#only took me 6 million years to finally make something for the bingo

[pineappical]

AFC Richmond Bingo 2024 - Boat

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.  

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

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

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving  you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

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

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.  

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.

 Also read: Masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho. 

[soraegeeks]

Fic Rec Bingo

Twitter user @/lightveils came up with the Fic Rec Bingo Challenge. A few days ago, I took some time to go through my AO3 bookmarks and picked 25 stories. I added a restriction to the challenge of only posting one fic per author.

I’m primarily in the Boku no (My) Hero Academia Fandom, particularly BakuDeku, so my picks will be heavily loaded with that.

1/25 A fic you love without knowing the source material BNHA BKDK This one is so good and it HURT. I can’t read dystopian stories often and this one stayed with me. Final Applause: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17934083

2/25 Fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but does BNHA BKDK Vicious: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914531/chapters/32023359

3/25 A fic you’ve read several times BNHA BKDK Blood Moon: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11894418/chapters/26866914

4/25 A fic you still remember many years later BNHA BKDK the last dragon-blood king: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12645150/chapters/28815981

5/25 A comfort fic Voltron Legendary Defender Sheith Take Me to the Stars: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633202/chapters/51584782

6/25 A cathartic fic BNHA BKDK I dream of flowers (and they’re always sad): https://archiveofourown.org/works/18790030/chapters/44580958

7/25 A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf BNHA BKDK In A Sky Of A Million Stars (Who Cares If One More Light Goes Out?): https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112111/chapters/37636229

8/25 A fic you associate with a song BNHA BKDK Makes me think of “Hot Fun in the Summertime” by Sly and the Family Stone Summer Daze: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530839/chapters/43920148

9/25 A fic that inspires you BNHA BKDK torn fur, blunt teeth: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605259/chapters/41502200

10/25 A fic that brought you on a board a new ship BNHA EndHawks Perihelion: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472911

11/25 A fic you wish could be a movie BNHA BKDK Beyond Sea and Storm: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14361846/chapters/33153270

12/25 A fic that led to you making friends with the author BNHA BKDK It Lurks: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484698/chapters/48608861

13/25 Free space! BNHA EraserMight Dadzawa adopting Izuku is my shit!! LOL Two Idiots and a Toddler: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818917/chapters/44655622

14/25 A fic you’d gushed about IRL BNHA BKDK Unto the Breach: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190245/chapters/45618835

15/25 A fic you would associate with a place BNHA BKDK Makes me think of how I really want to go to Toronto and Paris Around the World, Ma Chèrie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767190/chapters/54403636

16/25 A fic that made you gasp out loud BNHA BKDK / OverDeku Kacchan: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17656076/chapters/41638202

17/25 A fic you found at the right time BNHA BKDK Welcome to Magnolia Springs: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265676/chapters/30350388

18/25 A fic you would read a fic of BNHA BKDK Lovebites: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275196/chapters/35433702

19/25 A fic that made you laugh out loud BNHA BKDK Sucker Punch: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545753

20/25 A fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorised by heart BNHA BKDK The Deku-Shaped Hole: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18166724/chapters/42963254

21/25 A fic that gave you butterflies BNHA KRBK Broomsticks: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193281/chapters/40426772

22/25 A fic that embodies something you value in life BNHA BKDK Value: Beating the crap out of others in trivia. LOL A Fight to the Death: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616192

23/25 A favorite AU BNHA BKDK I love the Regency AU Playful Rationality: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698836/chapters/44347141

24/25 A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading BNHA BKDK Before Midnight: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353440/chapters/25410591

25/25 A fic that made you feel seen BNHA BKDK I want a channel where I can do crazy chemistry videos. LOL Group 1: Alkali metals: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446043

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Some Goddamn Curtains

When I was in college, I kept getting the compliment, “Wow, your room is really nice for a guy.”  I never understood what that meant for the longest time.  Then I actually paid attention to how most guys kept their dorm room. I once waited for a guy to get ready to head down to an event. I realized that I had never actually stepped foot in his room, much less even glanced inside of it. So when he stepped out and said he was ready to go, I leaned to the side over his shoulder and oh my god it was like downtown Baghdad during the worst of the Iraq War. Damn bruh, you live like this? I liked all my college roommates but the most untidiest one was in sophomore year. He left his toothbrush lying around in the open in a sock drawer, and it would end up somewhere else each night. Maybe he liked to play scavenger hunts to keep himself on his toes? He never put the DVDs back in their respective cases. I once couldn’t wait to watch Iron Man with a friend at their dorm, only to open the case once I got there and realize that my roommate had replaced it with Season 1 of Martin. He would also do this thing where he would drink a can of Coke (that I bought), not finish it, put it back in the fridge, then later open a new can of Coke that he didn’t feel like finishing, and rinse and repeat. First year roommate wasn’t that bad. Third year roommate was nearly as tidy as I was. Then in my fourth and final year I lived alone,  so my sense of the idea that “guys were messy” didn’t really hit me because I’ve only had one bad experience and chalked it up to “It was just that one guy”. I’m 31, and by now I have noticed people saying things like, “Oh my God I was actually thinking about what curtains I liked and I’m such an adult. This is what adult thinking is like. I’m adulting now.”

I hate hearing shit like that. I grew up blithely admitting liking things that an adult would “normally like”, such as curtains. The curtains thing came up in high school when I hung out at the senior lounge. The senior lounge was this bare room that looked like it was meant for old people to sit and play bingo. It was boring and dull and I hated it. It felt more lke a prison cafeteria really, with some worn out couches. I would bring my video games to that lounge, namely GoldenEye 007, to play with friends during our free period.  The room didn’t have any curtains, so at a certain time in the afternoon, the sun would beat down directly onto the screen, making it difficult to see properly. A lot of us would squint and move closer or lean forward.  I then said, “This room needs some curtains.”

A pause, and then someone replied, “Did you just say this room needs curtains?” And I was like, “Yeah. Maybe something blue. Something dark.”

And he looked at me and scoffed, and all the other guys did the same - they gave me this funny sideways glance and scoffed. I asked what the problem was, but they mostly shook their heads in disbelief. I was frankly annoyed by their response. So I said, louder, “This room needs some goddamn curtains”, because I thought it was perfectly fucking reasonable that a person would logically do something about the fucking glare from the fucking sun. Maybe they liked blinds better. Who knows? But it took me ages to fully realize two things:  1. It’s not socially acceptable for boys to be interested in style - whether it be about living spaces or clothes. I was fiercely made fun of for the clothes I wore as a kid throughout young adult life. I hated all kinds of t-shirts. I think growing up thin and gangly made me too self-aware of my arms. But I never specifically wanted to wear anything that had a band name or a company logo or even my favorite video game or movie. I would feel like a walking advertisement, and that would piss me off. I often liked ties, long-sleeved shirts, and sweaters. I never left the house in sweatpants or pajamas. I always had to comb my hair and put on a good shirt. Sweatpants were when you worked out or worked around the house fixing things.  I grew up in Catholic school, so we had uniforms. On dress down days, my classmates would come up to me and say, “Eddie, you were supposed to dress DOWN, not up” or “I can’t believe you’re wearing that on a dress down day!”.  I didn’t have a problem with people dressing how they dressed. Sure I was never into the goth thing, but I didn’t want to judge. I just wanted to dress how I wanted to dress. And maybe I was influenced in some way by how my parents dressed me up, and maybe other times I did feel embarrassed, but I knew that at the end of the day I would wear what felt most comfortable to me. Sometimes my mom would give me a sweater that was a tad too bland, so I went to the bathroom once I got to school and took it off. I would like the polo but untucked it and unbuttoned the top buttons. Half-and-half. Right idea, but lemme wear it like this instead. College was really when I started to develop my everyday style, my “main outfit”, like a video game character. I always wore some untucked button-down shirt with a tie, jeans, and sneakers. I liked it. It was this weird blend of dressing up and dressing down. People my age thought I was overdressed but my parents and people over 50 complained that I was underdressed. It was great! It feels so special to piss off both sides! My parents still remember the time I got an award at college and I went up the stage wearing that getup. You look at the picture and see the students standing side-by-side in nice dresses and dockers, and then there’s me wearing jeans and sneakers with a shirt and tie.  There always seemed to be this false dichotomy for how men should look and be - either the dapper “metrosexual” man who was slightly effeminate or the rough-and-tumble strong man who didn’t need to use an umbrella when it rained and never cared to fix his hair because that’s some “gay shit” for silly city folk. That false dichotomy is always played out in media. There’s a million buddy cop movies about the book-smart guy who is suave and sophisticated teaming up with the street-smart guy who is all muscle and manly and goes for the more practical route. Yin and Yang. Hot and cold. Good cop and bad cop. Lucky and Wild. Tango and Cash. But growing up I thought, “Why not both?” I loved watching James Bond as much as I loved watching Indiana Jones. Why couldn’t I be both if I really wanted to? It fit me best to play both roles. I AM GOING TO MIX THESE TWO THINGS AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING STOP ME! I WILL BE BOTH BOOK-SMART AND STREET-SMART. I KNOW THE QUADRATIC EQUATION AND HOW TO CON SOMEONE. THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM.  The fucking worst though is being an adult now and hearing women wish they knew a guy who “dressed properly”, and men complimenting my clothes saying I look sharp.

Fuck all of you, honestly. 2. Young people are afraid to admit they like things that adults like. I grew up with extended family members living in cozy homes. I liked to admire their grandfather clocks, their decanters, their entertainment center, their offices and their chairs. I liked to wander around their houses during the holidays and poke my nose into their closets and admire old things. Maybe it’s something that an only-child might relate to the most. I wasn’t required or asked to be upstairs to attend a younger or older sibling. The adults just did their own thing and so I wandered off. Ikea always tickled my fancy as a kid. I would wander through the model rooms of offices and bedrooms and bathrooms, and I found whatever felt coziest to me and pretended that I was home. Better yet, I sometimes daydreamed that the entire Ikea facility was my home. How about that? Tired of sleeping on the bunk bed? Go to the next room to the big bed. I feel like cooking in that kitchen today, not this one. Some days I’ll feel more serious and work in the wooden office desk and other days I’ll feel silly and be in the kids room. I’ll take the whole building, please. This is where I live now. Swedish meatballs for dinner and creamy European chocolate bars for dessert every day. Young people fear being old and facing responsibilities. That doesn’t mean you liking these things makes you older. Taste and style is part of who you are, and there’s no shame if you have an interest in some bath mats or a nice decanter when you’re 20 or 17.

When I lived in my single dorm back in senior year of college, I realized that I was truly living alone for the first time. It brought some sanity to me that I didn’t know I needed. I was able to organize things how I saw fit, and hosted parties whenever I wanted. If I felt like something needed adjusting, I didn’t need to ask anybody’s permission. I really started exploring my sense of style and taste. As I grew up, I developed really specific tastes about where I would live: 1. Everything has to make sense. The placement of shelves, TVs, desks, dressers, paintings, pictures, all have to feel like they are easily viewed and accessible without needing to awkwardly turn to face them or reach them.  2. Symmetry is not always necessary but still good to fall back on when you don’t know what to do. 3. I never liked to sit with my back to the window(s) or the door. I always needed to see who or what was going to approach me or look at me.  4. TVs should never go on top of fireplaces.  5. Always have some kind of drawing room for guests to wait.  6. Never put your keys or sensitive documents in the foyer, drawing room, or wherever else strangers can easily find them the minute they walk into the house.  7. Open concept is pretentious.  8. It is far easier to cook if you have an island in the kitchen.  9. McMansions are the bane of style. Fake balconies, fake shutters, brick facades - everything about them is evil.  10. Get some goddamn curtains.

[the-hidden-writer]

A Second Chance: Chapter 1

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Read on both AO3 and FF.net!

Summary:  Miles learns the identity of his "dead" mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn't really know how to family properly.

[Chapter 2] | [Chapter 3]

Comments make my day! :D

The Box

Hazakura Temple was one hell of a case, and he’d seen some weird ones over the years. It was like fate how he, Dick Gumshoe, always got roped into those weird ones. Or maybe you could say they were the exciting ones. Depends on who you ask, he thought, as he climbed the stairs of Elise Deauxnim’s cottage- each step creaking dangerously as he went.

It usually wasn’t his job to search victims’ houses, but he thought this time he owed it to Maya. The poor girl lost her mother, and if there was anything in there he could give to her he would find it.

One cupboard at a time.

Even for a famous children’s author, Elise Deauxnim didn’t seem to have many possessions. All he’d found were books and clothes. Even her house wasn’t that big, though it was pretty secluded. Which would make sense since she was Misty Fey in hiding.

God, that was weird to think about. He’d read his nieces a bunch of her stories and secretly enjoyed them too. He’d never be able to do it without thinking of the author’s corpse now.

Clink! Thud!

The others were probably packing up the silverware to give to charity downstairs. Death was so strange… one moment a person’s there, living their life as always, and then the next they’re gone.

He contemplated his own death as he sifted through the belongings of Ms. Deauxnim’s bedroom. Nothing special. There was a neatly-made double bed with a floral quilt, a small wooden bedside table with a shaded lamp, and a few wardrobes full of various clothes.

In the final wardrobe, the small white one, he finally noticed something valuable.

Among the dresses and cardigans, somewhat hidden behind them, was a familiar lengthy, deep purple robe. Dick had been to Kurain village so he knew what it was almost immediately. At least he knew they were in the right house.

At least he could give something to Maya.

Gently, he tugged at the robe. It was stuck. So he pulled again, a little harder.

It remained glued to the rail.

So he thrust his hand far into the wardrobe, half expecting to find Narnia, and felt around with his large fingers until he had a fistful of robe. Sucking in a breath, he yanked it out.

Crash!

He cringed.

Good news: he had the robe. Bad news? The clothes hanger that the robe had been attached to had fallen to the ground.

Sighing, he went to pick it up, when he noticed that it hadn’t fallen on the bottom of the wardrobe. Instead, it had fallen on what looked like some sort of gift box.

Curiosity taking over him, he carefully took it out. It had yet another floral pattern on it (she sure was into flowers, huh) though this one was a lot more faded than the one on her bed or her curtains. On the lid, written gracefully in ink, was the word “Kurain”.

Bingo!

He crouched down onto his knees and slowly opened the box. Inside, was a folded robe- one much smaller than the one hung up. Maybe once belonging to a child? Under that was an old photograph of two girls, desperately trying to fix a broken vase of some sort. It was adorable.

There was also a small pendant in the shape of a magatama, which looked like it could open.

He tried to open it, but his fat grubby fingers kept on slipping off. Maya could probably do it.

Satisfied with his find, Dick leaned over (wobbling slightly on his knees) to close the wardrobe door when he noticed something behind where the box had been.

Another, smaller box.

He took it out, and immediately almost dropped it again.

On the lid, written in that same ink calligraphy was one word.

“Edgeworth.”

Dick’s eyes went wide. What was he supposed to do? Open the box? That might cost him his salary… but he couldn’t not open it.

“Sorry, Mr Edgeworth.” He muttered as he took off the lid.

He stared blankly at the box’s contents for a few moments, the reality of what was inside not sinking in, and after what seemed like way too long he finally uttered two words.

“Holy moly.”

He needed to call Mr Edgeworth.

~._-_.~

“Mr Edgeworth, Sir!” Gumshoe cried, thrusting open the door so that it ended up hitting the wall with a loud bang.

Miles winced and sighed. At least he could always hear Gumshoe coming, so he had a few seconds of bliss to mentally prepare himself. He clicked his pen and looked up from his desk.

“Detective.” He greeted.

What he wasn’t expecting was the large man to be noticeably more out of breath than usual, huffing and puffing with a large white evidence bag under his arm.

Miles couldn’t help but groan when he noticed the lack of label on the bag. “You’re not supposed to take evidence without registering it first, Detective.”

Gumshoe scrunched his nose in apology. “I know pal, but this is important, I promise.”

He flopped onto the couch and started to fiddle with the zip on the bag. Miles sighed again. It was evening, and since Gumshoe had been investigating Misty Fey’s residence, which was a good few hours away by train, he hadn’t been expecting a visit from him today. Not that he particularly enjoyed his visits...

Tapping his finger impatiently, Miles waited for Gumshoe to finally take out the contents of the bag. He was underwhelmed to say the least. It appeared to be a small rigid gift box of some kind.

“C’mere, sir.” Said Gumshoe as he thumped the seat next to him and looked up at him expectantly.

Miles relented and stood up to join the detective.

“You know,” he said, “when I received your text, I believed this to be something urgent.”

Gumshoe shrugged. “It is, pal. I wouldn’t’ve disturbed you if it wasn’t. Don’t you trust me Mr Edgeworth?”

“Of course.” He said, sitting down. Miles didn’t, but decided that this wasn’t the time to reveal that particular secret to his sensitive colleague. “So what is it?”

All of a sudden Gumshoe visibly steeled himself. His expression became soft, but his shoulders were tense. All of his usual energy solidified into something that resembled that of a detective’s. Miles had seen this multiple times before, and it was always when Gumshoe had bad news to tell. It was unnerving to see the man do it in their own conversation.

A bad feeling began brewing in his gut.

“So, I was checking Misty Fey’s house, right?”

“Yes.” He answered, a little too quickly.

“And… she was the one who channelled your dad, wasn’t she?”

Miles didn’t have to answer that. That bad feeling only worsened.

“Well uh, I found this and…” Gumshoe paused. “I think you’d better take a look for yourself.”

Slowly, as if he were handing something fragile to a small child, Gumshoe passed the ominous box to him and gestured for him to open it. What immediately piqued his interest was the fact that it had the word “Edgeworth.” written neatly on the lid.

So, with an unhealthy amount of caution, he began to lift it...

“Hey!”

...and almost fell off the couch at Gumshoe’s outburst.

“What?” He asked, disgruntled.

The detective turned to face him. “I uh just wanted to say, whatever’s in there, that I’m here for you Mr Edgeworth. Whatever you need. I knew you should have this the moment I saw it, no questions asked.”

“I see.” Was all he said in reply, as his curiosity was beginning to eat away at him with every passing second.

He opened the box.

...and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been half-expecting something to jump out.

A bunch of papers. Newspaper articles, mostly. He recognised the majority at once- they were all reports of his father’s death. The DL-6 incident. He furrowed his brows, wondering why Gumshoe assumed that he hadn’t read each one of these articles a million times over already.

Then, whilst removing them, he noticed more faded newspaper clippings underneath. However, this time they were ones he didn’t recognise. They were far smaller, from a local company he hadn’t heard of, and difficult to make out on the yellowed paper. But they all shared one common sentence:

“Defense attorney Gregory Edgeworth wins case.”

The original shock wore off quite quickly as soon as he thought through it logically. Reading them one by one, it started to become clear to him. It made sense that Misty Fey would have researched his father’s career- the police asked her to channel his spirit after all. And his father was good enough of a defence attorney to have various reports written about him.

This box was nothing more than an accumulation of research resources.

Through the corner of his eye he noticed that Gumshoe was still fiddling with his hands nervously. The detective caught his gaze and nodded at him to look further into the box. Obviously he hadn’t come across what he wanted to show him yet.

Great.

He tentatively took out those newspapers, flicking through them with his pale fingers to be certain that he hadn’t missed anything. See, newspaper clippings made sense for research.

What didn’t make sense was what was lying beneath them.

A photograph. Slightly crumpled, yellowed, and worn at the sides, but a photograph nonetheless. Yet the quality of the picture was of no interest to Miles. No, what immediately caught his attention was the pair of smiling faces.

The photo was of a young man and woman. His father and a woman, with one arm wrapped lovingly around his waist and a head resting on his tall shoulder. Dad and…

He gulped.

“...Misty Fey?”

He phrased it as a barely audible question, even though he knew deep down that Gumshoe was as in the dark as he was. The poor detective nodded anyway.

Adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, Miles used both hands to grip the photo tightly as if it would disintegrate in his hold.

It didn’t. It was real.

“How… how did they know…”

Again, he knew Gumshoe didn’t have a clue. He just needed to get the words out. He had a tiny, impossible suspicion that was starting to make him feel sick.

“Um, sir?”

His head snapped to look at Gumshoe, who yet again nodded towards the box. Miles just stared at it in fear.

What other secrets could this damn box possibly hold?!

Turns out, it was an open envelope. Miles braced himself to perhaps learn something new about his father. He took it out and turned it over. And almost had a heart attack.

It was addressed: “To Miles.”

Enough was enough. Quickly, Miles threw the envelope face down, held his head in his hands, and let out an odd whimpering sound.

He could sense Gumshoe shuffling towards him and could visualize him outstretching his arms.

“Don’t.” He commanded weakly, to no avail. He was still engulfed in the detective’s arms.

“Did you read it?” Dick asked softly.

“No.” Miles replied, then thought for a second. “...Did you?”

Gumshoe took his arms away from him in order to scratch the back of his own head nervously. “I couldn’t help it. If ya want I can tell you what’s on it, but I think you should read it yourself.”

Miles sniffed. He was starting to get emotional over what was probably nothing, or at least that’s what he told himself. He tried to pull away from the bigger man but didn’t really care that much at that point. He’d already read it without his permission.

He made a mental note to cut his salary later.

With a deep breath, he removed the mysterious letter.

Slightly smudged, it was written in the same calligraphic handwriting that was on the box lid.

“Dear Miles,

I’m sorry for not writing to you sooner. My name is Misty. I heard about what happened to your father, and I would like to be the first one to express my sympathies to you. He was an amazing man, the best I have ever met, and you should think yourself extremely lucky to have been able to meet him.

I want to tell you something dear, something very important. I am your mother, Miles. From what I understand, your father had told you that I died when you were young. I am so very sorry that we had to lie to you, but I’m afraid we had no choice. We are not allowed to stay together. I do love you Miles, and I always will. But the situation is very complicated at the moment.

Bad people are chasing me, so I have to run away- which means I can’t come and see you. Believe me, If I could then I would just snap my fingers and come and take you home to your sisters. That’s right, you have two sisters! A sensible older sister called Mia, and a little cheeky scamp called Maya. I’m so very sorry to say that we had to lie to them in the same way. They both believe their father died, and they don’t know that they have a brilliant brother called Miles.

Please don’t come and find me. I promise that when the bad people stop chasing me, I will come to you. Until then, stay strong. Your father would not have wanted you to be so upset over him.

Don’t forget that I love you Miles. You’re not alone. Love Misty.”

“Sir?” He thinks Gumshoe asked, but his vision was so misted over and his ears were ringing so much that he couldn’t be sure.

Miles barely registered Gumshoe holding him as he began to sob.

This was going to change everything.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

We’ll Never Be Royals

Klaroline Bingo as hosted by @klaroline-events Prompt // Royals (Though, perhaps not quite the ‘Royals’ story you’re expecting! Enjoy!)

/

Klaus’ heart was p u m p i n g.

He didn’t think he had ever been quite as nervous as he was right in that moment. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he was nervous at anything? It was kind of his thing to be level headed and unfazed. 

But apparently his cool-calm-collected persona was shattered by performing – who would have thought?

Certainly not him.

Although, he never thought in a million years he would ever actually do any performing.

Klaus had always been a behind-the-scenes, out-of-the-spotlight kind of person. Don’t get him wrong, he loved attention, but only on his terms, and definitely not when he had to sing in front of a thousand or so people.

He felt nervous beads of sweat begin to form on his brow, and a lump rise in his throat.

He couldn’t do this? He couldn’t do this!

It had honestly never meant to get this far – but he couldn’t help himself.

It all started a few months ago, when Klaus transferred from his university in the UK to Whitmore College. He was just strolling around the campus, getting a feel for the place when he had seen her.

Now, he knew he wasn’t a stalker, and it was quite the point of pride with him that he didn’t chase any of his ladies too hard. But the moment he clapped eyes on her, it was almost as if his entire being had been taken over by some external force.

She had bouncy blonde hair, and twinkling eyes. She seemed to exude a sparkle that Klaus really just wanted to blanket over him at all times.

So he had followed her. And he really had planned on just talking to her, but became far too proud at the thought – pushing against one’s own nature for a girl? Preposterous! But he followed her long enough to notice she pinned a poster up.

A poster which he casually sidled up to to read.

Auditions!

The Whitmore Whistlers are looking for Sopranos and Baritones.

When: Thursday, September 5 & Friday, September 6

Where: The Whitmore Auditorium

For an audition pack, send us a Facebook message or email us!

Klaus hadn’t really even known what the Whitmore Whistlers were, but he emailed for an audition pack anyway.

Apparently they were an a cappella singing group.

And when he’d shown up for his audition a week later, she had been there.

Caroline.

She gave him the sunniest smile he had even seen, and welcomed him in.

“The choir needs boys more than I do!” she laughed, as she introduced herself, and the rest of the audition panel.

Klaus had nervously, but quite tunefully, sung the set audition piece. And three days later he was an official member of the Whitmore Whistlers.

Fast forward a few months, and here he was, many rehearsals later waiting to sing to a crowd at the regional a cappella championship.

Why on earth had he done this again???????

“Hey, you’re gonna be great.”

A gentle hand rested itself on Klaus’ shoulder.

Oh, that’s why.

“I’m very nervous,” Klaus muttered, keeping his voice low – he was side of stage, after all.

“I can tell,” Caroline smiled. “But you don’t need to be, your voice is magic, and you’ve worked really hard to learn your part. You’re going to be wonderful.”

Klaus looked into her twinkling eyes, and he thought maybe – just maybe – the nerves were worth it.

“Y’all are up!” the stage manager whispered, commandingly. “Chookas!”

Klaus barely had a moment to register the strangeness of the word chookas before he was poked in the back to move out onto the stage.

God, his hands were shaking. Was it worth it? Was she worth this??

Caroline took her place at the very front of the group, her presence engulfing the audience. She gave the crowd a rye smile, raised her microphone to her lips, and nodded the Whistlers in with a bar of four, before she began to sing.

I’ve never seen a diamond in the flesh

I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies

Yes. She was worth it.

And I'm not proud of my address In the torn-up town, no post code envy

Her voice was so clear, so powerful.

But every song's like gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin' in the bathroom Blood stains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room We don't care, we're driving Cadillacs in our dreams

As Klaus’ cue to begin singing came, he took a deep breath and concentrated on his own part.

But everybody's like Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your time piece Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash We don't care, we aren't caught up in your love affair

As they built toward the chorus, Klaus let the euphoria of their voices and the music take the place of the nerves.

And we'll never be royals – royals It don't run in our blood That kind of lux just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler – ruler You can call me Queen Bee And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule Let me live that fantasy

As the group began stepping to the beat, and the song continued, Klaus had a few moments beyond his body, and he was mildly bemused by his behaviour.

If one of his siblings had done something like this for a love interest, he would never let them hear the end of it.

Perhaps he owed Rebekah an apology.

His mind and body synced back up just in time to enjoy singing the final chorus.

And we'll never be royals ­– royals It don't run in our blood That kind of lux just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler – ruler You can call me Queen Bee And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule

The song drew to a close, and Caroline took one step forward, her commanding gaze somehow boring into every eye in the audience.

Let me live that fantasy.

There was a moment of silence as her voice rang out the final line of the song, before the crowd began their applause. Maybe he was being biased, but he was pretty sure it was the loudest it had been all night.

Caroline took a bow, and led the rest of the group through their bow, before leading them from the stage.

“You did it!” she said excitedly to him, as they made their way back to the greenroom. “Congratulations on your first performance!”

She squeezed his arm, and gave him that dazzling smile of hers.

“I told you, didn’t I! I said, Klaus, we’ll make a performer of you yet!”

She let out her tinkling laugh, and bounded away, to congratulate and encourage some of the other new members.

And Klaus could help but grin goofily, and think about how warm and/or fuzzy he was feeling.

It was about thirty minutes later when Caroline was trying to convince the group to get after-show drinks.

“Come on guys, the rush of performing is the best chaser to all drinks!!”

But between excuses of early morning classes the next day, the fact it was already 10pm, and the Whistlers post-regionals house party was only two days away, there wasn’t much interest.

“I’m not averse to a drink,” Klaus said, casually.

“Yes!” Caroline cried. “I have one, that’s enough! Bye guys! Text me if you decide to join!”

With that, Caroline looped her arm with Klaus’, and pulled him away from the rest of the group, beginning a cracking pace.

“Afraid I’ll change my mind, love?”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Caroline laughed, as she continued her speed. “I’m just freezing out here!”

“Would you like my coat, sweetheart?” Klaus offered, graciously. “I come from a much colder climate than this.”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s only about a seven-minute walk away, we’ll be there soon.”

“Where is?”

Caroline just gave him a sly, side-ways smile, but didn’t reply, opting instead to happily hum Royals.

“When will we find out results?” Klaus asked, after a minute or so. “Of the championships, I mean.”

“Apparently there are too many groups to judge on one night these days, so I think tomorrow night after the second round?” Caroline said, in an unsure tone. “We’re meant to send a representative to collect the award in case we win, but I can’t be bothered doing it, and neither can the rest of the committee, so we’ll just collect the trophy if we win another time, and not waste a precious night if we don’t.”

“I see,” Klaus replied. “What happens if we –”

But he was cut off as Caroline squealed, “We’re here!”

Caroline pushed her way through the door of the little place – which looked far more like a café than a bar, in Klaus’ humble opinion – and took a seat on a squishy looking couch, immediately picking up a menu to inspect it.

“This place looks… nice… quaint,” Klaus mumbled to himself, thinking it wasn’t quite what he was expecting, given Caroline’s fervour to get there.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look impressive, but everything on the menu is so good,” Caroline said. “They do the best loaded fries I’ve ever had, but they stop doing food in like ten minutes, so hurry up and choose!”

Caroline giggled a little to herself, as she resolutely shut her menu, and looked pointedly at him. He fumbled a little with his menu, in his haste to meet Caroline’s expectations – and she was right, everything on the menu sounded delicious.

Before a couple minutes were up, their orders of two plates of loaded fries, and a pitcher of mulled wine each, were in, and for the first time that evening it was just the two of them, with nothing to do, and nowhere to be.

Klaus thought that maybe it was the first time ever that it was just the two of them, with nothing to do, and nowhere to be…

“I’m really glad you joined the Whistlers, Klaus,” Caroline said, genuinely. “You carry your part really well, and I know you’re new to the collegiate a cappella style, but you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Caroline,” he said, slightly taken aback by just how sincere she was. “Your voice is phenomenal, and you do a spectacular job leading us.”

She smiled warmly at him, but forwent a response to pick up the drink that had just been placed in front of her.

They fell into easy conversation after that, and their one glass of mulled wine turned into two, then it was four, and both of them were feeling warm a little buzzed – and were somewhat obnoxiously testing out new harmonies for a song Caroline was arranging for the Whistlers.

“See, I wanted to do this – you sing the melody and I’ll sing the harmony,” Caroline said, before singing the line they were rehearsing. “But then I actually think I want this.”

“We sound much more like the Whitmore Wailers right now, if you ask me,” Klaus said, smirking.

“Wash your mouth out!” Caroline said in faux indignation. “I always sound perfect!”

“Repeat that mantra to yourself, if you must, love, but I know the truth.”

Her faux indignation, making way for more serious incredulity, Caroline gave him her most petulant pout, and swatted at his chest.

Feeling cocky, Klaus caught her hand with his, and kept it firmly in his grasp, levelling his flirtatious eyes at her.

Caroline’s face dropped its melodrama, and she stared into his eyes, her breath hitching a little.

He quirked an eyebrow as her, and carefully manoeuvred his hand so his fingers were laced with hers.

“Your hands are softer than I imagined,” she said absent-mindedly.

“You’ve imagined my hands?”

Caroline blushed, and looked away, but kept her hand tangled with his.

After that, the conversation, while still easy, was a lot more layered and no opportunity for entendre or flirting was missed. And when they left an hour later, in the Uber back to campus, Caroline leaned over to softly kiss him.

It was a gesture he eagerly returned, and soon their kiss was anything but merely soft.

They broke apart for just a moment to climb from the cab, and immediately their lips were attacking each other once again.

Until something seemed to click in the back of Caroline’s mind.

“Klaus, wait,” she said, pulling away from him, with a little pop.

She was a beautiful shade of flushed, and Klaus couldn’t help brushing her hair behind her ears, with both of his hands.

“Gosh, Klaus, I’ve wanted to do that for weeks but…” she said, before clapping her hand over her mouth, flustered.

“I’ve wanted to do it too, love,” he said, his voice seductively low. “You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, staring up into his eyes.

He placed another kiss to her lips, though this one was far more chaste than the previous ones.

“I really want you to come up,” Caroline whispered, nervously chewing her lip.

“But?” he prompted.

“But I don’t think you can… my roommate… is Bonnie from the Whistlers. And I love her, but she will not approve – apparently you’re not experienced enough to be a Whistler, I actually pulled rank on her to get you in, and she accused me of only wanting you in because I thought you were hot. And if I sleep with you… she’ll just assume I let you in to… you know… she’s right… even though you definitely deserve your spot.”

Klaus nodded curtly, he had got the impression Bonnie didn’t like him.

“But maybe…” Caroline said, barely above a whisper. “Maybe, you can take me out next week?”

“Like a date?”

“Yep, like a date,” she shrugged a little. “I like you Klaus.”

“I like you too, Caroline.”

The two smiled at each other, and just held their intimate position for a couple of moments.

“But the real question is, love,” Klaus said. “How on earth will I keep my hands off you at the party this weekend?”

Caroline grinned wickedly.

“Maybe we will just have to be really careful.”

“Dare I say, we’re caught up in a love affair?”

“We’ll never be royals, Klaus,” Caroline said.

“You know, that’s not quite true, part of my family line is English nobility. My eldest brother, Finn, is something like 47th in line to the throne,” Klaus said, smugly.

“Oh my god, Klaus, you’re supposed to say ‘I’ll rule you, if you let me, or something!”

“Oh, right you are, love,” Klaus said, before clearing his throat theatrically. “I’ll rule you, if you let me.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, melodramatically, but laughed at his joke. As she turned to go, the promise of the future hopefully between them, she threw over her shoulder –

“I’ll let you live that fantasy. Night Klaus!”

“Good night, Caroline.”

/

Hope you like my first of only about five things for Klaroline Bingo! As I said, it’s probably not quite the Royals you were expecting, but I couldn’t help myself! hehehh I’m such a choir nerd. I used to run a choir, and I literally said to one of the people I was auditioning ‘the choir needs boys more than I do!’ lololol.

The song they’re singing is obviously Royals by Lorde!

[tentoriwrites]

Voltage Otome Trope Bingo #1

Eons ago @hifftn​ came up with this idea to do Trope Bingo for the various Voltage fandoms. I finally finished my first piece! Circled in blue below you will see the tropes featured in this fanfic!  2,600+ words of pure indulgence with only a vague touch of plot to keep it from being too cluttered! XD Also, sorry about Atlas being a bit OOC, I haven’t really read his route in like a year now... ^_^;

“You’re the only person I know that sprains their ankle running in a straight line on level ground!” Atlas shouted as he looked over the park planter to eye our assailants. A hail of bullets ricocheted off the planter throwing up sparks and chips of concrete. He immediately ducked back down.

“To my credit, I was being shot at!” I quipped back fearfully as I clutched my throbbing ankle.

“Which makes the running in a straight line bit EVEN better.” He grumbled as he checked his ammunition.

“Well... some of us aren’t used to being shot at every day!”

“Only every other day…”

“HEY!” It’s not like I wanted to be a criminal… I pouted for a brief moment until I felt the ground rumbling. I looked around in horror as I saw everyone rushing to clear the streets. Even our assailants were booking it out of Dodge.

“What’s going on?” Atlas looked around in disbelief.

“Oh stars…” It occurred to me then what planet we were on. “Atlas… We need to get inside!”

“Yeah, like I’m just going to sit on my hands and wait for them to come back!” He was already on his feet offering me a hand.

“You don’t understand you should just leave me here!” I took his hand and gave him a quick shove towards a nearby laundry once I was upright.

Atlas let out a long suffering sigh before hefting me into his arms bridal style. “Would you make yourself useful and shut up!” He took off at a pace much faster than I imagined he could while carrying so much physical and emotional baggage around. The closer we got to the door, the more the rumbling intensified. A good Samaritan threw the door open and yanked us in. Without explanation, they slammed it shut and hit a switch on the wall. Heavy sounding metal plates slid down and locked firmly into place.

“You just made it!” An old woman standing near a basin of sudsy water chimed over the intensifying rumble. She pulled the plug to drain the water. “Another moment or two longer and you would have been cooked!” The nonchalant way she said that last line was deeply unsettling…

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on here or do you just expect me to hack into the Union database and figure out?” Atlas huffed as he finally put me back on my feet.

The old woman eyed me a moment when I winced.

“This whole planet is covered in huge underground springs.” I pulled out my tablet and showed him a geologic map of the area. “This town is right next to one of the largest. It’s famous throughout the Union for going off once a month and spews millions of gallons of super-heated water into the air.”

“Darn right, Missy!” The old woman interjected as everyone started looking up to the ceiling. The rumbling had stopped. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world was splitting in two just before the deluge. A deafening roar of water filled the air and vibrated the building in a wholly different way than before.  The old woman met my anxiety driven expression with a serene smile. “I built this place specially to harness the mineral water and turn it into a luxury hot spring!”

Atlas and I both looked around dubious of that comment. The laundry was small, cramped, and extremely dirty. The old woman seemed to pick up on this immediately, donning a huge grin. “Follow me…”

Atlas and I both looked at each other.

“That wasn’t a request…” Her sweet old woman demeanor dropped in an instant as she shot us a death glare from the doorway.

“Listen lady.” Atlas started to give her a piece of his mind.

“I assure you, criminal, I’m no lady.” A devious smile crept across her lips as everyone in the laundry pulled out guns and aimed them at us.

My heart hammered in my chest as I eyed the still locked doors and windows. My mind was trying desperately to figure out if I could hack into the system with my tablet.

“We’re all criminals like you!” The old man chimed very pleased with herself. “Hate those Union bastards! So any enemy of theirs is a friend of mine. Come on now and have a nice soak. It’ll fix that ankle right up!”

“It’s not like we can really leave right now…” Atlas vaguely motioned to the windows on one side of the building.

“Even if I lifted the metal plates you still couldn’t waltz out there right now anyways.” The old woman started tottering down a hall.

“The water has to drain and the surface has to cool down.” I explained as I glanced at Atlas.

“Guess we really have no choice then…” Atlas holstered his gun and started for the door. He offered me a hand when he noticed me hopping along awkwardly.

The old woman was standing in the middle of a lavish, wide hall. It looked like we had stepped into a whole other world. “Nice, no?” She grinned wide as she pulled out a key ring. Pulling a key out immediately, she unlocked the door in front of her. “Have a nice rest, on the house. Once everything settles down, you can give those Unions idiots the slip.” She seemed pretty genuine in the offer, but Atlas still gripped my hand tightly.

“Give me one good reason why we should trust you.”

The old woman laughed long and hard. “We clean a lot of things here for a lot of people, Sonny. Including items for people very much opposed to the Union. You’re in good hands.” She donned a cheesy smile and stuck out her pinkie. “I promise.”

“A pinkie promise is pretty serious.”

“You have got to be kidding me…” Atlas smacked his forehead.

“Well say what you want but I take them very seriously!” I hobbled over to the old woman and linked my pinkie with hers.

“Atta girl!” She shook her hand up and down while our pinkies were still locked. Then she shoved the door open revealing the most lavish room I had ever seen. “I’ll have some food brought by soon, enjoy the bath in the meantime!” With that she tottered away leaving me to ogle the room.

Atlas finally joined me at the door, but he seemed just as dumbfounded as me. After a long moment of stunned silence, he muttered under his breath. “Smugglers…” A faint smile he took a tentative step into the room. “Well they definitely aren’t going to bring the Union here…”

“Well that’s a relief…” I wandered in behind him and closed the door. The whole room was full of rich and plush fabrics from the blankets on the bed to the upholstery on the furniture. I sank into an over-sized chair and sighed in satisfaction. “This is nice…”

“Yeah but where is this bath?” Atlas very cautiously opened the only other door in the room. “That’s not a bath…”

“What is it?” I sat up and craned my neck to look into the room.

“A damn swimming pool…”

I knew I looked completely confused as I got up and walked up behind him. Swimming pool was an exaggeration but it was definitely not a bath tub. 5 or 6 people could comfortably sit in the steaming water.

“That looks wonderful…”

“Then get in.” Atlas started to move to leave. He must have seen the pout on my face because he stopped and faced me. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face. “You look like you have something to say…” Even though his voice had a gruff edge there was a fire in his eyes.

“Well…” My eyes darted to the pooltub as I scrambled for an excuse to get him to join me. “I was just thinking I might need some help getting in and out. What if I slip and get hurt even worse?” Yes play to your strengths! Even if those strengths include being a total klutz…

Atlas rolled his eyes as if he were completely put off by the whole thing. “Fine, fine…” He offered me his hand again. “It’d be a pain in the pass if I had to carry you all the way back to the ship.”

SCORE!

I sat down on a chair near the “bath” and started taking my jacket off. I looked over and Atlas was on the complete opposite side of the room taking his jacket off. Well he did agree to take a bath with me so I guess I can’t be too mad. Except he stopped after taking off his jacket…

“I thought you were going to take a bath too…”

He gave me a smug look. “I said I would help you in and out. I never said I was taking one with you.”

Not… technically… wrong… I sighed inwardly before taking off the rest of my clothes. Gentleman that he was, Atlas didn’t look the whole time. Which filled me with one part relief, one part odd disappointment. With a towel wrapped around me, told him I was ready.

I took the hand he offered me and a ginger stepped to the edge of the bath. Just as I was about to step in, a sharp pain in my ankle made me jump. Small though it may have been, it was enough to make me slip and start falling. I watched as the water seemed to come ever closer, in slow motion, that is until something completely different filled my vision. After the water cleared, I realized that Atlas had broke my fall and was now blowing bubbles at me from under the water. As if in a horror movie with one jump scare after another, the towel lazily floated between us…

“Sorry!” I hurriedly grasped the towel and moved to get off the very unamused looking Atlas. I barely covered myself and scurried to a corner of the spacious bath to cower in mortified shame and embarrassment. Atlas looked at me completely exasperated as half his face remained below the surface, then quickly looked away.

“You gonna do something with that towel or you gonna pretend to be a bathhouse lady?” His head now fully above the water, I could see his cheeks turning a bit red. I stared at him agape for a minute while my brain argued with itself as to whether the water caused his red cheeks or he was blushing. Atlas Molniya absolutely doesn’t blush. Can we make Atlas Molniya blush? I’m certainly willing to try!

“Since you’re already all wet…”I smiled awkwardly at Atlas hoping the heat of the water would explain away my red cheeks too.

“Do you know where we are…?” There was a dangerous lilt to his voice that completely threw me off.

“In… a… bathtub…?” I was pretty sure that wasn’t the answer he was looking for but the look he was giving me made it REALLY hard to think straight. The only thing louder than my racing heart was the slow slosh of the water every time he moved closer.

“We’re in an underworld bathhouse… You do know what kinds of things happen in underworld bathhouses, right?”

“I’m… guessing more than just nice, relaxing baths?” It was more a squeak than anything.

“So much more…”

He was so close now I would have been able to feel his breath if it weren’t for the steam rising from the water. “TOO CLOSE!” I thrust out my hand and connected with his forehead

“Finally starting to understand the completely ridiculous situation we’ve managed to get ourselves in?” Atlas was back, but he still looked off.

“Well yes… But… Are you feeling all right?” I tried to sound more concerned than nervous but the shark in the water routine had been a bit much. In fact, I was feeling a little dizzy between my racing heart and the hot water.

“Never better. Why?” He stood up as he said this and immediately started wobbling. “Ok, maybe not…” He managed to get half way down again before he passed out… right on top of me…

“Oh, stars…”

Somehow I managed to get us both out of the bath and on to the floor. I had to get him out of these soaking wet clothes. And well… that was… certainly… something…

“Please don’t wake up right now… Please don’t wake up right now.” Red-faced I fumbled with the fastener on Atlas’s pants, with my eyes closed. The same quiet prayer escaping my lips on repeat.

“Ya know, consent goes both ways.” An irritated voice muttered as a clammy hand grasped mine.

“Oh stars! It wasn’t like that!” I feel as though my face got even redder at that moment. “I just thought if I couldn’t get you into the bed I could at least get most of your wet clothes off!” I huffed and turned away pouting.

“Uh huh…” I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or truly skeptical of my motives.

“Are you feeling any better than that you’re out of the hot water?”

“Yeah.” Without saying much else he got to his feet, soggy shirt in hand.

“Uh…”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for this day to be over.”

“Oh…” I tried to hide my disappointment. It had been a really long day after all, what with the being chased and shot at, harbored by some crazy old lady in the criminal underworld, bathtub shenanigans… I came to an immediate stop next to Atlas, coming to the same realization at about the same time.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh no! You just passed out! Take the bed and I’ll take the couch!”

“What kind of man would I be if I made a woman sleep on a couch when there’s a perfectly good bed?” He gave me a glare, but it was half-hearted at best.

“We could…” Oh stars… should I really say it?

“What? We could what?” Atlas flopped down on the couch and looked up at me.

“We could… just sleep together… in the bed… since there’s only one…”

His eyebrow quirked up ever so slightly. A blush started creeping up his neck. “I was trying to be a gentleman… But you’re making it real damn hard, I hope you’re aware of that.”

“I just don’t want you to sleep on the couch if you aren’t well.”

“It’s hard to think you have anything but bad intentions when I wake up to you in nothing but a towel trying to take my pants off…”

Oh… that is not a good look for my heart… I watched as he push the button on the wall to turn off the lights.

“AH!”

“What? Do you really want to have sex with the lights on?” I could hear shuffling as he moved closer. “I lived with Jaxson long enough that I refuse to have sex with the lights on.”

That’s fair. Jaxson does seem like the type to just… burst in at random times…

“Well no... it’s just I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it?” There was just enough light in the room for me to see him get close. “What about you passing out?”

“I had to carry you halfway across town while being shot at. I was just overheated from that is all.”

“Ugh… I really should go on a diet…”

“Why? You’re fine just as you are…” His cool fingers worked their way under the towel until they found the flesh of my sides and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Oh stars…” Before I knew what was happening I was in the bed.

“Tonight, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, we can take our time…” Much like the name of his ship, there was so much promise in his voice.

“Uh… are you at least going to let me put some clothes on first?”

“Nope.”

“Oh… all right…” Unable to get up through the tangle of his body of mine, I opted to snuggle up next to him and fall asleep instead.

[aftgficlibrary]

So I watched 'How To Train Your Dragon' again and it left me with this desperate need for AFTG dragon AU's. You guys are absolutely amazing, and I was wondering if you could please help me find some more? I've read Spanglebangle's and Nekojita's ones, but are there more out there? Please and thank you (and if there's a tag for it that I missed then my apologies) Did I mention that you guys are amazing? Yes? Who cares, you deserve it a million times over.

here are many-Maz

The Foxhole Weyr by cheesyy (T | Incomplete | 4/40)

Neil hasn’t spoken to a dragon since his mother died. He hasn’t ridden one since he and his mother ran away from Moriyama Weyr eight years ago. But now, he’s been Searched by riders from Foxhole Weyr. To Impress a dragon would be very, very dangerous for Neil. It could get him killed. But he’s spent the last eight years running from dragons, despite his longing for one of his own. Maybe it’s time to find something - and someone- worth fighting for.

OR

All for the Game, but with dragons.

from the ashes you crawl by PolzkaDotz (M | Incomplete | 3/?)

Neil, a magical being who was once worshiped as a god, has been running away for too long and he’s tired. He thought by now his father would’ve given up on finding him and getting what Neil’s mother once stole, but so far no such luck.

Without seeing any other option, Neil goes to Fox Security so he can finally travel to where his mortality is buried, so he’ll finally be able to die.

Also

a roadtrip on air/Dragons who are not taxis but sort of are

prologue by carminesunset (M | 2,478 | 1/1)

This fic is actually a bit that I cut from my Dragon!Andrew and Fae!Neil fic. I ended up not finishing it because I found out that the premise was almost identical to another fic 😅 Basically, Andrew is a human cursed to be in Dragon form and forced to stay on a mountain to keep him from seeking help. Neil is half-Fae, half-human and on the run from Riko and his men. (Also his father’s men) He comes across Andrew in his cave.

(AFTG Andreil Bingo Prompt: Nonhuman AU)

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

Ashes to Ashes by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) (T | 4,975 | 3/3)

Matt choked and gagged as he inhaled a lungful of smoke. He pushed his legs faster even as his breath rasped in his throat. The string of fish he was carrying caught in a bush by the side of the trail and instead of taking the time to untangle them, he dropped them and went on.

It didn’t matter in the end. He was too late. The fire had burnt through, leaving bare black branches in its wake. He ran on, though the heat of the ground scorched his feet, even through his leather sandals. A cry broke free from his mouth as his village came in to view. Not a single wall still stood.

Matt Boyd loses everything to dragon’s fire. But he finds something new in the ashes too.

Thicker than Dragon’s Blood by KXDragon27 (M | Incomplete | 6/?)

The Prophecy said:

The ruler with the last Dragon under his control is set to rule over all other kingdoms for the rest of time. His descendants will forever hold divine power and their blood will become thick with magic.

That was all it took for Empires and Kingdoms all over the world to wage war on each other until a century of world wars pushed the most powerful and divine creatures to a near extinction, and only one dragon remained: Nathan, Butcher of Men and Lord of the Skies. He belonged to the Moriyama Dynasty of the Karasu Empire and was under the control of Kengo Moriyama: making him ruler of all for the rest of time.

Or so he would be if Nathan did not have a son hidden from the world.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

Disappearing Act by calmandreil (G | Incomplete | 1/?)

“A dragon can be a very vicious creature, Abram. They have a body like a human, but their ears are very sensitive and they can hear someone coming from two miles away. They have a long, thick tail that has spikes coming out from the sides. The color of a dragon’s tail can depend on their specialty. Dragons with a black tail give off a poisonous venom when someone comes in contact with their spikes or if they are bitten with the dragon’s fangs. A dragon that has a red tail is a fire breathing dragon. You know they are angry when their tail and ears are on fire. The last dragon has a white tail, but they are so rare, no one knows what their specialty is, which just makes them that much more dangerous.“

A Castle of Curses by Greenninjagal (Not Rated | Incomplete | 2/?)

Neil didn’t mean to be found dying in the middle of the forest. He didn’t mean to be saved by a couple mysterious voices. He definitely didn’t mean to wake up in a castle.

After a lifetime of run, run, running and lie, lie, lying Neil has no problem preparing to leave again. But upon waking up in a the rundown castle in the middle of nowhere, and no understanding of anything other than the people in it are extremely weird and hey– wasn’t that statue in another room before??– Neil finds himself in a predicament he’s never had to face before.

Neil didn’t mean to stay. And he most certainly didn’t mean to wake the dragon.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

11, 14, 58, 68, and 73. your choice, or all if you feel inclined.

11. Do you ever want to get married?

I don't really want to getmarried now – I generally don't know if marriage is my kind ofdeal. I grew up seeing marriage as some kind of great romance killer– and that's probably wrong, but it's how I saw it. I saw it as away to turn a part of your brain off that thinks for itself (whichmight not even be remotely true). However, there are certain kinds ofpeople who really should get married, and I think it depended on whoI was with. There are some relationships where, when one of theparties is unwilling to marry the other, it actually means thatperson doesn't want to put anything of themselves at stake and issort of using the other person or isn't willing to sacrifice for thatperson – and if the two don't feel the same way, I think that'sreally unfair – so in that sense I see the value of marriage asbeing something of yourself that you were willing to make final. So Ifind that to be kind of telling of an unequal relationship that Iwould not want to be in, not that I want to get married per say, butI wouldn't want to be with anyone who didn't want to be married tome. Yes, I made that answer confusing.

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

No, not for a long time.Bad situations kind of caused me to kind of feel numb about people ingeneral about three or four years ago. My mother says I am verypicky. Perhaps she is correct. Which is a shame, because I reallylove that kind of insanity and would totally welcome that in my life.I guess I just don't meet the right people. When I lived in Idaho,there was really nobody I clicked with. I admit I stopped trying, butit made sense over at the time I did. There are things I probablyhave to work through in therapy eventually

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

Hmm, that is very difficult. I don't think of thingsalong these terms. I would like to add that winning someone's love isnot like winning a bingo game. Hearts are not prizes. If someone isattracted to you and likes you, then they like you. If they don'tthey don't. You should never feel like you have to be someone youaren't in order to win anyone.  I will try though for fun.

1. Don't be a violent asshole. I can't stand peoplewho believe in yelling and using fear or who think that pushing theirweight around physically is a recipe to intimidate people get whatthey want. If you feel the need to react this way, you either are agarden variety fuckface or you have severe emotional problems that Iwould probably not be able to help you with. Furthermore, I have apanic disorder and absolutely nobody wants that.

2. I really like a sense of transparency in arelationship. This isn't to say that people can't have secrets orwhathaveyou, but there is this thing where people will write loveletters to one another that are cliché. Most of the time it seemsimpersonally, more like they are mirroring what they are supposed tofeel rather than exploring what they might actually feel or not feel.This varies from what you might read on a Hallmark Valentines Card,to cliché bedroom talk. If someone calls me the prettiest woman inthe world, I would just know they were lying – I will get mad, andthen that person will feel like I am being a bitch, when really, Ifeel like they cheapened the situation. It is not going to hurt me ormake me mad if we can all agree that there are millions of morebeautiful subjects (within our cultural beauty standard spectrum). Imean, I want to be considered beautiful, but don't get lazy about it.I will accept any and all compliments, but I will only take themseriously if they have merit and demonstrate that you actually care.Furthermore, if someone I was with told me that they thought acelebrity was beautiful, I would not get jealous. I see a looooot ofpeople do this in relationships – which I guess that means it doeswork for a great many people.  I think it's far more vulnerable ifyou are the kind of person who is willing to grasp at new ideas,rather than cliché old ones.

3. Be witty, humorous, well-read, good with words andeasy to talk to about socially unconventional subject matter, is keenon nonverbal communication. I am far more likely to fall for someonewho is highly intelligence and very funny, and perhaps just a littlebit broken in a self aware kind of way. This isn't to say you can'tget nervous or shy when you first meet someone or have moments whereyou aren't funny. All of that is perfectly fine. It's not necessarythat a person be that way 24-7. But I do get bored of people veryeasily. It's one of my flaws I guess. I have to kind of be kept on mytoes just a little bit. Also, I think there are a lot of people whomI have tried to open up to that get weirded out, or when I saysomething really sarcastic, they have no idea that I was joking andthey get upset. I also get into conversations with a great many menin particular who will sort of get annoyed when I know more thanthem. I definitely don't want someone to agree with me all the timeeither – I love it when someone tells me I am wrong, and thenexplains why. I think for me to fall in love, it's 50% wittycomplicated dialogue that does it. I like clever ways of flirtingwith words and arguments. My friend told me once that I playedromance like chess. Which naturally, is something that you just haveto be. It's a tiresome to those it does not come naturally for.

4. I really would not want to be the one and onlything someone is passionate about. Some people want to be someoneelse's everything, and I am not one of those people. I am not dissingneedy people. A lot of people really do feel centered when they get agreat deal of attention – or they feel genuinely sad and neglected.I am actually weird in this regard, but it would make me immenselymore attracted to someone if they had something else in their lifethat took up some of their time that was a passion of theirs that hadnothing directly to do with me at all. I would be perfectly happywith dating a writer for instance who goes away to write. Noteverything is about me. I like the acknowledgment in another personthat we live in a big world and in order to make our personal mark orchange it for the better, we must sometimes go on our own. It wouldbe freeing to be able to be given that same respect and freedom. Ofcourse, there would definitely be boundaries, or a sense of trust.

5. Lastly I guess, I have to feel like I am loved andthat they like me in some ways more than anyone else. I don't reallywant to feel like I am filling some void in another person that I amnot meant to fill. Or like, they really had a crush on my best friendor sister and just settled for me because the others weren'tavailable. Nor do I want to feel like I am with some dude who talksbadly about me with all his friends but still relies on me for sex,stability and income in an empty content sort of way. Everything onthis list kind of requires that I feel wanted and that therelationship stays dionysian, that I am not some kind of person thatwas settled on. If it is not exciting, if that person is not asenthralled with me as I am them, then the relationship shouldprobably be terminated.

6. This is an extra that I thought worthy of puttingout there. I would really be disappointed if someone let me stagnateas a person and in my goals or didn't care if I stopped growing as aperson. I am attracted to people who actually care how I am feelingand where I am in terms of personal growth. I wouldn't want arelationship that was based on both of us being tired and wanting tosleep on all of our days off. I want to be out doing things. I don'twant to date a task master exactly, but if I am not holding up my endof a commitment I made openly, even with myself, I would want that tomatter to them at least to some extent to someone else. If I wasgetting distant or depressed, I would want to be with someone who inall earnest saw that and talked to me about it.

Obviously, I am not relationships expert. But that iswhat attracts me.

68. What is your sexual orientation?

I think I am straight – given the turn of events inmy life and who I have been interested in plus the dynamic I feelwith men vs, women. But heck, I have not met everyone in the world. Iso seldom fall for anyone that who knows? I do know there are somemen that are so disgusting to me that I would rather date a woman anyday given the theoretical option. But I still think I am probablystraight.

I kind of see myself as a graysexual. I have had alot of friends who are able to know if they want to sleep withsomeone based on immediate contact with other people, and it takes mea great long while to actually be attracted to anyone. It doesn'tmatter if I think they are lovely looking or acting. I just don'tfall that quickly – unless they are radically amazing all the timewhich most of us are not.

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone todo for you?

Take me bowling. Or backpacking, or anything really.I really want to be with someone who likes to do stuff.

[errolcandelaria]

2018

          Another year has passed. That’s another three hundred sixty-five and one fourth days, eight thousand six hundred seventy hours, five hundred twenty-five thousand and six hundred minutes, and thirty-one million plus seconds. That was a lot of numbers. I don’t know about you, but this year has been a ride!! I really went out of my comfort zone, I have met amazing people, made more friends, experienced a few firsts, released a pint of tears and at last, made a decision that I think would change my life forever.

          Let me break it down. January was good. I started the year with cough and colds, alone in my room taking videos of myself and the fireworks that can be clearly seen right on my window pane. This was also the month ~ I think~ when I made up my mind that I really want to pursue medicine. This was the month when I fell in love with all the hospital works. That I had envisioned all the times that I’ve been in a hospital, trying to remember the smell of alcohol drenched cotton balls; the hallways, the rush in the emergency room, everything. I never knew I loved those things until last 2016, when I started watching this surgical TV show that I am now obsessed with.

          February was okay. Like the usual, I hated my birthday. It’s eerie that I feel like there really is something in my birthday that I don’t quite feel like it’s worth celebrating for. I am not worthy of their time, money and efforts. There were also lots of questions that roamed my mind. To whether tell my parents about my plans or not; is medicine really for me; will they support me with my decision; and WILL I SURVIVE IF EVER I GOT INTO MEDICAL SCHOOL. There were days that I am adamant about my decision, that I tell myself ~ Of course I can do it!! And there were also weeks where I get discouraged, and the fear of making bad decisions really gripped my body tight.

          March, hmm. I couldn’t quite remember the events that had happened this month. But I am pretty sure this was the month that I went full on crazy about someone in our college. I really want to know that person’s name, but I had to go incognito because everything will be messed up if that person knew.

          April. CSSP NIGHT!!! LIT LIT LIT LIT!!! This was one of the happiest night of my life. Played bingo for the first time, got to see my crush perform on stage for the first time, AND ACTUALLY KNOWING THY NAME!!! Added on facebook, then got accepted the next day. O diba. I don’t remember that much events in this month. I am pretty sure I was still in the phase of constant dilemma about the decision I made for my future.

          May. The semester is almost over!! But say no more, I still had an internship over the summer.

          June. INTERNSHIP WOOOOH!! Lit lit lit rin. Pero hindi capital letters kasi muntik na ko magkaroon ng mental breakdown. Why? Internship. I never had a hardtime naman looking for a company to train to unlike some of my classmates pero the ~pressure? That’s what held me back talaga. I think? Culture shock siguro is the best term to describe what I felt. Ano ba. I was just a normal student tapos I get to be an intern in a huge BPO company tapos I had to talk to potential employees pa. IN PURE ENGLISH!! Syempre na shookt ako. Tapos I got assigned in a station right next to our boss pa!! Imagine the pressure. But she was really nice. She’s funny, approachable and all. Pero still nu, I couldn’t help but get intimidated by her presence. I lost track din on how many times I got scolded for doing the call outs wrong. I got the feeling that my supervisor has this impulse deep down to strangle me with the cord of the telephone I use. But in all, I still got to finish it. I finished it without even noticing I was almost done. Days passed by like hours. Literal. 10 hours a day ba naman ang oras na nababawas sa 240 hours ko eh. But seriously, I didn’t even notice that I was almost done with it. I met amazing people there, I got to talk with real people looking for jobs, interact with people older and far superior than me, which was my greatest fear!! Talk about getting out of your comfort zone huh.

          July. This was the month when I finished my internship. Actually, it wasn’t easy coming back to your old shit. I missed waking up way early to catch the 6:30 am UV so I would arrive at work at exactly 7:45. Separation anxiety? No. I just miss the ambiance. The faces of the people that I get to interact with daily, the cold work room that would chill you right to your bones, and yung pag kain ko ng Richeese every after lunch. WOOH!

          August. Back to bizz. FIRST SEM. 4TH YEAR. I’M OFFICIALLY A GRADUATING STUDENT!!! What’s with the enthusiasm? Boy doesn’t even know what’s about to come at him. If there’s this saying na life throws you lemons, and you would just make lemonades out of it, oh boy. Life threw me pineapples, sea urchins, a school bus and a nuclear bomb. Which I don’t know how to deal with, cause HOW DO YOU EVEN COOK A SEA URCHIN? August was one of the months of this year that made me cry. Not even because of a heartbreak, nor a typical teenager shortcoming, but because of the terrorizing spirit that lies within the subject that is research I. Starting from the day that our professor had assigned us to do an individual research proposal, all of us knew that it will be the beginning of the tormenting last first semester in our college lives.

          September. Wake me up when September ends. Cause there was no relevant thing that I could remember happened this month. Again, I am pretty sure that I was still rehearsing the words that I would tell my parents about my plans after graduation. Still uncertain on what’s gonna come next.

          October. We were assigned to our respective thesis groups. This was also the month that we submitted the first draft of our real thesis proposal. Mind you, we almost got rejected. Title lang tiningnan nung prof naming bes. This was when the inside joke ‘bibili na naming ng condensed milk si prof para di na sya ma-bother sa proposal naming evaporada’. Beh. This was my busiest month this year. Revisions here and there, almost everyday we were in school since we refused to have another overnight cause we accomplish nothing when we are in an air-conditioned room. The impetus of the warm and cozy bed was really inviting and irresistible. So ayun, we were in the school almost everyday.

          November. Thesis proposal defense!!! Holy shit. We had an overnight to rehearse everything we have to say the day before the defense. I was so nervous, but my group mates were just chilling. Literally. Kasi nga ang lamig sa kwarto. I don’t know but I have this thing that I always overcomplicate things. Things that can be handled by a five-year old child I tend to make it seem like the apocalypse is about to happen. I have always had an anxiety in speaking in front of the class, so imagine my nervousness about this one cause I have to present a proposal in front of three intimidating research gods. And then the day of the defense came, WE PASSED!! I couldn’t forget the awkward shriek I did when the assigned panel to our group delivered the good (?) news to us, in his timid, kinda shy low voice. All the stress, the fear, the anxiety I have that day flew away as he uttered the words “Eheh, uhm. Pumasa kayo…. Pero with major revisions”. Boy I didn’t even hear everything the panel said after those words. Buti na lang our mentor recorded everything, cause if not, mangangapa kami and mamatay sa kakaalala kung ano ano yung mga suggestions na binigay nila.

          December. Ahhh. The final month of the year!! Was there something relevant that happened this month? YES!!! LIT LIT LIT LIT ULIT!! Our section had THE most extreme, wildest, and craziest after-defense slash victory party slash walwal party ever!!! What a wonderful way to welcome the last month of twenty seventeen! I also met a new friend, a twitter friend from our college. Haha. Ooh. I also decided to tell my parents about my plans. Imagine my fear, anxiety, fear of rejection, lahat na pota!! Aaaaand. It didn’t go well. They did not approve. But anyway, I still want to prove myself that I got what it takes to be a good physician, so I have decided that even though I am not certain that I will go to med school right after graduation, I would still review for the NMAT and take it this coming March or April. Diba. Because, sabi nga sa bible, for the Lord has plans for all of us. Plans that will prosper us and not to harm us, plans that will give us hope and future. Honestly those are the words that give me hope. That I could still be something I want to be despite the fear, the people that hold me back, and the discouragement I get from my own environment. I can do it naman diba?

          I think the word that encapsulates the events that took place this year is uncertainty. For me at least. It is what I feared the most. Afraid of what will happen next. Maybe it is the utmost reason why I missed a lot of chances to – prove myself, to show off what I got in my jacket pocket, what I can offer, and to improve the things here I am good at. 

I have had a lot of shortcomings this year. The tears that I let out were way fewer than last year, but the tears from this year came from a deeper source. Maybe because I already decided what I want to do until I die, but the people around tell me otherwise. I felt like my dream was invalidated. Trashed. Thrown away. Just because the dream is a 24-karat gold and I only have a couple of gravel and sand. And it cuts even deeper and the wounds won’t heal in an instant.

I’m a fond believer of that famous saying that’s about crossing a bridge when you arrived there, but what if there are even no roads, or pathways or pavements that will lead you to that bridge? You haven’t even reached the bridge yet, but you have already been stopped because the enforcers told you the roads are closed. I could handle everything life throws at me. I made a ridiculous stewed sea urchin, I put the pineapples on my pizza, I defused the nuclear bomb and used it as a decoration in my room, kasi nga I cross the bridge when I get there. I deal with what’s in front of me. Pero how could you deal with something, if along the way, the people around you have already poked a hole in your tires? That even though they believe in you, unconsciously they are telling you that ~no, you won’t do it cause we won’t allow you. It will just fuel your fear kasi you will never know what’s on the other side. You cannot cross the bridge because you won’t even get there. The fear of uncertainty will eat you alive, chew you and spit you out to where you started. And I don’t want to be that person who grieves, and regrets his life decisions after a couple of years because he patterned it out from what the people around him pressured him to do. I want to dictate my future, but there are just inevitable circumstances that make it hard to do so, and it makes me real sad. I thought this year will be different. I had high hopes with it, but it just let me down. They let me down.

But I will still continue striving. This time, I will have enough courage, and bravery to stand up for the choices I make. I will never let any opportunity slip through my hands like water. I will face this year in my warrior suit, equipped with the disappointments, discouragements, fears, heartbreaks, anxieties, regrets, and problems the past year had thrown at me, that I have successfully overcome.

I can already feel that this year will be tiring, productive, troublesome, hard, insane, bountiful, delightful, pleasing, satisfying, wild, I can list a couple more adjectives but in all, I will sum it up with just a word stressful. But hey, being stressed means that you are actually doing something. I expect a lot of disappointments and heartbreaks to come this year, but deep down, a spark of hope still shines. I have the right to be a pessimist, cause hello, 2017??? But it does not mean I will be for the rest of the year.

I’m on my *crossed fingers* final year in college, so that means I will be graduating this year. That alone is one hell of an event to look forward to. Alongside that, my medical journey will also be put on trial this year 🤣. My fate to becoming a medical doctor will be decided hopefully before I graduate from college. But again in crossed fingers, I really hope that whoever is to decide, I want the decision to be in my favor cause not only it will trace my future, it will also reveal how tough, matured, brave and steadfast I have become. These are just two of what I think be the highlights of this year. Here’s to a handful more of new experiences!! Cheers. 🥂

May 2018 be my year.

Seriously. Cause 2018 is Year of the Dog, and I’m a big big huge enormous fan of dogs. so can this year be my year?