#oh and the walmart fish tanks

[television-overload]

Whenever I randomly remember things from my earliest childhood memories, things that don't exist anymore really like the DVD rental place at my old grocery store and grocery stores that had tables and chairs inside to eat at, I think of that "Sure, Grandma, let's get you to bed" meme

[bettsfic]

oh sam clafin is so so pretty in djats. tbh i wasn't the biggest fan of the book & the show is a tad too corny/tropey for me so far, but still an entertaining easy watch with pretty people & fun music. it is very funny seeing them try to pass off sam claflin as like a 21 year old though lmao very how do you do fellow kids. i also have so many Thoughts i will keep to myself about him as an actor and about him repeatedly being miscast as a romantic/slutty/funny lead when he should be a dramatic villain evil character actor, which leads to him way overacting in a show like djats, but overall it's still fun to see him on screen if only for my finnick nostalgia. please do share your thoughts if you end up watching!

an entertaining easy watch with pretty people and fun music sounds good to me! right now i'm looking for things to watch that i won't want to write fic about. my "ooh i wanna write this" list is getting unmanageably long. my next major self writing lesson is going to be mastering the <10k story while still hitting all the emotional beats i'm interested in.

hard agree, sam claflin is definitely a character actor who is often miscast, but while i think he does evil villains really well, i think he's best at morally complex characters with a lot of layers. i know thg is probably his most commercial role but his portrayal of finnick is just startlingly good (and also "the hunger games movies are great, actually" is a hill on which i will perish). he was also phenomenal as hawkins in the nightingale where, to your point, he's absolutely the evil villain, but even though he has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, somehow his performance doesn't completely eject the viewer. (well, it definitely ejected some viewers during the awards circuit. the beginning of that film is one of the most brutal first acts of any movie i've ever seen.) my ideal role for him is one where he plays a villain whose character arc is redemption and self-actualization. but unfortunately that character trope is all but dead in american media.

i do feel bad for character actors who are hot. i remember a few years ago when sam rockwell won an award for three billboards outside ebbing missouri, he said something like [sic] "this is the worst thing that can happen to a character actor." so actors like cillian murphy and ben whishaw were serially miscast early in their careers.

(my go to example of the hypocrisy of acting awards is the florida project. willem dafoe got all this acclaim for his performance as a hotel maintenance guy, when the main characters seriously seemed like they were plucked up from a floridian walmart and filmed for a reality show. i mean, those performances were so seamlessly real that nobody even remembers them. fish tank is another example. i've seen that movie half a dozen times, and it's remembered for michael fassbender as the hot fucky step dad character, but katie jarvis as mia is just such an emotionally agonizing and vulnerable performance which deserved far more praise than it got.)

anyway! having watched nearly all of sam claflin's filmography, i do hope he never has to do another me before you or love, rosie again.

looking forward to watching daisy jones and the six once the season is out in full!

[alirhi]

Finally caught somewhat of a break. I'm in a tremendous amount of pain even with my meds, but it's been a good day overall.

A few weeks ago, we had a small electrical fire in our bathroom, only we didn't know that's what it was at first. It tripped the outlet on the house, which shut down power to the camper and killed the fire before it could really catch. This happened every time we tried resetting the outlet and plugging the camper back in, until finally one of us was inside while the other fiddled with the power and loud buzzing was heard and bright blue light from sparks/flames was seen and we went "oh. okay, no touchy. got it." So we've been without even the minimal power we had for some time now, just one extension cord run from the house, through our kitchen window to a power strip we used to run lights, the space heater on colder nights, and charge electronics. It fucking sucked. We ended up putting the small appliances in storage, since we couldn't use any of them. no power to the outlets, and nowhere to put them near the power strip.

So anyway, that sucked ass, but we got through it, and a few days ago we talked to someone outside the entrance to Walmart who was asking for donations to help the homeless. I told him "sorry, we're in the same boat" and he asked if we need help. Sis and I explained the situation we're in the best we could, asking if he knew any electricians who would be willing to help for free, and he took sis's number and said he'd put out feelers online. Said he was pretty connected.

Dude wasn't kidding. The NEXT MORNING, someone called, and she was texting with him and setting up a time for him to come out and take a look. This afternoon, he replaced the bathroom outlet and faulty wiring that was causing the fire, cleaned out the crappy paper insulation that was feeding said fire, and was kind enough to do it all for free. He then gave me a quote for the cost of installing a 30amp outlet on the house so we could fully power this damn thing and have things like a working fridge and running hot water. It'll be insanely pricey, but when he broke it down for us, I realized he was still giving us the steepest discount he could. We'd mostly be paying for the (holy shit expensive) wire. Absolute sweetheart, as is the man outside Walmart who put us in touch with him. I'm so glad I didn't just scoot by with a "sorry, not today" when he asked if we wanted to donate.

Sis also found a baby garter snake in the yard today with a crushed tail. He still gets around okay and the injury seems to be low enough that his organs are functioning pretty well (he peed on her hand lmao and chugged water when we put some out for him; I've never seen a snake drink before and that was cute as hell).

We called a wildlife rescue that's going to take him tomorrow and see what they can do to help him, so he's resting in a fish tank with some paper towels and the little bottle cap full of water. Absolutely enamored with lil sis lol. He was scared at first, which makes sense; poor thing was trapped, injured, and these huge stompy creatures were hovering over him and touching him. But then she got him free of the dirt and grass he was caught on and he slithered all over her arms and shoulders. kept trying to go up her sleeves to hide lol. I asked to hold him before he's gone (originally she was going to drive him to the rescue while I waited for the electrician, but it was too far away and she didn't want to drive alone) and he wasn't having it. Wanted to stay with her.

Even after we got him in the tank, he stuck as close to her as he could. While she was standing nearby talking to the friend who loaned us the tank, he was nestled in the corner under the towels, when we got him inside and she sat by him, he smooshed up against the side she was sitting at and kept trying to climb out to her. Now she's in her room (opposite side of the camper from the seat she'd occupied) and he's hanging out on the side of the tank closest to her room. Every time she gets near or walks by, he follows her the best he can. it's fucking adorable. Wants nothing to do with me, but that's okay. He's still cute and sweet and I hope he makes it through the night and they can help him tomorrow.

I'm so grateful we were even there for sis to see him trapped. We never go into friend's yard if we can help it, but she's got baby chicks and said we can play with them if we want, so naturally we both booked it over to the coop to see the cute fluffies lol. and there next to it was this poor little guy stuck and hurt and dehydrated and probably scared to death.

I feel so blessed that someone was able and willing to help us, and that we're able to help this little snake. I just keep praying... Mother above, please let him be okay. He's such a wee babe.

[divinebastet]

Saw your conundrum about getting clean water home for your fish tanks :0c

I don't know what your exact situation is in terms of transportation, but stores like Walmart do generally sell five gallon jugs of water - that way you would only have to juggle transporting and storing six, five gallon jugs, instead of thirty individual gallons.

The brand I'm familiar with is called Primo, but I know other companies make similar items that you may even be tentatively able to order online so it's delivered to your house.

Oh yeah. Ordering online is a possibility, huh.

I do use a local brand of springwater that I probably couldn't order, buuuut honestly the actual brand doesn't matter too much as long as it's not fuckin tap water.

I'd still have to order 1-2 gallon jugs because moving, lifting, and gently pouring 5 gallon jugs into my aquarium is not very feasible (I have a bulged disc in my lower back wahoo), but I have plenty of space to store them.

I'm sorry, UPS/Fedex guy, and also my landlord and/or housemate whom I'll likely have to employ to help me get the water downstairs.

Really starting to wonder if it's worth it at this point, actually

[grizzlyofthesea]

Ranking my Monster High Collection, just because

I've been into Monster High for...a while. I don't remember how I got into it, but I know that I immediately latched onto Lagoona; I always go for the blue characters (except for TMNT, because Donnie). Though it's not huge compared to what others have, I do have a sizable collection of Monster High dolls. Here, I'll rank and discuss them.

Here's a key for the meaning of the colors: birthday/Christmas gift, bought during initial sales, bought second-hand.

~

S Tier - The Best of the Best

Boo-Riginal Creeproduction Lagoona - I'd always wanted a first-wave Lagoona, but this is even better! Her hair is curly and fluffy, she isn't derp-eyed, and I didn't have to fork over hundreds of dollars for her! There are so many cool details scattered throughout her design, too. For example, her tank top? That's actually a one-piece swimsuit. And her shorts are sparkly! I was lucky to find her and the other creepros at my local Walmart during the initial drop. Wish I could say the same about Reel Drama...

Haunt Couture Lagoona - Man, was I lucky with this one! She sold out in about six minutes, from what I heard. But anyway, people don't like her because she doesn't reference her basic look as much as the others, and I get why they feel that way. However, I feel like she looks the most "deluxe" of the HC line (except for Draculaura, because OF COURSE), and the most couture-like. Her outfit is the only one I could see on an actual fashion runway. And her face is super pretty! I like how they gave her eyes a more segmented look instead of the other ghouls' gradient shine. Oh, and her fish GLOWS IN THE DARK.

Boo-riginal Creeproduction Clawdeen - I'm not particularly attached to Clawdeen as a character, but her design? Beautiful. There are so many flashy elements--the tank top with its sparkly tiger stripes, the fur-lined jacket, the layered skirt, the knee-high stockings--that you'd think would clash, but they really work well together. And like Lagoona, Creepro Clawdeen has wavier, fluffier hair than her 2010 counterpart. Perfect for our "werewolf equivalent of Rapunzel."

School's Out Lagoona - I adore the shoes and tote bag. The material they're made of is super satisfying to touch. The outfit itself is amazing, too. The asymmetrical fishnet details really complement the strapless jumpsuit. It feels fancy and hip, but still Lagoona-like. And the fish skeleton earrings are just amazing!!!

Isi Dawndancer - From what I've heard, Isi is controversial because Mattel combined elements from a ton of different tribes to construct her without consulting any actual American Indians, homogenizing/stereotyping them in the process. I can't say that I have much room to speak on the matter, just that I definitely get why people find her offensive. But good gosh, I can't help but love how colorful she is. And her deer-like features, like her white freckles and her hooves (yes, actual hooves instead of feet!!!)? Absolutely amazing. If she comes back for G3, I hope they handle her more respectfully.

C.A. Cupid (Signature) - Beautiful in every way. Her face? Amazing. The heart-shaped highlights in her eyes are super cool, her heart/rosebud-shaped lipstick really stands out, and the blush on her cheeks is a great touch. Her outfit? Spectacular. All of the fabrics work well to give her dress an eerie yet romantic vibe. Her accessories? Perfect. It's bow-and-arrow everything; her earrings and the heels on her shoes are an asymmetrical bow/arrow set, and her ring is a miniature bow and arrow. Her hair? Needs de-gluing and restyling, but it's still lovely. Shorter hair on Monster High dolls is always awesome. She also has this really cool white-to-black gradient on all of her limbs, plus some lacy detailing. You just need to see her to believe her.

Boo-riginal Creeproduction Draculaura - Pink isn't really my thing, but I can't deny that Draculaura looks cool. Her vest and her cravat are probably my favorite parts of her outfit. I also like how neatly folded her skirt is, compared to Clawdeen's more irregular pleats. Oh, and I de-glued her bangs when I got her, and she looks SO much better that way!

~

A Tier - The Clawsomes

Mad Science Lagoona - Her hair was an absolute mess when I first got her--tangled beyond belief, glue everywhere, braids partially undone... But I've done my best to restore her, and I think she looks better now. I just love her in general. Both her dress and her casual outfit look cute, and the accessories are on point. She has a notebook, a pencil, a beaker, one of those three-eyed frogs from the webisodes, and a gargoyle egg, among other things.

Dead Tired Lagoona (2011) - Yes, I've got the Hydration Station, too. Yes, it's amazing...when it works. I think I might need to replace the batteries and/or clean it. (Any tips? I'll take all the help I can get!!) But right now, I'm talking about Lagoona herself. She may be simple, but she's great. Her blue lips really do feel like her natural lip color, and her ponytail is a nice hairstyle. Her pajamas look really comfy, too (minus the platform slippers, but that's just MH custom), and she even has a matching sleep mask. I'd wear them myself if I were more of a tank top person. Neptuna has a little mask of her own as well. That's just cute. :)

Boo-riginal Creeproduction Frankie - Pretty simple, but also super cute. I love her fishnet sleeves and her belt. G1 Frankie really is the epitome of "simple, but effective."

Skull Shores Cleo - What can I say? I'm a sucker for turquoise and gold. I like short hair on Cleo, too. Oh, and her shoes being little statues holding her feet up? Absolute genius.

Skull Shores Ghoulia - She looks just like she stepped out of the 1950s...except for the blood dripping from her shoes and bracelet, of course, but that contrast is why I love a lot of Ghoulia's designs. Her weird little brain butterfly hair clip is neat, too, and I like how she has green glasses this time around.

Skull Shores Lagoona - Her headband gives me pirate vibes for some reason, and that sparkly fabric around her shoulders never ceases to amaze. Needless to say, I love her.

Skull Shores Frankie (Color) - Frankie in neon blue is awesome. Frankie with short hair is awesome. The industrial nut-themed accessories are awesome. That sounds like a recipe for an awesome doll to me.

Skull Shores Frankie (Monochrome) - The silver lipstick, neck bolts, and swimsuit add some flash where Frankie herself is a matte gray. There are also more obvious clouds on her waist wrap compared to her color variant, adding a bit of additional uniqueness. I just happen to like the color variant a bit more. I think it's because the accessories here are cloudy instead of clear.

~

B Tier - The Greats

Dot Dead Gorgeous Lagoona - Hot take: I think DDG Lagoona is better than DOTD Lagoona. But that's a ramble for another post. Anyway, the oyster-themed hair clip and shoes are cute, and I love how the polka dots on the dress are bubbles. The layers of mesh/tulle/whatever really pull the whole look together. And the purse is a sand dollar!!!

13 Wishes Lagoona - Super strange and kind of heartbreaking, but also super cool to look at. I love her turtle necklace/bracelet, her dragonfly earrings, and her grass shoes. And that sparkly seafoam green fabric on her dress? Absolutely perfect! It looks just like shimmering water. She'd be higher up if she were in better condition; her dress is kinda stretched out, and Neptuna's bowl is shoddily taped together because I was a dumb child.

Fearidescent Lagoona - Blue Lagoona > Pink Lagoona for me, and the polypropylene hair is a bit frizzy at the ends. That said, she's still beautiful. For one, her color scheme is gorgeous. It's one of the first color palettes chosen for G3 Lagoona that doesn't make me want to tear my eyeballs out. Her pearl purse is cute, too, as are her shoes. I mean, her ankle boots have little teeth in the heels and fish skeletons as the buckles! Some clothing combinations are more cohesive than others, but again, not making me want to claw out my own eyes out of overstimulation is a huge advantage for a G3 Lagoona doll.

Skull Shores Gil - I know people give the boy dolls major flak for being ugly, and a lot of times, they're right (looking at you, Porter and Slo Mo). But I just think Gil's neat. I like how he has gills sculpted into his nose. I like the gills on his neck. I like how he has that same pearlescent kind of coloration as Lagoona. I like his fin mohawk thing. I think my Gil's face turned out nicely, too, with no notable wonk in sight. (Note: someone on Reddit recently pointed out that he has a back fin, too. That cements Gil as the best manster in my opinion.)

Picture Day Lagoona - Like Basic Clawdeen, she has a lot of bright, flashy components that you'd think would clash. Fishnet cardigan? Shimmery pink leggings? Turquoise tunic dress with a neon green trim and an iridescent orange seashell bra? It is admittedly a strange look, but I like it.

Skulltimate Secrets Lagoona - The darker/more prominent forehead scales push SS1 Lagoona below Fearidescent for me, but there's still a ton to love about her. Her jacket and hat are some of my favorite accessories in my entire collection; they're just so cute! Her blue "Surf" shirt is great as well, and I feel that all of the clothing pieces included here can create decently good-looking outfits.

Skull Shores Draculaura - Just cute. I love the sailor theme, and I love how her swimsuit kind of looks like men's swimsuits from back in the late 19th century.

Skull Shores Abbey - Her swimsuit may be a bit simple for my liking, but her accessories are astounding! Purple ice shoes? Yes! Purple ice hat? Heck yeah! She rocks the side-ponytail, too.

Skull Shores Clawdeen - I love the actual swimsuit, and the poncho is great in concept. I just wish the poncho wasn't so annoying to move around for poses. But Clawdeen's tried-and-true deep orchid purple + neon green color combo is back, and I think it works amazingly here. Her earrings are cool, too. They may just be simple triangles and squares, but it's a neat deviation from her typical hoop earrings.

~

C Tier - The Goods Competing with the Greats

Original Ghouls Ghoulia - Not first-wave quality, but she still has her good points. Her hair is nice and silky (probably kanekalon), all her accessories are intact, and I honestly like her face better than first-wave Ghoulia. Still, her clothes all being one piece is a let-down, and they didn't even bother to wrap her cherry-print top (printed on this time, by the way) all the way around the shirt. But she's still Ghoulia, so she's still cool.

Dance Class Lagoona - She's cute, but also very simplistic. Even as a kid, I knew something was off about her unpainted accessories. Even so, I love her, and I retain a special attachment to her since she was the first member of my collection.

Inner Monster (Shockingly Shy/Scared Silly) - I like the take apart/put together gimmick. I like the changing eyes and the face plates. I like the skeleton and the different charms you can attach to it. I just wish she was more monstrous...and that the wig didn't look so awful.

Original Ghouls Lagoona - I got her back when I thought she was the closest I'd get to an actual Basic Lagoona, and even though my opinion of her has hardened a bit after getting Creepro Lagoona, I still think she's okay. I don't like how her swimsuit and shorts are sewn together, but at least there's a ribbon "waistband" separating the two halves. Her hoodie might be slightly less detailed, too, but it's still perfectly fine. Mad Science Lagoona is borrowing her fins, though.

~

D Tier - Mattel, why?

Original Ghouls Clawdeen - Her face turned out okay...but that's really it. Her shoes are completely purple aside from the buckles, her shirt and skirt are sewn together, and her jacket has purple thread at the edges instead of an actual cotton trim. And that isn't even getting into the more minute changes. At least she isn't as bad as Original Ghouls Draculaura, but that's a low bar to clear. ...Yet I don't hate her. Pity, yes, but I just can't hate her.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

originally meant satire for those white uwu weeb & koreaboo girls (of any gender really but oh my god so many white girls) who take “aesthetic” pictures at asian grocery stores typically japanese korean snacks n drinks. meanwhile utter racist against actual real life asian people & specifically vile against asian people they deem not aesthetic enough not uwu enough, like china & a lot of non-east asian asian people

AMERICAN CORE!!!! *takes picture in walmart*

in look up example picture show people not familiar with asian grocery store live fish tanks, search results overwhelming results of white dudes (who probably will call self “alpha” unironically) film like “SAVING LIVE fish from FOREIGN GROCERY STORES!!” that reek of white saviorism & xenophobia & often specifically sinophobia (extra ironic when channel is about…. fishing). n other search results that essentially “waaaa really asian grocery store have live fish they kill for you in front of you that so cruel n gross!!!” well, good news for you about those frozen in layers of ice fish pieces you buy at walmart. truly so many people in what typically labeled developed countries so divorced from like, source of their food.

[White Vegans don’t touch this post. vegans & vegans who are white okay as long as respectful but specifically not White Vegans TM Capital Letters]

asian grocery store aesthetic!!!!!!!

*picture of live fish tanks*

(satire)

[demigodgooglesearches]

"too young to be a 90s kid but close" (aka 00s kid) aesthetic:

-nyan cat, llams with hats

-owls. everybody loves owls--

-minecraft before the jungle biome. minecraft hunger game servers.

-slap bracelets

-long sleves under tank tops...jean skirts with... leggings.... dc shoes... shell shoes...

those 60 seconds multiplication tables. the big blocks with 100 squares, but the strips of ten squares, the single squares? also shape wooden blocks. yellow hexagons, green triangles, blue diamonds, youd make pictures with them.

-morning circle. playing 7 up at school. FOUR CORNERS

-u knew the cookout was lit when they had huggies those juice barrel drinks that u bite the top foil

-sillybands

-nintendogs on your grey ds plus cooking mama

-remembering vaguely having to use a cd player as a kid, then an mp3, than an ipod-

-zebra. print. everything.

-japanese erasers

-duct tape purses

-the justin bieber sounds like a girl debate

-yo danny phantom hE wAS JUST 14

-shark boy and lava girl. sky high. stewart little. minutemen. halloweentown. the thirteenth year (mermaid). smart house. spy kids. twitches. princess protection program (bonus points if you watched it live and counted how many times they said princess). lemonade mouth.

-staying up late enough to see george lopez start to play

- "mom how do you spell cartoonnetwork whats the website"

- that weird fosters home for imaginary friends mmo

- fucking TOONTOWN

- "disney!! three six five!!!!!"

- microsoft paint created MASTERPIECES

- was... was kidpix a thing

-bill nye the science guy and liberty kids

-alvin and the chipmunks covers.

- school store! get me a pencil grip for a quarter.

-crimp your hair bitch... or straighten it. or clip in feathers. or strands of dye-

-bakugan and tech decks

-wheezers 'beverly hills' on the playground. we will rock you on the bus.

-camp rock. highschool musical. epic disney crossovers.

-if you didnt have a blog on blogspot.com you weren't shit (with the extension where you could feed the fish)

-lisa frank folders or those folders with close up of dogs and cat faces

-having to learn the fucking recorder. hot crossed buns... hOt croSssED BUNS,,,,

-did anyone play that weird wizard typing quest

-SMENCILS

-clUb PENGUIN. wizard 101. pirates of the carribean online. webkinz.

-everything is not what it seems when u can get all you wanted in ur wildest dreams

-popular snacks at snack time,,,: gritz, gogurt, fruit roll ups tongue tattoos, zebra cakes, cheese dip crackers, those cookie crackers where u took the red stick and spread it... gushers

-in the wee hours of the night you could hear... hear the chia pets taunting you

-orbeez. monster gummies. hotwheels beat that. fur real friends. pillow pets. littlest pet shop. yugioh. bop it. floam. tamagotchis.

-iDog

-HAVING THE KICKASS SCOOTER THENN KNOCKING UR FUCKING KNEES OFF WITH IT FUCK THAT SHIT

- "HERE I AM IN UR LIFE... HERE U ARE IN MINE... YEAH WE GOT THE SWEET LIFE... MOSTT OF THE TIME"

-underdog. undeRDOG. UNDERDOG!

-when you were playing on the ps2 and u fucking lost the fucking MEMORY CARD

-SPYRO

-playing gta the one where the guy wears the blue shirt (liberty city? ) with the sound off... memorizing cheat codes... square circle square-

-the fucking wii... making miis for literally everyone in ur class and sending the ones you didnt like to the parade

-slap slap slap... clap clap clap... SLAP SLAP SLAP.... CLAP CLAP CLAP (i.e 3... 2... 1... BLAST OFF from here to the stars,)

-when the teacher rolled out the elmo projector and those transparent plastic papers

-megan, MEGAN! (i.e i ran over oprah.....)

-the dell computers took over

-bruh message me on msn... then skype

-making a facebook page. liking all the fucking dumb facebook pages you could

-pokemon

-Z̵͖͂Ô̶̘Ö̴͔́. ̵͉͊Z̷̭̊O̷̻͒Ô̸̟ ̴̛̞Z̸̭̕Ȏ̸̗O̴͎̊ ̴̡͑. P̵̧̈Ȃ̷͖L̴̞̚S̶̰̐

-okay those weird ass beads u always got for Christmas that you had to iron to make shapes

-the fortune tellers... pick a color... blue? okay b-l-u-e. OK now pick a number... ok ur gonna marry lindsay lohan and have 80 kids

-WHAT YHR FUCK ARE THOSE GHOST THEMED CEREALS CALLED??? BOOBERRY??? AH SHIT

-team edward vs team jacob determined your survival

-thE yEar tHree THOusAnD

-black eyed peas

-fucking angry birds and flappy bird murdered everyone

-HEELYS OH DEAR GOD HEELYS I ALMOST FELL AND SLIPPED INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION

-that rabits game... let them go to the moon

-THE PS2 SOUND UP NOISE. THE DOOOOOOOSH

-every dvd had that coming soon bullshit

-stealing ur cousins gameboy

-Sugar. Spice. And everything nice.

-that fucking monkey at some of some fucking tv shows what the fuck was that fucking- hi im paul,,

-asdf videos! (desmond the moon bear.. i like trians)

-if you didnt flip ur shit everytime u saw a yellow car and yell BUMBLEBEE

-when the phone rings in school "THE PHONE... THE PHONE IS RI N G ING"

-"WAZZZZUUPPP!!" "WHAZZAAAAHHP!!"

-kidz bop. wholet the dogs out... who who? who?

-We all want to forget .... annoying orange and fred but god wont let us..

-MY SHINY Teeth and ME.

-that weird ass spongebob half time episode where theyre in the dome... or the spongebob episode with wormy... or the spongebob episode with the hooks (dont touch the hooks) or david hasslehof in the spongebob movie...

-invader zim

-FLAPJACK THAT FUCKING NIGHTMARE SHOW. And chowder. Coraline gave me NIGHTMARES fuck!

- I LIke to move it move it...

-POPTROPICA

-where the sidewalk ends from the school library... with goosebumps and diary of a whimpy kid.. BOOK FAIRS

-leapfrog

-THOSE GYM SCOOTERS. FOUR SQUARE. KICKBALL. THE PARACHUTE THING.

-no one knew how to use a fucking green screen

-🎶 we the peoplee... in order to form a more perfect union...🎶 conjunction junction whats ur function 🎶 puff the magic dragon 🎶

THERES A HUNDRED AND FOUR DAYS OF SUMMER VACATION-

the original teen titans

teach me how to dougie. soldier boy. the hoedown throwdown. the hannah montana movie 3d they were giving 3d glasses away literally in walmart

bILLY MAYS AND SHAMWOW

[alilbihh]

hocus pocus — 1

masterlist  previous part  next part

pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both. 

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; crack (lmao); humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 6.3k

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. this will benefit no one but me and will have 3 parts. thank u

This kind of patience better earn you a great seat in heaven, you think offhandedly.

"Please help me! The test was only announced today and I don't have much time, I need a potion that gives me photographic memory!" Says a desperate looking girl, hands clasped together as she repeatedly whispers a mantra of pleases under her breath, as if worried she'd push you over the edge if she were to say it any louder.

Little does she know she's, metaphorically speaking, already pushed you. Hard. With no remorse. Probably followed by a series of stabs to the back.

"Please, I would do anything!" She looks frantic. The only time you've seen her unclasp her hands was to pull desperately at her hair. She's pretty, you'll give her that, the kind of pretty that makes people more easily soft and influenced to her desires. But you're no sucker, and you're certainly not soft.

"Anything?" You whisper, leaning forward a bit. She nods, hope pooling in her round, pretty eyes.

"Anything!" You're not really used to people interrupting you during your free time. She at least has the decency to keep her voice down in the library, but you have a feeling the librarian and usually easily irritable students would easily succumb to her puppy dog eyes and let her scream all she wants.

You don't tell her that there is no such thing as a potion for photographic memory. You don't tell her that, even if such a thing were to exist, it would have drastic long-term side effects. As in, death.

"Anything anything..?" You lean forward a bit more, the female eagerly mimicking the action. You stare into her pretty eyes, the honey gold of her skin. "...even study?"

The female deflates, shameful as she twirls at a strand of her hair. This girl is just one of the many reminders on why you should never have been known as the campus witch in the first place.

You also should have just stayed in bed, despite the uncharacteristically calm day you've been having. You should have slept through your subsequent assignments and uncountable morning classes; but Jungkook had pulled the sheets out from over your head that day almost knowingly, reminding you how much you're paying for tuition. Curse that familiar of yours.

(Jungkook's voice also seemed to be the one to coax you into giving the girl a discount on your widely known all-nighter potion; which really just mostly consisted of a monster and some ground coffee beans, but she didn't need to know that. But you're still definitely, definitely not a soft witch.)

Three years ago you started a shop of your own, one typical of a witch like yourself. All herbs and tea leaves and scented candles and crystals, ground sunflower seeds and fruits and, later on, potions; the thing that's gathered the most attention in your community, from both supernatural beings and, as harry potter so delicately put it, muggles alike.

On Sundays, you sit behind the shop's counter on the red cushioned bean bag chairs that Jungkook likes so much, taking in the low hanging vines of your small, dainty little shop, the smell of old parchment and the sound of fluttering pages, the shelves of books barely anyone but yourself reads but are familiar and comforting nevertheless.

On Sundays, people stop by; sometimes for tea, mostly for potions, and one time someone asked for a potion to help him get laid but even so, business is buzzing, Sunday or not.

On Sundays, you tolerate Jungkook's grunts and groans of boredom, the boy taut as violin strings until he starts arm wrestling with the plants and reading books by the corner, his long hair obscuring your view of his features as he bounces all over the place.

In the corner by the bookshelves sits a fish tank you'd gotten over a year ago, courtesy of Jungkook, now barren of fish of any kind. (The male managed to get a goldfish at some point. He named it ironman. It died a week later, now buried in Yoongi's greenhouse, and you coaxed some flowers into sprouting around its grave for his sake. Mostly lavender, reminiscent of your familiar. Lavender helps you sleep. Lavender soothes small hurts.)

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll hear little snippets of a singing voice, murmuring when he thinks no one can hear him — and you can almost feel the creaking of the floorboards and bookshelves ceasing, the books shifting about in their spines halting at the mere sound of it —  as if even the walls are straining to hear the tiny little sounds of your familiar's voice.

And although Sundays are meant for that, meant for all of that, on one particular Sunday you find yourself out of faerie tears to mix into your concoctions. An odd ingredient it is, but important nevertheless. And you know just the faerie willing to hand over some more.

"Yoongi!" You squeal as you enter the greenhouse, messenger bag over your shoulder, glass vials inside of it clinking together as you walk.

The greenhouse isn't big— not as big as Yoongi would have liked it to be, anyway— but it's tall enough to make room for trees of all sizes. Certain panes have been removed on its walls to allow the branches to carry through towards the sky, as if Yoongi would rather tear the place down than tear off a branch. Vines curl around your feet as you walk, tickling at your legs, and the plants greet you softly as you pass, (except the roses. They don’t like you too much and they tend to gossip quite a bit).

You tip your head up to stare at the hazy sky through the glass. It's humid and will probably rain later, another late summer storm.

You hear a grunt.

Hunched over a flowerbed sits a tuft of black, the endearing sight bringing a smile to your face that remains even as the male in question notices your amusement, frowning as his brows furrow and his nose crinkles.

He stands up as gracefully as his little faerie ass can manage, wiping the accumulated sweat on his forehead away with the back of his hand, a streak of dirt on his cheek and, somehow, on his nose. "Yes?" He mutters, grumpy and all, despite his patience as you move to grab an empty vial from your bag.

You stretch the empty glass expectantly, "I'm in need of some faerie tears, my good man."

The man waddles towards you in typical Yoongi fashion, inspecting the vial for a second before his gaze shifts to you, eyes squinted. "You know I don't cry," He says stubbornly.

"Oh, please. You’re one of the softest boys I know. Didn't you take theater in high school? The tears don't have to stem from real sadness, you heathen."

His cheeks redden at your reminder, grabbing the vial from your hands with a huff. "I just messed with the lighting for a while. Fixed the sound. It's not like I acted, damn you."

"But still! You gotta feel some sort of.. kinship. Come on. I'm not asking for much!"

"You're asking for my bodily fluids. It seems like quite a bit to me."

You hide your smile with your hand as you watch the male grunt and grimace, trying to get the tears out by sheer force. His body is shaking a bit at the strain, and you finally laugh when he lets out the breath he'd been holding with a dramatic, Yoongi flair. "Can't do it?" You ask through laughter.

"Shut up." He shoves the vial onto your chest. "Anything else for you to humiliate me with?"

"Huh. I am in need of some pixie dust, now that you mention it."

"Hobi probably has some of that, he's full of pixie friends." You, personally, aren't a fan of those tiny little rascals. The ones around your hometown were known for trouble, pulling at your ears and pushing objects off tables.

Though you suppose the ones around your current home weren't all bad. You've caught a few helping motivate your plants by your window to sprout, and sometimes you find petals by your windowsill that weren't there before, all layered with pixie dust. Sometimes they simply flutter overhead, tossing pink dust at passersby, and sometimes you hear them sneezing by your ear, drunk on plum blossoms.

They hang around Hoseok almost regularly, and it's not uncommon to find a few napping on his head and shoulder, warbling softly in their sleep. That merman attracts a whole bunch of creatures, so you don't blame them, really.

"Well. Walmart probably has some faerie tears, anyway. Thanks, Yoongs!" You pat at the now frozen male's chest thoughtfully, the man blinking slowly with wide eyes. You take off into a sprint at his bewildered WHAT? from behind you, laughter on your heels.

"Here, noona." Your familiar mutters as he walks into you finishing some paperwork, your form hunched out of view under the shop's counter, red bean bag hardly a chair for such a feat but at least it's comfortable. He places a cup of tea by the coffee table beside you, still steaming, the smell wafting through the tiny expanse of your homey shop.

"Thanks, Guk." You murmur in response without looking up, but you still catch his tail let out a tiny wag at that before he nods and shuffles away, almost like a waddle, and disappears into the closet-sized kitchen, large clothes swallowing his form adorably.

He shuffles back a few minutes later with his own cup, sinking into the bean bag beside you. He stretches the cup towards you after a second of hesitation, "Sorry, but could you heat it up please? Do that thing?"

You chuckle, sitting up straight to drop your papers on the counter before turning back towards the werewolf, "'course." You take the cup, fingers brushing against his, and you see him recoil in his seat as he sinks further into it.

Your fingers cup the mug lightly, and you feel the liquid slowly heat up, becoming darker in color. Your eyes catch his gaze as you hand it back, his eyelashes trembling as he looks down, cheeks dusted a shy pink, taking the drink generously. "Thank you," he mutters.

The moment is interrupted by the gentle chiming of the wind chimes tinkling in welcome as someone opens the door, and you stand up with a groan the second you hear it. Gently placing your cup on the coffee table, your attention shifts to the customer tripping into your shop, the smell of rain and autumn and wonder on his heels.

"Can I help you?" You ask, albeit uselessly as he continues inspecting your array of books without a word, pausing at the poetry section.

Maybe you shouldn't have bought those bean bags. They're low enough to hide you completely from view of anyone if you were to sit and you, being the one to sit by the register, kinda have to do that a lot. You take to standing, taking occasional sips from your tea when you think the boy that stumbled in isn't looking.

The boy suddenly marches towards you. Eyes you for a minute. Blinks profusely. "Morning," he says after a moment, voice soothing and soft, like melting butter and dripping honey. He slides a book onto the counter. Poetry.

"Good afternoon," you answer with a twitch of your lips, "Is this all?"

He clears his throat, his cheeks a bit flushed, "Yes."

You can feel his eyes on you. They flick over you quick and then again slower and then again one more time, dragging like a lip being pulled through teeth. You feel tingly.

With a hum, you mutter the price you know by heart as you stuff the book into a bag. His voice interrupts you.  "Do you sell blood here?"

You blink, catch Jungkook freezing from where he's seated. The boy in front of you at least has the decency to look sheepish after a moment, smiling with just a twitch of his lips, and it's then you notice the ever protruding fangs that line the sides of his teeth.

"Uh, nope, sorry."

"Hm." He hums. "How long has this been here? It's, well. Nice. Must be nice to work here."

You scoff out a laugh, "It has its downsides. Pay is shit, mostly. You're mostly just making drinks and making sure no one is doing anything stupid or trying to hide a body in one of the vanishing bookshelves."

"I already disproved that theory, noona!" Comes Jungkook's interjection from somewhere below you, voice laced with an odd sort of pride. "I sat there for an hour and didn't disappear."

"That... okay." Maybe you would scold him in any other setting, seeing as the bookshelf was completely capable of actually making him disappear — but seeing his pretty, honest eyes, his cupid's bow pulled into a smile, well.. who were you to take that away?

It's only then you remember the strange vampire you still have yet to know the name of was here for a reason. Your eyes stray to the book he'd bought, and you notice he seemed to dwell on which to buy for a bit too long. "Do you like poetry?" You mutter as you hand over his purchase.

"Nope." He grins. "I'll be back!" The boy says it like a promise before closing the door behind him, nimble as a cat and grinning like one, too, giving the dream catcher by the entrance a dangle and, in a blink, he's gone.

"That was weird." Jungkook mutters through the rim of his cup, and you agree with a simple nod of the head. “He was pretty, though,” he adds thoughtlessly. You nod again.

You spend your lunch, as you usually do, in a coffee shop close to campus, Jungkook sipping on a milkshake beside you and Yoongi sitting opposite you both, the latter pumping an unreasonable amount of sugar into his coffee.

"So Hobi's in this wack exercising mood these days. He signed us both up for couple's yoga classes."

Your lips twitch upwards at that before you purse your lips, trying to hide your smile. "That's.. wild."

"Yeah. Worst part is that I don't even mind going that much 'cause I know it'll make him happy. Gross, huh?"

"Super gross, dude."

Yoongi picks up his spoon and promptly stabs at the thick layer of sugar in the bottom of his cup, stirring glumly. "Anyway, how's the shop? Anyone walking in asking for condoms again?"

"Well, no, but I was asked if I sell blood bags."

Yoongi raises a brow, probably more surprised that there's a vampire on campus than he is surprised at the question. "Huh. That is weird. Was he cute?"

"Yoongs, you are not asking me if my vampire customer is cute. Tell me you're not." The man promptly starts to sip loudly at his coffee, avoiding eye contact stubbornly. You sigh. "Yes. Yes he was. Damn you." The man grins.

"He really was, though," Jungkook speaks up for the first time since you all sat down — not counting the little hello he'd whispered to Yoongi — and you watch as he sinks down his seat, smiles this shy little thing, cheeks and nose all scrunched up, trying to hide it as he sips aggressively at his oreo milkshake.

You smile knowingly at him and he all but melts, looking out the window, the tips of his ears a pretty pink.

"That so?" Yoongi says, watching you over the rim of his cup, "I was starting to think you two were cave gremlins incapable of feeling. How nice for you."

You scoff out a laugh, "Easy for you to say, you met Hoseok on Grindr."

"And we are positively thriving, thank you for asking."

"Oh!" The tiniest sound, whispered more to himself than anything but you manage to catch it anyway, your familiar's eyes widening prettily as he spots something out the window as his whole face breaks into a smile, cheeks crinkling at the edges, "It's Hobi-hyung!"

"Where?" Yoongi asks but sees him immediately after, the man in question spotting them through the glass and waving frantically, like he thinks you all might not see him.

Hoseok opens the door to the coffee shop cheerily, both the dulcet soft chime above the door and the usual light he carries on his shoulders alerting others of his presence. There are remnants of pixie dust on his shoulders, strapped to his clothes, glued to his hair. He smells of salt water and chlorine and dried flowers and something like pomegranate, just on the edges. The smile that always seems to be perpetually glued to his face brightens as he power walks towards your table by the corner.

"Hey! What're you all doing here?" He asks with a laugh as he slides on the seat beside his boyfriend, and Yoongi allows himself to be hugged by Hoseok, who hugs everyone.

"We're the physical manifestations of Y/n's inner demons." Yoongi says before Jungkook snorts out a laugh endearingly.

"How're classes, Hobi?" You ask, managing to ignore Yoongi only due to several years of training.

Yoongi groans at your question. Pretends to be annoyed. "His yoga classes or his dance classes?" Hoseok laughs at that, a loud and confident thing.

Hoseok laughs a lot. Dances a lot. Smiles a lot. Sometimes helps his dad teach little kids how to swim. Sometimes sea foam sticks to his eyelashes. Knows nothing about flowers but listens patiently when Yoongi talks about them, when Yoongi talks about his greenhouse and his love for jasmines and sweet sweet bubble tea.

You watch as Yoongi listens to Hoseok's ramblings, very much enamored and very much enraptured, eyes filled with love love love, a shy but fiercely sure thing. He's watching with the same soft, scrunched eyes he tends to be looking at everything with these days; at his plants and his friends and his music, like they're something precious, something to be cherished. You watch and it fills you with a not-jealousy, an almost-jealousy, an almost-want.

You want that kind of love, and yet you stray away from it at the first chance you get.

Yoongi leans in close, whispers something in his ear, and it's then that Hoseok snorts the coffee he'd been drinking through his nose, flushed from the tips of his ears down to his collarbones and suddenly they're all laughing, the two sneaking glances at each other. Glances you feel are private, intimate, probably something you weren't meant to see. You look away, feeling as if you're intruding.

Your eyes catch shifting from your peripheral vision, and you turn to see Jungkook moving hesitantly about in his seat, nibbling at the straw of his now empty milkshake. He stops. Purses his lips. Makes eye contact for a second before looking away.

You sigh. "If you clean out the backroom at home tomorrow for twenty minutes, I'll buy you another drink."

Jungkook perks up immediately. "How about if I clean out the backroom for ten minutes?"

"Twenty."

"..Fifteen?"

"Twenty."

"Seventeen."

You consider it. "...Deal."

Jungkook bursts into a celebratory dance as Yoongi tries hard to rein in his smile. You flip the two off before catching Hoseok's eye. WHIPPED, he mouths, enunciating it heavily just to be annoying, so you flip him off, too.

Two years ago, Jungkook entertains a visit to the town's newest herb shop; his expectations low and, despite his pack sending him out to search for medicine, his eyes were mostly searching for amusement.

Witches. A funny lot, all of them. They gather leaves for a living and use brooms as a means of transportation and they sprinkle basil into their soups and they think they know how to — how to herb.

The werewolf approaches the wooden door — printing paper taped to it with 'open' written in sharpie — and in he steps, wind chimes tinkling in welcome. If there was one thing he was expecting, it wasn't this. 

The air smelled like wood and scented candles, paint that's just beginning to dry. Shelves lined the walls from top to bottom with potions and tea and crystals and, well, herbs, and in the far back stood a nearly empty bookshelf, only half the books on the shelves and the rest still sitting in a box not quite in plain sight but not exactly hidden, either, as if the owner hadn't quite finished packing them.

If Jungkook holds his breath just right, he can feel his heart beating in sync with something in the air. Something living. 

Jungkook approaches the counter, searching left and right. No one in sight. "Hello?" He calls out. Flinches when he feels a thud, followed by a very abrupt, very loud—

"OW."

He leans forward tentatively after a moment of hesitation, glancing beneath the counter and, sure enough, there you are. This small thing curled on the floor, rubbing at your head from when you'd just tried to stand. No pointy hat or a big nose or dozens of moles, no evil laugh threatening to tumble out your lips, hidden just under your tongue.

It was just you. Wide eyed you. Sweet smelling you; sugar cookies, his brain supplies even though he didn't ask it to. Sugar cookies and vanilla and dark woods and something like coriander, just on the edges.

"Why were you sitting on the floor?" He asks you, the first thing he asks you.

You look up at him. Stare for a while. Your eyes don't linger on his ears stretched up in curiosity, black fur tipped with brown, or his tail wagging a bit behind him. He grabs at it to make it stop.

"I don't have any chairs." Is all you say, the lilting tone of home in your words. Jungkook laughs that terrible laugh of his, the one with his grin stretched ear to ear, his nose and eyes crinkled terribly. His laugh makes you laugh. Your laughter is terrible too, he notices.

He gets the medicine, tossing a pouch of coins onto the counter, courtesy of his pack. They have a knack at bringing the most inconvenience possible and living as if it were the nineteenth century.

Jungkook thought that would be it. But his father needed more scented candles and his brother needed more tea and his mother whined, like, once, that they were out of basil. And of course there are other shops that sell scented candles and tea and basil, but yours happened to be on his way every time.

True to his word, the vampire does indeed come back.

Despite barely talking to the boy, you know a bit about him from his interactions with Jungkook and what Jungkook, himself, shares with you. There's a dog with angry and very expressive eyebrows as his lock screen. His lips are naturally pouty and his hands are never quite still. Jungkook once stepped into the kitchen with peppa pig bandaids on his knees and despite knowing fully well that it could be any one of your friends, Yoongi is the least prepared person you know, Hoseok was working at that hour, and Jin only carries hello kitty bandaids from down the street, so you have a pretty clear idea of who's responsible.

And despite all that, you know little to nothing about the man personally.

"Noona, he's.. so nice. He's, like, my weekly reminder that I am, in fact, bisexual." Jungkook speaks as he polishes a crystal, sky blue in color and warm in his palm, and you watch him from between the bookshelves, placing your newly ordered volume of Jim Morrison's books through the available spaces.

"That's nice, Guk-ah." And it is, it really is. He's starting to move on and he's happy and his eyes are shining brighter than the crystal in his hands, tiny constellations hidden behind his eyelids, his eyelashes. "Tell me more?"

And so he does. He explains in a tiny voice, a soft one, occasional giggles and nose crinkles and bunny teeth as he talks about this mysterious boy and it all just feels like. So much.

The shop's lights dim the slightest bit. Jungkook doesn't comment on it.

It goes on until you both hear a loud gurgle from the closet-sized kitchen followed by the scent of smoke, and it's only then you remembered the potion you'd left brewing in the cauldron. You trip only once in panic, and Jungkook's laughter echoes through the walls and it follows you the whole way there.

It's a small little thing. A typical witch cauldron in its finest, smaller than average, sitting over your stove and under the kitchen cupboards. They're all filled to the brim with color-coded tupperwares, its ingredients labeled in sharpie in each respective container; because otherwise you wouldn't be able to distinguish the luck potion from the mashed potatoes, the health potion Jungkook thinks tastes like dirt from the apple sauce.

Somewhere between you opening your window to let the smoke out and your attempts at dwindling the damage, your familiar approaches you from behind and looks over your shoulder curiously, ears moving about in alert. "Can you save it? Is it still good?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you." You say in response, but there's no bite to your tone. He bites your shoulder playfully, a tiny howl slipping from his throat. You chuckle, fully endeared.

You grab a nearby measuring cup. You'd prefer glass vials, but they were all being used at the moment, sitting somewhere in your cabinets. You should probably move them somewhere else. Last time they were left alone too long, one exploded and ruined everything else you'd left in that cabinet.

"Do you know if we got any crystal orders recently?"

Jungkook hums at your question, chin propped on your shoulder, his arms still and unsure at his sides. You should probably nudge him off. Some selfish part of you, the bigger part, doesn't let you.

"Um. I think so. Maybe last week? I think you shoved them in a box somewhere." You probably did. It's starting to become a bad habit of yours.

"Dammit."

Jungkook laughs. "What do they do, anyway? Do they predict the future or something?"

"No, unfortunately. Only specific kinds of witches can do that. Divination is pretty hard so I'm pretty sure, like, only Namjoon is capable." You huff out a laugh, "And they're for curses, mostly."

"Namjoon-hyung can do everything so he's the only exception." He pauses. "Except context clues. He's very bad at context clues."

"And taking care of plants," you add. Just last year you'd given him a succulent because you figured it was the easiest thing to keep alive. It died within a week.

You grab a ladle and scoop up some of the liquid from the cauldron, bringing it to your lips before blowing softly. Probably a bad idea to taste test unknown substances, especially in its early stages, but you decide that it's as good a day as any to challenge death, so you swallow some determinedly. It doesn't burn in your throat, just fuzzes and warms a bit on your tongue, so that's a good sign.

"Are we cursing someone?" Jungkook says with a toothy grin before then resolutely, decidedly, adamantly, rests his hands on your hips, twisting his head so his cheek is on your shoulder instead of his chin. You can feel his breath on your neck, goosebumps prickling at your skin, his touch burning even through your clothes.

"No." You say, feeling small. "Not today. Crystals aren't made for that, Gukkie." You mix the wooden spoon through the concoction absentmindedly as you continue, "Plus, curses need a lot of magic. Usually more than one witch. And don't ask Namjoon because I know he would say yes if you asked."

"I think you can do it yourself." He mumbles, nose pressed to your neck.

"Sweet talk isn't going to make me curse someone." You say but your eyes are wide and lovely, as if you'd give in with just a bit more persuasion. "Who do you have in mind, anyway?"

"No one," he hums for a bit, lips pursed, and they tickle your neck a bit in a not-kiss. An almost-kiss. "Yet."

A hearty laugh bursts from your chest and Jungkook giggles along, giggles, the sound delightful and lovely and the cacti on your windowsill hum, leaning into it. You find yourself doing the same. The kitchen gets a tad bit warmer and the lights get a tad bit brighter.

"Any crystal can curse someone if you throw it hard enough." He grins, bright and unreserved. His eyes look like the chocolate truffles he drools over when commercials for it show on TV.

Some days it hurts more than others. This intimacy you have with Jungkook, how safe he makes you feel. How sometimes is hurts just a bit, just around the edges, where it's easy to hide. How sometimes it hurts too much, when the words are all up in your throat and blocking your airway, no space to let your rib cage expand when you try to draw in a breath.

"Guk- grab me some aloe vera roots, please? Please." You whisper, afraid that if you talked any louder the other words would come tumbling out. Your heart sits so big in your chest it's taking too much effort to hold it in place. Hands claw around it incessantly, some squeezing at it and others making it harder for you to breathe.

Jungkook untangles himself from you just as the lights overhead flicker indecisively. His hands don't linger. They feel like they might linger. They hover over your hips for a second, as if he stopped them from lingering.

He says something that sounds like okay, noona but the words get lost somewhere between his tongue and his teeth and only half of it makes it out. You hear cupboards opening and closing—feel Jungkook lingering in the air you breathe in.

You turn around and the werewolf is moving aside your many tupperwares, reading the label of the ones he finds the strangest. He picks up one with a soft pink color, the liquid bubbling unpleasantly. He places it right back, brows furrowed.

"How do you know how to make all this stuff, anyway?" He exclaims with a huff, closing another cupboard with a thud.

"Pinterest. Yoongi. Years of training, maybe. Or not. I think I stopped paying attention after seventh grade."

He laughs a bit at that, a soft thing. Hands you the tupperware with the root you asked for, which ended up being shoved somewhere in the fridge. You really should reorganize your things.

You take trains sometimes.

Faraway trains, hidden somewhere in the deepest part of the city. Trains taken straight out of Ghibli films, splashes of watercolor and pencil art drawn by hand. You take them when you feel like getting away, like outrunning the heartbreak chasing you down, like you want to go somewhere but have no destination in mind. You get off on stops where you don't know where you are.

The train sometimes takes you to farms, where the horizon is burning against the tips of the wheat, setting the world on fire. Sometimes it takes you to towns you haven't even heard of, where everything is homey and everyone knows each other and the flowers sitting on windowsills to bask in the sun greet you softly.

Everything is nice. Calming. You like when the train goes through tunnels, the dark inviting and comforting, a childlike wonder. The sound of the rail wheel on the track almost lulls you to sleep at times, white noise in your ears, and the few people in the train agree — most already doing exactly that, slumped against the seats.

The train skids to a halt. Nothing compels you to get off, so you don't.

People are leaving, a mother sitting in the seat in front of you urging her daughter awake, the old man sitting a few seats back getting up slowly, with kind eyes and laughter lines. You stay slumped by the window, sunlight warming the side of your face.

Amidst your daydreaming and despite the available seats, a man gets on board, spots you, sits beside you. He watches your side profile for a bit, as if waiting for you to complain or call him out on it. You don't, so he gets comfortable in his seat, closes his eyes. His skin is the color of honey and gold.

He looks absolutely horrible. Well, not outwardly—not outwardly at all. He's wearing slippers with little rabbit ears drooping horribly endearingly, a flannel and basketball shorts, two articles of clothing that don't match at all, as if he grabbed them last minute, but he makes them work. You have a feeling he would look good dressed in cardboard and trash bags.

His ears are a light brown color, and on his head sat a pair of antlers, the tip of one broken off a bit.

But his aura. His aura is absolutely horrible. It's gloomy and so unbelievably dark, hovering over his form and twisting into something ugly.

Maybe this strange man is like you. Maybe he likes to take train rides to the middle of nowhere in early mornings, when the clouds are still blurring over the horizon. You catch him staring at it, the horizon; right when you look up and see him looking not at you, but just past your head up to the skies.

You stare, too. The silence stretches, and a voice—thick and smooth like honey—breaks it. You're comparing him to honey a lot, you notice. His voice and his skin. You'll call him honey boy for now. "Blue."

The sky is awfully blue today, only a few clouds hovering overhead. "It'll rain soon," you reply thoughtlessly.

"How'd you know?" You sense a lilting tone of comfort in his tone of voice. He has a bit of a lisp. His eyes are big and open and honest.

"The leaves are turned on their back, the crickets are chirping, there were some colorful streaks on the sky today." You can tell he's processing the words, taking them to heart, listening gently.

"Oh." Is all he says. The silence stretches again. It doesn't last long. "Are you sad, too?"

Your eyes are wide with surprise when you turn to look at him. A grin splits across his face at your unintentional open admittance, and it's so pretty you can't look away.

The man explains he hasn't gotten more than four hours of sleep for the past two weeks. That he hasn't properly interacted with another human that wasn't his roommate and his mom probably since last Wednesday ("Maybe, that might have been a fever dream," he adds. You laugh). That he's been functioning solely through chocolate, granola bars and vitamin gummies—not coffee, no, he can't stand caffeine—and you laugh until he opens his backpack and pulls out, like, thirteen kitkats.

Describing honey boy is some new word you don't know. Like all the gentle love in his heart has manifested itself, is seeping out through his skin. You wonder how many strangers he's charmed in his life.

Honey boy hums a song absentmindedly from beside you, probably unaware that he's doing it. His voice is a deep timbre that fills the silence in a quiet way. His voice is nice and the train ride is nice and for a second it feels like you've run so far ahead from the heartbreak that it's likely impossible for it to ever catch up.

"Do you like the ocean?" He asks after a bit. The train is getting closer to it, to the ocean, and you can see the line where the blue of the sky blurs into the blue of the ocean. He answers before you get the chance to, "I really like the ocean. I would come here a lot with my grandparents. I like how my dad used to chase me around the sand and my mom would sing to me and my grandma would buy me cotton candy from the vendors that walked by and my grandpa would playfully pull at my antlers. And how the pretty scaled mermaids kept the tide gentle when I was learning to swim and it's, just. A cradley sort of place."

The way he views the world is so gentle. "It'll kick your ass, though," you mutter.

He giggles, really giggles, and it comes out as a ehehe kind of sound. It's cute, your mind supplies even though you didn't ask it to.

"It will, won't it?" He says between laughter. "Sorry, I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"No!" You say too quickly. Clear your throat at the realization. "No, you're not. I like when you ramble."

Pretty pink on his cheeks. He looks small, somehow. "You sound like someone I know."

"That's good. You should have those kind of people in your life or else you'll go mad."

He laughs. The train skids to a stop the same way it always does, but it feels different. The man goes to stand up, hesitates, sits back down. Looks at you, almost as if to ask for permission. "Will I see you again?"

Your breath hitches in your throat. "I don't know."

"Gram says that people that are meant to find each other, will." He looks determined. One of his ears twitch. "See you soon."

And with that he gets off the train, doesn't look back for even a second, is saving that glimpse for when you see each other again. A part of you doesn't think you will. Another finds itself wishing for it.

[typingtess]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Eric Christian Olsen (@ericcolsen)

NCIS: Los Angeles Season Eleven Rewatch:  “Mother”

The basics:  Someone from Hetty’s past puts the team in danger.

Written by: Eric Christian Olsen and Babar Peerzada - first writing credit for both men.  

Directed by:  Dennis Smith directed “Fame”, “Standoff”, “Rocket Man”, “Cyberthreat”, “Exit Strategy”, “Patriot Acts”, “Out of the Past” part one, “The Livelong Day”, Between the Lines”, “Deep Trouble” part two, “Black Budget", “Black Wind”, “Blame it On Rio”, “Defectors”, “Matryoshka” part one, “Granger, O”, “The Queen’s Gambit”, “Hot Water”, “From Havana With Love”, “Plain Sight”, the delightful romp that was “Monster”, “Superhuman”, “One of Us”, "Smokescreen” part one and "Decoy".  

Guest stars of note:  Peter Jacobson is back from season 10’s “No More Secrets” as Special Prosecutor John Rogers, Carl Beukes as Ahkos Laos, Nitya Vidyasagar as Natasha Ali, Todd Jeffries as Barrett Fimmel, Brian Leigh Smith as Bomb Tech Aaron Roberts.  Episode co-writer Babar Peerzada plays Oratile Wallace, the man who approaches Hetty in the cemetery.

Our heroes:  Get put through the ringer by Eric Christian Olsen in episode 250.

What important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Will deal with whatever woes are coming Hetty’s way as a family. Sam:  Fell in love with the country when he joined the Navy. Kensi:   Pulls Deeks from a fiery, explosive death. Deeks:   Door-surfing away from a fiery, explosive death. Eric:  Call him Carmen San Diego because he traced a call made with a sat-phone that was routed around the world four times. Nell:  Realizes what is happening occurs when someone plays God in the lives of people they say they love. Hetty:  Brought up Callen and the anti-Callen.

What not so important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Draining three-pointers. Sam:  Doesn’t judge a fish by his ability to climb a tree. Kensi:  Surprised Deeks shops at Walmart. Deeks: Stares at security cameras at Walmart. Eric:  Wants to be high-fived or told he is a genius when he discovers secret files.   Nell:   Finds it is faster to high-five Eric to get it out of the way. Hetty:  Still has the courtside Lakers tickets.

Who's down with OTP:  Kensi and Deeks are having a family, home schooling the kids, teaching them French and surfing as they live in a van right after Kensi hits the restroom.  Eric has to work a little to get Nell back into saving the day and away from looking at what Hetty’s done with a critical eye.  

Who's down with BrOTP:  Sam wonders why Callen does what they do.  

Any pressing need for a young FBI Agent:  Any and all help would have been greatly appreciated today.

Who is running the team this week?  Hetty but as the center of the case, a returning John Rogers has some pull.  He also has some evidence against Hetty’s past actions.

Fashion review:  In the gym, Callen is wearing a blue tee-shirt with grey gym shorts.  Sam is in a black tee-shirt with black and red long basketball shorts.  Kensi is wearing an off-white sleeveless cut-off tee with black leggings.  Deeks is in a grey tank top, dark blue joggers and a backwards blue baseball cap.  Eric wears a white tank top and oh-so very short red shorts.  For the majority of the episode, Callen wears a blue button-down shirt.  Sam is wearing a plum long-sleeve tee.  Kensi is wearing a long-sleeve v-neck tee.  Deeks is a medium blue long-sleeve sweatshirt.  Eric is wearing a red rugby top with blue and off-white stripes – I think that’s a new addition to the Eric Beale style book.  Nell is in a dark dress – she’s in Ops for the entire episode and often with the power out - it is hard to see.  Hetty wears a dark blue suit.  In the cemetery, she wears a spectacular blue/grey herringbone trench coat with a cameo broach.  

Music: “Fourth of July” by Sufjan Stevens is playing in the enclosure in the warehouse, drawing Deeks in.  An instrumental portion of the song is playing as Laos dies.

Any notable cut scene:  No, but the DVD had a 3-minute vignette about the episode.  Executive producers R. Scott Gemmill and Frank Military thought the 250th episode was a good place for a mythology (hey, an old X-Files line where Military was a guest star/vampire back in the day) episode about Hetty, writing by ECO and his friend Babar Peerzada.  Military said that when a non-staff writer writes an episode, they are not usually involved with the show’s history – they do more a standard case-of-the-week hour.  Having this deep dive into the show’s history and Hetty was “cool” according Military.

Callen, according to Gemmill, goes into the episode to save his “mom” and “finds out your parents had nine other kids just like you.”  The idea was to throw the characters into “a spin” that keeps them interesting not only to the audience and the writers but also to the actors.

Hetty is an interesting character where those around her think she’s their “best friend” but she also has an agenda that is much bigger than that.  She is committed to “the cause” but not everyone knows what the cause is.  Hetty’s actions are the personification the question of the ends justifying the means  It makes the characters more interesting – they think what they’re doing is right but do they have the right to do it.

Quote:  Nell:  “This is what happens when you try to play God in the lives of those you say you love.”

There are a ton of great lines – both deadly serious and unbelievably funny in this hour.

Anything else:   A bright red Porsche pulls into a gated mansion in the Hollywood Hills.  In the driveway is a restored Ford Mustang convertible, a military-style Hummer and a motorcycle.  An older man leaves the Porsche and uses voice activation to open to front door.  “Welcome Home Mr. Fimmel,” the security system replies and he’s inside.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he’s surprised to see a tea cup with a tea bag sitting on the kitchen island.  Opening the weapons drawer on the island – probably not a common upgrade on the typical island – he finds his guns are gone.  Taking a knife from the kitchen’s knife set, he walks to the living room.  

At the top of the stairs, with the sunlight behind him, is the intruder.  Fimmel pretends to know the intruder, promising to kill him and his whole family.  As the intruder walks down the stairs, Fimmel does recognize the man.  “You, you died,” Fimmel tells the very not-dead man coming at him with a machete.  Fimmel takes a weak hack at the intruder who not only brushes it away but winds up taking the knife from Fimmel.  Asked by Fimmel what the intruder wants, the man answers “everything.”

The team is playing basketball – Kensi and Deeks vs. Callen and Sam.  Winner gets Hetty’s courtside seats that night for Lakers-Clippers.  Giving Callen the ball, Deeks allows “age before beauty.”  Callen sinks a three-pointer.  After dribbling for a while, Deeks passes to Kensi who is fouled by Callen.  She misses, Callen calls the shot clean.

Kensi gets two free-throws.  After she successfully shoots the first one underhand, Eric arrives dressed in very tight red gym shorts and a white tank – very 1970’s gym teacher complete with whistle.  After trying to imply he was left out for his great skills, Eric is calling them to Ops with a security breach.  Sam passes Eric the ball who obviously is unfamiliar with the basketball.

Up in Ops, Nell has the security camera outside the office’s driveway on the screen.  A woman wearing all black is sitting the driveway with a square box, about 12X12.  Sam thinks she’s lost but Nell points out the woman is staring directly into the security camera.  Deeks says he does the same thing when he shops at Walmart.  Callen doesn’t understand why, Kensi didn’t know Deeks shops at Walmart.  He thinks they should talk more.

The woman starts writing on the box.  Turning it to the camera, she wrote “Hello NCIS”.  Callen orders a perimeter set up around the office.  The box could contain a bomb.

Callen, Sam, Kensi and Deeks are at the office door while the woman is still focused on the camera.  Kensi grabs the woman, who is brought into the office and taken, with Deeks, for fingerprints.   Bomb expert Sam thinks he’s over his union quota for defusing bomb.

In interrogation, Deeks is impressed the woman did not speak the entire ride over.  Kensi notices scaring from burns on the woman’s face and right hand.  She is not talking in interrogation either.

The box is inside the office with a member of the bomb squad when John Rogers walks down the hall.   Callen and Sam are surprised to see Rogers.  Rogers says he was only there because someone promised sandwiches.  The bomb squad tech announces there is no bomb in the box but “you might have preferred a bomb.”  Inside was an amputated hand with a knife through it.  

After Sam makes a joke about Callen’s exes while Callen reads the note with the hand:  "Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the people lost.”  Rogers would have preferred a bomb.  An arriving Hetty recognizes the quote – it is from “Dante’s Inferno��.

Eric can’t find anything on the woman with the box.  He’s checked US and international databases – “she’s a ghost,” according to Callen.  Rogers points out she’s a ghost with the classified location of the office.  Sam doesn’t believe in ghosts.  Nell, however, believes Eric can find the woman’s background.  He’s already found the “owner” of the severed hand.  Barrett Fimmel was CIA, head of covert operations from 1998-2008 in North Africa and the Middle East.  He led a destabilizing force, which Sam translates as running an assassin team.  Eric corrects Sam – Fimmel, a former Marine, trained the assassins in methods like car crashes and drug overdoses.

Callen asks what happened in 2008 to cause Fimmel to leave the CIA.  He retired to become a private contractor, working for the top bidder.  “Less oversight, more money,” according to Kensi, who is still at the boat shed with Deeks.  Sam wonders if the career move was worth his hand.  Either dead or being held hostage by the “sociopathic poet”, the team needs to find him.  With the woman not talking, Callen and Sam are off to interrogation.

As Callen starts an interrogation, the woman is writing on the desk top with her finger.  After Callen passes her a note pad, the woman scribbles something that Sam photographs and sends to Eric.  

Callen and Sam join Kensi and an annoyed Deeks in the main room of the boat shed.  Deeks can’t understand how they interrogated the woman for two-hours with no response while Callen said two words to start the interrogation and is suddenly sharing.  Sam tells Deeks not to worry, “I don’t judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree.”  

Eric and Nell pop up on the plasma.  The woman wrote the address of two locations in Los Angeles.  One is a warehouse downtown, the other is an estate in the hills.  Both are owned by a shell corporation based in Liberia.  Deeks’s guess was Bette Midler.  Both properties are off the LA grid – no power from the electric company, not water from the city.  They are completely self-sufficient.  Kensi jokes about preparing for the zombie apocalypse.  Sam thinks it is something worse.  Kensi and Deeks are off to the hills, Callen and Sam are going downtown.

In the warehouse, there are some desks tossed on their sides and file cabinets in the middle of the room.  There are no lights.

Kensi and Deeks enter Fimmel’s home.  He goes upstairs, she’s checking out the first floor.

Deeper in the warehouse is a screen showing the bombing of a home somewhere from what looks to be a drone or military jet’s camera.  Sam can’t figure out the location – Afghanistan, Pakistan or Syria.  Callen thinks Fimmel ran his business from this location – Sam points out the amount of high-end tech in the building that was all beat up and pulled apart.  A phone rings – Sam tries to find it.

In the house, Kensi finds the tea cup – now without the tea bag.  Instead, it is filled with blood.  Deeks wonders if Kensi is speaking metaphorically like the tea cup is filled with wine like the blood of Christ.  She’s not.

Sam finds the ringing phone in a box.  After checking for bombs, he opens it.  The phone is in what is likely Fimmel’s other hand.  Callen answers, identifying himself.  “My brother, I am you when the pennies drop,” the voice on the line tells Callen.  “Once the favorite son, now a fallen angel.”  Callen is sorry to hear that and asks about Fimmel.  The man on the phone says he saved humanity from Fimmel’s transgressions.

In Fimmel’s bedroom, Deeks calls for Kensi.

The man on the phone asks Callen to “tell Mother, I’m coming home.”  

Kensi enters the bedroom and is stunned.  Fimmel’s body has been cut in half.  His upper body - torso, handless arms and head - are “sitting” on top of the white bedding in a pool of blood.  AHKOS is carved into his chest.

In Ops, Nell provides a rundown on the word Ahkos.  It is from an ancient Greek dialect that in its more accurate translation means “the grief of the people.”  Callen brings up the fallen son, mother statement.  Hetty pops on the screen.  She is mother, the message was for her.  Sending Eric a file, Hetty provides the background on an Ahkos Laos.  As a child, he was sent to Botswana because his parents believed he was “devil born.”  Hetty assures the group he was not.  

Hetty saw a young boy who was misunderstood looking for what everyone is looking for in life.  Callen says “a mother” but Hetty disagrees.  Laos was looking for a home, an identity, “and something to keep the darkness at bay.”  Hetty took him in, trained him.  Everyone is working hard not to look at Callen.

In 2006, Laos was part of a black site military R&D project run by Fimmel.  The knife in Fimmel’s hand was the last gift Hetty gave Laos – a parting gift.  His file has him dead for over ten years.  John Rogers pops up on the big screen.  The woman in the boat shed gave him another address – the Hollywood West Cemetery.  While Callen and Sam were ready to go, Rogers notes the instructions for the address included “For Mother Only”.  Hetty is going with a tracking lapel and Callen and Sam running overwatch duties.

At the cemetery, Hetty has not only the tracking lapel but the overwatch spray.  Sam notices that Hetty is not pleased.

Back in Ops, Eric traced the location of the phone that called the severed-hand, routed off a sat phone that sent it around the world four times.  He also found LAX security video of the woman in the boat shed leaving the airport.  Her passport is a fake from Canada but her name is listed as Norma Baker.  Her flight was in from Pakistan.  Kensi and Deeks are off to visit the location where the call to the phone was made, Eric is going to send the passport details to Rogers.

Sam asks Callen if he can ask a “real talk” question.  Callen says no – “real talk” questions means Sam wants to know something deep and important from Callen and right now he’d just like to work.  Sam asks anyway – “do you love what we do?  Is this what you wanted to do with your life?”  Callen does not think sitting in a cemetery waiting for a psychopath to kill “my coworker” was a life plan.  Sam talks about his life in the Navy, how it made him fall in love with the country.  He became a SEAL to protect the country and the world for Michelle, for his children, “God willing for their kids.”  Sam wants to know if Callen ever asks himself why he does this job.  He started doing it so young he knows no other life.  Callen doesn’t have kids, doesn’t talk about having kids.  Why would he do their job?

Standing alone, Hetty remembers sitting in a museum, reading “Dante’s Inferno” to the young Laos.  A man walks up to Hetty.  She asks, “where is he?”

At their workstations, Eric and Nell are waiting for an update from Rogers when all the power goes out.  The entire system goes down.  Nell orders emergency protocols.

Rogers interrogates Norma Baker who is really Natasha Ali, daughter of Zakir and Ayesha Ali, born in Pakistan.  He asks about the scars on her face and right hand.  She calls them the scorched earth of US policy.  “Henrietta’s debt has now come due.”  

Kensi and Deeks pull up at a warehouse in an area full of warehouses.  As Deeks is about to crowbar open the warehouse’s door, Kensi is able to pick the lock to the warehouse garage entrance.  The warehouse is largely empty in the front.  In the rear, they find an office filled with papers, file cabinets, an old desk with equally old desk lamps.

Kensi finds a large bulletin board with a map of LA and dozens of pins in different locations, all connected with red string.  As Kensi takes a look at the map, Deeks sees something in the distance.  She takes a photo of the map while Deeks investigates what’s in the distance.

Everything has gone to hell in Ops.  There is auxiliary power but comms are down, trackers are down.  Eric calls Callen and Sam on a landline – he’s heard from Rogers, this isn’t a meet, it is something else.  As Callen and Sam get the call, a helicopter flies over the cemetery.  Callen runs on foot to Hetty, Sam takes off in his car trying to track the helicopter.  Callen finds Hetty’s handbag, along with her phone and a photo of her with Laos on the ground.  Sam crosses by.  Callen realizes Laos is going to kill Hetty.

Deeks makes his way alone to a structure built inside the warehouse.  As with all key Kensi and Deeks moments in the last few seasons, Sufjan Stevens is playing in the background.  This time, “Fourth of July” with the lyrics “”What could I have said to raise you from the dead” playing as Deeks walks into the structure.

Kensi removes a pin from the map – one on the California coastline.  She sees something under the pin and starts pull at it.

Deeks picks up piece of cardboard with the words “The path to paradise beings in hell.” Written on it.

Pulling away the map, Kensi sees a photo from the wedding.  She calls to Deeks.

Moving the piece of cardboard away, Deeks sees the wiring for a bomb and a countdown clock in a glass-covered case.  The door behind him slams.  He’s got less than 15-minutes before the bomb explodes.  He yells for Kensi as she screams for him.

Eric tells Callen he thinks the office was hit by an EMP while Kensi explains to Sam that Deeks is trapped in a room with a bomb.  Callen and Sam aren’t sure what they’re supposed to do.  Callen orders Eric to find Hetty’s lapel pin.  Sam has Nell calling the bomb squad to free Deeks.  The bomb squad’s ETA is 15-minutes.  Eric cannot connect to Hetty’s pin or the overwatch spray.  

Sam wants direction from Callen.  Callen has Eric tell Rogers to interrogate faster.  With 15-helipads to their west and 200 to their east, Callen and Sam are going east.

The room is nearly soundproof.  Kensi asks Deeks how much time is left on the clock.  Just over 11-minutes makes the ETA “the wrong side of 11.”  

Knowing that the country hurt Ali, “maybe orders, maybe an accident,” Rogers understands her anger.  Laos, however, is not some idealist looking to take down the country.  He is on a personal vendetta against Hetty. Rogers wants to know why Ali is helping.  Explaining that eight years ago at her brother’s wedding – a joyous time for all – their home was bombed.  She lost everything and everyone.  A drone “wiped out” everyone she loved.  Laos dragged her from the rubble.  He not only saved her, he trained her.  

The helicopter with Hetty had no tail identification and no transponder.  Hetty’s lapel pin comes on line – it is the middle of Echo Park Lake.  Callen wants to know what that means.  Eric has three options – the helicopter crashed, someone in the helicopter found the lapel pin and tossed out or some in the helicopter tossed Hetty out.

Sam is working with Kensi on the phone, warning her to keep Deeks from touching any of the bomb wires.    Deeks can’t touch any of the wires – they are under thick glass.   After not being able to understand what Kensi is asking about the bomb, Deeks shoots out the door’s window.  They are nine minutes left.

Callen wants to go to Echo Park Lake.  Sam does not – he does not believe Laos set all this up to throw Hetty out of a helicopter in the middle of the day.  Sam is sure Laos’s men found the lapel pin and tossed it.  “You want to take that chance?” Callen asks.  Sam says the bigger risk is stopping the chase to look at the lake.  They are going downtown.

Rogers is sympathetic to Ali’s losses.  The US had inaccurate information about her father.  Rogers passes how the inaccurate information about her father came to the US’s attention.

Calling Callen, Eric tells him there is a body in Echo Park Lake. Sam turns the car around – they’re going to Echo Park Lake.

Deeks is trying to open the case holding the bomb with no luck.  Trying to shoot it causes the bullet to ricochets around the room holding Deeks.  He won’t be doing that again.  

As Callen and Sam pull up to Echo Park Lake, Eric has news.  Hetty’s overwatch signal was picked up just west of downtown for a second.  Callen sees the body in the lake isn’t Hetty.  They’re going downtown.

While driving, Sam asks Kensi if Deeks can identify any of the bomb components.  C-4, three mercury switches, two batteries from cordless drills.  Deeks can’t disarm the bomb.  Looking around the warehouse, Kensi sees the walls are lined with bombs.  They need the bomb squad now.

As the lights are flickering in Ops, Nell notes that this is what happens when you try to play God in the lives of those you say you love.  Eric gets Nell back into what they’re doing.  Eric is trying to cross reference Hetty’s last known location with downtown helipads.

The bomb squad is still six-minutes away and still too far away.  Kensi is near tears telling Nell that it isn’t good enough as she tries to use an axe on the door with no luck.  Deeks has her stop.  Explaining that sometimes he wakes up unable to breathe because the world is so terrible, he feels claustrophobic – his chest is caving in and he thinks he’s going to die.  Kensi is stunned.  But then he looks at her – usually drooling on herself and snoring like a chubby dachshund – and knowing that she’s there and she chose him.  That makes him relax, find peace.  When he looks at her, he sees the two of them so he can fall asleep.   Kensi is crying – this can’t be the end.  He tells her it is OK, she’s the best thing that ever happened to him.  They share I love yous.

Deeks wants her to leave the warehouse.  She suddenly has an idea – telling him not to go anywhere.  He’s not sure where he’d go.

Ali pushes the file back at Rogers.  The file was provided by the State Department.  Laos was the source for the incorrect intelligence about Ali’s father.  Laos made her father out to be a high-level target, he knew the family wedding would happen on the day of the bombing.   She calls the file lies.  Rogers knows now the file was wrong but Laos wrote it.  He was the monster who killed her family.  Ali thinks everyone involved is a monster.  Rogers may agree but there will be no justice for Ali’s family if Laos kills Hetty.  Rogers promises justice for Ali if he can spill Laos’s blood and seek justice against Hetty.  Ali provides the location – the Century History Museum.  Nell calls that in to Callen.

The museum is being renovated.  The lions exhibit where Hetty read to Laos as a child is still there, being restored.  Laos greets an arriving, hooded Hetty – “home sweet home.”  He speaks about the lion – the king – eating his prey – peasants – and wonders if the king has become “a ruined thing.”  Laos still has his machete as he asks about the place of a ruined king.

Kensi brings the Audi into the warehouse.  She tells Deeks she wants to have kids with him.  “What, we’re making babies?” he asks.   Taking a rope from the back of the Audi, she wants to sell the house, buy a Sprinter van.  They can teach the kids how surf, speak French and pick berries.  Deeks doesn’t speak French and worries about poisonous berries.  Deeks thinks their kids should be in school.  Tying the rope to both the door and the back of the Audi, Kensi explains how they will homeschool the kids in the van.

With just under three minutes left, Deeks thinks this is a terrible plan.  The home schooling or the rope, Kensi asks.  Both, Deeks thinks.  It is a bad plan but a worse plan is “scraping your remains off the celling.”  Deeks agrees.

His only happy memories are sitting on the bench with Hetty as she read to him.  He asks if she has nothing to say to him.  She does – she’s the one who put him on this path and she’s sorry.  “A mother doesn’t abandon her child,” Laos says.  Hetty claims he was taken from her.  Furious, Laos reminds her a mother’s job is to protect.  She fed him “to the jackals.”  She talks about the number of lives he’s taken – the number of women and children.  When she apologizes again, he yells at her to stop saying that.  His heart is black.

In an alleyway outside of the museum, Callen and Sam pull up. While Sam exchanges fire with the men, Callen jumps out of the passenger’s seat and into the back of the museum.  

Kensi and Deeks exchange one last round of I love yous as Kensi gets into the driver’s seat and revs up the engine.  Deeks talks about living in a van before noting this is a terrible idea.

At the lions exhibit, Laos asks why Hetty “enslaved” him in this life.  Hetty explains that the life gives them purpose, meaning and gives to others in the world.  “That others sleep peacefully in their beds at night because creatures such as you and I stand ready to commit violence on their behalf.”  Laos thinks that is a lie Hetty tells the demons she created.  Hetty says they are also the lies she tells herself.  Laos believes the two of them betrayed humanity.  A debt that can only be paid in their blood.

Kensi drives the Audi out of the warehouse, dragging the door and Deeks strapped to it behind her.  When the door opens, the bombs in the warehouse start to go off.  Deeks tells Kensi to go faster as the fire is all around him.  Flattening himself on the door, Deeks misses a few fireballs as Kensi drags him to safety.  Once clear of the building, Kensi runs to Deeks, jumping on his as he tries to free himself from the door.

Just as in “Deliverance”, she lands on top of him with explosions all around.  Also as in “Deliverance”, Kensi needs to pee and Deeks is pretty sure just did.

Callen goes through the museum, shooting all of Laos’s men and shooting them again just to make sure they are dead.  He did this in “Lange, H.” when he and Sam went to rescue Hetty.  Walking into the lions exhibit, Callen is knocked off his feet by Laos.  Holding the machete over Callen, Laos tells his “brother” that he was warned about rescuing Hetty.  As Laos is about to lower the machete into Callen, Hetty stabs Laos several times from behind.

As Laos collapses, he asks Hetty if she’s proud of what she brought into this world.  Callen just stares.  Hetty cradles the dying Laos and recites from “Dante’s Inferno” with Sufjan Stevens playing.  Dying, Laos recites the end of the section Hetty use to read to him.  He finally dies.

Ali provides Rogers with all the information Laos made her memorize - missions, ghost hits, illegal trade enforcement and the people who ordered the actives.  Rogers promises Ali her cooperation will be considered when she’s sentenced.  Looking at the list, Hetty’s name appears several times.  Rogers seems pleased.

Finishing a scotch in her office with Callen, Hetty regrets not protecting Laos.  Callen asks from who – the military?  Fimmel?  She thinks herself.  Callen believes she did all she could for Laos – someone she loved.  Hetty does not know how to instill morality when she is not sure she has her own.  She failed him – he was not suited for their life.  Maybe it is not the life for Callen.  Or for any of them.  

Callen talks about Sam’s questions earlier in the day.  After a big case, two or three-days later he goes to where it all happened.  He watches as real life happens – a guy with a dog, a couple holding hands, kids playing.  All the violence and chaos has been replaced by a life Callen helped give them.  He thinks that world is worth fighting for – it all makes sense.  Callen tells Hetty she never failed him or the team.  She is worried she already failed the team – she’s just waiting for the pennies to drop.  If that is true, Callen says they will deal with it as family.  

Leaving, Callen turns and asks Hetty “how many of us are there?”  Hetty doesn’t answer.  Callen leaves.

What head canon can be formed from here:   There are nice callbacks to past episodes in 250.  This is the first real full team episode of the season.  Laos isn’t a surprise since season four had Grace, another one of Hetty’s troubled youths turned badass NCIS agents.  

There were callbacks to the explosion in “Deliverance” (which sold me on the Kensi-Deeks UST), “Lange, H.” (when Callen rescued Hetty) and “Hit List” (when Rogers was introduced as someone out to get Hetty).

Episode number:  250.  That is 23 more than JAG, the show that started this all, 136 episodes fewer than the mothership and 123 episodes more than the New Orleans sibling.  It was episode 10 of season 11.

[theworldiswhispering]

Tagged by @mariposasmonarch  thank u!!!

1. Nickname: Whisper 

2. Zodiac: pisces. it means I can slap u with a fish if I want and not get charged for battery 

3. Height: 5′ 5 1/2″

4. H*gwarts House:  Hufflepuff put in a blender with a Ravenclaw

5. Last thing I googled: something about how to fix a pdf that won’t print

6. Song stuck in my head: Up the Wolves by the Mountain Goats

7. Number of followers: secrets that will never be revealed muahaha

8. Amount of sleep: 8 hrs this is an unusually healthy semester 

9. Lucky number: 24. It’s such a good number I could talk abt it for so long.

10. Dream job: Writer/illustrator. I just wanna tell stories fam

11. Wearing: Tank top and shorts bc it’s the fabled 72 degrees of perfect temperature rn

12. Favourite author: Andrew Peterson, CS Lewis, Tolkien, L.M. Montgomery, Frances Hardinge, etc. 

13. Favourite instrument: Violin or Saxophone. Cannot choose

14. Aesthetic: Ideally every day I would dress for a stylish apocalypse but in reality the day to day aesthetic varies. Idk I just wanna be comfy and have pockets but also be the best dressed person at Walmart

15. Favourite song: Theseus by the Oh Hellos right now

16. Favourite animal: Foxes

17. Random: Recently I have discovered that Guinness tastes.....very bad. 

Tagging anybody that feels like it!

[creepyoldbeej]

Beetlejuice: Hey Lyds, remember when I took your bag of goldfish crackers and dumped them in the pool to save them?

Lydia: Yeahh...?

Beetlejuice: Well, when I was at Walmart I grabbed all the goldfish cracker bags from the shelf and dumped them into all the fish tanks.

Lydia: What?! Why would you do that??

Beetlejuice: Because they looked like they wanted more friends. I mean half of them were dead. So they needed fishies with smiles.

Beetlejuice: Oh yeah, and when I was grabbing the bags of goldfish crackers, there was a little kid that started crying cause he and his mom were about to grab a bag.

Lydia *fearing for the worst*: What’d you do?

Beetlejuice: I smacked him in the face with the bag.

Lydia *face palming*: Did you at least give him the bag?

Beetlejuice: No, why would I do that?

[benedictsvestcollection]

Chapter Two: Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

AO3

Warnings: Light angst, Soft Din (b/c he needs a warning for being SOFT) and bed sharing. 

Chapter 1

Aurora had been on the road with Din and the child for about two weeks now. She had learned a bit more about Din in that time. That he was Chilean and spoke Spanish, (she did not know what he was saying most of the time) that he wasn’t very chatty but he was very kind when he did talk with her and that he was a badass bounty hunter and almost always got the job done. Sometimes coming back a little worse for the wear but usually nothing terribly serious.

Din had a job that was taking a few days for him to complete in Northern California. Gone during the day and in the evenings he was on his laptop or tablet doing research on the guy he was hunting to turn into the local cops. So he’d gotten them a campsite in a campground that had a lake nearby for swimming and they could cook on the grill. But Din always insisted on cooking on the grill for them.

It was mid afternoon on the third day and Aurora had taken the boy to the lake for a swim. It was a hot day and they had been cooped up in the van most of the day so far. Her new and clean phone Din had gotten her was on and nearby, in case he called and she had also left a note in case he came back early for the day. She was helping the boy chase fish in the shallow end of the lake when she looked up to hear steps. She assumed it was a hiker, but Din had told her to be careful for both her and the child’s sake, so she was always alert.

She smiled when she saw him. He smiled back from behind his baseball cap and aviator sunglasses but she could tell he was tired. “Hey.” He greeted her, unable to take his eyes off her in her short shorts and blue bikini top she wore while the boy was wearing his dinosaur swim trunks Aurora had bought for him at a Walmart one day.

“Hi. Guess you got my note.” She told him as she helped the boy onto the rocks as he scrambled to get to Din to greet him. He squealed when he was close enough and wrapped his arms around his legs in a hug.

“I did.” He nodded and winced as he bent a bit to hug him back.

“Are you okay?” She asked him as she picked up a towel and dried her top half off before slipping her loose tank top over her. “You look…” She scanned him for a moment and her eyes widened. “Jesus Din, you’re bleeding.” She mentioned to his side where she saw red seeping through his dark grey t-shirt.

“Just a surface wound.” He grunted as he took the towel from Aurora and wrapped the boy up in it before picking him up.

She shook her head at him. “You should let me take care of that.” She insisted as she slipped on her sandals and followed him back to the van. “And you shouldn’t be carrying him either.” She chided him as the boy patted Din’s face affectionately and took his sunglasses off his face and put them on his own, with a giggle.

“I’m fine Aurora.” He reassured her as he opened the side of the van and set him on the steps while he helped him change. All the while letting his wound bleed.

“Like hell you are. Get on the damn bed Din.” She ordered him softly. “I can take care of this.” She insisted as she gently took charge of the boy and changed him quickly. “Take off your shirt.” She told him while she retrieved the well stocked first aid kit she knew they had for incidents like this.

“Stubborn woman.” He muttered but did as she asked, all the while watching as she settled the boy on the ground with his drawing book.

“Yeah well, I’m the stubborn woman who’s gonna stitch you up now.” She tsked at him and carefully threaded the needle before cleaning his wound. “You gonna tell me how this happened?”

He shrugged as she cleaned the wound. “Just an asshole bail jumper. Thought he’d try and slice me open. He got one swipe in before I got him in a chokehold and cuffed him.”

“Is that all?” She asked him wryly, a smirk on her lips as she slowly began to stitch up his wound with the precision of a professional.

“Yup.” He looked down and watched her work. “How do you know how to do this?” He asked her after several moments.

“What? Get a stubborn as hell, bounty hunter to listen to me?” She teased him.

“Mujer perfecta.” He muttered, partly to himself and partly to her. “I mean this.” He nodded to her, stitching him up.

She wondered what the first sentence meant, perfect… Something but she didn’t have time to consider it with his second comment. “Oh… I was in nursing school for a while.” She told him softly. “Was about a year from graduating when my parents died and I had to quit to be able to afford to put my brother in the group home he needed to go into.” She explained, her eyes going up to his for a split second before going back to focus on closing him up. “We uh… My parents couldn’t afford both and I knew I had to give up nursing school to put him somewhere he’d be well taken care of.”

“I’m sorry.” He told her softly. “That you had to give that up.” He wondered how someone as sweet and selfless and kind as her… Ended up being constantly given the short end of life it seemed. Having to give up nursing, losing her parents and then her brother in a way… And having that asshole ex of hers.

“It’s fine. It was a while ago now. Guess I’m able to put my knowledge to some use now, taking care of you.” She teased him again.

He smirked at her. “Me and my stubborn ass?” He teased back.

She finally finished and knotted up the stitch before rooting around the kit for the gauze and tape. “Yup.” She told him and smirked back as the boy stood up and held his drawing book to his chest.

“Hey kid.” He told him fondly as he watched as he noticed he started to cry. “It’s okay.” He assured him and ruffled his hair gently. “I’m fine.” He promised the boy.

Aurora looked up from where she was working and her heart broke a bit at the sight.

Din looked to Aurora and then back to the boy. “See? Aurora helped make me better.” He showed the boy who’s brows furrowed in confusion before he peeked to see.

“Yes.” She turned to meet the boy’s gaze and smiled at him. “He’s fine.” She promised him and then stood to grab the bottle of Advil they kept in the cabinet and gave him a few. “Take these.” She instructed as she watched him for a few moments as the boy crawled into Aurora’s now vacant spot and showed him the fish drawings he did.

“Did he have fun swimming?” Din asked her after a longer silence.

“Yeah. He can’t really swim yet, but he had fun chasing the fish and splashing around. And we laid out on the rock.” She smiled at them.

“Maybe we’ll teach him to swim sometime.” He suggested casually.

“We could, yeah.” She agreed with a small smile.

“I uh… The campsite is paid up till tomorrow so we can stay here tonight.” Din told her. “I’ll take the-”

“I swear to god, if you say you’re going to sleep in the front seat I will rip out your stitches.” She warned him. “Just sleep on the damn bed Din. It won’t kill you.” She insisted.

“Can’t. That’s where you sleep.” He shook his head.

“You’re an idiot. It’s your bed.” She sighed at him. “Just sleep in the damn bed tonight. Please?”

“Where are you gonna sleep mi querida ?” He asked her, the endearment slipping out but he didn’t want to take it back either. Because he had become fond of her, not that he wanted to admit that outloud to her.

She paused, she knew he just called her some kind of a nickname but she didn’t want to ask him either. He would just deny it or change the subject. “We’ll figure it out later. Let’s make dinner for now.” She told him softly.

“Okay.” He nodded at her. “We can do burgers. Grill by the pit.” He nodded outside where there was enough firewood.

She was going to tell him she could do it but she knew she was pushing her luck with bossing him around for the day and had already won the bed argument so she simply nodded. “Sounds great. We have chips and apples. And I may have told him we’d do s’mores one day.” She admitted with a grin.

The boy looked up at the mention of s’mores and squealed in excitement with a grin before going to the cabinet he knew the marshmallows were stored and took them out and shoved them in Din’s lap.

“Okay kid. I promise we’ll make s’mores tonight.” He smiled softly back at him with a chuckle and grunted as he leaned down to pull out a clean shirt and pulled it over his head. “Come on, we’ll give Aurora a break and let her change. You can help me with the firewood.” He told the boy and picked him up on his good side.

“You really shouldn’t be-” She called after him.

“I’m fine!” He called back to her, exasperated huff in his voice.

“Stubborn man.” She muttered to herself as she closed the van door so she could change into dry clothes. She pulled out a pair of yoga leggings, a tank top and her favorite cardigan before slipping on some shoes. She pulled her hair up in a messy bun and stepped out of the van with an armful of groceries for dinner.

By the time she emerged with everything, Din had the fire going and the boy was watching the flames in fascination and delight.

“You uh… Got the burger meat?” Din’s voice pulled her attention away from the boy. She turned to look at him and he was gesturing at her arms full of the food.

“Oh um… Yeah.” She nodded and smiled softly at him as he pulled out the meat and went to work on making patties.

“I’ll just cook all of it and we can reheat them on the road, if one of us is hungry for them.” He suggested.

She kept an eye on the boy as she set everything else out on the picnic table. “Good idea, there’s foil in the van so we can wrap the extras after dinner.”

“Sounds good.” Din nodded and let the boy hold the plate so he could place the cooked patties on them while Aurora put everything on the picnic table so they could eat.

After the burgers were done, Aurora helped the boy fix his up and put all his food on a plate while Din opened up a couple of beers for himself and her. “Thanks.” She told him with a smile as he handed her one and she fixed her own meal. Now that the boy was happily eating his dinner.

“You’re welcome.” He told her simply as they sat and ate dinner in a comfortable silence.

After dinner, Aurora cleaned up and put everything away while Din showed the boy how to toast marshmallows and make S’mores. By nine, he was exhausted and falling asleep in his lap in his chair. So Aurora set up his little bed that was able to sit above the front seats and he could see the stars through the moonroof.

By the time Din got him in his bed, he came back out to see Aurora curled up in a chair staring at the fire. Lost in thought it seemed, almost sad.

“You… Okay?” He asked her softly, not wanting to startle her. She still seemed to be jumpy.

“Hmm?” She looked up to him and nodded. “Yeah just… Thinking.” She finished.

Din could tell something was on her mind, but he decided not to press it. Not right now anyhow. “Okay.” He nodded at her and looked up when he heard a faint rumble of thunder. “Storms coming in. You want to get ready for bed first?” He offered her.

She looked up at the sky and then back at him. “Sure. Thanks.” She told him. “You’re still sleeping on the bed though.” She insisted with a look to him as he started putting the camper chairs away.

He considered her words while she disappeared quietly into the van to change. They were both adults, he wondered how she would take it if he told her they should share. He would never hurt her or do anything to her without her consent. Hell, they were practically co-raising a kid together.

Once she was done changing he slipped inside while she waited outside to change as well. When he was done, she slipped back inside while he did a final check of the campsite before the rain came. “All good.” He told her as he shut the van door.

“Great.” She nodded at him as she took a pillow off the bed and her blanket. Prepared to go to the front seat and curl up. “Goodnight Din.” She told him softly.

“Hey…” He called to her gently, fingers grasping onto her wrist to keep her from going up front. “I don’t feel right, you sleeping up there.” He motioned to the front of the van. “If you’re comfortable with it… We’re both adults and the bed’s big enough for two.” He offered.

Aurora halted when he grasped her wrist, he didn’t touch her often. Usually when he did, it was casually. But this, this was something different. “Oh…” She breathed out, blue eyes wide and staring at him. “Are you sure?” She asked him hesitantly.

“I am. But only if you’re comfortable with it. Just… Thought I’d offer.” He stated bluntly. A long silence filled the van, only interrupted by the steady fall of rain outside and the child’s steady breathing behind them.

“Okay… Yes… Thank you.” She told him as she slowly walked to the bed, where he sat.

“You um… Sleep to the back of the van. In case… Anyone shows up.” He explained. Din was notoriously paranoid. She knew he had at least one hand gun hidden under the mattress and she had a feeling he was worried her ex would show up and hurt her.

She tensed when he mentioned the possibility of danger and he shook his head. “Hey… Look at me, I got you.. Alright? I just want to make sure you’re safe. So I’ll take the side closest to the door.” He promised her.

“Yeah… Okay.” She whispered at him and crawled into the bed. Getting under the covers and laying her blanket over her as well.

Din watched her get in and he followed suit. It had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with anyone, let alone a woman. And he wasn’t sure what to do as he laid on his back.

“Do you really think he’s looking for me?” Her cracked voice breaking the silence.

Din debated on lying to her but he wanted her to be careful and safe if he was on a job. And realistically, he probably was looking for her still. He turned on his side to face her. “Yes. I think he probably is.”

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Always looking over my shoulder and afraid of him?” She asked him.

“No.” Din growled in the darkness. “I told you I’ve got you. And if he comes for you, I’ll take care of him myself. You don’t deserve to be scared your whole life.” He could sense she was upset and he was fiercely protective over this woman he’d come to know over the past couple of weeks.

“Thank you.” She whispered out. Tears falling down her cheeks now and she was grateful Din couldn’t see her. “I’m just so tired of being afraid of him.”

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” His large hand came to her face and gently wiped her tears. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He murmured.

Instinctively, she leaned into his touch. Purely because having a man touch her so tenderly was so rare for her. “Okay.”

“Get some sleep, mi querida .” He told her gently as he stroked her cheek until she fell asleep.

[eelpatrickharris]

What’s wrong with bettas?

Annnd as promised, here’s that write-up on betta genetics and what’s wrong with all those pretty genes. We’ve got pictures and everything. This is a full, comprehensive list of the various problems with domestic betta traits. If you’re in the market for a new angry pal, then there’s a list of “good” things to look for in a betta at the end.

Just a quick intro before we begin: I’ve been into fishkeeping for over a decade, I currently have 16 running tanks ranging from 5 to 440 gallons, I’ve got about 200 fish at the moment, and I’ve had a good 20 to 25 bettas of my own over the years. When I was younger, I even bred a pair of pet store veiltails together, and reared some of the fry into adulthood. So, this is information coming from someone has both seen these things firsthand and talked with many, many other betta keepers who have done the same.

This is my new betta, Embezzlement. He looks great, right? He really does! But he’s also quickly going blind as a result of his thickened scales growing over his eyes, his fins will end up dragging him down to the point of immobility as he ages, and he’s at high-risk for developing visible tumors all over his body. I’ll get into that under the cut!

(To learn more about why the heck I willingly bought Bezel, just click the link attached to his name up there.)

((I don’t own any of these photos, or bettas, unless noted))

The Dragonscale Gene

We’ve all seen these boys and admired them. Please refer to my totally pro image mashup above and look at the thickened, shiny scales. That’s dragonscaling. It comes in white, grey, blue, and teal; and it can cover any part of the body, including the fins. Some have masks of dragonscaling, some have full body coats, and some just have intermittent patches. Most dragonscale bettas start developing noticeable dragonscaling at 1-2 months, and it continues spreading from that point on. 

Now, if it was just a pretty shimmery gene, that would be great! But it isn’t. Dragonscales are abnormally thick scales that spread everywhere, even over their eyes. You can see the scales start to circle around the cornea on the left, and a progression on the three fish to the right. Once the scales reach the eyes, it’s only a matter of time before they go completely blind. (This is basically a guarantee for bettas with dragonscaling on their face.) If you don’t want a blind betta that can’t safely navigate its environment, stay away from those opaque, shiny, thick scales. 

The Marble Gene

If you’ve ever seen a pretty “koi” betta covered in colorful blotches? That’s a marble. A weird, flesh-toned betta with neat speckles? That’s a marble. If you’ve ever seen a betta that’s changed colors over the span of its life? That’s 100%, definitely, without a doubt, a marble. The prevalence of marbles in the market is for 3 reasons: 1) it’s considered a dominant gene, 2) marbles are pretty rainbow boys, and 3) it’s also really, really hard to breed back out of lines.

So, the thing about marbles is... their pigment cells are constantly mutating. They can completely change colors in a couple months. Your red and black and white koi that you paid $30 for might turn into a muddy maroon right before your eyes. And since their cells are constantly mutating, you guessed it—

They’re prone to developing tumors. Yeah. They go lumpy even faster than the average betta.

Blue Bettas and Graphite Disease

Nah, not even the comparatively boring bettas are safe. Bettas that are 90-100% blue with little other coloration on their bodies? They’re prone to graphite disease, which is a fast-acting killer with no known cure. 

Their fins and bodies start turning grey, like someone shaded them with a pencil, and then boom: they’re dead within a few days. This is likely due to their reduced ability to process carotenoids, which are the substances responsible for increased red pigment. They also play an important role in keeping the immune system functioning properly, so without those.... yeah. They get sick even more easily than your average betta, and they die even more easily than your average betta. Also. Graphite disease. Not a fun time.

Red Bettas and Tumors

Pure red bettas are some of my favorites. Red is a symbol of good luck in Southeast Asia, where bettas are primarily bred and shown, so they’re also an important part of the industry. However, to get that pure, solid red coloration in a fish that’s descended from these guys:

You’ve got a lot of inbreeding to do. Linebreeding, inbreeding, crossing back, whatever you want to call it. It can be beneficial to show lines if you’re doing it right, because breeding the offspring of an animal back to its parent intensifies all of the traits that were passed onto it. However, with fish that are and have always been treated as trinkets, no one bothers screening for the negative traits that are being compounded along with the coloring.

So, red bettas are a whole mess of health issues, but they’re very prone to developing tumors. This is, unfortunately, one of the ones I have plenty of experience with. When I was younger, I had a male veiltail with solid red coloring, and he turned into a mass of lumps before dying. The same thing happened with my most recent betta, Genie. She was in my care for all of 9 months before I had to put her down, as there were multiple little tumors developing all over her body, and a large one over her internal organs that was visible from the outside.

Here’s a side by side comparison. From the day I got her to the day I euthanized her so she wasn’t in pain. For those of you who don’t know about her, she was the pond betta who lived in a 440 gallon blackwater biotope and fed a live insect-based diet. The pH in there is 5.8, the temp is 78F, the water quality is always 0/0/0, and there weren’t any environmental stressors that contributed to her decline in health. She was kept in the best conditions I could possibly give her, and she still went that far downhill in 9 months. She wasn’t a full year old.

Unfortunately, it gets worse from here! Get a glass of water, grab some snacks, we still have fin types to cover.

Halfmoons and Rosetails

You see those two gorgeous guys above? Those are halfmoon bettas, one of the most popular and commonly available types of bettas! Note how dang big those fins are. They only have them fully extended like that when they’re flaring. Now, look at this picture of a halfmoon with his fins in the normal position:

See how they collapse into a long, ruffled shape? Two things here. 1) Those fins are literally useless and hinder them from swimming properly, so they have to exert way more effort than necessary to even move around. This is how we get that signature “betta wiggle” that people find endearing. To properly drag those massive fins around and keep them from dragging, they have to undulate their whole body in an exaggerated manner, which gets harder and harder as they age.

And 2) This leads to fin biting. Note how that poor guy’s tail is all tattered and shorter than his ventral and dorsal fins. When bettas are weighed down by their own fins? Their solution is, a lot of the time, to self-mutilate and nip them off. The jury is still out on whether or not they have feeling in their fins; but even if they don’t, they’re still opening themselves up to potential infections. Plus.... even the fish don’t want those draperies. C’mon. You know it’s not good if they’re literally tearing themselves to shreds just so they can swim again.

Can’t forget rosetails, either! That blind pal on the left and living tulle skirt on the right are bred for fins that go over the halfmoon point (they aren’t a semi-circle, they’re more like a pizza with a couple slices taken out)  and have enough bulk that they stay ruffled even when they’re flaring. For obvious reasons, these are even worse than halfmoons. Oh god those poor fish.

Crowntails

These spiky boys are crowntails, another common fin type seen in Petsmarts and Walmarts everywhere. Not much to say about them that wasn’t covered under the halfmoon section. They’re fin biters, because even though they don’t have as much fin mass, those tendrils still create large amounts of drag and hinder their movement.

Doubletails

We took a halfmoon and we made it worse. That.... that takes skill. These genetic abominations were specifically bred to have not one, but two tails! And I’m not sure how much truth there is behind this, but their spine is supposed to split into two portions to create that Y shaped tail. Obviously, that would strain their spine and create a whole handful of new problems, on top of that further decreased swimming ability.  (After Bezel passes, I’ll probably get a doubletail and see if that spine thing checks out.)

Congrats! You made it to the bottom!

Now, here’s what to look for, if you want to buy a healthy(er) betta.

If you’ve been in a pet store recently and looked at the shelf with all the bettas on it, you can probably recognize some of these traits in 9/10 fish. And if they’re not lying on their side on the edge of death, they’ll probably look good and healthy and tempting to take home.

Remember how screwed up those bettas are, though, and get one of the better options. Here’s a list of questions to ask yourself before taking a betta home.

Male or female? When it comes to fin types, females will almost always be better off than males. Thanks to sexual dimorphism, female bettas have shorter, less exaggerated fins. Therefore, a crowntail female can swim about as easily as a plakat (read: short-finned fighter type) or veiltail betta. If it’s a female, just make sure the fins aren’t bitten or weirdly long. If it’s a male, see below.

How drastic are the fins? The shorter, the better. Just make sure they aren’t short because they’ve bitten them off. Also, veiltails are one of the healthiest fin types currently available, because they’re an “undesired” trait, and have wider gene pools as a result of not being inbred to a severe degree. They're functional, too! These boys can swim.

How pretty is it? If the betta looks like a galaxy painting threw up on it, then chances are, it’s gonna have some issues later in life. You want a betta that’ll hopefully live for years? Get an ugly one. Orange, yellow, tan, peach, dirty white, whatever. Stay away from those solid reds/whites/blacks/blues. Those two boys above are great examples of “ugly” bettas. Even though the one on the left is marble, he still has a better chance of living a good life than an inbred solid black disaster.

If you want something a little fancier than a fish that looks like.... well, kind of like flesh, get a cambodian! Their coloration is a variation of piebald. They’re characterized by a light, peachy body and colorful fins. They’re pretty flesh fish. These were actually one of the earliest types of domestic bettas, fun fact.

How shiny is it? Shiny scales don’t automatically mean they betta is a dragonscale carrier. For example, compare these crowntail and plakat (that fighter-type mentioned above) males to the true dragonscales at the very top. Lightly shimmery scales that naturally fade into the body aren’t dragonscales. If they’re the same size and thickness as the rest of the scales, they probably aren’t dragonscales. You can get an eye for telling the two apart after awhile.

And that’s it, that’s the show. Thanks for reading!

This guide was written on 2/03/2019 and will be edited as necessary.

2/08/2019: edited to remove swearing

[getsmashed]

I got a betta fish his name is Neptune and he is Very Angery all the time but likes to show off.

[schweeeppess]

Tim blinked slowly, upside down on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV boredly.

He was bored. Exceedingly unentertained. Losing his barely-intact mind.

Bruce was sitting on an armchair to the right of the couch, reading a book on something.

Ignoring Tim's obvious boredom.

Duke was to Tim's left, texting someone, but he kept looking at Tim, then Bruce, confusedly.

Still ignoring Tim.

"Bruce," Tim spoke up, turning the TV off and staring at the black screen, boredom weighing heavy on the single word.

Duke looked up from his phone.

"Yes, Tim?" Bruce didn't put the book down, but his eyes stopped moving across the page.

"I'm bored."

"I know, Tim."

"Really bored."

"I know, Tim."

"Bruce."

"Yes, Tim."

"Bruce I want a fish."

Duke blinked. Tim ignored him.

Bruce put the book down and gave Tim a confused look.

Victory.

"Why do you want a fish?"

Tim shrugged, still upside-down. "Why not? I'm bored."

Duke and Bruce looked at each other, but Tim ignored them, inspecting the remote in his hand. He traced the buttons with his finger, still oh-so bored.

"Bruce. My fish. I need him."

Duke got up and walked out, saying something about paintballing with Jason. Bruce looked betrayed.

Tim rolled his head to look at Bruce, raising his eyebrows.

"My fish, Bruce. He needs me."

"You haven't even met him."

"We're spiritually connected."

"Timothy."

"Brucelie."

A pained expression formed on Bruce's face. "That's not my name."

Tim shrugged. "So? I needed something. I came up with Brucelie."

Several seconds passed in silence, Bruce and Tim staring at each other, a silent battle of will.

Finally, Bruce sighed.

Tim grinned, flipping right side up and sticking his hand out to Bruce, thrilled at his little win.

"To Bruce."

Shaking his head, Bruce grabbed Tin's hand and stood.

"I assume we're going to Walmart?"

"Wherever your heart desires, B-man."

"Hn. Where will you keep the fish?"

"My place."

Bruce nodded, and released Tim's hand, starting for the garage.

Tim whispered a very quiet, "Yes!" and followed Bruce.

Roughly an hour later he had Bruce the beta fish in his hands, the dark blue fish swimmimg around in his small cup-thing. Container? Tim didn't know.

Two hours later found him at his apartment, Bruce setting up Bruce the beta fish's tank.

Thirty minutes after that, Tim was sitting with Bruce and admiring his new fish, cups of tea in hand.

Smiling, Tim turned to Bruce. Bruce raised a brow as he took a sip of his tea.

"Thank you," Tim said, nodding toward his happy fish.

Bruce grinned a little and ruffled Tim's hair. "Of course, Tim."

"I thought you were gonna say no."

"I said yes."

"Yeah but I didn't think you would."

Bruce shrugged and took another sip of his tea. "I aim to surprise."

Tim snorted.

"No you don't."

"I don't."

Bruce the beta fish wiggled to move across the tank quicker.

"I think Bruce does though."

"Maybe he just doesn't like going slow."

"I should have named him Barry. Or Wally. Or Bart."

"You should have."

"His name is still Bruce."

"I'm proud."

"You should be."

[kflirts]

demon next door;

word count: 3.1k

genre: smut

summary: wooyoung is your absolutely fuckable neighbor. he’s slightly less fuckable when he beats up your roomamate. still fuckable tho

notes: my friend cait dared me to write her a wooyoung smut, so i originally wrote this with her name but changed it to reader version to publish it. ye! also thats why mark is ur roommate bc she has Questionable Judgement.

It is not every day you meet a person who is just, so infuriatingly attractive.  Even less often is the occurrence that said person is the extremely shitty boy who lives 16C (aka next door) and likes to get check his mail without his shirt on. Not that it’s a problem, of course.  Actually, it’s kind of a problem, because at 2:23 in the morning you could think of things that you’d rather hear than people moaning on the other side of the wall.  You understand needing some attention every now and then, but this guy is literally fucking people loudly every night. Like, he takes Viagra religiously or something. It literally drives you insane because this dude just sounds like he knows what he’s doing. And it’s obviously impolite to eavesdrop but god, how good could he be to make every single partner make that much noise? Your roommate obviously found the noises less than hot. Mark Tuan wasn’t necessary the kind to let things like that go easily, apparently being disturbed every night was slightly irritating to him. Actually, Mark made sport out of banging against the wall in retaliation and laughing when he heard the boy and his partner yell in annoyance at the interruption. It seemed Mark and the guy just really didn’t get along.  This obviously sprouted a bit of an unspoken conflict between the two.

“Son of a bitch.” Mark walked in one day, slinging his bag on the floor, paper in hand. You looked up, eyebrow quirked.

“What’s wrong?”

“That fucking douchebag next door complained to the landlord about us.”

Your legs closed instinctively at the mention of your neighbor. You paused, thinking of what you possibly could have done that was worth doing to the landlord.

“About?” You continued your task of cleaning your tanks, hurrying before your fishes got tired of the bags they were in and decided to Finding Nemo that bitch. 

“He said our vape air was bothering him. Landlord says this is a smoking free complex and we have to stop.” Mark flopped on the couch across from you, shaking his head as if this was the worst news he’d ever heard.

“Well.” You sighed, shrugging. “Maybe it’s for the best. You nearly died trying to learn tricks earlier.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Mark’s lips tugged up into a smile. “Vaping is my passion.”

You chuckled, “You really should go out more, buddy.” 

Mark fell quiet, and you could tell he was mad.“One day I’m gonna beat that dude up, I swear.” 

Chuckling at the empty threat, you shook your head. “Try not to mess up either of your faces, eh?”

Mark lifted his head now, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m gonna ignore the fact you’re dying to fuck the prick next door.”

“I do not!” You cried indignantly.  

You totally did.

“Yeah.. you do.” Mark laughed. 

“I don’t! I think he’s cute, is all.” 

Mark scoffs. “Whatever you do, don’t look into his eyes. He might steal your soul or something. He’s a demon”

You chuckled. “That’s offensive.”

“You’re right. It’s offensive to demons everywhere. I apologize.”

At this point, your tanks were both completely clean, so you went to fill them up with water, but not before saluting Mark with your middle finger.  Mark was an unimaginable pain in the ass, but a cool one. Like a big brother. Or a cousin. Something like that. Either way, no matter how much he insulted your taste in romantic partners, and how often he burned macaroni and cheese into your pot, at the end of the day, the big dummy was family. Nobody else would let you get drunk on soju at 2pm, honestly. 

From the bathroom, you heard Mark yell.

“Yo, how mad do you think Douchey Mcdreamyface would be if I stole his mail?”

“That is such a bad idea!” You call back, shaking your head. Idiot.

“You’re questioning my methods, ____!” 

“I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid!”

“What’s he gonna do, beat me up? He’s like 5′2. I’m so scared.” Mark teased, now in the door, watching you transfer your fish back into their tanks. You only laughed.

Spoiler alert: He totally beat him up.

“What in the fuck?” You sigh, standing in between Mark’s legs as you dabbed at the bruise on his face with alcohol. He had already gotten a long, drawn out lecture when he came in at 12am, severely busted up and blaming it on the boy next door. Now you were tending to his “wounds” as he sat on the kitchen table. “How could he have possibly hit you that hard? Like, what could he have done?”

“I grabbed his ass.” Mark replies flatly, causing you to freeze in horror. He stared at you blankly. “I’m joking, ___. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“So not funny.” You shook your head, handing him a bag of frozen veggies to hold to the bruise on his cheekbone while you looked at the one on his jaw. You tsked. Such a pretty face to get fucked up. “I don’t get why every time you talk to him it has to end up in an argument?”

“Maybe because he’s a fucker who gets on my fucking nerves and he’s always fucking in his fucking squeaky fucking bed! Like, fuck! And he think’s he’s like Casanova or fucking Leonardo DiCaprio or Michael Jackson or something!” Mark responded. “His dick is like 3 inches, I swear.”

“I can tell that you think you’re funny.” You replied sympathetically, placing a Hello Kitty band-aid on his jaw. Mark winced, and you moved, patting his head affectionately before grabbing your phone and heading to the door.

It was time to talk to Mr. Dreamy Mcdouchey.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t a little excited to have a conversation with him. Preferably, under better circumstances, it wouldn’t be confronting him about beating up your roommate, but, you know. Baby steps. 

You knocked on the door of his apartment, once-overing yourself, making sure your hair wasn’t all over the place, as it tended to be at 1am in the morning.

You started a bit when the boy opened the door, eyes half shut, mouth flat and icepack to his deeply bruised shoulder. He had on a loose tank top, the kind you buy from Walmart for $3, and grey sweats. His hair was falling in his face, sticking to his forehead with sweat and water, and you assumed he was just coming from the shower.

“Didn’t you get my text Chaey-” He began to talk before looking at you. He stopped, his lips curving into a smile, the same smile a cheetah might have when it sees a baby gazelle without its mother. A preying smile, maybe. “Fuck. Hello.”

You blink, can’t helping but to but stare at how godly his cheekbones are when he smiles, how his eyes gleam with something different. Mark did not shit when he called him a demon. 

“Wooyoung.” He stretches out a veined hand, the one not holding the icepack to his shoulder. “And you’re _____.” 

You blink again, dumbfounded. “Yeah.” You shake your head, trying to clear your head. “Yeah. I’m ____. Sorry. I live in 14C.”

“You’re my lovely friend Mark’s roommate, I know. Please, come in.”

You nod, walking through the door into his apartment. It just smelled sensual, he was burning some kind of candle that smelled sexual. You gulped, realizing you were actually in his apartment. Now, if he would just be in you, everything would be great.

Wooyoung walked past you, slipped shuffling against the tile of his kitchen area, and he offered you a glass. 

“Thirsty?” He lifted an eyebrow, and it took everything in you not to say only for you.

“Mm, I could go for something, yeah.” You seated yourself on a chair in front of the island he stood behind.

“Grape juice?” He smiled.

“Something stronger, maybe?” You offered a smile back.

He smirked, leaning forward as he whispered, “Yeah, you do strike me as a soju kinda girl.” 

Something about the tone of his voice, or maybe it was the fact that he was closer to your face, made you shiver in your seat as he poured the liquid into your glass. You thankfully took it, bringing it to your lips. He watched you carefully as you swallowed, licking his lips when your eyes made contact. You, on the other hand, were trying not to choke and die. 

“So.” You said, once you put the glass down. “This isn’t a social call, sadly.”

“That’s a pity.” Wooyoung nodded, poking out his lip.

Your lips tugged into a smile, but you tried to stay professional. “I wanted to talk to you about you and Mark maybe.. I don’t know.. Settling this? Like a truce?”

“A truce?” Wooyoung tried to stop himself from laughing. “Well, aren’t you just a regular little peacekeeper.” 

“Well, it’s really for the best.. You’re both hurt right now, and I really don’t want to have to nurse Mark back into health every time you two have an argument..” Your fingers played with the rim of the glass, and you averted your eyes down, he was staring at you much harder than you would have preferred. He hummed, seeming to understand. He turned around to put his bottle back in the cabinet behind him, and then returned to stand in front of you, tilting his head as he stared in silence for a few moments.

“If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Mark a couple? Or does he just fuck you for recreation?”

You stared at him blankly, having absolutely no idea how to respond to him. You were mildly pissed, but also mildly dumbfounded. 

“We... We’re not? And he doesn’t?” You say, your voice more defensive than you’d intended. 

Wooyoung scoffs. “Surely, a pretty thing like you... He must not be able to keep his hands off of you, right?”

“What the... No? It’s not even like that. Mark’s like my brother!”

Another scoff. “Angel, let’s be truthful, yeah? You’re telling me you’ve not even thought of fucking him?”

To say you hadn’t, at first, would be a lie. But after learning how absolutely stupid Mark Tuan truly was, that ended pretty quickly. Not to say he wasn’t hot, but he just really, really wasn’t your type. 

“I’m sorry, what do these questions have to do with you ruining his face?” You ask, preparing to storm out.

Wooyoung tilts his head. “Didn’t Mark tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Oh... Angel.” Wooyoung chuckled, as if understanding everything now. “He hit me first, you know.” He leaned in closer. “I think I said something that might have pissed him off.”

You still didn’t understand, so you raised your eyebrows. 

“You see, I was under the impression that you and Mark were fuckie-fuckie. IT seems I was mistaken now, but, I think I might have said something to him around the lines of.. One day, he’d be hearing you screaming through the walls. Obviously, Mr. Tuan wasn’t Mclovin’ that.” 

To say you were both absolutely mortified and horribly turned on would be a gross understatement. 

“That is revolting.” You manage, throat dry. 

“That’s not what your face says, dollface.” He counters, and you stand up immediately, about to make your way out. He briskly blocks you in a few strides, his smile sickeningly innocent. 

“Move, Wooyoung.” You say steadily.

“Make me.” He smirks at you, his eyes just daring you to touch him. 

You never turn down a dare. God, you wanted him so badly, it was scary. Something about always being able to hear him, made you beyond curious. So you pushed him in his abdomen, and he got sent back a couple of steps. You raised your eyebrows.  

“Damn, you’re strong for a little thing.” He smiled happily, stepping forward again, this time closer than before. His hot breath fanned your face. “Wanna do that again?” He teased.

You wanted him. So, so badly you wanted him. “Don’t make me handle you, Wooyoung.”

“Oh, angel, you couldn’t handle me if I came with instructions.” With this he closed more space, his chest now brushing against yours. Your breathing hitched as you froze. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him. His lips brushed your neck as he bent to it. “I’m gonna be honest with you.” He whispered. “You’d look so pretty when I eat you out.”

You shivered, not meaning to, but tilting your head back to allow him to tease your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled his scent. 

“Do you want me to do that?” Wooyoung asked, leaving a single kiss on your neck. You nodded. “I said, do you want me, ___?” 

“I do!” You whined back. He smiled at your words, taking your chin in his fingers. 

“Hey. Good girls respond the first time, okay?” He said softly. 

“Good thing I’m not a good girl and I do whatever the fuck I want.” You say smugly, your hand wandering under his shirt. He furrows his eyebrows together, grabbing your arm in a swift motion and pinning it to your side. 

“You do whatever you want, so long as it pleases me, do you understand?”

Something about how stupidly dominant he is made you want to comply, so you nodded. There would be another opportunity to act out, after all. He smirked, satisfied with this answer, and he wasted no time in ridding the both of you of your shirts. He bit his lip as he groped your tits, to the point you wondered if his past partners had never let him touch them. 

He teased your nipples above your bra and you whimpered slightly. 

“What? Does that feel good?” He breathed, his lips nearing yours, to nip your bottom lip. 

“Fuck. Yeah.” You nodded, and he quickly dragged you into his room, pushing you onto his bed. You crawled on your knees to the middle, slipping off your leggings and tossing them to the side. He crawled towards you, and you grinned. 

“Come here.” You breathed, and he obliged, of course. You crashed your lips onto his, and he quickly took control, slipping his tongue into your mouth. His hips grinded against your leg softly, and you were surprised he was already that wound up. You chuckled, sucking on his tongue softly, hands on either side of his face His skin was unnaturally soft and you sighed. He felt better than you’d imagined. 

“You taste so good.” Wooyoung mumbled at a point when he pulled away. “What does the rest of you taste like?”

“Stop being so seductive.” You whined, hands tangled in his hair. He was going to be the death of you.

“I’m just being myself, baby.” He brought his fingers to your open mouth. “Suck.” 

You could have screamed at the words, and quickly obeyed, sucking his digits softly. He takes this time to unhook your bra, groaning at the sight, and you chuckled around his fingers. His mouth teases your nipples, and you begin to whimper softly, the pool between your legs begging for attention. You plead with your eyes, and he notices, chuckling.

“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg, Princess.”

“I don’t beg.” You said indignantly. watching his every move as he teased right above the hem of your panties. He looked up at you, eyebrow raised, not being able to hold in his laugh. 

“Is that so?” He sat up and snapped your panties against your skin. You felt your insides twist up. “Yeah.”

“Aw, she’s playing bad girl, cute.” He leaned closer to your face. “Too bad I don’t go down on bad girls.”

You sighed, his fingered so close to you driving you insane. “Wooyoung, you have no idea how much I want you.“ 

He smirked, slowly sliding your panties down your legs. “Tell me, and say please,”

“Please. Wooyoung. Please touch me. If you don’t, I might cry.”

“Fucking hell, I’m going to ruin you.” He breathed, taking in the sight of you once he’d discarded of the undergarments..

“Please,” You repeated, running a hand through your hair as you motioned to your womanhood, urging him on. He lowered his head down, blowing in between your legs.

“Fuck.” You whined, biting down into your lip, and bucking your hips forwards. His hands rested on your thighs, as he positioned his mouth inbetween you. You were a whiny mess, aching for a touch from him.

“Jesus, ____. I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re moaning like a whore.” He looked at you, eyes deep and teasing.

You resisted the urge to say something snarky, knowing that would only make him take longer. He nodded at your silence before rubbing his index finger along your covered clit. His touch lingered. Your breath got caught in your throat. You whimpered, more than ready for whatever he had for you.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He kissed your heat between each word, his finger rubbing soft circles on your clit. All you could manage was a hum, nodding as he slipped a finger into you,  pumping softly. You see stars at his pace, and you whimper out his name. “Woo....Wooyoung.”  He smirks at your soft moans. “Shh, princess, we don’t want Tuan hearing us, now do we?”  You honestly felt way too fucking good to care. He added another finger into your heat, thumb still rolling against your clit. You felt tension grow in your stomach, and you had to scratch his arm to avoid from moaning when he added his tongue into the mix. He pressed it flat against you, and smirked. 

“Who’s fucking you this good?”

“You are...shit...” You moaned out your responses, his name tumbling out of your mouth over and over.

He hummed against you, adding pleasure to the waves he was sending up into your body, his pace quickened and all it took was him mumbling “Come for me, angel.” for you to come undone in his hands. He allowed you to shake and convulse, nonsense spilling out of your mouth, smiling at how absolutely fucked you looked. He rode your orgasm out, and didn’t stop, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace than before, and you begged loudly for him to stop, the overstimulation driving you insane, but he continued. “Again, princess.” He mumbled against your thigh, and come again you did. “Fuck.” You breathed out, trying to steady your breathing. “Do... you don’t think Mark heard me... do you?” Wooyoung grinned, abruptly adding a third finger and thrusting them in and out of you. This caused you to shriek loudly, which was drowned out by a long thump against the wall.

“Yeah, I’d say he did.”