Guess you get good practice as a bartender then?" Niall asked.

"Oh ya, especially when I have to thwart of the advances of famous boybanders," she teased, flicking her hair over her shoulder before scanning the premises to see if her manager had caught on to her single patron service.

Niall looked to his left, then to his right, he sets his glass back down on the table before saying, "Don't know what you're talking about, I don't see any of those around here."

Kelsey rolled her eyes at his attempt at a joke. Had she heard better? Absolutely, but his sarcasm was a bit enduring. She appreciated someone who didn't take themselves too seriously, lord knows she needed to apply some of that rationale to her own life.

"So where's your entourage tonight?"

"Entourage? I'm just a lad from Mullingar I have no entourage," Niall said with a laugh.

"So you are telling me you came from the big AMA festivities to this bar all by yourself?" Kelsey probed.

"I mean I suppose a few of my mates are around here somewhere but sometimes I need some time to meself." Niall was omitting the part of his plan that involved ditching his "girlfriend" as quickly as possible following the show before calling up a very drunk Louis Tomlinson and being instructed to head to the bar.

"The bar's not usually my place for some me time," Kelsey remarked, looking around the bar to observe the mad chaos that surrounded her. It was loud, chaotic, and full of people dressed far too nice to consider themselves relaxed. Kelsey's me time involved a tub of Ben and Jerry's, a bottle of wine, and a romantic comedy on Netflix.

"It's me time when you want to drown out your feelings with alcohol," Niall sighed. After realizing what he had just admitted out loud, Niall quickly tried to rebute his words. "I'm sure there have been many lads sitting at a bar that have it worse off than me though."

Humility. It wasn't something that Kelsey had witnessed in many of patrons she served at the Manhattan. She certainly wouldn't have expected the quality to be displayed in a world-famous superstar like Niall Horan. It was refreshing, and although Kelsey didn't want to admit it, a bit intriguing as well.

"Kels!" Kelsey turned to see Becca, flagging her down, her hot date still by her side. She assumed the date must have been going well if Becca had convinced him to follow her to a bar where the drinks would cost you almost as much as a nice dinner. She gave her roommate a wave of acknowledgement before turning back to Niall.

"I'm sorry, that's my friend and her date. I have to go get the scoop. It was nice to meet you Niall Horan," Kelsey said with a smile. Niall felt a wave of disappointment. He had been quite enjoying his chat with Kelsey. He wasn't sure what he had expected though, it wasn't like it was her responsibility to keep him from getting lonely.

"Nice to meet you too," Niall replied. "oh, and sorry about the drink," Niall laughed, motioning towards the beer he hadn't managed to spell down the front of a beautiful girl.

"Don't worry about it," Kelsey responded before making her way to her friend.

"I hear you were hitting it off over there," Becca laughed, motioning towards Niall who now had a cell phone in one hand and a beer in the other. Kelsey glanced back at the Irishman who had had her interest over the past half hour. Her mind started conjuring up all the possible reasons a guy like him would be hanging at a bar by himself after an awards show.

"Earth to Kelsey," Becca snapped her fingers in Kelsey's face, and Kelsey turned her attention abruptly back to her roommate.

"Sorry, oh no just having a chat that's all. He's a freaking celebrity after all," Kelsey answered. It wasn't like someone like Niall was interesting in Kelsey. Kelsey wasn't even interested in the whole dating scheme in the first place at the current moment, much less with a celebrity.

"That's not what Maya told me," Becca said with a grin. "Anyway, still think you can sneak out of here early and hit the club with us?"

Kelsey surveyed the crowd at the bar. It was significantly less busy than it had been a few hours ago and with a good chunk of the patrons buying wine by the bottle instead of mixed drinks she thought it was worth a shot. "I'll check with Meg, be right back."

Luckily for Kelsey, Meg was in a good mood. She agreed that the decreased traffic and long work hours Kelsey had already put in this week warranted her getting off an hour and a half early. After shooting Becca a thumbs up from across the bar, Kelsey headed to the back of the bar to hang up her apron.

"She's letting you out early I see," Maya noted as she filled another vodka lemonade.

"Yeah, Becca wants me to go to the club with her and her new guy," Kelsey said with a roll of her eyes. She knew she had promised her roommate this, but as she watched Becca and her date suck face at the corner of the bar, she began to wonder if maybe this wasn't going to be the best of ideas.

Maya followed Kelsey's eyes and let out a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm sure there will be plenty of single guys looking for someone to dance with at the club."

Kelsey gave her Maya a questioning look. She wasn't looking for a single guy right now. She wasn't looking for anyone.

Maya gave Kelsey a playful shove. "Go let loose girl, you deserve it. You can dance with a guy without committing to date him."

"I know," Kelsey responded slowly.

"Well then, go get ready girl. If you take to much longer, I'm not sure those two are going to make it to the club." Kelsey laughed before going to the bathroom to touch up. She applied a fresh coat of mascara and lipstick and gave her hair a little fluff before calling it good.

As she walked back towards Becca, Kelsey scanned the bar for one last glance of Niall, but he was gone.

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

Kelsey was beginning to wish that she had just stayed at the Manhattan with Maya instead of becoming the third-wheel of Becca's date. The two had clearly hit it off- they could barely keep their hands off of each other.

Kelsey was happy for Becca. She deserved to find someone as much as the next person, but that didn't keep Kelsey's bitter distrust for any kind of romantic relationship from wondering if this guy would become just like one of the countless guys Becca met at bars since Kelsey had moved in with her- untrustworthy and unwilling to commit.

After the two shots Becca had suggested they take before they left the Manhattan and the vodka cranberry Kelsey was sipping on now, Kelsey was beginning to feel the beginnings of a buzz. God knows she was going to need it if she was going to "let loose" as Maya had put it. She scanned the room for potential baes for the night.

Through the dimly lit club lights, Kelsey swears she sees a man that resembles Niall across the room. She shook the thought from her mind and blamed it on her escalating blood alcohol levels. The atmosphere of the club was altering her senses, between the pounding music and the sweet alcohol, it didn't surprise Kelsey that she might be misperceiving things. This club was far from exclusive, and a celebrity would never be spotted in a club like this. Kelsey couldn't believe her mind was still caught up on the clumsy Irishman from the bar- her loneliness had clearly combined with the alcohol to make her forget every reason she was single in the first place.

Kelsey turned back to face Becca who was now seated on the lap of her new beau. Dylan, his name was Dylan. Kelsey was really hoping that Dylan hadn't invited any of his friends along to this club. But knowing Becca, there were probably several of them just lurking at the bar waiting to make their move.

"It's busy in here," Becca practically yells, her attempt at trying to make Kelsey feel like she is part of the group instead of just the outsider invading on her date. In the past, Becca had often brought her dates to the club in an effort to "lose them" when things weren't going well. Tonight, however, seemed to be an entirely different story.

Kelsey feels her face go white as she notices the distinct outline of Niall's nose, three sleek white barstools down the bar. Now she was sure she wasn't seeing things.

"What is he doing here?" she wondered out loud.

Becca answered. "Oh, your boybander from the Manhattan. I told him we were coming here," Becca offered a mischievous smile.

"You what?" Kelsey felt her jaw drop.

"I told him we were coming here. You know in case in case he wanted to continue the conversation," Becca said, looking extremely pleased with herself. "Looks like he did."

"Becca..." Kelsey started to protest.

Becca threw her hands up. "It was Maya's idea, so if you want someone to blame, blame her."

Kelsey shook her head. Of course Maya was behind all this. That girl and her dreams.

"But I have to say Kelsey, I agree with her." Becca leaned forward from her perch in Dylan's lap. Kelsey reached out to steady her friend, who appeared to be more intoxicated than Kelsey initially thought. "You need to get laid."

Kelsey felt her face heat up at her friend's bluntness. Kelsey strongly disagreed. This 'no strings attached' method may have worked for Becca, but Kelsey didn't think she could ever be so impulsive. Guys were bad news. Period. And Kelsey planned on staying as far away from a relationship as she could.

Becca continued, "I mean this is the first time since you've been here that I've seen you gawk over a guy."

"I'm not gawking at him, Becca," Kelsey replied sharply. "Besides you are completely ignoring the fact that he is a c-eleb-ri-ty. He can't be with a girl like me and he most certainly shouldn't be in a club like this. It will be all over the tabloids tomorrow."

Kelsey couldn't believe Maya and Becca's lack of cognition behind the whole plan. Niall was a well-known star. Judging by his comments earlier in the night, Kelsey was fairly confident that he wasn't someone that enjoyed being in the public eye. But if all this was true, why would he come here?

"If you aren't interested then why do you keep glancing over in his direction," Becca raised an eyebrow. Once again, Kelsey felt a hint of color rise to her cheeks after being caught straight in her own lie. She couldn't help but feel somewhat drawn to Niall. She just couldn't figure out why.

In that moment, Niall seemed to glance in Kelsey's direction. Locking eyes with her before heading over her way.

"Dylan let's go dance," Becca said abruptly, grabbing her date's hand and dragging him out onto the LED- lit dance floor to join the countless other drunk couples shamelessly getting their groove on.

"So can I buy you a drink this time?" Niall asked as he slid into the barstool next to Kelsey. Kelsey looked at the pop star in front of her in shock, waiting for the camera man to jump out from behind the bar and tell her she was being Punked.

"I mean, I guess you can," Kelsey answered hesitantly. Niall looked down at her drink.

"Vodka cran?" Niall asked. Kelsey nodded, at a loss for words on how to approach the situation.

"Listen Niall, I don't know what my friends told you, but honestly are you sure you should even be here right now? I mean don't you have like stalker fans or something? And what about your entourage?" Kelsey's mouth spewed words out as faster than they crossed her mind.

"Kelsey," Niall said, setting a hand on her shoulder. "I didn't come here because of anything your friends told me."

"You didn't?" Kelsey was surprised. She also felt incredibly stupid for assuming Niall Horan had come here looking for her. She supposed he could have coincidently arrived at the same club as her. LA was a big city, but it wasn't impossible.

"I came here because I was hoping I could talk to you some more," Niall replied. "And the entourage? Well, I sent Louis home in a cab hours ago."

"And the fans?" Kelsey asked again, still hardly believing that Niall had come all this way to talk to her.

"Sometimes it's best to just hide in plain sight," Niall shrugged.

Kelsey took another sip of her drink before repositioning herself on her barstool so that she was close enough to Niall to hear him over the loud music.

"I'm sorry I don't mean to like follow you or anything like that. I just felt like there was some kind of connection between the two of us?" Niall questioned more than stated. Niall realized he could have been reading the entire situation incredibly wrong. He was a bit out of his element after all, especially after the day that he had. He only hoped that Kelsey didn't think he was a total idiot.

"There might have been something like that," Kelsey responded back, the buzz from her drink suddenly making her far more straightforward than she intended. She wasn't looking for anything, really, and definitely not a relationship. But if she and Niall could continue their surprisingly interesting conversation and he would buy her a drink or two, she couldn't complain. After all, it wasn't like she was going to be seeing much of Becca tonight.

There was no doubt in Kelsey's mind that she was attracted to Niall. His bright blue eyes stood out against the dark brown of his hair, almost as if they were piercing into her very soul. But it wasn't just Niall's looks that had caught Kelsey's attention. There was something about his sense of humor, and his ability to be- well, so normal.

"So your friend and her man really can't get enough of each other?" Niall laughed, Kelsey followed Niall's gaze to spot Becca and Dylan pressed up against the concrete wall of the club, barely a space between them. "How long have they been together?"

"It's their first date actually," Kelsey laughed.

"Really?" Niall asked, lifting up his drink to take another sip. "Quite the chemistry then I suppose."

"You could say that," Kelsey replied, although she wasn't quite sure if this was truly chemistry or just a lot of lust.

"A bit of a skeptic?" Niall asked, reading the way Kelsey's face instantly lost a bit of its glow as she watched her friend and her date. He knew that face because he'd worn it himself many times before. It was the face of someone who had been heartbroken before.

"My friends would say that," Kelsey took another long drink. "I prefer to call myself more of a realist."

"Well, cheers to being realists then," Niall held up his glass to toast Kelsey's. Their hands brush as their glasses clink together. "Want a shot?" he chuckled. Talking about relationships had reminded him of the reason he had ended up at the bar in the first place, and that called for more alcohol.

"Please," Kelsey agreed enthusiastically.

Two tequila shots later, Niall and Kelsey found themselves on the dance floor. Niall pulled Kelsey in front of him, hands on her hips as they moved to the music. Kelsey happily obliged, the feeling of Niall's breath on the back of her neck sending shivers down her spine.

Kelsey began to wonder if maybe Becca and Maya had been right. Maybe she needed a night to just let loose. For so many months now she had focused on all the things that were going wrong in her life. Maybe for tonight, she needed to do something that felt right.

As if suddenly having a revelation, Kelsey turned around to face Niall, bringing her hands to rest at the bottom of his neck as she brought her mouth closer to Niall's ear. Niall's skin bubbled with goosebumps as her warm breath grazed his ear.

"I thought One Direction couldn't dance," she practically yelled, hoping that her sound waves would be able to overcome the pounding bass of the music.

"Doesn't mean I don't know how to," Niall said with a laugh before grabbing Kelsey's hand and giving her a sudden twirl. The two laughed, and with each beat their bodies moved closer together. The proximity leaving the tips of Kelsey's fingers tingling.

"I get the feeling that Becca won't be coming home alone tonight," Kelsey sighed, glancing over at her roommate who still seems to incapable of keeping her hands off Dylan.

Niall glanced over as well. "Doesn't appear that way."

As if Becca had a sixth sense that she had become a topic of conversation, she pulled away from Dylan long enough to motion Kelsey over.

"I'll be right back," Kelsey whispered, before heading over to her friend. Becca's face filled with delight as Kelsey approached.

"I spy some chemistry going on over there," Becca laughed.

"Oh like that's not what is going on over here," Kelsey rolled her eyes at her friend. Becca didn't protest. "So let me guess you called me over here to warn me about the guest we will be having in our apartment tonight?"

"You would be correct," Becca replied. Kelsey searched the room for Niall, who was now up at the bar grabbing what appeared to be another round of drinks for the two of him.

"Don't write him off Kels, just because he's a superstar. He's definitely into you." Kelsey sighed. She couldn't help but admit that she was a little into Niall as well. Maybe she should just embrace it.

"Just let me know when you are ready to leave," Kelsey instructed, before heading back towards Niall.

"Grabbed us another round, want to grab a seat?" Niall motioned to a small booth in the corner of the club as he handed Kelsey her next drink. Kelsey nodded, and Niall took hold of her hand and led her towards their destination.

The pair slid across the black leather seats, first Niall, then Kelsey, before settling in at the center of the table with a bird's eye few of the club in front of them. Kelsey took a sip of her sweet drink, becoming slightly more aware of the closeness of Niall's body next to her.

"You got the heads up I take it?" Niall motioned towards Becca once again.

Kelsey laughed. "Oh yes, should have known that was how my night was going to go," she shook her head. "Has there ever been a third-wheeling scenario in the history of third-wheeling in which the third-wheel doesn't regret every agreeing to go out with the couple?"

Niall chuckled, his laugh deep. "I suppose that's why they call it third-wheeling."Kelsey looked back over at Niall, his eyes twinkling even in the dim club lights. "But I don't think you can consider this third-wheeling anymore because there's now a fourth wheel on this vehicle."

"There is?" Kelsey raised her eyebrow. She watched as Niall's eyes scanned her lips, and she felt herself bit her own lip. Niall leaned, reaching a hand behind her neck before his lips brushed hers.

And then it was electricity. Kelsey hadn't kissed a great number of guys in her life- sober or otherwise, but she had to say that this kiss ranked pretty highly. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that kissing someone like Niall Horan was something that would only happen once in a lifetime, but Kelsey couldn't get enough.

There is a hunger behind this kiss. A passion and urgency that makes it delicate and yet strong at the same time. Soon Kelsey is pulling herself closer to Niall, his hands entrapped into her chocolate hair while her hands roam the top of his chest.

Now who was the one all over someone in the club?

Kelsey's not sure if it had been minutes or hours but when she finally pulled away long to catch her breath, she finds her mouth forming a smile. She'd forgotten what it felt like- that feeling of overwhelming desire. It felt good, addicting almost, and Kelsey knew she wanted more. She leaned in again, this time finding herself nearly on Niall's lap, the smell of Niall's cologne and the taste of his beer invigorating her senses.

"If you wanted you could come back to mine," Niall whispered. "I mean, if you wanted to get away from the lovebirds for awhile. No pressure or anything, just offering up a place to stay."

Kelsey thought about it for a minute. One night couldn't be that bad. And being with Niall sure as hell beat being in an apartment with Becca and Dylan. "Take me home Niall," she batted her eyelashes.

Niall nodded, grabbing her hand and sliding back out of the booth. "Let me just tell Becca we are leaving," Kelsey whispered into Niall's ear before heading off into the direction of her friend.

Niall watched her as she walked, hardly believing that this was happening. This wasn't something Niall usually did. In fact, Niall wasn't sure that he had ever simply taken a girl home from a bar after meeting her a few hours ago. But something about Kelsey was different. There was an instant attraction, but yet it went far deeper than purely physical.

"Are you sure?" Niall asked again as Kelsey approached, wrapping her arm around Niall's back as she leaned against his shoulder.

Kelsey nodded. "Gotta see if those slow hands live up to the hype don't we?"

#now that the next singles been announced I guess I better get writing lol #writingby1dfangirls35 #voir dire #niall horan #niall fanfic #niall x ofc #1dff #niallff #one direction fanfiction #nh

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n1kolaiz · 3 years ago

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The Six Realms

Okay, so I was pretty close to giving up on writing analyses but I'm back LMFAO plus I see we're close to 100 followers and I just want to thank you guys for being so very supportive <3

Alright, I'm not sure if anyone's ever written about this, but if an analysis like this exists, please do let me know because I'm kind of curious as to what other people think about this, too!

Remember that time Fukuchi spoke about bringing "about the five signs of an angel's death"?

I read a little bit more about it, and as a minor content warning: this analysis will focus on a few religious aspects (Buddhism + Hinduism). So if I get any of the facts wrong, firstly: I do not mean any disrespect to either religion, and secondly: please do correct me if I interpret anything in the wrong way.

Spoilers for BSD chapter 90 onwards + BEAST!AU under the cut!

So I'll start by talking about the Decay of Angels. As we all know, the members include Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, and Bram Stoker, and their leader, Fukuchi Ochi. After Fyodor's arrest, the Decay of Angels came into light with Nikolai murdering four government officials in a week. These murders symbolise the Buddhist cycle of existence, or otherwise known as samsara: the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

"We are the Decay of Angels—hiding here as terrorists, a 'murder association', five people who will announce the demise of the celestial world."

Nikolai Gogol, chapter 57

Samsara is described to be a concept beyond human understanding. According to Hinduism, samsara is the physical world where every being has its soul trapped into a physical vessel. The Hindus believe that everything has a soul, and due to a soul's attachment to desire, it is forced into a deathless cycle of being born, dying, and reincarnating into a different body. In Buddhism, the ultimate way to break free from this cycle is by obtaining nirvana.

Nirvana is a Sanskrit word for the goal of the Buddhist path: enlightenment or awakening. In Pali, the language of some of the earliest Buddhist texts, the word is nibbana; in both languages it means "extinction" (like a lamp or flame) or "cessation." It refers to the extinction of greed, ill will, and delusion in the mind, the three poisons that perpetuate suffering. Nirvana is what the Buddha achieved on the night of his enlightenment: he became completely free from the three poisons. Everything he taught for the rest of his life was aimed at helping others to arrive at that same freedom.

- TRICYCLE'S definition of nirvana

As Fukuchi mentions in the panel above, there are six different realms of existence. These realms represent every possible state of existence, but one cannot live in a specific realm forever. Depending on whether or not one's past actions were morally good or bad, an individual is born into one of these realms. Basically, the controlling factor of which realm a person is born into is dependent on their respective karma. The realms are separated into two categories: the hellish ones and the heavenly ones.

The Deva Realm: where beings are rewarded for the good deeds they have done. This realm is void of anything unpleasant. It is basically paradise— empty of unfulfilled desires, any form of suffering, and fears of every kind. Religious individuals, however, do not seek to be born into this realm since its attitude is more or less carefree.

The Asura Realm: where demigods are admitted. Asuras are driven by greed and envy, and may come in conflict with human beings since they are quite similar. They are powerful beings, but quarrel with each other quite a bit, making this realm quite undesirable to be reborn into.

The Animal Realm: where beings are given the form of an animal (you probably guessed that lol). Individuals here don't actually have good karma to take pride in, but rather, they are born into this realm to work off their bad karma (by being slaughtered, hunted, or forced to work, etc). Being born into this realm forces one to atone for their past sins by living out their life as an animal.

The Hell Realm: where one is punished for their evil actions. The most merciless of realms, where one pays for their transgressions through pure suffering, methods of which include: dismemberment, starvation, and psychological/physical torture. However, once a person's term is fulfilled in this realm, they are presumably promised to be reborn into a higher state.

The Preta Realm: similar to the hell realm, in which beings pay for their past sins (specifically: greed and stinginess) by having to survive through hunger and thirst. This realm is also known as the 'ghost realm,' because some pretas are psychologically tortured by being forced to live in places their past selves have lived in. They are invisible to human beings living at that time, which pushes them to face the depths of despair and loneliness. Your typical horror movie, really.

The Human Realm: the only realm where one's actions determine their future. The status (social ranking, physical wellbeing, and so on) of a human being in this realm is determined by their past actions, but due to the fact that a person has their own conscience to differentiate good morals from bad, the actions they commit in this realm have the power to determine which realm they are sent to next.

Okay, so now that I've got that out of the way, let's shift our focus to the Book. Very little is known about the Book, but the basic fundamentals of how it works is that whatever is written in the book will come into existence only if its contents follow the rules of karma. In addition to that, only a few sentences can be written into a single page of the Book, and it must follow the current narrative of the story.

If I'm not wrong, the first time the Book was mentioned was by Fitzgerald, who wanted it to resurrect his deceased daughter in hopes of restoring his wife's mental health. The next time the Book is brought up is when Fyodor's intentions to possess it are divulged; his goal was to decimate the global population of ability-users. And now, the current arc has the Book as its central focus, with a single page in Fukuchi's possession.

[ BEAST!AU spoilers ]

The Book acts as the central point of multiverses, with each character's lives differing from universe to universe.

Dazai committing suicide in this alternate universe stands in sharp contrast with how he decided to start up a new life in the main universe.

Oda staying alive to act as a mentor to Akutagawa in the ADA differs from how Oda uses his death to prompt Dazai to "be on the side that saves people."

And of course, the way Atsushi and Akutagawa have their positions switched in the two universes depicts how different their lives would be if they were given the chance to be mentored by different people— these are just a few examples of how the Book houses an endless amount of possibilities.

[ end of BEAST!AU spoilers ]

Hypothetically speaking, this kind of reminds me of the differing realms I mentioned before, where suffering is promised in some realms, and better things are granted in the rest, depending on one's karma, or the deeds they've done in their past lives. In this scenario, perhaps one's past life can be understood as one's current life in a different universe. That's just a personal opinion though. Take it as you will.

side note: Keep in mind that the person who is more or less impervious to the Book's effect is Dazai, with his nullification ability. I wouldn't want to propose any theories in this aspect (I don't believe I'm fully fact-checked ;_;), but I could use Dazai as a raw example of how your choices affect your future. If Dazai had decided to stay in the Port Mafia after Oda's death, or if he even decided to go through with his suicidal fixations, life would've been different for him in the root universe (obviously, ryley) I mean, you could basically understand that from how he ended up in the BEAST au, but imagine if he really did slip up in his decision-making in any of the universes.

Many analysts have proposed that he went MIA (early in his life) from the main universe for a while to figure out how the BEAST universe worked, whilst having the Book to his advantage. Perhaps his actions were guided? I'm not saying he's all-knowing, but he's sure as hell smart. I'm not sure if Kafka was trying to highlight the concept of karma when it comes to Dazai, but if he is, then I suppose you could say that Dazai is pretty much unaffected by the rules of karma, existing as the centerpiece of all the multiverses. No Longer Human is the namesake of his ability, but the book talks about disqualification from societal norms and generally, the world. I was talking about it with a friend, and they reminded me that Yozo (the main protagonist) was pretty strong in his views against society. Like he didn't speak out of total defeat, he spoke out of defense. If there was anything Dazai actually lost to, it was his guilt— "Living itself is a source of sin."

Then again, that's my personal interpretation since everyone has their unique perspective of his writings. In terms of the actual adaptation, you could translate the word 'disqualification' to 'insusceptibilty' when if it came to the Book's effects on Dazai? This side note is becoming really long lmao anyways I'll link a few theories which afflicted me with brainrot down below.

Another thing before I wrap up, the name 'Decay of Angels' stemmed from Yukio Mishima's book entitled 'The Decay of An Angel.' This is the final novel to the author's tetralogy: 'The Sea of Fertility.' The main protagonist, Honda, meets a person he believes to be a reincarnation of his friend, Kiyoaki, who takes the form of a young teenage boy named Tōru. The last novel of this series enhances Mishima's dominant themes of the series as a whole:

the decay of courtly tradition in Japan

the essence and value of Buddhist philosophy and aesthetics

Mishima’s apocalyptic vision of the modern era

Again, this could be referred to what Fukuchi goes on to say:

Some people view the concept of samsara optimistically, justifying it by saying that perhaps each individual is given a second (third, fourth, fifth, who knows) chance to refine their actions in order to be birthed into a better realm, with their karma being the independent variable.

On the other hand, other people, specifically the Hindus, view the cycle of existence as some sort of plague. To them, the flow of life and being forced to endure the suffering of mere existence in any form was somewhat frowned down upon. Some Hindus viewed samsara as a trap. Besides, having one's soul being limited to a physical body for the rest of eternity was not very appealing, especially since where they ended up at depended on the karmic value their past actions surmounted.

Even so, particular types of Buddhists don't seek nirvana, but instead, like the Hindus, they make an effort to be good people of society, building up their good deeds to increase the likelihood of being reborn into one of the better realms.

As mentioned before, the Deva Realm was the home of angels, the most carefree, gratified beings to exist. Fukuchi describes these angels as the people who don't get their hands dirty, the people who act as the puppeteers of society: politicians.

In terms of parallels, angels were the most fortunate and powerful, but they didn't have anyone ruling over them. A lack of supervision would lead to the abuse of power, which is what I believe Fukuchi was referring to. Deeming himself the Decay of Angels, he sought to prove himself as the 'sign of death that falls on the nation's greed.'

A few fun facts (okay, not really) about Yukio Mishima: he committed seppuku (ritual suicide by disembowelment) on the day he held a speech to voice out his unpopular political beliefs to the public. Mishima deeply treasured traditions and opposed the modern mindset the nation was advancing forward to adapt eventually. In his last book, The Decay of an Angel, he spoke about the five signs which complete the death of an angel:

Here are the five greater signs: the once-immaculate robes are soiled, the flowers in the flowery crown fade and fall, sweat pours from the armpits, a fetid stench envelops the body, the angel is no longer happy in its proper place.

The Decay of an Angel, p.53

The reviews about this series I've read so far describe Mishima's works to be quite complex; his writings demanded a lot of time to deconstruct and understand. They were highly symbolic, and he was pretty obsessed with death and the 'spiritual barrenness of the modern world.' I think you could attach a few strings from here to the mindsets of the DOA members. Of course, this parallel is completely abstract, but I'll go on rambling anyway:

He should have armed them with the foreknowledge that would keep them from flinging themselves after their destinies, take away their wings, keep them from soaring, make them march in step with the crowd. The world does not approve of flying. Wings are dangerous weapons. They invite self-destruction before they can be used. If he had brought Isao to terms with the fools, then he could have pretended that he knew nothing of wings.

The Decay of an Angel, p.113

I suppose you could resonate Nikolai with that excerpt. As much as Fukuchi takes the lead in this whole murder association, I'd like to believe that each member of the DOA plays an equally interesting part in whatever movement they're trying to execute. Fyodor feels it is his god-sent purpose to cleanse the world of its sins, his motto being, "Let the hand of God guide you." Sigma doesn't know where he belongs, since his origination comes from a page in the Book, and is fueled by the desperation to find a reason to live. Bram holds one of the most powerful abilities which is counted to be one of the "Top Ten Calamities to Destroy the World."

What I mean to say is that the DOA members are incredibly powerful, and they're not your ordinary antagonists (or I'm just biased). It's not just overthrowing authorities, mass genocide, and world domination— you could say that each individual is trying to utilize their purposes to their fullest expenditures, and the way they're trying to assert their plan into action is a little more passive-aggressive (framing the Agency, having a convo with a suicidal dude in jail, etc). They're the gray area between evil and good. As they framed the good guys for their own crimes, they're trying to conquer the bad guys for exploiting the innocent as they please.

This post would definitely age well if all hell breaks loose in the current arc (as if it didn't) and Kafka doesn't give us a happy ending.

That's all I have to say for now I guess! Thank you for reading, and once again, if anyone else something they wanna share, feel free to do so <3

sources (tryna follow Q's example ^_^) :

the six realms

samsara

the decay of angels

beast!au

the book

the sea of fertility

yukio mishima

theory: dazai’s emotional/mental state in beast!au

q’s theory: dazai being the protector of the book

theory: beast!dazai and the book

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givemea-dam-break · 3 years ago

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Hi! Can you write a season 1 Ezra x reader who is really peppy and heigh energy? But she is also really soft and sweet

a/n: of course! i'll admit, i don't have much experience writing for ezra nor have i really read any fics for him so i'm not sure if this concept has already been done lmao. i've also only seen rebels once and it was a few months ago now so i might not have all the details right :)there isn't much high energy in this, unfortunately, but there is soft and sweet so hopefully that equates lol. i'm so sorry this has taken so long to come out! Warnings: none Words: 800 Female reader (technically, there aren't any pronouns, but sharing a room with Sabine is mentioned lol)

"Hey, guys," a voice says from your door. You and Sabine both turn, looking to the boy standing in your doorway - Ezra Bridger. Ezra hadn't been on the Ghost for long, maybe a few days at most, and every single day, without fail, he's come to your cabin door with his strained smile. You can just tell from the awkward body posture - the way he leans slightly forward and tilts to the right, how his hands can't seem to find a comfortable place to stay - that he's still getting used to everything. Despite it, he always tries to act like he's not, that he's gotten comfortable and isn't bothered. You have to give it to him - he's got a lot of confidence. Sabine sighs with a little force, enough to let you know that she can't be bothered with him. "What do you need, Ezra?" you ask, ignoring Sabine's annoyed look. "Has Chopper done something, or...?" Ezra shakes his head, his hair brushing his eyes. "No, uh, I just wanted to see how you guys are doing." You press your lips together at the lie. "It's Zeb, isn't it? I told Kanan and Hera it wasn't a good idea to put you two together -" "I'm going to the Phantom," Sabine announces. "New paint job needed." She disappears in seconds which only makes you roll your eyes. "Come sit down, Ezra," you say, patting your bed. "We don't have to talk. You deserve a little break from everything." Ezra smiles, adding a little bounce to his step as he makes his way over. He drops down on your bed, causing the whole thing to dip from the impact. You offer him a smile. "Do you want to talk about anything?" "Probably," Ezra admits. "I don't like the silence." "Of course." You think for a minute. "What's the Force like? I've always wondered, but I keep forgetting to ask Kanan." The young Jedi smiles a little. "It's... strange. It's like it's always been there, a little feeling in the tug of my tummy, but it's only just revealed itself. Like the part of me that I really needed has finally come out, but, at the same time, I'm not sure I can ever get used to it." You lean back against the wall. "Understandable. And, I mean, Kanan has been putting a lot of pressure on you. I've got a feeling that it won't feel as natural when you're being scrutinised the whole time." "He's so hard on me," Ezra says, looking at you. "Is he like this with you, or is it just because I'm me?" "Both, I guess," you say. "Not to the extent he is with you, but he's just trying to make sure that you've got something so that you can defend yourself. Plus, he was young during the Clone Wars - he saw a lot of Jedi be killed. Maybe he just wants to be sure that the same thing won't happen to you." "Huh." Ezra lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. "That makes a lot more sense than what I think about." You laugh. "Glad I could help." Your laugh seems to cheer Ezra up further, which makes you feel better. He leans against the wall next to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know," you say, "Hera once took me flying in the Phantom. It was when I first learned how to fly and, to be perfectly honest, I was absolutely terrible, but she told me something I'll never forget." Ezra's brows raise. "Which is?" "'Our greatness weakness is giving up. The greatest way to succeed is to give it one more try.'" You look over at Ezra, watching as he takes in the words the Twi'lek once told you. He's frowning slightly, his hair sweeping against his forehead. "I feel like that advice might come in handy for you." Your hand envelopes his. "Kanan is just trying his best, so you need to, too. Don't give up on him, or us, or learning how to be you." The young Jedi's frown eases, his lips curling upwards. "I - I'll do my best." "That's all I'll - all we'll ever ask of you," you say. "You're new to this whole destroying the Empire thing, and to being a Jedi. You're going to screw up, but we all screw up constantly and we've been at it for years - the destroying the Empire part." "Thanks." Ezra's hand relaxes under yours. "This has really helped. I'm glad I came in here." "So am I, Ezra," you say, squeezing

his hand softly. You smile at him again. "Now, how do you feel about pranking Zeb, huh? I've had a whole plan for a week now." Now he's grinning. "Of course. It's payback time."

#ezra bridger x reader #ezra x reader #ezra bridger #rebels x reader #sw rebels x reader #sw x reader #star wars rebels x reader #star wars x reader #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #sabine wren #zeb orrelios #chopper #sw rebels fanfic #x reader #reader insert #givemea-dam-break

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yuujism · 4 years ago

Text

Sun and Night. (gojo satoru x reader)

Chapter 1: Hate

chapter 2 →

| PAIRINGS: gojo satoru x reader x getou suguru

| WARNINGS: ⚠️ SPOILERS FOR HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC AND VOL. 0 IN THE MANGA ⚠️ explicit language, nsfw (next chapter will have tags), plot, too much writing, kinda modified so it can fit the story but nothing out of canon, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: idk lol i’ll count it later

| A/N: so uhhh, i’m back i guess ??? this came to me after re reading the manga and kinda yearned for some angst between gojo and reader because they both loved suguru so much 😽 and i love suguru a lot too and i miss him dearly anyway !! please check the post before this one to know what will go on with my other series !! right now i’m taking my time to write :( anyway hope you enjoy!! i hope it’s not kinda half asses though sorry ):

summary;

You and Satoru were in love.

You were both so deeply in love, just not with each other.

Where you and Satoru found comfort in each other after the accident happened.

Chapter 1: Hate.

You were in love.

To you, Getou Suguru was the bright moon in your dark sky.

Long and silky black hair, sly yet serious dark eyes and the soothing voice of reason, drowned your thoughts almost every day. He was really in every thought and dream you could have and you didn’t mind.

He always looked at you with a sweet smile adorning his features, raising his hand and waving it at you whenever you walked into the room. The sound of your name slipping through his lips made you realise you did like your name, but only when it came from him. The faint touch of his hand on your shoulder that sent shivers down your spine, face heating up reflexively as he leaned down to your ear to say some silly joke about Yaga.

Even to this day, you could still feel the ghost of his breathing in your neck.

Getou Suguru made you feel welcomed, and you loved him for that. You deeply loved him.

You knew you weren’t the only one who had their heart squeeze with adoration whenever Suguru came into view. He was just better at hiding it, an expert in sweeping his emotions under a rug and masking them with a cocky smile. But not for your observant eyes.

Gojo Satoru was also in love.

To Satoru, Getou Suguru was equal to him. The strongest sorcerers. He was also an annoyance.

Contrary ideals and constant bickering never failed to appear when these two were put together. They seemed so different: white and black; water and oil; the sun and the moon. Yet they always found themselves with each other.

Satoru hated the way Suguru could look through him so easily, calling him out on his bullshit whenever he was getting out of hand. Satoru didn’t mind as long as it was him and only him. The way they could almost read each other’s minds as if they were connected, only needing one look from the other to completely understand what were they thinking. The memory of Suguru still made Satoru’s stomach fill with butterflies, recalling the first time he saw his best friend through the eyes of a person in love.

Getou Suguru made Satoru feel everything he didn’t want to feel, and he became his one and only since the beginning.

You were both in love with Getou Suguru, but never admitted it. Not to him, not to each other, not to anybody. Everyone was oblivious to the way you indirectly fought against Satoru over the black haired sorcerer’s attention.

But then, it all came to an abrupt stop and everything shattered into a million pieces. It came as quickly as an unexpected projectile to both of your stomach’s guts.

“Getou Suguru is now to be executed on sight as a curse user.”

And you tried your best to stop the tears from coming and forget. Forget his sweet smile, his soothing voice, his touch and everything he made you feel. And Satoru did too. Because Getou Suguru was now a criminal. A murderer.

You wished it was all just a bad dream, that the charges against Suguru were just a complex plan from another terrorist group. Hope was something that you didn’t believe in and right now it looked like the sweetest of options. Ignorance is bliss after all.

Until Satoru came one day after an apparent encounter with Suguru thanks to Shoko’s aid. It was all true. You still remember the tremble in Satoru’s voice confirming every single event that was described in the announcement. His parents, the village, the hatred against humans. It was all real and, sadly, everything was clear now.

Getou Suguru was no longer the one you both knew and loved.

You also remember the discussion you had with Satoru after everyone left the room, asking him why he didn’t stop him, why he didn’t do anything to bring Suguru back to the school just like everyone expected him to.

“Would you have been able to do it?!” His yelling made you jolt before you looked at him with regret as his cold blue eyes showed his true and raw emotions for once.

And you knew. You knew that question had a deeper meaning than it appeared. And you also knew Satoru was well aware of your own feelings towards Suguru when his eyes looked through all the barriers you built to hide the pain you were in. To hide your love and broken heart. You could almost see his own dispair deep within himself. It was just too much and you couldn’t help but look down at your own feet through your tears.

Turns out you weren’t the only one with observant eyes.

“No.”

After that day, you and Satoru never exchanged words that weren’t about the students or the missions you were given through those months. You also never talked about the not-so-hidden feelings you both had towards the sorcerer that was once your friend and acquaintance.

It didn’t get better either but, somehow, it wasn’t worse than those days.

The memories of his smile still haunted you and your heart still felt as broken as that damned day. But at least you hadn’t heard of him for a long time. None of you had.

Satoru seemed to had forgotten completely. Or that was what he wanted to show. You knew he was as broken—or even more—than you were. How could he deem himself the strongest when he couldn’t save his one true friend and love after all. However, Satoru was sperfect at everything, even hiding the pain.

And everything did look better for you and Satoru in the path of forgetting Suguru. And, just like last time, destiny just couldn’t leave you alone.

Getou Suguru was back.

The way your body petrified under his gaze when he was finally in front of you after a long time was pathetic. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, mouth slightly parted in an attempt to call him out for the first time in what felt forever. Was it fear? Was it shock? You didn’t know.

What you did know is he was the same Suguru but different. His smile wasn’t sweet anymore and his hair was longer. But the way he said your name still made your heart flutter in adoration and yearning for him.

No. No, this can’t be.

No, no, no. Getou Suguru was a criminal. A curse user. You had to stop him. You had to do something, anything!

Move.

Flashes of Suguru’s touch came into your mind as he walked towards you, calmly and confident as you stood there, a trembling hand trying to make its way to fight. Suguru didn’t stop.

Move.

Satoru’s words during your discussion resonated in your mind over and over again. Are you able to stop him? To risk it all and kill him if needed? Your hand stopped.

Move!

But you couldn’t. Not when he placed his hand on your shoulder, thanking you for not putting up a fight. Not when he walked past you, his familiar scent filling your nostrils for a brief second. And certainly not when he spoke from behind you, telling you how much he’d missed you.

You almost felt like laughing. You were truly pathetic.

Pathetic for not forgetting him. For thinking that, maybe after all this time, you would’ve been able to stop Suguru if the chance presented in front of your eyes. Unlike Satoru who couldn’t do it.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You crumbled down to your knees, hands holding your aching head as tears filled your eyes and memories of Suguru came to your mind. You weren’t strong at all. You could hear the rumbling far from your spot now, announcing the start of a fight.

Time passed, slow or fast, you didn’t know. But the tingling sensation of Suguru’s touch on your shoulder lingered until everything was silent once again.

It wasn’t until Satoru was next to you, that you finally got out of your stance of shock, looking up at him and his bandage-covered face. His demeanour was different once again, even if you couldn’t see his eyes, you could sense something was off, something happened just like that day.

Satoru didn’t even make the effort to face you as you stood up, still slightly shaking for the past event. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to break the news for you because, once again, he couldn’t save Suguru. And this time, forever. His heart felt heavier than ever, his hands clenched into fists as he tried his best not to show how he was also shaking.

God, how Satoru wished that everything was different.

When you finally came to his senses, Satoru finally faced you, a small smile appearing in his face. His mask, you thought. His mask was crumbling in front of your eyes and he still tried to hide it. How cynical. Your eye twitched with annoyance as you saw right through him.

“Let’s go! The higher ups are wa—“

“He’s dead.” You cut him off and Satoru’s smile dropped, staring at you.

It wasn’t a question nor did you hesitate when those words came out of your mouth. You didn’t need him to confirm your statement as he once again faced away and the sound of the wind filled your ears.

Satoru could almost hear the sound of both of your hearts breaking even more, this time, until dust was the only thing remaining.

You didn’t have any more tears to cry as you grew tired of Satoru’s silence, taking it as the answer you weren’t even expecting before walking in front of him towards your next destination, leaving him behind. You disliked him more than ever right now.

Satoru limited himself to stare at your figure getting further away, jaw clenching with anger. Anger directed at you and himself. How could you look right through him? Did you even care about Suguru’s death as much as he cared? Did you even love him as much as he loved him?

That day, Satoru decided he hated you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x geto suguru

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khiphop-discussions · 3 years ago

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BOBBY is going to be a father next month and will get married.... he pulled a chen 101....

BOBBY wow!! Not expected. Is going to be a dad

OMG... Bobby is going to be a father and get married soon.

Did you see the news ? Bobby is getting married andd having a baby, i wonder what made him come public about it…. also after listening to both of his albums i was already thinking “this man is lying, aint no way he can write these lyrics and be sooo single like he claims”

Can't believe Bobby just pulled a Chen lmao. Also wasn't excepting him to be the first in ikon to get married/have a baby but here we are

BOBBY is going to be a father next month and will get married.... he pulled a Chen 101

So here's all the asks I got about it! I consolidated it into one!

Yeah, it really is out of nowhere! I'm gonna guess A) someone had the tea and was gonna leak it so Bobby was like "hahah Nah. You ain't finna play me like that" and just did it himself B) He just realized he couldn't really hide it anymore and just told everyone. Kinda hard to hide a child AND a fiancee. People are gonna question why he's always back and forth to the hospital starting in a few months. And then he DEFINITELY would have gotten caught C) he just wanted everyone to know. And Usually idol's can escape their fans wrath if it's a MARRIAGE as opposed to a gf. But it seems like Yunhyeong's got out pretty unscathed when he announced. Also, didn't Jay and DK get connected to someone? I don't think they officially announced but weren't they basically exposed?

idol's dating is a BIT less taboo now due to how many idols have been connected to each other over the years. And honestly, it seems like overall people react better if the idol just comes out and says it as opposed to being exposed. Its kinda weird. I guess cause then fans don't feel like they were purposely deceiving them or something? *Shrugs*

But yeah, now we know where songs like "Liliac" came from! Such a beautiful song! Many on Lucky Man are. I wonder if this was the same girl he was talking about on "Tendae" too? Cause that's the one where I was like "OK there's NO fucking way this didn't happen!" Hopefully not the same one from "Liar" cause AGAIN that HAD to fucking happen LOL

#asks #bobby ikon #bobby

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siancore · 4 years ago

Note

Please share your sambucky headcannons and conjecture 😭

Thank you for asking, Anon. I have so many. I won’t write the whole damn thesis on it (I could, though lol), so I’ll just mention a few things here.

For FATWS, it’s clear that Sam has returned to his family and is working in the family business. So, my thinking is Bucky’s working with Sharon, hopefully doing the work he did in the comic books with helping people get out of their lives of crime and getting a fresh start. I’m thinking, because the Flag Smashers are featured, they’re linked to some kind of attack against US Agent. I headcanon that Bucky has worked with people who were former Flag Smasher members, so he knows a lot about their organisation.

But let me start at the beginning of my conjecture. These scenes:

I imagine happen at the unveiling of a memorial exhibit for Steve. It’s an official affair, hence the reason Sam is wearing a suit and looking sombre. One of three things probably happened here:

1. It was announced that John Walker would be chosen to take up the mantle

2. Sam was offered the mantle, but turned it down - hence the line about the legacy of the shield being complicated

3. It’s at the end of the series and Sam is offered the mantle and takes a moment to think about Steve

I’m focussing on the first two. Either way, Sam hangs up the wings, so to speak, and goes home. America is trying to rebuild after the Blip. Having a symbol like Captain America will help. The Flag Smashers don’t want the world to go back to how it used to be. They don’t want the world to be defined by nations and nationalism. Captain America was a symbol of both. When US Agent steps in and takes up the shield in a manner like Steve first did, the Flag Smashers want to take him down. I’m thinking US Agent will be a red shirt, honestly. A segue into Sam stepping up. But Sam doesn’t want to take up the mantle. However, he does want to help.

Which brings me to this scene:

Bucky brought Sam’s suit and wings to him. BUCKY BROUGHT SAM’S SUIT AND WINGS TO HIM. I just - can’t deal lol. This has to be what’s happening here. Bucky went to Sam’s job to see if he could talk him into getting back into the hero game, and brought him the suit and wings (from Wakanda). Next, Bucky says the line about people needing something to get behind: A symbol.

Then the next shot we see is Sam in his suit with his wings:

I don’t even know what I’m saying here. I guess, my headcanon is that Bucky is the one who goes to Sam to get him to rejoin the fight. Sam follows Bucky to get back into doing what he does best: Being a superhero. At the end,which is where and when I think we will have the hand holding scene, I think Bucky will make mention that he would follow Sam as Captain America.

I summed it up in this little one-shot:

The weather was cooler at that time of the year. Mild, warm days gave way to crisp, clear nights, and somewhere in between were lazy, cool afternoons. Sam Wilson enjoyed the afternoons which were cooler when the sun had begun to fall languidly beneath the horizon.

A soft breeze whipped up around the crestfallen man as he glanced over at the shield that was presently lodged firmly into the tree. He had thrown it there in frustration, not realizing his own strength, and it was where it had remained. Stuck between the wood, much like how Sam felt stuck. Adjourned; trapped by the weight of his own responsibility and the derision of others.

“Why don’t you go get that goddamn shield and show the world what you’re made of,” said Bucky, as he took up a seat next to Sam on the front porch. “Now, more than ever, the world needs a hero. The world needs you.”

Sam all but snorted as he let out a wry, disbelieving laugh.

“Whatever, Barnes,” he replied, staring out across the expanse of the yard. “That’s the best you’ve got in the way of a pep talk? Spare me, please.”

“What?” asked Bucky.

“You can’t honestly tell me you thought that would work,” said Sam, not looking at the other man. “You think I don’t know you have no respect for what the mantle stands for?”

“That ain’t true.”

“I spent a lot of time with Steve,” said Sam. “And as you know he’s always been chatty. He told me all kinds of things about you.”

Bucky glanced at Sam and felt his face flush warm. He wondered a moment about what his best friend would have said about him; about what he was like in another life. From what Bucky could remember of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, he didn’t have a lot to feel embarrassed about, but still, he cared about what Sam thought of him. Past him and present him. He cared.

“Steve told me what it was like with the two of you back in the day,” Sam continued. “You followed him, not Captain America. You said as much to his face. You didn’t care what it stood for. What the shield and the mantle stood for. So, don’t act like it means anything to you now.”

“Sam –”

“Please, Barnes, don’t you dare fuckin’ patronize me now,” said Sam, with no real ire behind his words; more like the sound of defeat.

He sounded tired, Bucky mused, as he took in his profile and said, “Sam, that’s not what I’m doin’. And you’re right: I never gave a single shit or a good goddamn about the symbol of Captain America. How they used my buddy in tights to sell this false picture of war to kids back home who looked up to him. I cared about Stevie. I followed him. The job he ended up doin’ was important, despite that fuckin’ getup he wore and the propaganda they used him for. And I’m not tryin’ to compare the two of you, but you’re important, too.”

Sam turned his head and looked at Bucky.

“What you will go on to do, with or without that shield, is important,” said Bucky, as he and Sam held one another’s gaze. “You are important, Sam. Having you as Captain America is important. What you stand for and what you will bring to the lives of kids that look up to you will change this world for the better. You’re more than just a symbol. And Steve told me things about you, too.”

Sam smiled a little and then said, “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

“Nothin’ I didn’t already figure out for myself,” said Bucky with a smile of his own. “You’re a man with heart; you’re brave. You’re kind and you care ‘bout people. You’re smart and a good fighter. You don’t take shit from anyone, and you punch above your weight. You’re honest and good and it won’t be the shield or that damn costume that makes people trust you and look up to you, it’ll be the other way ‘round. You’ll make the mantle of Captain America better, Sam. You will. And I’m tellin’ you now, you’re the Captain America I want to follow; you’re the man I want to follow.”

Sam’s breath hitched at the conviction in Bucky’s eyes and the sincerity in his words.

“You mean all o’ that?” asked Sam as he felt a warmth spread through his whole being.

“I do,” said Bucky, as his gaze softened. “I mean it, Sam. I’m following Captain America because of you.”

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fatws conjecture #sambucky headcanons

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hallowxiu · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Hot

Pairing: Satan x gn!mc

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After your attempt with Lucifer, you decide to try your luck with pick up lines on the next brother in your sights… Satan.

A/N: I got this idea from prompt 340 from the account Creative Writing Prompts :)

Part 2 of the MC isn’t good at pick up lines series lol

part one

“Do ya really think this’ll work?” Mammon asks with a bored tone, the male picking at his nails as he sits on your bed while you pace back and forth in the middle of your room.

“Well, no, not really.” The two of you are having an emergency meeting, as you personally like to label it, after your failed attempt of using a pick up line on Lucifer. To say that Mammon laughed when you explained just how much you failed would be an understatement. You’re convinced he grew a set of abs with how much he enjoyed your misery. You won’t dwell on it though, no, this is a challenge that you’re set on winning. “But, I figured using pick up lines on Satan would be good practice.”

“Good practice for what, exactly?” Mammon asks with a raised eyebrow.

You stop your pacing and think, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. With a shrug of your shoulders, you look at Mammon with a smile. “I dunno.” Mammon stares at you blankly before sighing in defeat.

“Ya sure are weird.” He huffs and leans back on your bed to get comfortable. “Have ya thought of any pick up lines to use on him?”

“Nope.” You admit with a sheepish grin and he sighs again.

“Have ya even considered the type of pick up lines he’d like? Ya can’t just waltz up to him and expect him to like the shit ya tried on Lucifer.” You feel your eyebrow twitch at Mammon’s words. You hated it when he was right.

“Man, Lucifer didn’t even like the pick up line I tried on him!” Well, more like he didn’t understand the pick up line you tried on him. “And now I have to sit through a lecture of his later on the history of fallen angels. I just have to try and make sure I don’t end up running into the same issue with him, though Satan doesn’t really strike me as the lecture type.”

“I think Satan would rather drop dead than give ya a lecture if it’s not about a favorite book of his.” Mammon snorts before sitting back up; that man’s always restless. “That being said, ya should probably find out what type of pick up line would work best on him. Ya can’t use the same type for everyone. Ya gotta find one that matches his interests.”

“Since when were you so good with pick up lines?”

“Ya picked me, didn’t ya? Besides, I’ve spent time with Asmo. The man’s practically spewin’ out pick up lines on the daily.”

“Things that match Satan’s interests…” You tap your chin with your index finger. You sit yourself down on the floor, hands resting on your knees as you stare up at Mammon in thought.

“And what type of pick up lines are ya goin’ for? Are ya tryin’ to romance him? Or do ya just want to throw him for a loop?” You hadn’t thought of that either. Really, when did Mammon become so knowledgeable with this stuff? “Satan’s the type of guy where if ya bat your lashes at him, he’ll probably end up followin’ ya around all day like a lost puppy. Don’t wanna lead the guy on or anythin’.”

“You’re being significantly more helpful than you were earlier. If you had done this with Lucifer, I probably would be free of a lecture tonight.”

Mammon’s eye twitches as he glares down at you from his place on your bed. “Hey, keep that shit up and I’ll leave ya here on your own!”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave him off with a disinterested sigh. You needed to make a list of things Satan likes, which shouldn’t be too hard. You jump back up to your feet, Mammon startling where he sits from the sudden burst of energy. You grab a notebook from your desk, flipping to an empty page and grab a marker. After a minute or two of you quietly scribbling things down, you show off your list to Mammon, similar to a proud child showing their parents a drawing they made.

“Cats...books...uh,” his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the list closer, “did ya actually write ‘smart things’?” You let out a sheepish chuckle as you scratch at the back of your neck. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve been hanging out with you too much. I’m losing brain cells by the minute; maybe I should charge you a fee for killing so many off.”

Mammon shoots you a scandalized look before scoffing loudly, “ya were stupid before ya arrived to the Devildom! Don’t act like this is on me.” Before you can counter his attack, Mammon begins to speak again. “Satan isn’t the type who would like pick up lines about books. I also don’t think he’d appreciate cat ones either; they seem a little too cheesy for him.” You take his words into consideration before turning the list over in your hands and scribbling the first two options off the list. “So that just leaves us with…” Another sigh escapes Mammon from where he sits. “And what on earth does that possibly suggest?”

“I don’t know!” You let out a flustered shout as you squirm under his gaze. “Just smart things! Things smart people would enjoy! Physics? Science? Wait-- physics and science are the same thing, right? Oh god, what are smart things? Frogs?”

“Frogs?”

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind, don’t judge me!” You’re a little too flustered now.

“He likes politics. Why don’t ya look up pick up lines on politics? Maybe there’s some out there on the internet; some weirdo has got to like them.” He comments while digging his D.D.D out of his pocket. Within a few seconds there’s a frown on his face. “There aren’t many… and the ones that I found-- well, they’re fuckin’ awful.” Just before you can both give up and admit defeat, an excited gasp leaves Mammon’s mouth and his phone screen is immediately shoved in your face. “What about this one?”

You move your face back just enough so you could actually read the words on his screen. A grin forms on your lips when you read it over once. “This is perfect! He’ll be swooning, I just know it.”

“He’ll probably be impressed too that ya know so much about global warmin’ and what not. We really outdid ourselves with this one.” There’s a smug smile on his face that’s nearly identical to yours. “So, what are we doin’ wastin’ time here? Stop sittin’ around and find Satan!” You want to argue that Mammon’s the one sitting around, but you decide to let it go just this once.

❀❀❀❀

“Target sighted.” You find yourself reporting to Mammon via an old walkie-talkie. It wasn’t your idea, and you didn’t know why you couldn’t just text Mammon yourself, but the white haired demon insisted that this would be a more convenient means of communication. You didn’t even know that Mammon had these hidden around in his room, but you guess you shouldn’t be too surprised. With the antics Mammon’s always up to, you probably didn’t want to know why he had these in the first place.

“Awesome. Where’s he at?” Mammon’s voice, accompanied with static, rings through the speaker.

“The library; where else?”

“Fair enough. Alright then, go make your move. Wait,” he quickly cuts himself off and for a second you’re worried that Lucifer somehow found out about this, “do ya remember the line?” You breathe out a sigh of relief before rolling your eyes while turning the volume down. You’ll be amazed if Satan didn’t already know you were lingering outside the library with how loud Mammon is.

“Of course I remember the line. It’s just a sentence.”

“Alright, alright. Jeesh, I’m just tryin’ to help; sue a demon for tryin’.” Just before you can switch off your walkie-talkie, you hear the static pick up again with your name being called. “Wait, leave it on. I wanna hear how it goes.”

You debate for a moment, you could easily leave it off and tell him that you turned it off long before he asked for you to leave it on. You sigh though, already knowing that he wouldn’t buy it. “Fine, but you better not make a single peep, Mammon.” With him confirming to stay silent, you turn the volume nearly to zero before stuffing it in your back pocket. Clearing your throat once, you knock on the library door before pushing it open. “Satan?” You call out, your eyes scanning the room for the familiar blond.

“Over here.” His voice calls from the back of the room. As you approach the fourth oldest, you smile to yourself when seeing him surrounded by a pile of books on the library couch.

“Keeping yourself entertained?” You ask gingerly as you peer over the pile. “Have you been in here all day?”

“Nearly.” He responds, barely looking up from the book that held his attention from his current stretched out position. He reminds you of a cat with the way he’s laying around. You look down to see what he’s reading, a smirk forming on your lips when seeing the title. “You’re reading a book about global warming?” Sometimes you’re amazed with how well the universe lines things up for you.

“Mhm.” He responds lazily. “It’s a topic I’m interested in. I like learning about problems in the human realm and how they react to them. Who would’ve thought that the issue of global warming would be such a controversy there?” He’s sitting up now, though he’s still reading from his book. You wonder how he can pay attention to you while also paying attention to the book he’s reading.

“What do you mean?”

He moves over so that you can sit next to him, an eyebrow raising on his expression. “Well, both the Celestial Realm and the Devildom know about global warming, and the cause is also extremely obvious to us. It’s both humorous and disappointing that the humans don’t understand what’s causing it, and it’s even more mind blowing that some of them believe that it’s a made up concept. If anything, I look into these types of topics simply so I can see the perspective of humans.” You can’t believe how well Satan’s setting you up for your pick up line. Maybe this would actually work out in your favor for once.

“I know the cause of global warming.” You announce a little too proud.

“Oh?” There’s a look of amusement on Satan’s face as he places his book down beside him, giving you his full attention. “Do tell. I’d love to hear your perspective, this could help me further understand your species and--”

“You must be the reason for global warming because you’re so hot.”

Full silence. You can’t even hear the faint static of your walkie-talkie, and you think Satan might’ve stopped breathing. Maybe you should say something? Did he take offense to that? If you listen closer to the silence, you might hear Mammon laughing at you from somewhere in the house. “Ah, well, I suppose I did want to learn more about the human perspective…” He lets out a disappointed sigh before forcing a smile onto his face. This was too much to bear, you think dying in a hole somewhere would be a more pleasing option.

“Y-You know what? I think I hear Lucifer calling for me. Probably failed another test or something, I should go see what he wants.” You’re quick to excuse yourself as you scramble off the couch with a red face.

“Oh? But I don’t hear anything.” He says with a slight frown. “While I am flattered, actually, it’s primarily because of too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.” His eyes never leave you as you awkwardly try to step over one of the piles of books, instead tripping over your own feet and knocking the stack over. You didn’t want to sit for a lecture; you should have never used a “smart things” pick up line when you still had Lucifer’s lecture on fallen angels to listen to.

“Really?” You ask absentmindedly as you clumsily try to stack the books back on top one another. “I didn’t know that.” You need to get out of here, and fast. You could tell Satan was about to go on an educational lecture and you only had seconds to flee. Suddenly, before you can dart past the now fixed books, a hand with a strong grip wraps around your wrist.

“Tell me,” he speaks your name with an eerily serene smile on his face, “have you ever heard of a carbon footprint?”

#shall we date obey me #obey me #satan #satan shall we date #satan obey me #satan x mc #satan x reader #satan one shot #obey me one shot #shall we date one shot #satan imagine #drabbles #obey me drabble #satan drabble #pick up lines #it's weird writing these tags lol

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xbaepsae · 4 years ago

Text

the ebb and flow | part three

“You find it interesting that you both arrived here on the same day; starting your journeys at Camp Half-Blood at the same time.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 1.2k

rating: pg-13

warnings: mentions of monsters

a/n: here’s part threee. i can’t believe the amount of good feedback i’ve gotten from this series so far! i think it’s the most feedback i’ve ever gotten from any of my fics lol. you all are so nice and excited, that it makes me even more excited to write and get these drabbles out each week. so, thank you all so much! xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the first summer – in which you meet him for the first time

“Dad, where am I going?”

“Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

Safe. “And where is that? Are you coming too?”

Your dad stares at you with a melancholic expression, shaking his head. “I’m not like you, remember?”

Ah, yes, you remember all too well. Ever since you were young, you’ve been acutely aware of how different you are. Of course, the teasing in grade school made it apparent, but what made it even more so were the monsters that seemed to lurk around you. They never directly approached you, but you were still terrified. When you finally brought it up to your dad at the age of ten, he finally told you the truth.

Growing up with a single dad seemed normal to you—perfect, even. You never felt like you were missing out on anything, and you didn’t question where your mom went. So, when you found out that she was Athena, you couldn’t believe it.

“How did you guys meet?” you remember gasping, completely surprised.

“It was a while ago—I was in college, just sitting in a coffee shop. And then she walked in and—wow,” he breathed, a weird look on his face. “I thought she was beautiful with her ebony braid and book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. She settled into a booth and started reading. I loved the book, so I walked up to her and we just talked for hours.

“After that, we met up some more and eventually, she revealed her true self to me. Obviously, I was taken aback. I mean, a goddess? It just seemed unreal; too crazy to be true. However, I think I was already in love with her at that point, so I believed every word of it.

“But she couldn’t stay long. I hoped she would—just so we’d have more time to read books and talk about the world—but that wasn’t realistic. Even though she left, it wasn’t the end of the world because she gave me you.”

You wish that you could stay with your dad forever, but he’s right—you’re not safe where you are right now. The monsters weren’t an issue when you were younger; but now that you’re older, they’ve started coming closer. And you can’t risk anything hurting your dad. He’s all you have.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

***

After miles of green, you finally see something interesting in the distance—a golden fleece. It sits high on a valley and practically glows in the light.

“That’s actually the real fleece.”

“Really?” You turn to face the satyr, named Don, who became your assigned protector. “It’s the actual one?”

Don nods. “Yup. It was brought here a while ago to protect the camp—keeps the monsters out.”

You shiver at the mentions of monsters. During the journey here, while things hadn’t been too bad, you and Don still came into contact with a few unsightly individuals who tested your sanity. You’re just happy that you both managed to make all the way to Long Island relatively unscathed.

“That’s nice,” you say as you both walk closer towards the fleece.

“Doesn’t mean there aren’t monsters though,” Don grimaces, which causes your stomach to drop just a little. “You can hear them roaming these woods at night.”

“I guess we better get to Half-Blood Hill before nightfall, huh?”

And you guys do.

After trekking past more trees, you finally see the entrance. There is a massive arched sign with the words Camp Half-Blood etched into it. As you get closer to the entrance, a calming sensation seems to wash over you; it’s like, you’re finally where you’re supposed to be. Of course, you miss your dad dearly, but you know that he’ll be fine. And from what Don’s told you, you’re allowed to visit him once in a while.

“Here we are, kiddo,” Don pushes you forward, and you take your first step into your new home.

The moments that come after you walk through the arch is a blur. You get separate from Don and thrusted into the Cabin Six, where you discover that you have many half-siblings. It’s strange meeting them, because you’ve never had brothers or sisters before, but you’re able to pick up on the similarities that exist between everyone. It feels surreal to know that you share a godly parent with them.

After you meet all of your new roommates, you have dinner with them and the same feeling you felt earlier comes back—you feel at home with everyone.

“You’ll like it here,” Namjoon says, offering you a dimpled smile. You both are the same age, so you feel comfortable being around him.

“I already do,” you say with honesty. “Everyone’s really nice and our cabin is so cool!”

Namjoon takes a sip from his goblet before he nods fervently. “Right? Objectively, we definitely have the best cabin here.”

You haven’t seen the inside of any other cabin, but you already have a feeling that Namjoon is right. Though you are positive it’s definitely a subjective thought.

Once dinner is over, you attend your first campfire and the energy from everyone gets the blood pumping through your veins. You’ve never heard so much singing or seen so many dryads dancing. Eventually, the music settles when Chiron appears front and center with an announcement that there are new campers.

He introduces you to everyone, a daughter of Athena, and forces you to stand as everyone overtly stares at you. It’s a moment you never want to relive again. After you sit down again, Chiron announces the arrival of someone else and your eyes move to the source of his next introduction.

“Hail, Jeon Jeongguk, Son of the Sea God.”

Everyone begins to murmur at the mention of Poseidon—one of the big three. In the few hours you’ve been here, you’ve noticed that there aren’t as many campers from those gods. You watch as this Jeongguk kid stand up on gangly legs, dark hair in a disarray on top of his head. He murmurs a soft hey over the crackling fire before sitting down again.

Even after Chiron switches the topic, moving away from demigods and into activities, you continue to look at Jeongguk. You find it interesting that you both arrived here on the same day; starting your journeys at Camp Half-Blood at the same time.

“Is it normal for campers to arrive on the same day?” you ask Namjoon.

He seems to think over this for a moment. “Not really. I mean, unless they come here together. But otherwise, it doesn’t happen that often.”

You hum and turn back to look at Jeongguk. Unexpectedly, he’s already staring at you. The act has you scooting back in your seat, caught off by the intensity in his wide eyes. Why is he looking at you like that? Then again, you’re staring at him too, so you really aren’t one to talk. He continues to stare for another second before he turns away, suddenly engrossed in the conversation around him.

“Hmm,” you find yourself cocking your head to the side. “I guess we’ll just have to see what happens next?”

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asks.

You turn and give your half-brother a smirk. “Whether Jeongguk becomes a friend or foe.”

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phanlight · 4 years ago

Text

Twin Flame

. ✧ ✵ ✧ . ✴ . ✦ . . ✦ . ✴

thank u so much to anyone and everyone who’s stuck by over the years had it not been for ur constant support i would not be doing this rn not in a billion years also i hope i still remember how to write

this is gonna be v slow burn [like a big ol sage sticc] so I apologise for the steady pacing for a first chapter but I wanna set sufficient enough ~ foundations~ so things will pick up soon i promise lol

I digress ANYWAY have some magic

I literally don’t know what to describe this as I guess artist/mage/psychic!dan (if that isn’t a thing i’m making it one), bamf!phil (gotta stay tru to the roots), enemies-to-lovers, semi-surrealism, ethereal-surrealism (I s2g this is gonna be about 5 diff genres wtf am I doing)

✴ . ✦ . . ✦ ✴

summary:

Dan isn't lost anymore. He's finally okay with being an explorer, not a seeker. Content with being a wanderer rather than a wonderer. His checkered luck often leads him to almost hear the laughter of Fate ringing in the sky, but he puts it down to entering the world on the Thirteenth night of June; a Friday full with the Moon. A time where forces higher than usual ripple through the atmosphere, through the night. But he’s okay with that. He’s become okay with that. He’ll look for the light in life, live for the sparkle on summer tides. He’ll find answers at the end of paint tubes and poetry books; get by on his own moral philosophies rather than those of a shattered system. But when he falls into a realm in even further ruins than his own, he himself shatters – and suddenly the cycle begins again. Seeking, wondering – lost down to the soul. But with destruction comes construction. With darkness comes light. With bad comes good. And to exist, they must co-exist.

✴ . ✦ . . ✦ . ✴

actual plot bc that said nothing about what acc happens:

dan’s a lonely ass painter who loves crystals and one day finds a passage in an abandoned lighthouse that transports him into a spirit realm where he meets someone more lost than him. they don’t get on but for reasons they’ll have to.

. ✴. . . .✴ .

.✴ . ✴ . ✯ . ✴ . ✴.

opposing forces, they attract;

yin won’t exist without its yang.

a sunless moon, a silent act;

in idleness it hangs.

galactic compounds in the skin,

harbour chemicals and cells,

particles, atomic, sub-

vibrate with polar spells.

the grounding force attraction

it ties every single bond.

becomes the gravity,

of life; existence as One.

.✴ . - Love .

✴ . ✯ . ✴

✴[AO3 LINK]✴

Dan stares at the pale tornado swirling inside the china. Seagulls cackle outside, as if in response to the disgusting abundance of milk.

Fuck this.

The ruined tea goes down the sink with a steamy slosh, and he chokes on the eruption of vapour that partially enters his lungs. Great. The universe has now given him enough to decipher exactly what type of day today will be.

He calls them his Horseshoe Days. He’d had one once – a gift from his grandmother. At the time it seemed something strange to give to a seven-year-old. He was at the age where he wouldn’t know what a horseshoe meant if one came hurtling down from above, bonking the top of his skull.

And it did once – well, nearly. It was only while dodging the thing falling from the shelf, only milliseconds away from meeting his forehead, he realised they might actually be as lucky as she’d promised.

That was, until perhaps, he placed it back on the shelf upside-down. His parents were both blissfully none-the-wiser when it came to anything outside the ordinary – the superstition veining back to his occult-practicing grandmother on his mother’s side (and skipping generation in the process, it seems). They saw a horseshoe as nothing more than a crescent of iron that for some reason sits in the kitchen, whichever way up. It was only once events later that day began to unravel in an unfamiliar manner did a bubbling suspicion of a correlation arise. Dan had vaguely remembered something about the blacksmith Dunstan and how a shoe upturn drains its ‘powers’, but it was only a crashed bike, scraped knee and flattened football later did he actually pay any attention to why his day might have been going so badly.

Well, eventually.

The entire exchange sits still at the forefront of his psyche, each detail in sparkling clarity. He sees it now, even hears the voices.

“That’s why!” he’d burst out over dinner.

His parents had jumped in unison, and his stepfather elbowed over a glass. The table shone with a thin spread of water, trickling across the mahogany.

The hardness of Gerald’s voice is still nailed into the back of his memory. He used to hate it when he shouted.

“Jesus!” he’d have yelled, scrabbling around the table with a napkin. Dan remembers the kitchen towel surrendering immediately, from sheets to soggy mulch in seconds. He’d then have followed with a favourite catchphrase of his; “Do you have to yell like that?”

It was nothing they weren’t used to. He had a habit of sneaking up on everyone. ‘Feather-Feet’, his grandmother used to call him.

Dan remembers ignoring him, stretching up out of his seat and reaching for the overhead shelf. He doesn’t reckon an upturned horseshoe has ever made anyone this happy but he remembers feeling nothing but delight. It’s a bit of a backward attitude. “I knew I wasn’t just naturally unlucky!”

Being born on Friday the thirteenth certainly doesn’t help, despite giving every single birthday wish to a promise of better luck.

His grandmother used to say it was a good omen. Actually lucky; despite its reputation in amongst the ladders and scaffolding and cracked pavement tiles. The Thirteenth night of June, a Friday full with the moon, she used to muse, eyes bright with love. He misses her.

“What are you doing?” his mother had narrowed her eyes, watching her son reach for the horseshoe. When his elbow disturbed a spherical paperweight in the process and it began a bloodcurdlingly slow descent off the shelf, they flew open wider. “Careful! Mind my-“

He was already ahead of her, he remembers. Fingers clasped around the iron and flipped upright in a fraction of a second. In the other he outstretches his hand, feeling the paperweight plop into his palm in one piece instead of millions more. He‘ll never forget the sigh of relief from somewhere behind him.

He remembers the feeling. The weight of the crystal. The coolness of the cast iron. Saved antique in one hand, upright horseshoe in the other. The absolute thrum of electricity through his bloodstream. He remembers smiling and looking up. “See?”

“See what, exactly?” Gerald had then snapped, masking his panic with anything other than fear. “You nearly ruining our wedding present? A repeat performance of Aunt Nora’s teapot?”

He glanced to his mother, still completely ivory with shock. Her eyes are fixed on the swirled quartz as if it were seconds away from leaping off of his palm again by itself; under its own magic.

“Did you not see that?” Confusion begins to seep into his initial delight. Were they even concentrating at all?

“I saw you being idiotic,” his stepfather had spat. Dan winces like he did fifteen years ago. The word still holds its weight, even now. He doesn’t know why.

“The horseshoe,” he’d tried to explain. “It wa-“

“I don’t give a shit about the bloody horseshoe!” he’d suddenly exploded. Both Dan and his mother jumped back in their seats.

“Gerald,” he remembers the softness of his mother’s tone, a diametric opposition of the echoes of steel his stepfather had the nerve to call an indoor voice.

“No, I’m sick of it!” he’s erupting now. Bubbling over the surface. A temper like a needle to an overfilled balloon. “He’s always flailing about. Knocking things over. Your mother told me about the vase, by the way,” he spat aside.

Dan’s stomach had dropped. She’d sworn not to say a word. She’d promised.

“You never know what the boy’s next move is going to be,” he continues. “I’m sick of it,” he repeats again, as if repetition be the highest form of emphasis. He snatched the paperweight but ignored the horseshoe, and Dan remembers how it had looked in his grip – the glass probably having more chance of shattering inside his big burly palm than the solid stone floor.

He vanishes and reappears two seconds later, marching back with a face of beetroot and a brow of iron, pressing a daggered glare into the back of Dan’s head. He could feel the warmth burning the nape of his neck, the stare scalding the skin.

“He’s not to be trusted,” he announced as if there were thousands of other ears also listening.

A delicate frown threaded its way across his mother’s brow.

“Wh-“

“Leave it, Penelope,” he’d cut her off before she’d even had a chance to finish the word, let alone the sentence. Dan used to hate the way he spoke to her. “If the boy wants to behave like a child, he’ll get treated like one. No more ornaments in the kitchen.”

Dan remembers thinking then it would kind-of be nice being addressed by name. Just once. Maybe. Gerald’s also about the only person capable of criticizing a seven-year-old for behaving like a child. Make it make sense, Gerald, he doesn’t say. And my name’s Dan, but you’ve probably forgotten that.

She’d thrown her son a quick sapphire glance; a gleaming silent apology. Dan’s heart had lurched at the glint of panic in her eye.

It lurches now. That absolute demon must have given her hell. He’d never been more thankful to see his mother out of a marriage. He was horrible.

And he couldn’t fucking cook. He even remembers what they were eating on the night because it was so inedible. He’s always detested mashed potato, and he’s certain Gerald knew this. He remembers stabbing the offending white lump on his plate during the sacred three seconds of silence His Lordship could manage before that cruel mouth of his opened again.

“Bloody cold, now,” he’d grumbled.

Dan remembers holding back a smirk. As if any amount of heat could make this cement any less torturous to ingest.

He’d briefly wondered if suffocation was in his hidden agenda all along. It wouldn’t surprise him. Death by potato has an interesting ring to it.

Anyway, the whole situation could have been history in under ten seconds. He could have had the horseshoe upright and the paperweight saved in three of those. Job done, panic over, back to dinner in the remaining seven. He imagines Gerald’s reaction had he spoken his mind at the time.

That was fifteen years ago, of course. Being seven, someone could have told him the sky was pink and he’d eventually believe it (maybe if it happened to be during a sunset). From that point onward he hadn’t exactly lapped up old wives’ tales, myths spinning into each other like silver silk, but his superstition remained a conscious glow in the back of his mind; going no further than avoiding three drains and ladders and watching black cats slink across his path with his breath held. Sometimes even whispering a quick wish when eleven lines up the clock (most days he misses, though).

He vowed from that very moment to save anything considered slightly out-of-the-ordinary for those who actually want to hear about it. Those who understand.

He looks at the horseshoe. It’s the same one – it always has been. Seeing three new house-changes and a hell of a lot of life, it sits, still – tightly nailed to the overhead beam of the kitchen. There’s no way it could slip now.

His eyes travel down from the horseshoe at the dazzling abundance of crystals lining and clustering every free available space surrounding the entire kitchen. He figures Gerald’s little ‘no ornaments in the kitchen’ law wouldn’t bode too well here. He’d scream in fear of the raw amethysts by the kettle. Sob at the sight of the glittering chunks of hematite by the sink. Shield his eyes from offending lines of onyx near the spice rack and the little malachite cluster by Rosa (one of many house plants). And as for the great big slabs of rose quartz and Himalayan salt on the windowsill, the glow of sunrise warming the atmosphere each morning; kissing the space with shadowy peaches and dusty pinks – well, his face would be an absolute picture. Priceless. He grins whenever he dusts, love bursting in his heart for each one and humming through every vein in his body. They make him feel like a proud father.

A short, sharp buzz on the countertop interrupts his thoughts. His consciousness snaps back into reality. Shit, how long has it been? Once he gets thinking about Gerald and everything he put his mother through he gets angry, and then half the day disappears and he finds he’s done little else other than stare at a drawer or a wall for the majority of it. It’s easy to get carried away. It happens when he thinks about crystals too.

You okay?

It’s Zema. Part-time housemate, full-time soulmate. It’s almost like he’d heard his thoughts; the voices so powerful they resonate externally. Part of Dan wouldn’t be surprised if he had – Gerald was certainly shouting loud enough in there.

Been better, he answers truthfully. Just made the worst cup of tea known to mankind

I wondered what all that clanking was

There’s a pause, followed by another quick buzz.

HSD?

Dan grins at the screen. Horseshoe day. He’d even remembered their abbreviation.

“H – S – D,” he’d once said. “It’s like LSD. But shitter.”

Dan had snorted. Zema’s about the only person who would compare having ‘one of those days’ to a psychedelic trip.

“Exactly,” Zema had said once Dan had told him this. “It’s not. That’s why it’s shitter.”

Dan hadn’t exactly agreed with him. He didn’t even think it was worth mentioning Horseshoe is actually all one word, but he’d gone along with it because HSD is a lot less effort to type and sometimes it’s good to have a code. Zema’s about the only person who knows about this. He doesn’t trust anyone else enough not to judge him when he tells them he’s basically superstitious, however blanket that definition may be. It’s probably not the correct term, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it. Drawn to the unknown? Like it matters either way. It’s not as if he’s particularly vocal about it. A twenty-three-year-old male, unusually innate occult-esque interests and a static, stagnant society don’t exactly fit together with jigsaw-like ease. Dan doesn’t know why. Dan doesn’t see what the harm is in allowing others to gravitate towards their own pleasures when the concept alone of interests and hobbies is entirely subjective. That’s the beauty of it, he finds. No two beings have exactly the same range, however similar.

Maybe the harm is that there’s no harm at all, and that scares him. The lust for destruction scares him. This planet scares him.

Something like that, he taps back, before pocketing the conversation.

He gives up with tea involving milk and unlatches the wooden box neighbouring the kettle. It’s stuffed to the brim with teabags of spanning across the entire flavour spectrum.

He picks one up and presses it to his nose, inhaling. Ah, Jasmine.

He picks up another. Camomile and- something. He frowns. Lemon?

He puts it back. Can’t be. He finished the lemon last week.

He picks it up again and sniffs. Ginger, that’s it.

Nah, he tosses it back in for a second time. He only touches the ginger when he’s feeling jaded the morning after a night involving too much wine and not enough water (they happen more often than not).

He picks up another, inhaling the rich, fruity aroma. Red berries. It even smells like the colour red.

He puts it back nonetheless. Strawberries and- well, just about everything else with –berry tagged onto the end – just wouldn’t cut it right now. Ambitious Ribena, that’s what Zema calls it. It hasn’t really tasted the same since he said that.

He picks up another. Jasmine again, he rolls his eyes. He’s seldom ever in a ‘Jasmine’ mood. He doesn’t even know why they have so many – Zema barely touches it either.

He finally settles for a plain green tea. A bit of simplicity wouldn’t go amiss right now.

His phone buzzes again.

Don’t think I can’t hear that kettle. I’ll have a ginseng pls x

Dan huffs out a laugh. Cover blown.

We’re all out of ginseng.

Look under the sink.

Dan rolls his eyes and yanks open the door below him. Six boxes of the stuff stare back at him.

Six??? he taps with one hand, grabbing a box and tearing the cardboard open with another. Really?

Didn’t wanna run out is all that follows.

He shakes his head, but lets the grin tug his lips.

Panic-buying tea now, are we?

Don’t start. You bought six crystals the other day

Ok that’s different. Mercury is in retrograde right now and we’re not taking any chances

What does that even mean

It means u need to stop buying so much tea

I’ll stop buying tea when u stop buying crystals

Dan smirks. He’ll be waiting a while, then.

He assigns Zema the age-old High School Musical mug. It was a gift from Axel one or two Christmases ago, and he imagines the Disney franchise probably didn’t have temperamental dishwashers in mind during the manufacturing process – the boiling steam had left the majority of the characters eyeless and Troy Bolton completely nose-less. He leaves it next to the kettle with texted instructions for Zema to leave the duvet cave immediately before it turns cold, but for what it’s worth, the other boy isn’t exactly famous for his pro-activity early in the mornings. He wouldn’t be surprised if it reached stone temperature before passing his lips. Judging by the lack of audible movement, he’d be safe in assuming he’s probably fallen back asleep.

He pads into the lounge with a steaming mug and a bookmarked copy of Le Fleur Du Mal; completely falling to bits and half of the pages contemplating a permanent escape. Despite his attempts, even the strongest duct tape couldn’t keep this copy together.

There’s something about a parallel translation that fascinates him. How meaning can so flawlessly transcend dialect. He wonders if Baudelaire had this in mind. Whether he knew his works would one day be read in languages far from his mother tongue. Did he know his own craft to be so acute, so fine, that whichever order, whichever laws of letters they’re under – the same meaning shines through? The same rhythm, the same senses, colours, emotions rippling through each sign and symbol? That’s poetry.

His eyes scan the neighbouring verse. Learning a bit more French would definitely help, that’s for sure. His own skill is rusted from years of neglect; having abandoned all hopes of igniting his love for such a beautiful dialogue after school had strode into his life and seeped all the joy and passion out of just about everything he once loved. He’s glad to have reignited that. It was years until he picked up a paintbrush again.

He’s only three words in before he’s interrupted by an all-too-familiar sound.

He rolls his eyes, peering over the edge of the pages. “What now?”

Two eyes wait for him. One emerald, the other azure.

“No,” Dan immediately answers.

The reply is longer, louder.

“Ugh,” his glance scours the ceiling for a second. “It’s literally been an hour, Vee. Where are you storing it all?”

The eyes answer with an innocent glitter, but Dan knows better. His eyes flicker back to the page:

What will you say tonight, poor lonely soul,

What will you say old withered heart of mine,

To the most beautiful, the best, most dear,

Whose heavenly regards bring back your bloom?

We will assign our pride to sing her praise:

Nothing excels the sweetness of her will;

Her holy-

Then there’s a gentle chirrup. He feels his heart turn to jelly. She knows exactly what that sound does to him.

“Venus,” he groans in defeat, elongating the ‘u’. He plops the book down next to him and hauling himself up from the sofa. “Only one, okay? No more.”

She slinks down from the stool, her stool – only about fifty years old and fraying at every single edge. What was once a delicate floral tapestry now existing as aged blobs in various shades of pastel. All four legs, previously smooth mahogany, are now a splintered beige from years of busy carving. He doesn’t understand how such soft paws bear such ceramic claws.

They’d tried everything. From cardboard and cereal boxes to actual climbing towers she would barely look at, let alone touch. Beds she ignored; choosing only Dan’s favourite satin pillow. And she’ll only ever drink water out of a specific pint glass.

“We’ve adopted a human, not a cat,” Zema had once said.

“It’s like she owns us,” Dan had agreed.

She’s trotting along the kitchen floorboards now, her tail high. She stops once she reaches the drawer under the crystal cabinet, throwing her human a demure glance.

“Alright, alright,” Dan catches her up, grabbing the bronze key. He’s thankful cats don’t have the power of thumbs. The world is already chaotic enough.

He ends up giving her three. It’s those eyes, he tells himself in a small bout of self-justification. Those fucking eyes.

“Venus flytrap,” he mutters, running his fingertips along her silky back. “What are you like, eh? Where do you put it all?”

“Hollow legs,” a voice appears from behind him.

He almost leaves his own skin.

“Jesus!” he clutches at his chest. “What happened to the No-Giving-Dan-Cardiac-Arrest-Before-Noon rule?"

He whirls around to find Zema sat cross-legged on the marble surface just beside the sink, all silken robes and bed-beaten hair. A smirk gets bitten back under his teeth.

“I texted you."

Dan can’t quite believe the twenty-first century has come to this. Texting those who not only live in the same property, but are on the same floor.

They’re not actually too dissimilar in appearance – his head also home to a gigantic mass of thick brown waves, although in a darker shade to Dan’s own hair. His eyes stare back at him in a shade of gentle grey. Chameleon Eyes, Dan calls them; for they reflect their surroundings. He remembers how they looked when they’d first met that day at the beach – bright turquoise; matching the sky and the sea. He remembers how perplexed he been the second time they’d met and his eyes were suddenly a shining shamrock; sharing the glow of the grass. Then a gentle grey on the street under overcast clouds. He’s always wanted to go into one of those rooms covered completely ground-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, in mirrors. His eyes would probably boast galaxies.

He’s shorter than Dan (a rare occurrence among his friends) and about fifty times as agile – something he and Venus have in common is their blatant disregard for actual furniture. Even she sits on a stool more often than he does. Zema the Lemur, he calls him.

“Because chairs don’t exist,” Dan mutters now, his tone soaked with sarcasm. “Christ, you’re worse than her,” he nods down towards their little family member, still fixated on the drawer.

She trots up to Zema, seizing the opportunity.

“Are you hungry, honeybear?” Zema coos, his eyes sparkling. He gets an emphatic ‘mew’ in response.

“Don’t be fooled,” Dan interjects quickly. “She’s had a bowl and two treats already today.”

“Those eyes,” Zema grins knowingly. Green flashes in his direction. They’ve noticed she responds to ‘eyes’ faster than her own name.

“Those fucking eyes,” Dan shakes his head in agreement. The eyes in question now dart towards him. Whenever ‘eyes’ happen to crop up in conversation between the two, she looks as though she’s watching a tennis match. Dan’s abdomen still aches at the memory of the night they’d made the revelation; both curled up either side of the room in tears of laughter at her light-like response. “How’s the tea, by the way? Not too cold, I hope?”

“It’s lovely,” he sips appreciatively. “Good mug choice. Always better when it’s from Troy Bolton’s brain. It’s like I can taste his thoughts.”

“I didn’t know Gabriella tasted like ginseng,” Dan says. “Cut her open and she bleeds the stuff.”

Zema smirks. He holds the mug up, examining the worn surface in all its glory. “Looks like someone already has. God, this thing’s falling apart,” he thinks aloud, bringing himself ear-to-lip with the partially eroded character. “What happened to your nose babe, eh? Did it fall off during basketball?”

“Troy Boldemort,” Dan mutters immediately. Zema all but chokes, droplets showering the countertop.

He loves mornings like these, mornings where neither of them have any prior academic engagements and they can just sit and talk for hours about – well, anything, really. The final year of University boasts a monumental amount of focus and preparation and just a general resounding ‘oh-shit-this-is-actually-real’ feeling that apparently never really goes away; not even after you graduate, according to one of his cousins.

For Dan, nothing has really felt real since he was about fifteen, so it’s not something that particularly bothers him. He could just do without that ten-tonne workload.

“So what are you up to today, then?” Zema swings his legs over the edge, giggling as Venus begins an attack on his slipper. “Anything exciting?”

“Not much,” he sips thoughtfully. What can he do today? It’s been so long since he’s had a free day he’s forgotten how he spends time on his own terms. “Might get another painting done.”

“Paint me,” Zema beams, carding a hand through his fringe.

“Oh yeah?” Dan raises an eyebrow. “How the fuck would I go about painting your eyes?”

“Paint me in a field,” Zema continues. “And a beach. I wanna see-…” he hesitates. “We need to go to, like, a strawberry field or something. I wanna see if my eyes would go red.”

“Just smoke some pot. Then you’ll be halfway there.” Dan says, before hesitating. “Anyway, if we went to a strawberry field it’ll be mostly green. The strawberries are only the berries.”

“A poppy field, then,” Zema says.

He literally has an answer to everything. Dan rolls his eyes.

“One day,” he finally affirms, and the other boy grins. “In Spring.”

“I’m glad you’re painting again,” Zema says. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you do anything creative.”

“Tell me about it,” Dan mumbles, taking another sip although the tea’s losing its heat. It’s always the case when talking to Zema – the rapid, quick-fire pace of every conversation leaves barely enough interval to drink (that is, of course, unless it’s alcohol). “It’s been so long I doubt I even remember how to paint.”

“I highly doubt that,” Zema fires back, gulping more tea and placing the ghostly mug beside him.

“How about you, then?” Dan gulps down the remaining liquid before it has a chance to grow any colder. “What are you doing with yourself today?”

“I’m off out,” Zema stretches, his voice slightly strained. “Need to be at Eddie’s by ten. We’re doing the bass today.”

They’re two of a wide circle of musicians playing in each-other’s orbit. Zema’s never anywhere without his guitar, Axel the same with his saxophone (Saxel, he’s often referred to as), and Eddie would be the same, he imagines, had he not chosen the piano as his instrument of choice. He bites back a smirk, picturing him struggling with a rope, trying to drag his enormous Bösendorfer Grand onto a train for a gig. Thank almighty Yamaha for the existence of keyboards.

Dan winces, his eyes flickering to the clock. “You’re cutting it a bit fine, then.”

Zema’s own eyes flash towards the time. “Oh, shit,” the remaining tea gets swallowed in seconds and the ghostly mug falls into the sink with a steely clatter. “I’d better go.”

“Nothing they’re not used to I imagine.” Dan smirks.

“Don’t,” Zema cringes, grabbing his bag and shooting down the corridor into his own room. “They brought up my punctuality only the other day,” his voice continues. “Fuck, Dan. Why do I do this to myself?”

“Alarms exist.” Dan calls after him.

“It wasn’t even that,” he reappears holding a handful of guitar picks and a capo, shoving them into the front pocket of his case. “I decided to stop off on the way. Never in my life have I seen such a queue for the drive-through. It was ridiculous.”

“At least they got a couple of fries out of it.”

Zema stares at him. His expression speaks for itself.

“Okay. Well at least you got a couple of fries out of it.”

“Cold fries. And a melted McFlurry,” he mourns, hauling his guitar over his shoulder and looking Dan dead in the eye. “Word of advice, Dan. Never try eating ice cream while you’re driving. It doesn’t work. There’s a time limit.”

“There go my plans for the day,” Dan scoffs. “I don’t even drive.”

“And it’s about time you learnt, eh?” Zema grins. “Give your bestie a break from all that parallel parking. It’s doing my head in.”

“If it means getting you to places on time, I’m more than happy to,” his eyes flicker to the clock. “You have nine minutes, Zee.”

“Fuck’s sake!” Zema groans. “I’m doing it again. I’m going, I’m going-” he flusters around, filling both arms up with various belongings. “Can you grab my keys for me? They’re on the plate.”

The Plate, Dan smirks to himself. Keeping vital belongings within reaching distance of the door, it’s the porcelain base to everything – keys; both car and house, cards; both debit and SD, alongside an ocean of lighters, loose change, semi-important receipts, and a Pizza Hut flier that had been there when they moved in. He remembers the delight they’d both shared upon discovering the possibility of five-pound large pizzas – crushed immediately by disappointment upon realizing the flier was from 2006.

It’s filled now to the brim with such a pile had it not been for Zema’s obnoxiously large keyring collection it would have taken him an age to locate them. He grabs them by the ‘Amsterdam’ pipe-shaped bottle opener.

“There,” he thrusts them into his hands with a jingle. “Now go.”

“Lifesaver,” Zema clutches them, slipping out of the door. “I’ll see you around five, yeah?”

“See you,” Dan grins, watching him jog to his vehicle. “Safe journey. Don’t drive through anything this time.”

The look he receives tells him all he needs to know. He watches the smaller figure amble up the road to his car; a battered blue thing with a collage of stickers plastering the rear. It was a seventeenth birthday gift; four metallic walls capturing four years of freedom. Despite having known Zema for only two of those four years, they’d already ridden up and down the country in it; halfway back home they’d had to make an impromptu visit to a tiny town somewhere along the south coast due to a faulty tire, but that ended up being one of the best decisions of their lives.

Because had they not set foot into the first tavern they’d walked past whilst the car was being repaired somewhere up the road; a crooked, old thing with bookshelves for walls and a resident cat asleep on the stool, they would never have been served by a bartender with a nose ring and hair the colour of moss (Dan remembers wondering how someone can suit such surroundings whilst simultaneously looking so out of place). They would never have stuck up a conversation about the clock on the wall and discovered it was an original nineteenth-century piece passed down from Germany, and the bartender would never have noticed Zema’s obsidian pendant and asked him about its origins. They wouldn’t have spent the remains of the afternoon sunk into the floral upholstery, swigging ale-upon-ale with this vibrant character as the sky loses the light before reality dawns and they realise they came here with a car that needs attending to.

He still can’t believe this was how they met Axel. All three of them have evolved so much since then, all grown in each other’s orbit.

(The rapid blossom of the butterfly effect has never failed to astound him. It never will.)

The fade of the engine introduces a silence he hasn’t heard since seven a.m. His smile seemed to have travelled along with the car; with Zema. Shit, has it always been this deadened without him? The quietness cuts into his eardrums, growing sharper and sharper the more he strains; searching for something, anything – a whisper of a tree, a yelp of a dog, a-

He paces away from the front door, finding comfort in the soft pad of his own footsteps. The floorboards groan with every movement, and he’s thankful for the noise.

He can never find his way back to sleep upon awakening on a Horseshoe day. It’s the tell-tale sign for him – if he claws his way out of a biting nightmare bathed in sweat, scrabbling around the duvet until his fingers touch cool amethyst, rough and raw, he knows there are challenges waiting for him.

He doesn’t know why it happens. Or how. He’s only ever tried to explain the whole thing to Zema a handful of times and even then he doesn’t really get it, doesn’t really understand how he can just know something’s about to happen before it does, just feels the flames underneath his ribcage, anticipation burning the embers red.

“You ought to get on those Beta-blockers,” he’d once told him through a mouthful of raw bagel. Several crumbs fell to the floor, something Dan viewed as a skill if not anything; uncooked bagels are near impossible to eat that messily. “They helped me when I started getting those anxiety attacks. No way would I have survived college without them,” as he took another bite, more crumbs parted ways.

“I don’t think the buckets of coffee every morning particularly helped,” replied Dan, before adding, “and every evening.” He’d stopped then, frowning. “And wherever else in the day you can- okay, that’s not the point. It’s not the same as anxiety,” he paused, the corners of his mind struggling to describe something so utterly inexplicable. “It’s-… different. It’s never constant, it’s not like that.”

As he reminisces, he feels the jolt.

Something’s going to happen tonight. Today. Sometime.

That is all he’s absolutely certain of. That an event is around the corner, and that it’ll happen sometime within the frame of the day. Good or bad, positive or negative, it’s the same spike in his gut, the same blade of intuition cutting into his senses. Such a skill sits somewhere on the fence between a blessing and a curse.

He makes every effort to swallow the feeling down, place it anywhere but the absolute forefront of his psyche, and treads upstairs. If there’s one thing he’s learnt during the years of having to contend with this (whatever ‘this’ is), it’s not to dwell on it, not to feel it too much. Whatever happens, will happen. No amount of thinking, feeling, sensing, will change that.

As far as superpowers go, it’s a pretty shit one to have, he thinks. Enemy, up ahead. Wait, it might be a friend actually. How close are they? Fuck knows. We might be waiting a while, but it could be any minute now. I know they’re coming though, trust me.

It would be useless.

He reaches straight for the art supplies as soon as he opens his bedroom door, grabbing as many paints as the laws of physics operating his satchel bag will allow. He relies on oil for today’s medium, seizing handfuls of small foil tubes spanning the entire visible colour spectrum, all thoroughly crinkled with use. A couple of sponges leap into the leather (stained, but he doesn’t have the capacity to start his cleaning ritual right now. Cleaning one art supply leads to another, and another, and then ‘just one more’ until the day sits partially behind him and all he’d have to show for himself is an empty canvas and two very wet sleeves), along with a healthy selection of paintbrushes, and the remaining dregs of his paint thinner (he really ought to get some more. He keeps forgetting.).

He releases a breath he didn’t know was taking up his chest. He’s actually ready for once. Wow.

Breakfast is crunched in seconds, accompanied by two planet eyes and a mass of black fur.

“Vee,” he mews through a mouthful of toast, his eyes rolling. “I’ve barely even started mine.”

Her expression doesn’t falter, her gaze only glittering more. He lasts two more bites before caving in and heading to the cupboard. Her paws are feathers; silent little things, but he doesn’t need to hear her (or even see her, for that matter) to sense she’s trotting along behind him – tail in the air and eyes to the sky. He awards her a third treat, internally self-justified by his forthcoming absence for the rest of the day, and watches as her nose delicately pokes the pea-sized thing before accepting it with much grace.

“What is it about you, eh?” he scratches the very top of her head, loving the way her eyes close in response and a deep purr begins rolling. “How do you do it?” his tone is weirdly devoid of rhetoricism. “All you domestic cats do is sleep and ask for food.”

He hesitates.

“I mean, that’s not all you do. You knock stuff over. Both solid and liquid. And scratch things up. And sleep on important documents. And make me late for things sometimes,” she purrs louder – almost solid confirmation cats can understand humans. Of course that would please her. “Yet we love you unconditionally,” his fingertips travel behind her ears and she leans into his touch. “All you have to do is exist.”

If only that were the case for humans.

His toast is cold by the time he returns to it, but he doesn’t care. He wasn’t particularly hungry to begin with – he doesn’t have Venus’s appetite. They should have named her Jupiter instead.

Binning the remains, he slings his art supplies onto his back and reads the weather through the net curtains. It looks fairly promising; the sky slightly overcast but showing no immediate threat of rain – they’d fallen victims to a heatwave not long ago and then a raging storm the following week.

September is often precarious; not quite summer, but not yet autumn. The sun smiles at him but he makes a mental note to pack an umbrella just in case.

✵

His concept of ‘perfect beach weather’ is a bit weird.

His perfect beach weather welcomes a threat of rain. Embraces stronger breezes. He doesn’t care if there’s a cloud bigger than the sky heading in his direction. As long as it’s comfortable enough to sit and paint without the wind claiming just about everything he arrived with, he’s happy.

When he looks out of his window towards beams of warmth, that’s forest weather. That’s lay-in-sunlight-pools-and-read-the-tree-trunks weather. When whites and greys cut the sky, that’s when it’s time for the beach.

This beach is his home. His sanctuary. The only surroundings that actually manage to cut through the thickening tar of anxiety coating his soul, the sound alone of the hissing waves setting him free of any spikes of fretful darkness still latching onto him.

Here he can think.

Feel.

Be.

His eyes match the horizon. Solitary. Still. He doesn’t understand how an element moving so fierce can appear as nothing but a perfectly straight line.

Then again; Jupiter’s a raging mass of storms and still the perfect sphere remains. As for Saturn.

He whips out his sketchbook, the A1 pages immediately making friends with the breeze. He eventually claws the pages into a surface at least half-sketchable, the paper sheets cutting through his gentle grasp as he tries to wrestle with giant flaps of paper, great white veils. The definitive opposite of a bat, he concludes decidedly. He’s probably a good ten minutes into this whole endeavour before the thought of whipping anything colourful out crosses his mind. His hands hurt now.

He starts with the greens. He always does. Touches of evergreen, of shamrock and a blue-tinged teal make their way onto the palette first. He takes a tiny amount of the brightest and begins creating a dusty emerald sky, the bristles massaging the canvas with gentle strokes. He’s never seen a green sky before. He’s seen skies spamming across the entire palette of the planet’s warmth, all rubies and vermillions and even violets. But never green. Green seems to stay on land, he finds. Maybe the trees will be blue.

The trees end up purple. He’s painting what he can see right now; a thick smatter of bushes lining the top of the cliffside. The forest. His forest, he secretly calls it, already hearing ‘you can’t own a forest, Bezos’ from a mini Zema somewhere in his mind.

He’s painted this view, this vast stretch ahead of him, so many times he found the shades to be somewhat restricting despite the sun making all the difference – indigo in the rain and a glittering turquoise in the summer light. So he’d swapped the cool palette for warmth one day, and fell in love with the idea of a ruby ocean. The sands had become a dusty lilac; something that had later appeared in a dream of his. The sky he’d kept to its natural shade that day – a gentle grey; accentuating the heightened colour of the other two.

It was like a fuse had exploded inside him after that. He’d come home from the beach with armfuls of half-damp paper; all thoroughly watercoloured at first – before experimenting with the oils and the pastilles upon realisation that soluble paints and rain-threatened skies do not mix. He’d branched out; grasping at all ends of the visible colour spectrum; knocking on every door, pushing every possible boundary. Rockpools became crystals, the shores began to sparkle – really sparkle; once he figured out how to paint with glitter correctly, - and colours began to multiply. Soon there were three colours in the sky – the gradient fading one into the other and often bearing complete contrasts; reds eloped with greens and purples entangling golds.

He’d combined just about every colour; primary, secondary; tertiary – but never attempts to create the same shade twice. It’s more fun that way, he decides.

He reads the horizon. The line of beach huts are still just as colourful in reality as on paper, so he’d taken to embellishing each door with swirls of gold using his thinnest brush. The shadow of the overhanging clouds looks to have deepened the ocean’s bed, and he wonders just how far the floor of sand slopes down. How many miles of ink until he reaches the earth. He’d swum countless times (some while drunk, thanks to a team effort involving Zema’s persuasion and his own impulsive nature), but never dared to venture anywhere past the Lighthouse a stretch of metres away from the shore.

Dan doesn’t quite know when it became derelict. How long it’s been since a beacon pierced the night with neon light; guiding the lost and the found, the leavers and returners. There are no windows; only wooden squares where light once seeped through – but the Widow’s Walkway still remains weirdly open in the air, the iron cates curling up at the top.

Some say it’s been months. Others longer. Having only lived in this town for the generous part of two years, he has no real clue himself – but every new crack on the surface, every new splinter of wood or peeled paint, doesn’t go unnoticed. However long it’s been, it’s definitely no longer in use.

It’s taken many forms on his papers, behaving slightly different with each medium. He once even took to disregarding colour altogether and using only black ink and silver glitter; each curve, dot and line finely constructed. That one, he must admit, was a personal favourite. He’d turned every crack into a vein, pumping midnight blood into every inch of the tower. Every chip of paint revealed a crystallised surface underneath – its inner beauty begging to see the light.

He adds colour today – but always acknowledges its signs of time. If it’s cracked up there, it’s cracked on the page. If he strolls by one day and there’s a chunk of brick missing; a gaping hole in the surface, he wont lie to the paper.

He’ll just cram a million stars into the space.

His eyes sink back into his own page. The violet trees have a teal cliff to sit upon, and today the sea is a concrete grey – not too many shades off exactly what he’s seeing right now.

It’s another different combination of colours; a new one, but there’s something missing. He reads the page, eyes darting between his creation and his surroundings.

He looks up, bending his neck and staring at the clouds until his eyes water. They glide over him, over them, over everything, like glaciers in the sky. The beautiful thing about just a slight threat of rain, is the sheer metamorphosis they seem to undergo a priori. He sees one turn from Yoshi into an ice cream. One that starts off as a squashed Darth Vader before growing a tail and turning into a seahorse. Another that begins as a boot, considers turning into a palm tree, before finally joining up with another and becoming the Cheshire Cat. A couple that look like skyships. And one that looks exactly like Appa, much to his absolute delight. Even down to the horns.

An idea grips him with such force he jumps, elbowing his paint water into the sand. Punished by Karma for being creative. Great.

He grabs his lightest pastels and reads the emerald sky again.

One sweeping motion, and there’s now a moon; a glowing crescent against the green hemisphere.

Two soft strokes, and there’s a surrounding haze. He softens it with the very tip of his finger, and feels something flood through him. Yes.

Three quick dots of white, and a belt sits in the sky. After another dozen more, a shield. Then a bow joins.

He’s grinning now, inspiration thrumming through his veins like a current.

After seven more, there’s a plough (Trough? He can never remember which one it is. More like the fucking saucepan. Or square with a tail.).

Completing painting after painting in colour after colour, how has this idea never occurred to him before? He should even include a couple of planets, he thinks as his pencil scrapes in a suggestion of Saturn.

Two moons later he grins at the page, sparkling with new celestial life. He throws his eyes up to the sky, wondering how inhabitable the earth would be had his interpretation somehow become scientifically correct overnight one day.

He tries to imagine a sky with three moons. Scarily large asteroids. Comet trails scarring the atmosphere.

Then his smile vanishes and his eyes return back down to this A1 universe beneath him. Tries to chow down the growing realisation that inhabitability is probably inevitable anyway with the way things are headed, and that the problem is down here, not up there – and he dabs in a small Pleiades. Up there is safe. Under the watchful eye of the Seven Sisters; that’s protection.

Aliens are probably avoiding us on purpose. Who can blame them?

#mywriting #phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #dan and phil #dnp #magic au #chaptered #amazingphil #daniel howell #here have a thing #im probs rusty as fuck still but i hope this is ok pls

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yoitscro · 4 years ago

Photo

First thought: Homestuck^2 should've just been called Beyond Canon, and more people should call it that.

The 2 was put on for chuckles; HS trending the day it was announced with it being a sequel spoke enough about how such a thing shant be underestimated, and why Homestuck is ABSOLUTELY more than just our small twitter crowd (and the scrap of us still on tumblr). I say that because remembering the Beyond Canon part slightly reassures me about the fact that this is a fanwork that will do some weird shit, and things I don't agree with, but isn't something that I have to subscribe to enjoying all the way with how I engage with Homestuck.

Homestuck 2 is not the canon continuation. Homestuck 2: Beyond Canon, is an OFFICIAL continuation.

Not having it on such an important stool and as the only content we all are only allowed to digest should come from both people who obsessively dislike it, and people who defensively support it. If a character says they kick babies then I can say, hey that's weird, maybe not great writing, but I can pretend they don't in my content, and i dont have to send threats or call people cishet white men for it! and, it's an absolutely great thing that we were all encouraged to create our own ideas without anyone who's influenced us to do so squinting their eyes when we actually go through with it. Glad I don't have to put this story up to the expectations of being a sequel to a 11 year, worldwide IP that's shooketh the internet landscape since it's merely optional, Death of the Author persists, and ideas aren't just dominated and revolved around the perspective of a 1% in this entire fanbase.

That said.

As an OFFICIAL continuation versus a canon one, HS2 is ok. It certainly has that fanfiction vibe, and a story it wants to tell. I can't really tell what that story is since we have like, 10 sub plots rn though. There's not a real a clear indicator on where the focus of main conflict is that connects all these stories together.

I thought that the prose in replacement of Vriska's battle was jarring, but not teeerribly surprising for the format HS2 is going for. It's more so using drawings to compliment text versus Homestuck's usual of panels being side by side with visual importance, or even itself being the one compliment. It sorta feels weird tho that it brought old fans back in with art just for them to get sneered at when they get a bit upset that there won't be main staples of art known to progress the story forward.

Also people who mock people for “having to read homestuck” knowing there’s language barriers and struggling focus from those who’ve been use to something that was never so dense, are ridiculous.

Personally this could be solved by knowing how old flashes worked, having way more artists on the team, maybe even an art director if not already, and noting that we're not asking for the next Cascade. Rome wasn't built in a day, but Rose Ride sure was, and Homestuck’s animation is absolutely not the same as a 12-24 framed 12 minute cartoon. That, or just snuff the illustrative art as a whole since it's very clear on where the focus is.

I’m sure you’re not here trying to see my opinions on how the outer workings are though, versus plot.

Uuuuh, let's see. Yiffy's still a name I don't care to use until I eventually get tired of any of my art that do not show up in tags. This is fine and not as offensive as people are saying it is. Minors who want to cosplay this character don't have to call themselves this character. Not wanting to be one letter away from accidentally entering a very NSFW space of twitter is fine. Also the lot of people call Tavros, Tavvy.

I hope Kanaya's anger at being cucked is actually seen versus being implied through fan guesses and another character having to say she was.

Roxy needs to be more of an involved character. Where are they during all this?

Jane should have a mention of her relations to HIC being a main/bad influence on her current parallels to Alternian dictatorship.

The PRE-RETCON GROUP should have a fun one-shot update for fans who like them, since they oughta be around if they fell through the ghost hole. Most of them. The sprites that aren't Jasprosesprite should also show up too, since they're around.

Aaaaaand I think we should be extra careful going into the future when it comes to the alien rebellion. It's weird that a lot of the writers are white and toy around with concepts that can be a not so great parallel to racism. Currently not great timing rn! If the characters are going to remain aracial, but with them still doing not much to reference other non-white earth cultures or getting new hair cuts that have different textures (looking at you, Rose), we shant make the species with actual biological benefits a racism commentary. the xeno joke at least had a play on words. If any writer has happened upon this then a, please don't get mad at me again haha, and b, consider having more black writers or directional assistance on your squad. You know who they are.

In the future. I casually want the ghost from the Dream Bubbles to be shown since it's a big elephant in the room to not have a single one of them in the bg despite a load of them appearing from the ghost whole. Don't gotta give them speaking lines, especially the dancestors. I personally don't know if I want that right now.

I also hope in the future that we don't get HS content that is only going to revolve around HS2, if it's optional enough to engage with without being the only option. That's why PQ could ended a bit better for me, and why I hope it's not the main thing that's keeping Hiveswap on the backburner. I don't think it's farfetched to consider that multiple HS content could come from more than just one team; to relieve work load, but to also strengthen the idea that Homestuck can be a various amount of perspectives when it comes to the ideas fans have. The most dedicated fans leading the direction of the story is not just a handful of them. If anything, at least acknowledge the massive ass fan projects going on once in awhile to showcase the different avenues.

"Hey Cro, you sure have bitched about this alot. Do you have anything good to say? Why don't you stop reading if you hate it so much!"

Not every comment needs to be golden, love. Again, some of these decisions I eck at, but ultimately they're just words on a computer that I'm not holding anyone at gun point to do, and I'm curious to see how the story handles itself going forward, since again, it's just a fanwork. Sometimes I wish to not only see where the plot goes, but to see a writer's craft in action.

Good Things:

The Art. Again, please have more artists. It'd help so much, especially since the main one is also double timing for VE. That said, HS2 sticks out to me because of the way the color composition is used. Aside from hair and other tiny things, I haven't seen black used a lot, which makes colors pop. It's really nice to look at. I hope we get more sharper styles of character in the future, since it builds on nostalgia and makes the trolls feel much less like they're from Repiton, but I can deal with it for the most part. I also like that one panel where the omega kids and vriska are talking in the dark room, and based on where they're standing, the text aligns. Tasty as hell.

Meat and Candy still do hold neat logic in the direction the stories go. Candy, while it could be more tasteless in some areas, is chaotic and too much of a good thing. Meat is having something a little more straightforward, though I'm not sure quite yet where it's going. I always found Candy to be the part of the epilogue that actually entertained me the most, from how much of a surreal Robot Chicken skit at 3am it felt. Sometimes the jokes slapped real nice and made me wonder, going in, how is this monkeys paw gonna play out and, hopefully, make people laugh or smirk like they got a good roast at themself?

The slightly episodic feel of each update is what I wanted from the Epilogues, so it's interesting to see that play out when it comes to switching different perspectives.

The bonus updates get points for featuring characters that a lot of us have been wanting to see for ages.

Hopefully this isn't unpopular, but I think the tension of Yiffy's introduction was nicely composed and written (ignoring some of the things I wish for Jane). It leaves you with enough want to see what'll happen next time. You could also say that despite her growling and making a lot of noise, it's not actually bad writing: I see it as the audience being forced to see her in the same perspective that Jane see's her; a dog. Upon no context we're seeing the same thing while knowing things are obviously off, and once we see this character in a new environment where their personality shines, it'll have a bigger impact her own character being humanized. So I like that.

Okay, I think that's all I got. I improv wrote most of this; hopefully I won't be taken out of context since I don’t think that HS2′s writing should ultimately be a judgement of the writers as people, nor treated as if they should hold the same unhealthy work environment that Andrew forced himself to do when writing the og comic. And I'm still like, donating to the patreon and everything, lol.

[runs away]

edit: i was going to put the cw as another positive thing for the comic...but...yeaaaah.

#hs2 #beyond canon #homestuck 2 //#i ran out of room so i posted this here lol.

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seanfalco · 5 years ago

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I am loving you and Kat’s Punk!AU fics!! If it is okay, could you write Valdo x Aevryn’s wedding please? I bet it was quite a fun one!! 🙈 🤣

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Valdo Marx x oc (Aevryn Swift) Word Count: 2585 Rating: G Tag list: @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @nevadawolfe @magic-multicolored-miracle @coffee-and-stories @whatevermonkey a/n: Thank you so much for this request. I had a lot of thoughts about their wedding, so hopefully it wasn’t too all over the place. I might make a separate post with more in depth headcanons bc honestly there’s so much I didn’t end up writing lol;;;

“How many people are out there?” you asked in hushed awe, your eyes bulging as you glanced out at the sea of people seated across the garden’s lawn in white chairs, decorated in Valdo and Aevryn’s colours: black, emerald, and gold.

“Uhm… I’m not sure,” Aev muttered, somewhat distractedly, sparing an anxious glance at the crowd of guests, most of whom she didn’t even know, but who her parents and Valdo’s had insisted needed to be there, especially since they hadn’t gotten their way with the wedding ceremony -- wanting a traditional Catholic wedding despite their childrens’ lack of religious beliefs.

The sun shone cheerily down over Kensington Gardens while fluffy cheerful clouds peppered the expanse of pale blue sky and a pleasant breeze took the edge off the summer heat. Aevryn couldn’t have asked for a better day to marry her best friend and man of her dreams, so why was she suddenly so nervous? She’d been imagining this day for so long with nothing but excitement in her heart, but now as she paced under the shade of the ivy tunnel she was certain of nothing.

“Hey, how’s Aev doing?” Yennefer asked, her voice pitched low as she came up behind you, her violet eyes flicking over to the bride.

“Uhh… I think she’s starting to freak out a bit,” you whispered back, watching Aevryn continue to pace, her hands twisting anxiously in her skirts.

“Shit,” Yennefer muttered, heaving a sigh as she swept past you to attempt to calm her friend; her emerald skirt swishing around her legs. “Hey Aev, what’s going on? Is something the matter?”

“What if he changes his mind, Yen? What if something happens and-and, look I know I’m being ridiculous,” she cut in with a scowl, frustration plain on her face, “but I’m suddenly very scared. I mean, look at all those people! This suddenly feels so real and Gods I’m shaking now. What if he changes his mind?”

Yennefer threw you a look and you hurried over, placing a comforting hand on Aevryn’s back, patting her soothingly.

“Hey, come on now, we’re talking about Valdo Marx here, he is not going to change his mind about you, of all things,” Yen assured her and you nodded in agreement.

“Yennefer’s right, I mean, he’s loved you since you were kids. He’s loved you nearly his whole life. This is just… jitters. Stage fright,” you explained, hoping your words would help.

Aevryn nodded shakily, as if wanting to believe you both. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” she murmured, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. “I just wish… ugh, I wish I could talk to him...”

“Uhhh,” Yennefer hesitated. Luckily she didn’t have to think of an answer as Jaskier approached, the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes announcing his presence and Aevryn’s head snapped up, her expression warring between relief and worry.

“Jask!” she gasped, enveloping him in a tight hug from which he shot you a reassuring grin as he squeezed her before stepping back.

“You look stunning,” he exclaimed, taking in his friend’s creme and gold gown, complete with flower crown perched on her somewhat wrangled mess of hair.

“Thank you,” she murmured, waving the complement away impatiently. “How’s V? Is everything alright? Is he freaking out too?”

“Please reassure her,” Yennefer cut in, planting her hands on her hips. “She’s turning into a hot mess here and if she’ll listen to anyone, it’s you, Pankratz.”

“Actually, I came as a messenger,” Jaskier explained, his lips twisting somewhat in displeasure at the thought of being relegated to an errand boy, but the expression was quickly wiped from his face as you came to stand at his side, smiling up at him. “Valdo wanted you to read this.” He pulled a small folded sheet from his breast pocket to hand to Aev.

She took the paper and unfolded it, her sea green eyes quickly traveling over Valdo’s neat scrawl before a smile tugged at her lips which she quickly covered with her hand.

“What does it say?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. The other two looked just as inquisitive, though they were trying hard not to show it.

“Oh, you know V. He’s waxing poetic, as usual, but he’s excited to see me,” she murmured, cheeks flushing slightly. “He said he can’t wait to marry me. That he’s been waiting all his life for this day. Stupid romantic idiot,” she muttered fondly, folding the paper up and slipping it into her bodice, next to her heart. “Jask, can you give him a reply for me?”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes but nodded. “I guess,” he sighed, ruining it with a grin. “Is it not enough that I was coerced into being Valdo’s Best Man? Oww!” he yelped as Aevryn punched his arm.

“Jaskier,” she warned, proceeding to jab her finger in his face. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you doing that for him?” she exclaimed, quickly penning a response to her fiance’s letter. “I know you would have rather been my Man of Honour, but V just doesn’t have a lot of close friends…”

“I know, I know,” he relented. “You know I’d do anything for you, Aev. And Valdo’s not... as bad as he used to be,” he admitted begrudgingly under his breath.

“I know,” she replied, smiling softly as she handed her paper to Jaskier to deliver. “Thank you Jask.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he quipped, “and don’t worry, everything’s gunna be perfect, you’ll see!” Flashing his most charming smile at the three of you he quickly turned to hurry back to where the groom and Geralt were gathered.

You turned back to the bride to find her rereading the scrap of paper from her husband to be, smiling softly though her lips trembled slightly with emotion.

—

The look on Valdo’s face as Aevryn’s father walked with her down the aisle was most definitely the highlight of the ceremony. You’d never seen Valdo look so enraptured -- his emerald eyes misting over as he shook with silent sobs. Completely overcome with emotion, his curls bounced slightly and a wide grin broke over his face as Aev stopped in front of him, taking his hand and looking equally as emotional; a single tear rolling down her cheek which he quickly wiped away.

The second most memorable moment was the kiss -- Valdo dipping Aev low without hesitation as she kissed him back just as enthusiastically to the deafening applause and cries from the crowd; your own voice joining the celebration as you caught Jaskier’s eye across the aisle. He looked so happy for his friend that it made your own heart ache with joy, honoured to have been part of their day.

Hands twined tightly together Aevryn and Valdo led the crowd to the reception area, not a far walk away; tables and chairs set up under several tall airy tents strung with hundreds of flickering fairy lights. The dining tables were set with the finest place settings in gold and emerald, and elegant centerpieces of geometric terrariums held beautiful arrangements of succulents. The sight was breathtaking and you joined the couple at the head table, seated next to Jaskier.

—

“You ready for our first dance, love?” Valdo asked, leaning in close to whisper in Aevryn’s ear and she blanched slightly as her eyes swept over the crowd of attendants, which had only seemed to grow after the reception had begun. She caught sight of several influential people and a handful of celebrities and other musicians -- no doubt signed to her father’s and father-in-law’s music label, and swallowed slowly.

“I suppose,” she murmured and Valdo noticed her trepidation.

“Don’t think about them. Just keep your eyes on me, okay?” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her jaw. “Besides, by the time we begin you’ll only have eyes for me anyway.” The smirk he directed her had her tilting her head curiously.

“What are you planning?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him fondly; excitement radiating off her.

“You’ll just have to see,” he replied, pausing to glance out at the guests that were clinking enthusiastically on their glasses, his smirk only growing before he captured her lips with his, giving the audience what they wanted.

Soon Aev was positioned in the seat of honour, unable to completely banish her radiant smile as Valdo took the small raised stage, slinging his guitar over his dark emerald tux while Vicious Mockery joined him.

“Before we begin our first dance, I decided I wanted to set the mood by serenading my beautiful wife,” Valdo explained into the microphone to the excited murmur of the guests, though his emerald eyes never left Aevryn. “To back me up are her closest friends, the band, Vicious Mockery. Aev, this one’s for you. Always and forever.”

Turning away from the microphone Valdo looked to Jaskier. “Thank you,” he murmured softly and Jaskier nodded, a sincere grin flashing across his face before they began playing, Valdo’s eyes once more seeking out his wife. As he began to sing for her she began to cry, tears slipping down her face, one hand coming up to clutch at her throat as the other covered her mouth until Valdo jumped down to join her for their dance, his arms circling her and pulling her close; fitting together like two matching puzzle pieces.

True to his words she didn’t even notice the eyes of their guests on them as they slowly circled the floor, her forehead pressed to his as he murmured affirmations of his love for her; more couples joining them on the dancefloor as the song transitioned.

The night wound on and the moon rose overhead, joined by the twinkling of stars in the clear inky expanse above while the Swift-Marx party raged on, certainly not slowing anytime soon. Aevryn danced with more people than she could count -- sharing a meaningful moment with her own father and then Valdo’s (whom she’d known since childhood and who already felt like a second father to her anyway), before Jaskier cut in, twirling her around the floor, a giant grin on his face.

“Did you ever think in a million years you’d be here?” Jask asked, leaning in conspiratorially, while across the floor from them Valdo was dancing with [Y/N], making pleasant small talk.

“What do you mean? Partying it up at Kensington Palace? No,” Aev replied with laughter, her eyes flashing mischievously, knowing what he meant.

“No, I meant, married to Valdo Marx,” Jaskier clarified, rolling his eyes.

“No. I mean, at one point I did, but then I didn’t. But then I hoped...” She shook her head, her smile faltering. “Honestly Jask, this feels all too good to be true, and I’m half expecting tomorrow to wake up and it’s been nothing but a dream.” Her voice cracked slightly and Jaskier sobered.

“It’s not a dream, Aev,” he assured her. “I meant what I said in my toast. You deserve more than anything to be happy, even if it’s with him. And I’m glad for you.” He paused, glancing over at Valdo, “You know how much I hate to admit it, but Valdo’s really… come a long way, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he really has,” Aevryn replied proudly, her eyes finding her husband. Her husband. The words still seemed surreal. “He’s a good man. He really is, even if he’s not your favourite person in the world, and that’s fine, because he’s mine.”

—

Aevryn collapsed into her chair next to Valdo, his arm instinctively snaking around her waist as she leaned against him, reaching for her champagne glass, downing the rest in one swig. They’d been dancing with their friends in between drinks and had both ended up taking the stage to sing a song together, their voices mixing and harmonizing as if there were no better duo in the world. After the rush of adrenaline both were starting to feel exhaustion beginning to creep in, and Valdo pulled Aev into his lap. She nuzzled against him, smiling as she fiddled with his half unbuttoned dress shirt; his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, after he’d shed his tuxedo jacket.

“How you fairing, love? Getting tired?” He asked, dipping his face to catch her eye; his sweat dampened curls sticking to his forehead.

“A little,” Aev admitted, her fingers tracing his jawline as she gazed up at him. “Actually, I’m getting a little hungry.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he replied, glancing over at the table of food before frowning. “You wanna get out of here for a bit?”

“What are you talking about?” Aevryn exclaimed, snorting a laugh. “This is supposed to be our party, and there’s food right over there.”

“Yeah, so?” he countered cheekily, cocking an eyebrow. “No one’ll notice if we step out for a little while.”

“I think it might be the opposite,” Aev argued, but excitement filled her at the idea. “Y’know I think I saw a pizza place across the street from Hyde Park.”

“Now you’re talking, Swift,” he purred, “or perhaps I should say Swift-Marx,” he added thoughtfully, stroking his goatee. “My clever wife.”

“I like it when you call me that,” Aevryn said, grinning against his lips as she kissed him.

Sure enough, no one seemed to notice the bride and groom slipping away and running off hand in hand down the trail to the park entrance.

——

“Oh my Gods, this pizza is better than sex,” Aevryn groaned, taking another bite as Valdo leaned across the booth, his green eyes flashing.

The other patrons of the small restaurant had given them a few strange looks, as they’d entered, which turned into amusement as they realized the couple was obviously dressed for a wedding -- Aevryn’s poofy skirt filling the booth comically.

“Oh really?” he asked, eyebrow cocking jauntily. “Is that a challenge, dove?”

“Maybe,” she smirked, pulling his deep green tuxedo jacket tighter around herself. “You wanna prove me wrong?” Her voice dropped to a husky suggestive tone that sent a shiver racing through him, and in that moment Valdo wanted nothing more than to hoist his wife over his shoulder and cut out on the rest of their reception to take her back to their hotel room for the night (though he knew he couldn’t do that, at least without bringing his parents’ wrath down on his head).

“Oh, believe me you little minx, I will most definitely be proving you wrong, soon enough,” he drawled, running his fingertip over the back of her hand, resting on the table.

Aevryn set down her half finished piece and took Valdo’s hand in hers. “I love you. So much,” she whispered suddenly. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky. You know that, right?” Her voice shook slightly, as if she needed to get the words out.

A smile stole across Valdo’s face, his heart filled with fierce affection. “Of course I know that,” he murmured in return, “ I love you too Aevryn Swift-Marx. I’ll love you til the day I die.”

“Good. Because all I want is to spend my life with my best friend, making all the best memories.”

“And so you shall, my love, so you shall.”

—

Little did they know that through the window one of the photographers from the reception had followed them, capturing this hidden little candid moment; the pictures of which would become quite popular over the next few days with their fans.

#punk!au #valdryn #punk!valdo #punk!aevryn #punk!jaskier #punk!yennefer #punk!jaskier x reader #punk!valdo x punk!aevryn #reader request #my writing

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dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade · 5 years ago

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Heartbreaker - Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Greta Van Fleet, nor their songs. This series (as well as everything else I write and is a fanfiction) is pure fiction. I have not been alive in the 1960s, and most of the details have been researched beforehand. Also, the GIFs and photos I use throughout this series are NOT mine, they are just images I have downloaded from Tumblr. If you are the owner, please DM me, I would be more than happy to give credit. Warnings: language, smoking Word count: 1.4K + A/N: Finally part 1 yay!!! I honestly can’t wait to just upload the rest of the story, I get urges like this from time to time lol. Feedback is welcomed, as well as critiques and opinions!! Enjoy! To be added to the taglist, DM me or send an ask.

Jake Kiszka x (female) Reader

Heartbreaker Masterpost // Fanfiction Masterpost

“Take notes on every single thing they say or do, insist on your unanswered questions. No losing control, and no unprofessional behavior. After all, you go there under our magazine’s name. Do you understand?” your boss spoke to you, just moments before stepping backstage.

“Yes, I do. Thank you again for the opportunity, sir!” you spoke back as you took one last drag out of your cigarette and put it out. You could feel the slight tingle down your throat caused by the smoke. You actually quitted smoking one year ago, but you couldn’t stop from smoking a cigarette every once and again when you were nervous.

“Friendly advice, don’t fucking ruin our name by doing something stupid,” he spoke one last time before he disappeared in the dark.

You looked as his shadow became invisible and took in a deep breath. You could hear the sound of a drum solo onstage, that announced that the show was nearly over, so you had to get backstage as soon as possible.

You opened the door only to be greeted by a guard, so you showed him your permit and continued your way. You were so nervous, you didn’t know what to expect, how to introduce yourself, you didn’t even know if someone has told them beforehand that you were going to come. What if they didn’t want to tell you anything?

You could feel your heart pumping and blood flowing in the veins on your neck as your ears started hearing louder and louder screams from the fans in the public, as the band said their goodbyes. You finally arrived to the room the band was expected to come right after the show was over. You had absolutely no idea how these people were going to be and this- being on unknown territory- made you nervous.

You were snapped out of your thoughts and worries by the loud sound of a door hitting the wall, and men’s voices talking and laughing. Your eyes moved almost instantly to the group of four men that just walked in. Their eyes stopped on you as well. You felt like you were caught in a staring contest, and decided to break the awkward silence you were in.

“Hello, I am Y/F/N, a reporter for-“

“You’re from the new music magazine, aren’t you?” one of the guys in the front spoke. He had long brown hair, a few strands stuck on his face from all the sweat. He was wearing a black jacket with gold detailing, leaving his chest bare underneath.

“Yes, that’s me,” you forced an awkward smile.

“Cool, but as for me, I am tired and I want to take the party elsewhere,” another one spoke. He was about the same height of the first one, but this one gave off a Bob Dylan vibe with his haircut.

You had to admit, they were a pretty interesting-looking group and you were sure they had quite some stories to tell you.

“Definitely. I don’t want to stay around here for too long,” the first one, in the jacket, answered. “I’m Jake Kiszka, guitarist,” he introduced himself.

“I am Josh Kiszka, I play the vocals,” the Dylan-ish one spoke. You nodded, and tried to match the face to the name.

You turned to the other two, who were silently waiting for their moment.

A tall man stepped forward, he had kind of frizzy hair, and his arms’ muscles gave away the fact that he was a drummer. Probably he has been drumming since a really young age, but you didn’t know yet if that was true or not. “I am Daniel, Wagner.”

“Are you the drummer?” you asked the tall, dark-haired man that introduced himself as Daniel Wagner.

“Oh! The girl has done her homework!” spoke the fourth man, the one still left to introduce himself. “In fact, he really is. But more importantly, I am Sam Kiszka, and I am the bassist.”

You all shook hands. “So, if not here, where do you want to go and talk?” you asked as you saw them on the couch. You were feeling slightly intimidated, but you were sent with a job.

“Today we’re kicking off the tour, so I say we find a nice local or something nearby. I am starving. You’re free to join us if you’d like,” Josh, the shortest Kiszka, with the fluffy hair, spoke. You agreed almost instantly.

You took one last look at the group of four men. Their outfits were fitting them like a glove and you had to admit to yourself that they were really good looking. The details in their stage outfits was otherworldly. There hasn’t been anyone quite like that before. You could tell they had a bright road ahead of themselves.

The singer, Josh, was wearing a black vest as well, with the similar gold details as the guitarist. Josh also wore a lot of necklaces, that tangled together on his bare chest, while he had a couple of feathers hanging from his hair and down his shoulders.

While the vocalist and the guitarist matched their outfits, the bassist was wearing red bell bottoms and a halfway-unbuttoned shirt with oriental design. Now, the interesting thing about the bassist, was that he was barefoot. He noticed that you were intrigued by this unusual lack of shoes, but didn’t say anything.

The drummer also had an unique outfit- he was wearing a vest with floral motifs and black leather pants.

Even though their stage looks were quite unusual, you had a feeling that they were going to start a music revolution that would lead the way into the 70s.

You noted down all the details you remembered about their outfits, as they left one by one and got changed into a fresh set of clothes. They weren’t as extra as before, but they were still giving off the same vibe as before.

“Let me guess, why am I not wearing shoes, right?” Sam asked as he sat down next to you and extended his arm on the upper part of the couch, behind you. You just nodded, a little bit taken aback by his forwardness. “Because I like to feel connected to the Earth,” he said as you watched him closely, almost caught in a trance, studying the fine detailing of his face. “Come on, note it down.”

You did as you were told and followed Josh, since he was already leaving the room. The four men lead the way down the dark streets of the city, looking for a welcoming local on that chilly night. You were walking behind them, thinking of the way you should behave around them.

They finally stopped in front of a local that gave away light out of its windows. It seemed cozy inside, so the boys walked in and asked for a table for five.

“So, how will you travel on this tour?” asked Sam once you all sat down.

“My boss said that with you, with your bus, right?” you answered his question with another question, unsure. You thought all of it has been planned in advance and that the band has been informed.

“That’s going to be fun,” Sam spoke again as he fixed you with his eyes. Your cheeks heated up, not being exactly sure of what was going on.

“If the lady’s going with us, you behave,” Josh spoke as if he was their dad. Maybe he was the oldest, who knows.

“Do you smoke?” Jake asked as he put a cigar between his lips and light it up. He puffed the smoke and handed you his packet as you nodded. His arm extended and flicked open the metal lighter in his hand and lit up the cigar in your mouth.

You took a deep drag out of it and felt the tingle down your throat and let the smoke out.

“The lady’s smoking!” Daniel looked at you, as if he’s never seen a woman smoking.

“So, shall we get started?” you asked as you put your clipboard on the table, after the waiter took your orders. An affirmative murmur was heard so you continued. “How was the band formed?”

“We’re blood brothers,” Jake pointed at himself, Josh and Sam, “and he is our brother from other mother,” he continued, pointing at the dark haired drummer, who smiled at his words. You smiled as well, noticing the love that was at the roots of this band.

“Can’t we do this tomorrow? I am tired,” Jake asked as he looked at you and slid a hand underneath the table that rested on your knee. You and Jake had a short exchange of looks that went by unnoticed by the other boys.

The three of them agreed. “How about we get to know each other better?” suggested Josh as you put the clipboard away.

Tags: @myownparadise96, @jeordinevankiszka, @littlegeekwonder, @gretavanyeeeeet, @umbriellethenightfall, @songbirdkisses, @freeeshavacadoo, @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings, @stevie-baby, @satans-helper, @bigthighsandstupidguys, @leterscam, @valleyd0ll, @mountainofthesunn, @retrodrummers

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #fanfiction #writing #heartbreaker #part 1 #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #danny wagner #series

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deanie1987 · 5 years ago

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Mostly positive thoughts about Shameless 10x11 Location, Location, Location

This wasn’t my favorite episode of the season, but I really enjoyed it. As always, I wish we could have gotten a little bit more in the way of emotional scenes/real in depth dialogue, but clearly this is not the show for that anymore. But I’m going to be positive and there was a lot to like in this episode:

The general nonchalance and irritation with which both Ian and Mickey registered the fact that Terry was outside of the house screaming his head off. Then the fact that Mickey told him that he was irritating everyone LOL.

This episode was full of great line readings and one of my favorites was the way that Mickey said “I DEFINITELY love one.”

I thought Terry’s line “it does if it falls on a dick” was kind of funny. I’m not proud of myself.

I loved how Ian was trying to get Lip to talk about the move to Milwaukee and then trying to get Lip to talk to Tami about it as well. He mentioned it a couple of times and was trying to be supportive of the move. Either the self-help books he read in prison really helped or that boy has been in therapy and didn’t tell anyone about it.

Along those lines, I appreciated that Ian seemed a bit concerned about Lip and the move. He was clearly thinking about it and distractedly playing with his ring right after Lip left. It reminded me of when he was in prison and worried about Lip, Tami and the baby and the way he looked last week when Lip made his announcement. I don’t know if Cam does this on purpose, but it seems like he has different mannerisms or facial expressions for different characters. The way he smiles at Mickey or the softness of tone he uses for Mickey, for example, was different than the softness he used for Monica.

I loved seeing Mickey at home in the Gallagher kitchen and interacting with the various Gallaghers. It has been one of the things that I’ve wanted most this season and I’m trying hard (and pretty much failing) not to be bitter that it took until the second to the last episode of the season. The promo for next week and the thought of season 11 helps though.

Another great line reading with Ian’s “what is happening?” and literally every single facial expression that he had during all of the wedding vendor scenes. From the eye-rolls to the stunned expression to the warning glances to various shop clerks and finally trying to limp after Mickey on the way to the caterers and his increasingly exasperated YESes as Mickey barked out questions about the infamous chairs.

I liked Sandy in this episode. I liked her being on Mickey’s side and I like her offense at Ian’s seeming indifference and incompetence. She and Noel play off each other well. I loved the line readings of “I can see why you called me” and Mickey’s sincere “thank you.” My favorite thing, however, is the disdain that she and Ian seem to have for one another. When Mickey asked about Ian’s ring, the way that Ian kept glancing guiltily at Sandy as he answered made me laugh. He’s like, “not only do I have to deal with Mickey but now this judgmental bitch too.” LMAO!

As much as the groomzilla stuff was played for laughs, I loved that Mickey took all of it extremely seriously. He has opinions about stuff, he’s clearly done his research and he wants the best for his big day. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he has thought about his wedding day with Ian before. He knows what song he wants, he can envision how it looks and I love that he is focusing on the “atmospheric” stuff like candles, music, flowers, etc., rather than the more practical stuff like food and drinks. Mickey is an artist after all.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about Mickey as Groomzilla when we first saw the preview but I totally get it now, and as per usual, Noel played every between the lines note perfectly. Mickey seemed unbothered by Terry after their altercation but his increasing stress level and emotion was palpable. After everything it took to get himself and Ian to this point, obstacles keep getting thrown in his way and by the time they’re sitting at the Alibi he is overwhelmed and anxious. Noel conveyed both the humor of the situation (I cracked up everytime Mickey threw down his pen in annoyance and every time that he shot Ian an exasperated look). But he also conveyed the anguish that Mickey must have felt as he tried to do something meaningful and joyous and NORMAL. People in love plan wedding everyday, why can’t Mickey? Why does everything have to suck?

And I appreciate the patience that Ian had with him and the way that it slowly dawned on him that Mickey really did care about all of the wedding stuff AND that he was more affected by his dad than he was willing to admit. And I liked that he was willing to indulge Mickey on his plans but also gently remind him of why they were there. Because they’re Mickey and Ian.

I will admit that I am not a Bon Jovi fan and I often run my car off the road trying to turn the radio station should Living on a Prayer or Dead or Alive come on. I also don’t reeealllly believe that of all of the hair band power ballads that Mickey could choose from he would pick a Bon Jovi song. BUT I will admit that the lyrics do fit and the scene itself was sweet. The singer was terrible but that somehow made it better. As cute as Ian’s gesture was, I was still a little underwhelmed. Maybe it’s just that seeing Ian so much more expressive toward Mickey is still new to me and I notice it more, but I sort of felt that Noel underplayed this scene just like the proposal. Or at least the version that made it air. I wanted to feel more from this scene than I did. Is it just me? I think it might just be me. And it makes me a little nervous for next week because I really want tears and heartfelt vows and not misdirected emotion and 100% shenanigans.

As for everyone else, Liam was better this week. I’m so glad that the show remembered that he is only a ten year old kid, who misses his siblings and his father. I don’t know if the actors who played Debbie and Carl were better at that age or if it was the writing or a combination of both, but I still don’t feel for Liam the way that I felt for them for whatever reason and I wish I did.

I didn’t mind that Lip, Ian and Mickey let him ride the L to find Frank on his own because Debbie was running a daycare at that age, Ian was 4 years away from having sex with his boss and god knows the kind of stuff that Lip and Fiona were dealing with at that age. They shield him and encourage him where they can but he’s one of Frank Gallagher’s kids and in their view, he should be able to ride the L by himself to the nice side of Chicago without holding anybody’s hand. The fact that Lip told him to check in once he got there is probably more than any of the other kids got at that age.

Lip getting cold feet makes perfect sense to me as did all of the reasons he gave Tami. Lip doesn’t ever want to leave the Southside of Chicago. That has been hammered into our brains since season 1. He says he does and I think a part of him WANTS to want to leave, but he doesn’t really. He has always liked being a big fish in a little pond and he has always liked succeeding without having to make an effort. That’s who he is and his story with Tami could really be interesting, because for the first time, he has a real reason to try to work things out with a woman who is “forcing” him to better himself. And he has a reason beyond himself to want to do it. It is an organic and interesting dynamic and I hope it goes into season 11. I also see Tami’s side as well. I like her and I like her with Lip and I think that the actress is good enough to go toe to toe with JAW. All of this makes me very happy.

Frank’s screen time continues to be ridiculous. How many times did we need to see Frank walking nervously down the hallway looking for a ghost. I didn’t even hate his scenes this episode but there were soooo many of them in a time when that time could be spent elsewhere.

I’m glad Carl is trying to do good, but I don’t care. Debbie looks good in that tux, but again, I don’t care. Kev’s line reading of “do you even lift, bro” was funny. Vee looked incredible doing her plank on the keg. But...you guessed it...I don’t care.

The promo for next week looks INCREDIBLE. I have a tiny bit of hope that outside of Lip, the majority of the storyline will be the Gallaghers trying to white trash the shit out of this wedding and I hope that everyone will be involved. There is a lot of plot to move on that score and there are some things that I really, really want to see happen in the next episode (which I will probably post about later), so I’m trying to keep my expectations low.

#Shameless 10x11

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randombtsprincessa · 6 years ago

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AGL

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Genre: Smut

Summary: Your Birthday is made when you meet your Idol on the flight home.

Warning: Airplane Sex, Mile High, Hella Unrealistic Sex (Like really, this is a reach, even for me), Unprotected sex.

A/N: PLEASE TAKE THE UNREALISTIC WARNING SERIOUSLY. I doubt Taehyung would be doing this. And even if he’s into it, my best friend wouldn’t. LOL, unless she was actually in the scenario of the fic. Moving on!

Your best friend’s hug lasted a full two minutes, tight and warm as she bade you well at the departures of the airport terminal.

“Have fun, give my best to your mom and come back quick! I’ll miss you!” She murmured in your ear and you almost, almost stopped the eye roll.

“I’m only going for the week. You’re acting like it’s a year or something.” You said, pulling away and placing your hands firmly on her shoulders. “You’re going to be fine. You’re probably going to sit at that laptop and forget the world exists in a few hours.” You said, remembering the last time your best friend had undergone a writing period to meet a deadline.

Yeah, she was not going to come out of her shell for a good long while and you could only hope she’d remember to take care of her general self until at least you could come back.

“I’m not that bad.” She defended immediately, just as they announced the boarding for your flight to your home country.

You and your best friend both sighed, taking one last look at each other with a wry smile.

“I’ll see you in a week. You better be alive and not starving till then.” You warned, spinning the handle of your suitcase and your best friend nodded along.

“Aye aye captain,” she saluted and with one last hug, you were off, brisk steps carrying you deeper into the airport.

You went through all the preliminary checks without much excitement. Your tickets were handed to you at the counter, baggage was checked in and your carry –in was approved without a hassled and then you were on the plane, a magazine open in your tray while you sent various texts to your best friend and other associates you were supposed to see back home.

Your eyes skimmed over the politics section of the magazine Asiana had provided and skipped to the entertainment. Unsurprisingly, the first page was splattered with a picture of your seven favorite men, the Palisade advertisement snagging the main talk of the biz.

You gave a quick glance towards Jimin, remembering your best friend’s cry of anguish as he once again distracted her from whatever hero she was agonizing over and then travelled over Yoongi, Jungkook, Hoseok, Namjoon and Jin to Taehyung, looking sinful and delectable as always in a charcoal suit and light hair.

You gave a cursory look towards the car as well but didn’t linger on that much. As good as you and your friend were doing, none of you were interested in buying another car, your old ones doing the job satisfactorily enough.

The lights dimmed before the announcement for the take off came.

Dutifully, raising the tray and folding the magazine on your lap you looked out of the window and watched as the pilot cruised and then took off, the whirr of the wheels pulling up indicating the flight attendants to start with their safety instructions.

You gazed at the manuals, dissociating already as your fingers were already fumbling with the wires of your earphones as your plugged them into your phone, already in airplane mode – you smiled, thinking about Airplane Part 2’s Japanese version and how adorable Hobi’s slurred airplane mode sounded.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N?” You looked up to see an airhostess smiling down at you and nodded to show you were listening. She indicated the still empty seat next to me.

“This is sort of unorthodox but the seat next to you has been booked by a man who wishes to be sat next to his mother. She’s in first class so he’s willing to exchange your seats with her so he can have both these adjoining seats. Would you like to change the seats?”

For a second you just processed what she said. First class…? Who refuses that?

“Of course, thank you,” you mumbled and she nodded, a beam stuck to her face.

“Please, if you’d follow me,” she said and you stood up, grabbing your bag and following her to the plusher, high end hall of the first class.

“Right through there,” she pointed forward and you walked through the longer partitions between the seats till you reached an empty one, the cubicle next to yours occupied by a single man.

You vaguely noticed baggy pants flumping out while the silhouette of the crisp white shirt made you wonder if your next seat buddy had dressed up in a hurry or just thought it was hippie airport fashion time.

Not that you minded…after all, you were a Taehyung Stan.

Any respectable Kim Taehyung fan knew that it was a crime to judge anyone about how they dressed themselves, especially your idol himself either dressed as if he was going to walk the red carpet or a modeling ramp at 3 AM or like he’d just rolled out of bed and onto the floor, putting on whatever he found in the laundry hamper and did a photo shoot.

You smirked to yourself as you opened up the magazine again. Your best friend had the habit of commenting that nobody looked beyond Taehyung’s chin at those photo dos.

You almost always agreed. After all, Taehyung’s face was one even God cried over.

You turned the page again, reading about the endorsement deal when you caught the man beside you looking over at you. You squirmed, not wanting to look at him directly in case he took it as invitation for conversation but a small peek out the corner of your eyes told you there was nothing on his face that you could tell apart. He had on a black face mask, huge black sunglasses and a large beret covered almost whatever was left of his face.

He soon looked to the front and you returned your eyes to your lap, pulling out your earphones again.

You rested your head back, earphones in, going through the recommended lists of your playlist, the soothing strings of the classical piece almost lulling you to sleep and you were thankful. You never did entirely great on long plane rides. You got bored easily, always remained anxious about rough turbulence blowing you down and felt uncomfortable with all the crowding when that happened.

And on such a long flight over the wintery cold clouds, you were just bound to get antsy. You planned to spend most of it asleep, especially now that you were in much better comfort.

Your eyes, which were trained outside the window, watching the darkening clouds and slanting rays of the setting sun, you felt your partner shift, jolting the rack of accessories in front of him by accident, causing them to fall out and you jumped back to consciousness, sitting up and turning your head to stare at the man blearily who was adjusting his seat, side turned away from you. He let out a low grunt before bending forward, placing the rack back on its feet.

He looked over his shoulder, glasses reflecting your half dazed face and you wondered if he smiled sheepishly or something because he ducked his head in an apologetic bow.

“I’m sorry, not used to…um, haven’t been on these chairs for a time.” He said in broken English.

Chairs…?

You blinked, realizing the man was most probably Korean.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it.” You said back, in Hangul and watched in pale amusement as the man’s shoulders sagged dramatically.

“Ash…Korean?” he asked, his voice deepening with the use of his native tongue but you just shrugged.

“Nope, just living there,” You mumbled, leaning your head back again.

“Oh, I am Korean.” He said sheepishly and you had to smile at the contrite, childlike tenor of the man.

“I can tell.” You grinned, making him laugh.

There was something so familiar about the man. You were sure you didn’t know him from Adam. Besides, if you knew him he would strike a conversation while this man just seemed overly nervous in his situation and seemed a conversation partner to distract him. You could sympathize but just the way he sat and moved and his voice…

“Taehyung?” You blurted out even before a full course of thought could pass your head and you almost immediately wanted to bang your head against the window.

If God was kind he would let you get sucked out of the aircraft itself but hey, you didn’t think he would be very partial to helping you out at that moment.

For his part, the stranger had frozen, his shades reflecting your stupefied expression.

Before you could even stammer out an apology at your rudeness, he spoke, “You know?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You eyes flew wide open, almost popping out, as your sheepish seat buddy raised a gloved hand up to his eyes and pulled the huge sunglasses off.

Too familiar soft brown eyes met yours, deep and dark. Even though his hat still hid most of his lids but you knew that if you lifted it off, you’d be met with a set of mono lidded and double lidded eyes.

Never mind you’d probably die of utter shame first.

You had just caught Kim Taehyung – Kim Gosh Darn Apple Tart Taehyung – off all people in a general plane and he was your seat partner.

This day could not be better – but that depended if your hair looked alright.

You painfully swallowed these disjointed thoughts when you noticed him speaking but it took a moment for his words to register.

“Are you alright? You look like you’re going to panic. Please don’t panic,” he said. His voice was still low and you could only guess it was to keep others from recognizing it.

“I’m fine.” You choked out, your voice coming out mousy and squeaky at best.

Kim Taehyung watched you with those pondering eyes for a second before nodding.

“I’m sorry; I just don’t really want to deal with a hoard of people in my face. I’m on vacation and it’s off duty season so I’m hoping to keep the fan service to a minimum.” He sent you a wink before pushing the glasses on again and turning to face front again.

You kept staring at him for a good ten seconds before even you turned to look forward, the song in your ear numbing down to static as you kept thinking about your chances.

Kim Taehyung was in the flight you were in. Kim Taehyung was in your aisle. Kim Taehyung was sitting right fucking next to you.

You were sure you weren’t asthmatic, but you were definitely seeing signs. If you couldn’t melt right through the metal tube, you would just have to endure your short breathiness in a ten hour flight. Yeah, easy- just wait till you told your best friend. She would die –

“So where you headed?”

Of course, Kim Taehyung couldn’t pass a ten hour flight without making friends and you just happened to be sitting right next to him.

You turned your head to look at the completely hidden man and squeaked out, “My home country, I have some work and I wanted to see my family.” you said.

He nodded. “That’s nice. Seeing family,” He said.

For a second it was silent before – “You don’t see yours a lot, do you?” you asked.

Please, god had to kill you now.

Probably not, God worked a little too close with your best friend and they both loved to torture you. You just had to contain the embarrassment.

Taehyung didn’t seem to mind.

“No, I don’t. So, you’re ARMY?” he asked; good naturedly, hands folded primly in his lap.

“Yeah, five years now,” you said, a tinge of pride coating your voice and you smiled.

“Wow, that’s dedicated. Plus another few years now that we’ve renewed our contract,” He said, before pausing.

He proceeded to reach up and removing the beret, his momentarily natural hair flumping out. Pulling off the sunglasses, he pushed the face mask, below his chin after a careful sweep of his surroundings.

“I hope you don’t mind. I was suffocating in that.” He mumbled, carefully placing the beret on the fold up tray.

How could you possible mind? You just got to see him in all his bare face glory. You took a moment to just soak him in. Your favorite shaped eyes were out, sleek nose and tops of his cheeks shining in the overhead lights and his thin lips look just barely chapped. There was a smattering of stubble spreading across his jaw line and you could spy a small reddening patch higher up near his cheekbones.

Clearly, there was a V live on the horizon in which he proudly showcased his new ‘guest’.

He was fucking gorgeous. You wanted to cry.

“So, vacation,” you prodded, a surge of energy flowing through you, willing you to keep the conversation flowing and it seemed that Taehyung picked up on it because he was turning towards you, a beaming rectangle smile on his face as he embraced the chance of making a new friend.

“Yes, we’re going to have to go back to work soon, but PD said we earned it so here I am. I’m going to meet up with the others soon.” He said.

You noticed he was careful about keeping the locations to himself but then again, your twitter would soon blow up anyway.

“What about you? What work are you doing?” he asked and you began to explain your job, which didn’t seem as interesting as dancing and singing and recording and travelling but the way Taehyung leaned in, an arm dangling in between the gap of the cubicles as he hung off your words…you could’ve been the President of United States for all he cared.

“Seems like you work hard,” he noted.

“I have to, if I don’t, I won’t get to buy your albums,” you joked and he grinned.

“Your best friend is an ARMY as well?” he asked.

You nodded, making sure to put in a good word for her with Jimin. Taehyung playfully chuckled at that.

“Your house must get crazy with the two of you.” he commented as he leant further in, almost clambering onto the floor in front of your chair.

“It does, occasionally,” you admitted.

“So, who’s your bias?” he asked, eyebrows wriggling.

You laughed. If he thought you were giving that away, he was insane.

“Oh come on, I’ll find out one way or another.” He said and you coughed.

“I’d like to see you try.” You teased back, winking.

Taehyung smiled, his gaze fixed on yours for a second longer as he reached out and placed a finger just under your eye. You froze, wondering if he was tracing your dark circles or something, watching him closely as he focused on the spot, eyes flickering over your eyes once before he pulled the finger away.

“You had an eyelash,” he explained, placing it in your palm. You shrugged, although your deeper recesses hopelessly made the wish anyhow. You didn’t look up again to see Taehyung’s gaze darkening as he watched you closely.

Your talks soon lulled after that. You recognized that you couldn’t really keep a celebrity involved even though Taehyung seemed happy to lend you all his attention and he soon began to play a game on his tablet that engrossed him until the lights began to dim, both outside and inside as passengers started to go to sleep.

You put away your phone to charge in the thankfully present socket near the base of the chair and leant back, your back at a comfortable angle. You placed your blanket over you, seeing Taehyung look over at you curiously and you whispered a goodnight at him. As your eyes drooped, you noticed Taehyung dimming his own light.

You thought you felt an arm land gently on your cheek for a second but it must’ve been imagination.

It was probably near midnight that you felt the foreign weight across your chest.

Your eyelids fluttered, consciousness licking at the edge of your mind, prodding you to wakefulness to investigate the warmth that had settled near your clavicle. Blinking awake, you tried to raise your hands to brush at the deposition at the corners of your eyes when you felt your movement being restricted.

You glanced around yourself, feeling dazed as you scrambled to get your bearings back.

Oh right, I’m on a plane. I’m going home for business and family.

You glanced down at the arm that had fallen around your shoulder, following the sturdy limb to the man who had thought it was ok to use you as a teddy bear in his sleep.

Of course, I was sat next to KIM TAEHYUNG, MY IDOL, and THE LOVE OF MY LIFE…

Taehyung it seemed was already awake, having been shaken to consciousness with the way you kept squirming and he was staring at you with those dark, innocent eyes. He moved his quickly drooping gaze over your face before dipping to your lips.

“You’re like, really pretty, you know?” he whispered.

You could only muster a disbelieving snort in your sleepy haze but he was quick to protest.

“You are…you’re very exotic looking.” He explained before his arm was tightening, bringing you quickly in.

Your mind was already moving in hyper drive and you almost didn’t realize that he had planted his sleek lips across yours, tongue swiping across your bottom petal to get a taste.

You felt your heart jump, thudding blood through your veins as you stared at him with deer in headlight eyes.

Taehyung groaned at that, deep and frustrated. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep, I’m sure you know why and you were so warm I just…couldn’t help it. I…I can’t believe this but,” he stopped, waiting to see if anyone was awake but it didn’t seem like anyone in your aisle was. Thankfully you were at the far end, nobody could really see you.

Taehyung brought your attention down to his lap and helplessly your eyes followed, saucer-like to the straining bulge that was clear even through the loose tent like pants.

If you were a bigger person you’d have avoided this whole interaction, choosing to not let Taehyung’s implication rile you up.

Fact was, you were definitely not that.

You let out a low whimper, looking up at Taehyung’s face which was flushed as he desperately pressed into your, curving his front to your side as he tried to get some friction where he needed it.

Who knew that Kim Taehyung would be grinding his morning wood against you like a rutting puppy?

“What,” you croaked, stopping immediately to clear your throat. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to fuck you.” Taehyung said immediately, none of the innocence that normally hovered around him present. This wasn’t a happy go lucky Idol, this was a desperately horny man. “But I want to do it right,” he whispered, his voice pure dripping want against your ears.

“How?” you asked. You knew you had already given in. While you were still scared of being caught; you were already under his spell.

Instead of answering, Taehyung slid away from you, the absence of his body heat leaving you cold and feeling abandoned.

Taehyung quickly covered you in both of your blankets, pushing you to lie back almost flat in the fully stretched seats before he made a whole show of stretching. You could see his eyes roving over the rest of the passengers before he was ducking down…right under the blanket.

You stiffened; fingernails digging into vinyl of the arm rest as you felt him kneel between your slightly parted knees, big hot hands coming to rest just at the start of your thighs, slipping under your skirt.

He didn’t ride it up immediately though, instead taking his time to rub against your flushed, sweating skin, probably to calm you to comply for the sinful actions you were about to partake in.

Slowly, as if he didn’t have anything to care about – and he probably didn’t – he began to slide his hands higher, fingers splayed to brush both sides of your legs before you felt him raise them up over his shoulder.

He was beginning to pick up speed, movements faster as he began to tug at the edge of your simple cotton underwear. You could feel yourself disassociating, feeling of guilt despite having your Idol kneeling at your feet, flicking his tongue at your heat.

How many women had he done with this? This same scenario when he just needed to come? Were you even worth it or just some cheap doll he needed to get this done with?

The first brush of his lips against your sensitive flesh tossed all these thoughts right out the window. You let out a surprised squeak and Taehyung stopped, warning squeezes of his fingers felt on your waist.

You bite your lips, feeling him return to your folds, the rough muscle of his tongue running gently against you, opening you coaxingly and you close your eyes, opening your mouth just slightly to pant.

Taehyung might have wanted to do it right, but he was certainly not being slow about it. Soon he was pressing long, nimble fingers against you and whiles you were definitely not a virgin you had to admit his felt amazing down there.

Maybe you were just biased, you thought amused, before stuttering in your tracks as Taehyung slipped his middle finger right in, tongue still swirling around your clit, tracing slow churns as he opened you.

You were shaking, the angle in which he had propped you making it harder to hold your torso up as he ate you out. You were about to pull him up when he was suddenly emerging from under the blanket, licking his lips and fingers as he quickly sat down next to you, tugging the blanket to hide himself as he turned you roughly, hiking your skirt up right to the waist, one hand undoing his pants while the other pushed the crotch of your underwear to the side.

“As good as you taste, I’ll burst,” you heard his whisper your ear and let out a low groan at his words as he tucked your leg over his, entering you with one harsh, brutal thrust.

Your hand flew out to balance yourself, slapping against the cold window and he stilled, arms wrapping around you carefully to pull you against his chest.

“You ok?” he asked.

You nodded, feeling him pull his hips back and in again as he set up a slow, considerate pace.

Taehyung buried his head against your back, his low grunts in time with your breathy moans creating a symphony that you were sure was going to haunt your nights.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I fingered you and you’re still so tight. I should’ve used more fingers.”

“You’re so hot. I’m going to get off on this forever.”

“I could die a happy man just like this but I would rather be doing this on a bed.”

His filthy words made it so hard for you to stay quiet and you let out a shaky moan which quickly had Taehyung’s hips stuttering as you heard a quick clatter of heels. You froze in Taehyung’s arms as he hissed out a ‘Shh’ in your ear as an airhostess paused near your aisle, looking out confused.

Her gaze crossed over you but didn’t stop before she was moving away and Taehyung was picking his speed up again, his hand slithering over to cover your mouth tightly.

“Such a desperate slut for me, aren’t you? Can’t even stay quiet, I’m fucking you so good. Are you going to come for me?” he asked as you nodded pathetically, his harsh growls tightening the knot in your stomach before you were squirming in his hold as the arm he’d wrapped around you drifted down, flicking against your bundle of nerves, throwing you to the waves of orgasm inflicted bliss.

You squeezed you eyes shut, concentrating on not making a sound as you clenched against him. Taehyung didn’t seem to have any qualms left as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m,” he began, but before he could even complete the sentence, he was pulling out, coming all over your bare skin. You felt his warm come splatter across your ass and thighs and he let out a relieve sigh.

You stumbled your way out of the departure terminal of the airport of your home country, the handle of your suitcase gripped tight in your sweaty palm as you walked carefully, not wanting anybody to notice the wobble in your steps.

Hailing a taxi, you sat back, eyes and mind drifting as you recalled your wild night which painted your name in the list of Mile High Club.

After finishing on you, Taehyung had wiped you clean with the complimentary face wipes, giggling as he returned to his normal self, not the sexy, sensuous man who had fucked you raw just minutes ago. He’d apologized for his inappropriateness but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you had tucked your head against his shoulder, snoozing off the afterglow.

A ping of a text brought your attention back to reality and you fished out your phone, expecting a text from either your workplace or your best friend. None of those were what you got as you frowned at the unknown number as you swiped to open the text.

Hey, it’s T here. I hope you don’t mind but I saw your phone next to you and couldn’t resist getting your number. Last night was great, aside from the fact that it was on a plane. Maybe when you and I are back in Seoul again, we could give it another try? Properly this time too. Let me know ;)

You gaped at the ending winking emoji as you wondered what this meant for your future.

#taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #taehyung #bts #bts v #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #agl

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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706

What weird food combinations do you enjoy? I’m willing to experiment mayonnaise with most food. I also dip my fries in hot fudge sundae and because I’m Filipino I have to have my fried chicken paired with banana ketchup. Where do you get your news? Usually from the Twitter and Facebook handles of my go-to news outlets. My dad is also the only one who turns on the TV in the dining area so whenever he’s home and watches the evening news I get to hear the reports as well. What social stigma does society need to get over? HIV/AIDS, dating or marrying the same sex, tattoos... even breastfeeding is a fucking stigma lmao. So many people are babies. What is the best/worst prank that you've played on someone? I hate being the victim of pranks so I never pull them on anyone. What was the last photo you took? My dog jumping up to ask for food last night.

What makes you roll your eyes every time you hear it? Lately our president has been wanting to give nightly addresses on TV every midnight so when I hear another announcement from the government I just roll my eyes because I know it’s gonna be another hour-long speech that not only has absolutely zero substance to it, but made everyone unnecessarily stay up that late. What are you currently worried about? I’m worried about my remaining academic requirements. With the suspension of online classes and the lockdown being extended until April 30 (which is virtually the end of the semester), I have no idea what’s gonna become of our academic calendar and my grades – and the status of my graduation.

A notable school in the country already mass-promoted (read: passed) all their students and is planning to give tuition fee refunds since only two months of the sem were used. It’s honestly the most responsible thing to do for now and I hope all other universities follow suit.

Do you think aliens exist? I believe we aren’t the only ones alive out here but I also don’t think they look like the creatures books or movies have made them out to be. What mythical creature do you wish actually existed? Meh, was never a fan of anything mythical/mythological. What are you interested in that most people aren't? Pro wrestling. In my 15 years of being a fan I’ve only found literally a handful of people (at least who are also Filipino) who shared the same passion or amount of interest as I have. It’s just never been a popular topic or fanbase here so I never get to bring it up – and I’m afraid to bring it up because people seem to judge anyone still into wrestling these days. What's the most ridiculous thing you have bought? My most pointless purchase was a pink bar of soap with lettering that says “Gay Bar.” It’s a novelty item at best and I never needed to buy it, but I had money that day so I did and now it’s gathering dust in one of my drawers. What sounds hit you with major nostalgia every time you hear them? The PS1 start-up noise is a big candidate. If given the oppurtunity to open a museum, what kind would you create? They have museums about everything now, so I think it’d be a good idea to turn to my roots and make an ancestral house instead and have it in our home province. My family has a rich history and it’d be a waste if we allowed ourselves to forget. When was the last time you immediately regretted what you said? I think last night? We were having pork belly bought from outside for dinner and I was talking about how good it tasted and that it was the best thing I’ve had in a while. I forgot my dad has been cooking us a different meal every single day since the quarantine started and they all have tasted amazing as well. After I realized what I said I felt like shit and immediately downplayed the pork belly so that he didn’t feel left out. What's the silliest thing you've seen someone get upset about? My mom is a champion of this list lmao, there’s so much stupid shit she’s thrown a fit over. The most ridiculous one happened last year when my sister sprained her ankle and my mom would not help her walk around and even walked faster than the rest of us. It was like she was purposely leaving us behind, which confused and pissed me off. Anyway I was left assisting Nina as she hobbled on. Eventually I caught up to my mom and asked her to slow down and to be with us and to help my sister walk. Apparently it was enough to piss her off and the whole ride home she was yelling at me and legitimately sobbing about how humiliated she was when I called her out because she thinks people overheard and are judging her for it. I mean if you’re afraid of getting judged isn’t that proof you know you did something shitty?

The sermon also turned personal and she started screaming about how I was a horrible daughter and that I’ve never done anything right, and that I was a disappointment, and that I was straying further from God everyday and she could see the horns growing on my head. How’s that for abusive? What was the best thing that happened to you today? I finally finished the level I’ve been stuck on in Mario Kart 8 and now I’m officially done with the game. I’ve never finished any video game before so it feels pretty bitching!!!!!!!!! Do you consider yourself a good cook? I don’t even consider myself a cook. What's the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? ^ The thing I just talked about, even though it wasn’t technically an argument because my mom didn’t let me talk throughout.

The next dumbest thing I could think of is probably when my grown-ass aunt fought me back when I was 13 on whether Beyoncé lip-syncs or not. It was a random family discussion and I was just talking about how much I like Beyoncé and she not only stole my thunder by picking a fight with me, but she also made me feel bad about something I loved lol. She was so insistent that she lip-syncs and was so hungry for an argument, I didn’t understand why?????? so I just dropped it and rolled my eyes at my dad. IT’S SO DUMB RIGHT What did you google last? Information I needed for an article I’m currently writing. What fashion trend makes you cringe or laugh everytime you see it? Skirts paired with either denim jeans or leggings, and short vests. All the Disney stars wore them and it was the epitome of fashion for us at the time aaaahhhhhhahahahahaha. What's your favorite holiday movie? LOVE ACTUALLY. For sure. I’d also say It’s A Wonderful Life but it has some very low points that ruins the Christmas-yness for me. How ambitious are you? I’m pretty ambitious and also a bit of a perfectionist, but I’m also aware of my limits and I don’t always jump onto tasks feeling confident. I know what I’m capable of so if I’m faced with something I know other people can be better at, I’ll consciously be less ambitious at it cos I usually let my insecurity get in the way. What was the biggest realization you have had about yourself? As someone who’s always thrived on being an introvert, the last few months and years have taught me that I CAN talk to people if I have to? And they’re not scary? I had little hope for myself prior to my internship - but it ended up being fun and I met a lot of awesome new people. I also never thought I’d get to write articles solely because I hate interviewing people - but my sources have all been nothing but nice to me. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve always doubted my ability to talk to people and dive in to unfamiliar scenarios, but when I do either it’s always turned out to be great experiences for me.

What topic could you spend forever talking about? If we’re going for what’s been the most recent hot topic, it would be the government’s incompetence in dealing with COVID-19 so far. Which way should toilet paper hang, over or under? Over. What word is a lot of fun to say? I dunno. I don’t think of words in terms of how fun they are to say. Maybe curse words? HAHAHA If you didn't have to sleep, what would you do with the extra time? Assuming the internet is nothing to worry about, I’d watch all the series I’ve long planned on watching but can’t because Netflix does a big pull on the entire household’s connection. Are you usually early or late? Early or on time. There is no ‘late’ for me. What do you wish you knew more about? The future. Not knowing the answers to it is so irritating/boring to me. What is the most annoying question you've been asked? Asking if I go to rallies/am an activist/am part of the NPA just because of the school I come from. None of those things are bad at all, but I’ve always been annoyed at the stereotyping. How different was your life 1 year ago? I wasn’t graduating yet then. And I was OUTSIDE MOST DAYS because there wasn’t any fucking virus. What movie title best describes your life? Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, except I literally have to be stuck at home. What was the last lie you told? Telling my groupmates I had some family stuff at home to fix before getting started on our group project, but really I had to take a bath first because I wanted to feel fresh while working. It’s a minor lie, but it still made me feel bad. What type of music do you listen to? It’s usually varied but my go-to genres are indie pop, electropop, alternative rock, punk rock, *some* indie, R&B, and pop.

Are you a good listener? Yeah, it’s why I prefer to be one than a talker. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Cookies and cream or some peanut butter/chocolate concoction. Do you think you're brave? I can be. Just not about everything. What are you most grateful for in your life? The relatively comfortable life we live considering where we live. And that covers everything from the food we eat, the schools we’ve been sent to, where we get to travel (or the fact that we can travel at all), etc.

What was the worst phase in your life? My rebellious, no-one-understands-me, angsty teen phase when I was 12-13 and my time readjusting in college when I was 18-19. What is a relationship deal breaker for you? Verbal abuse. What are some things that give you complete peace of mind? Staying in coffee shops, driving at midnight, views of the skyline at night, staying on the rooftop at night and being under the stars... I just like a lot of things about the night. Would you like to explore another planet? Yesssssss. Who was your favorite cartoon character as a child? Spongebob. Cosmo from The Fairly Oddparents comes at a close second. What would you do if you were the president of your own country? Right now? I’d assure people everything was being taken care of – mass testing, support for doctors, provision of PPEs and free transportation for frontliners, making all the senators (who are all expectedly not doing anything, save for one) work their asses off, put part of the P275B fund to assist middle- and lower-class people who can’t – instead of imposing shoot-to-kill orders for the military to anyone criticizing the government or rambling about absolutely fucking nothing in nation addresses.

#survey #surveys

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