#sharing my last draft from this concert there are more but trust me they are not worth it enough to post

[sanayeon]

SANA — TWICE: Ready To Be Special in Japan

[songtoyou]

Chapter Eight: Be Still

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC)

Rating: PG to PG-13 (Might be 18+ for some chapters)

Story Summary: There was always that one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to openly communicate with one another, but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation. However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either are willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Summary: Raina and Chris are having trouble dealing with their time apart. Long-distance relationships suck.

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,258

Author’s Note: I was having trouble with this chapter. I had to end up rewriting it because I was not feeling the first draft. 

Italics represent flashback conversations.

Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans or anyone in his family, and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.  

Tag List: @patzammit​

Three months. That is how long Raina and Chris had been apart. She continued to star in the Broadway version of Moulin Rouge as Satine. Shows were constantly selling out. Reviews were acclaimed. Unfortunately, Raina was feeling bored. The same routine was beginning to annoy her. She didn't like that there was no room to change things up. Being in a Broadway show was vastly different from her concerts. Raina knew it would be.

Jerry had warned Raina that Broadway was a whole different ballgame than what she was used to or experienced. "You won't be able to change or add things from show to show. It is more rigorous than what you are used to, kid," Raina remembered Jerry telling her one day before she accepted the role. 

Raina wanted a challenge. She wanted to do something different. There were times where Raina felt stagnant in her career. Plus, Raina was now considered an aging pop star, so she had to begin the process of branching out into different fields of entertainment. 

"You should do the voice," Jerry would always suggest, which Raina repetitively turned down. It wasn't that Raina looked down on voice competition shows. She didn't want to open that door to be on television every week for months on end. She was a performer, not a judge.

Again, three months. Three months since Raina had physically seen her boyfriend. They talked on the phone and skyped regularly, but it was not the same as being in the same room. She missed Chris terribly. And he missed her.

Chris had been pretty busy himself, first having to take Dodger back to Boston before getting ready to go to Toronto. With Raina's busy schedule, she would not have been able to take care of the canine. For a week and a half, Chris would attend the Toronto Film Festival to promote the movie Knives Out. Raina wished she could have gone with him. Chris wished she could have gone with him. 

After the film festival, Chris didn't have much downtime. He rushed into working on A Starting Point with Mark to outline the website and coordinate interviews with politicians. 

Raina made it a point to steer clear of conversations about ASP. Truthfully, she didn't find the idea appealing or exciting. Yes, Americans needed to be informed about certain aspects of politics and important issues. But many outlets already offered what Chris and Mark were trying to do. She asked Chris one time what made ASP different from the others. She was surprised that he wasn't quite able to come up with a sufficient answer. Raina knew Chris meant well. 

"Chris," she spoke up one day before he left the City, "You know I will never bullshit you, and I won't ever blow smoke up your ass. That has never been the kind of friendship we had. Nor is it how we want our intimate relationship to go."

He looked at Raina and told her to go on. "Sometimes, I have noticed, is that you tend not to be able to look outside of your privilege, Chris. You know what I am saying?"

Chris turned to his girlfriend. He was confused about where she was getting at. "No. What are you saying?"

Raina sighed. She could tell Chris was on the verge of getting defensive. "Nothing," she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Look, let's no…argue about…stupid stuff, okay." Raina pleaded and walked up to Chris to put her arms around him.

He reciprocated by doing the same. Leaning in, Chris captured Raina's lips. "I don't want to argue either. Especially not before I have to leave," he whispered in her ear.

There would times when Raina would look back on that exchange between her and Chris. She felt weird about how Chris became so defensive. Yeah, she could have worded things better; however, why should she? 

Truthfully, Chris was a privileged white male. If he took the time to recognize his privileges, it would make him a better ally to those who represent underprivileged groups. Raina was worried about any possible backlash Chris could face with a project like AS, which was not what she wanted for him. She understood that this was a passion project for Chris and Mark as well. Raina only wanted Chris to make sure that everything was in order and that nothing would be thrown at him unexpectedly. She knew Chris wasn't able to take criticism very well, even when it was constructive, mainly when it came to projects he was enthusiastic about; she understood as she was the same way.

With their time apart, Chris had to miss her birthday, October 19. Chris made sure to send Raina an enormous flower arrangement he could find, along with an array of goodies from Dylan's Candy Bar store. Chris knew the gifts would something Raina would appreciate. However, he still felt guilty that he was not with her to celebrate her birthday in person.

"Hey, birthday girl," Chris greeted Raina through skype on the day of her birthday. He laughed when he saw that she was holding the cupcake pillow he got her.

"I love it!" she exclaimed happily. "And I love my three-tier candy cake. I can't believe you got me that," Raina pointed out as she adjusted the laptop camera to show Chris the candy cake. "I won't be able to eat all of that."

"Yeah, you will," he laughed.

"I miss you," Raina said to Chris. "I didn't think being away from you would be this hard."

Chris sighed, "I miss you, too, sweetheart. But we'll see each other for Christmas, right?"

"Yes, of course. I made sure to schedule that time off. I still plan to come up to Concord for Christmas. My dad has already made plans with Diane for not only Christmas but Thanksgiving as well. So he is taken care of," Raina revealed. "Speaking of Thanksgiving, what are you doing?"

Shifting in his seat, Chris shared that he would spend it in Concord with his family. He noticed the slight disappointment on Raina's face and shift in her demeanor. "You don't want to come here and spend the holiday with me?" she asked solemnly. She didn't want to press on the issue but wanted to hear Chris's reason. 

Raina understood that Chris always liked to spend the holidays with his family, but deep down, she hoped he would change it up this year. "It's just been two and a half months since we saw each other," Raina began but stopped. The last thing she wanted to do was to make Chris feel guilty. "Do you have any time off before then?"

"Like you, I'm completely booked up until Christmas. Mark and I are still working on the website for A Starting Point for the rest of October, then when November comes around, it is all press for Knives Out and premiers. Trust me; I would rather be with you than have to do press junkets or walk red carpets," Chris acknowledged.

Raina grabbed a piece of candy from her three-tier candy cake. She just sat back in her chair, not looking at the computer screen. Raina focused on the candy. She didn't want to look at Chris because if she did, tears would begin to form. For some reason, missing Chris and wanting to be with him felt like the equivalent of homesickness. It was a feeling she had never experienced when it came to another human being. Even when she was a teenager touring across the world, she never felt homesick. Her relationship with Chris brought along a whole new set of feelings for Raina, and part of it scared her. 

She suddenly asked herself, 'Am I becoming too dependent on Chris?' The last thing Raina wanted to be, was co-dependent.

Raina shook her head and sat up in her chair. She looked at Chris and smiled. "I'm sorry. I know you're busy. I don't mean to pressure you or make you feel bad."

The two continued to talk a bit longer until Chris noticed Raina yawning. "Okay, sweetheart, I will let you get to bed."

"No, I can still talk. It's early," Raina whined like a child.

"It's a quarter after eleven, and that is now your fourth yawn in the last fifteen minutes," he pointed out. "You need to get to bed."

Raina sighed, "Alright, boss. I'll get to bed. Talk to you later or when either one of us is available. Bye, honey. Love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

Thanksgiving rolled around faster than Chris expected. Time flies when one is busy. He continued to talk to Raina via phone or skype. However, Chris was also beginning to get frustrated at their time apart. Currently, he was home, sitting in his living room with his brother and brother-in-law, watching a football game between the Buffalo Bills and Dallas Cowboys while his mom and sisters prepared dinner. Lisa would poke her head from the kitchen, asking the boys for help from time to time. His niece and nephew were running around playing with Dodger, who appeared to love the attention. 

It was almost perfect, except one person was missing. Raina. He called her earlier that day. She shared that she was celebrating Thanksgiving, Chandler Bing style, with some of the Moulin Rouge cast. 

"What the Hell is Thanksgiving, Chandler Bing style?" Chris asked, confused. 

"Damnit, watch friends, Christopher," Raina scolded teasingly. "Chandler Bing doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving. Because that was the day his parents told him that they were getting divorced. So, instead of all the turkey fixings and stuffing, we have grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and a family-size bag of Funyuns as an appetizer. We have lots of booze, so don't worry. Oh, and pumpkin cheesecake. Good times, right."

Chris only laughed. "You're living the dream. I don't think what Ma is making could compare."

"Just be sure to tell her to make her spaghetti for Christmas dinner. Or at least make a small pot of it just for me, okay."

"She's planning to, so don't worry. What are you watching? I hear gunfire," Chris enquired.

"I'm watching my husband, Tommy Shelby, shoot at the Italians," Raina informed as she watched Peaky Blinders. "I love Tommy Shelby. I tell you, Chris, if Tommy Shelby showed up at my door asking me to marry him, I would most likely say yes."

"Is that so."

"In a heartbeat. Sorry, hon, but Tommy Shelby, the things I would let him do to..."

"Thank God he is a fictional character," Chris interrupted. 

"Not in my dreams he isn't," Raina taunted.

"Okay, I'm hanging up now."

"Alright, I'll stop lusting after my fictional husband while I'm on the phone with you," said Raina and switched topics.

The two continued to talk until Chris was ordered into the kitchen by his mother. It was his turn to help.

Chris was chopping carrots and celery when his mother asked how Raina was doing. 

"She is doing fine. Raina wishes she could be here."

However, Lisa could tell something was bothering Chris. He could never hide his emotions from her. "What's the matter, Christopher?"

Chris continued to chop the vegetables until he stopped to look at his mother. "I didn't expect being away from Raina would be this hard, Ma."

"Of course it is. You love Raina," Lisa stated as she continued cooking. 

"I do. But in the past, I had girlfriends who I loved and had to do long-distance," Chris explained. "None of those worked out."

"Because you weren't truly in love with them," Lisa pointed out. "Don't compare what you have with Rain to your past relationships. Every relationship is different. What you and Raina have now is not something you have experienced before, which is real love. True love. Everyone always knew that you two would end up together, except you and Raina. You both are so cute but also clueless at times. You both will get through this. The work commitments will die down. You both will be reunited. Everything will be fine."

Chris took in what his mother was saying. He knew she was right. He had things to look forward to beginning the start of the new year.

"Raina is the first person I dated, well since Jessica at least, that I have really begun to think about marriage and kids. Part of me is scared because it's all so fast. We have only started dating back in mid-July. I don't want to rush anything. I don't want to scare her off. I don't want her to get bored of me," Chris confessed honestly. 

It was heartbreaking for Lisa to hear. She gestured for Chris to sit down at the kitchen table. "You need to stop, Chris. You are allowing your anxiety to get the best of you. Just take a deep breath, okay," she instructed her oldest son. "Raina will never get bored of you. She loves you very much. Don't think about the past; only focus on the future. You and Raina will be fine. More than fine. Yes, there will be hard times, along with good times. It is normal for every functional relationship. You can't have the good without the bad, the sad without the happy, the ups and the downs. The universe needs balance."

"Okay, Oprah," Chris joked. "I get what you're saying."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do, Ma."

"Good. Now get back to chopping," Lisa ordered, and Chris went back to cutting vegetables for Thanksgiving dinner. 

[sooobinscalculator]

NCT 127 Confessing to You / You Confessing to Them

Genre: Fluffffff ff f f f

Word count: *beep boop*

NCT 127 X Reader

This has been in my drafts for a while and it actually was a different group at first but I changed it so sorry if it's a little funky or some of the words are weird. Hope you enjoy thooo.

None of these gifs are mine :))

Taeyong ♡

He confesses to you.

You were close friends with him since school.

You guys would always "jokingly" flirt and it was obvious to the other members what was going on.

You both had feelings towards each other but were too paranoid of confessing and ruining the friendship.

You had invited him over to your house one lazy evening and you were sitting on the couch with him watching a movie.

He had his arm draped behind you and he sighed heavily, catching your attention.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Y/N, we really need to talk. I don't want this to ruin our friendship or anything, but I need to get this out."

"Okay..."

"I've fallen so hard for you over these past years and if you don't feel the same as me, just know that I don't want our friendship to change from this."

"Taeyong....... Why haven't you said anything sooner? I've been in love with you since we were in school!"

"Wha- Why didn't you say anything!?"

You both would laugh it off and continue your night with deep conversations and kisses (YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAA coot).

Yuta ♡

You confess to him.

You had been introduced to Yuta by your best friend Johnny.

Johnny found out you were crushing on Yuta and would try everything in his will power to get you and him close together.

Johnny invited you over one night to hang out with the boyzzzzz.

You and Yuta at this point have gotten closer (as friends...... 🙃).

Haechan really didn't want to watch the horror movie that the others picked out.

You and Yuta volunteered to do something else with Haechan so he wouldn't feel left out.

"Let's dye my hair," Yuta suddenly suggested.

"YESSSSS," Haechan glanced at you for approval.

"You both can do it," Yuta smirked at you while handing you several hair dye bottles.

"O-oh okay," you nervously muttered.

While washing Yuta's hair, Haechan left to get some snacks.

Yuta was groaning softly as you massaged his scalp, making you go CrAzY skskaksjdnxnak.

"Yuta, I have something to confess," you said as you bit your lip.

"Yes?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he opened his eyes.

"I-I like you. Really, really like you," you said softly as blush spread to your cheeks like wildfire.

"Really? Me too," he says nonchalantly.

"Oh phew okay. Wait.... You LIKE ME TOO?!"

"Yeah Y/N, I'm gaga for you," he says while bopping your nose with his finger and winking.

You internally scream as Yuta laughs at your blush.

Jaehyun ♡

(Woof okay)

He confesses to you.

But in a DiFfErEnT way than he would've wanted to.

You were invited to a late night club by your friend Jaehyun.

He constantly would try to pull your dress down, saying it was too short.

You'd stare at him with a raised eyebrow and remind him that the two of you were at a club.

The daaannccciiinnnng kekeke.

He's obviously a great dancer, and you were surprised at how well your body responded to his. (I-)

Went into a drinking competition at one point with you (after getting a little tired of dancing).

You won.

Now he's all TiPsY!

Moooore daaannccciiinnnng

His dancing was getting a little more rAuNcHy.

"Jae I think we should get you home," you laughed while facing him.

"Y/N.... You're literally glowing. You're an absolute goddess," his words were all slurred but still made your heart flutter.

"Aw thanks Jae," before you could finish that sentence he kithes you 😌.

"I'm so in love with you," he slowly parts from the kiss and speaks SO SOFTLY skskskjdeokf.

You think you might pass out.

"I've been in love with you for the longest time," he looks you in the eyes and almost seems completely sober.

You agree to leave the club with him and head to his house (😏).

Jungwoo ♡

This bebe 🥺

He confesses to you.

Master of cheesy pick up lines!

You and him constantly had pick up line battles.

He always won.

You got into a pretty heated battle at one point, and you were determined to win.

"Is that a mirror in your pocket? Cause I can see myself in your pants," *insert baby boi wink*.

"No but I can definitely see something in your pocket. Is that a lollipop or are you just happy to see me?" you cheesily smiled.

"Once you have a lick, I'm sure you can answer the question yourself."

"Ew Jungwoo, let's get back on track..."

He laughs at your baffled behavior.

"Okay, what has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk?"

You already knew where this was going and stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

"My zipper," *insert wiggly eyebrows*.

You were very determined to win this round though.

"Kiss me if I'm wrong. Dinosaurs still exist right?"

"Oh yes, definitely."

"Jungwoo......." you sighed and rubbed your temples.

"Fine, fine. I guess you really want me to kiss you that bad..."

He muttered the last part so you couldn't really make out what he said until he leapt onto you and mushed his lips against yours (EEEEEEEEEEEEEE).

"I am dinosaur," he says cutely.

More kisses on the couch.

He admits defeat after giving a heart-warming confession.

Mark ♡

You both kinda confess at the same time.

You were childhood friends that had been separated when he moved and attended a different school.

You met back up with him when you had bumped into him at a cafe and exchanged numbers.

After coming home from work, Mark invited you to one of his band's concerts.

You got that VIP experienceee. Backstage access and all.

Mark giggled and jumped up and down like a fangirl when he saw you come backstage.

You joined in the crackhead energy and jumped/giggled like a fangirl as well.

"Enjoy the view," he says before walking onto the stage with his other members.

Tired baby after the performance :'( .

"Late night snack?" you asked.

He loved the idea and drove off with you to the nearest 7/11.

Got into a deep conversation about life and stuff.

"You know what, let's share one of our deepest secrets with each other. Just for fun and because we've been friends since we came out of the womb and our trust is impossible to break," he suggests.

You can see that he's also just as nervous as you but you, for some reason, love this idea.

"1, 2, 3!"

"I like you."

You both slap a hand on your mouths as you shout those words in sync.

You both burst into a GiGgLe FiT!

Mark drops his ice cream which makes you guys laugh twice as hard.

"That's crazy....." he sighs as he catches his breath while pulling you into a hug.

Lots of kisses on the cheek. 🥺

Winwin ♡

You confess to him.

You hadn't seen him in a while because he was AcRoSs ThE wOrLd at the moment.

You had been face timing him every day.

He always fell asleep on you though.

"I'll be coming back soon," he says over the call.

"Good," you said through your mouth full of cake.

"Are you eating cake without me?" he pouts.

"Yes," you say as you shovel another bite of the vanilla ice cream cake into your mouth.

"It's alright, there's an unlimited amount for me anyways."

You didn't understand his comment at first but furrowed your eyebrows at him when you did.

He laughs his bay bee boi laugh 🥺.

"It's good to see you again though," his comment makes you smile.

"Good to see you too," you wink.

You talked with him about how everything was going where he was and how everyone was doing.

It was getting later in the evening. (Later in the day for you.)

You watched as his drowsy eyes slowly closed.

Suddenly you thought this was the pErFeCt TiMe To ThInK oUt LoUd.

"You're so cute Sicheng. I'm literally head over heels in love with your perfect, soft, baby face," you rambled as you were swooning over his peaceful, sleeping face on your screen.

"Baby face?" he muttered as his eyes flicked open and stared into yours.

"Oh shi-"

You hung up quickly.

He called back within two seconds and you stared at your phone screen while curling into fetal position.

"You're so adorable," he says as your red face and twinkling eyes appear on the screen.

Haechan ♡

You confess to him.... Through a kith. 🙃

He had a whole day off and you decided to take him to an amusement park.

"Y/N!!! Let's share a cotton candy!!!"

You let him eat most of it, claiming it was his day so you would treat him to whatever.

Lots of relaxing rides instead of rollar coasters; a chill day.

It was getting late and the park looked amazing at night with all the lit up rides and twinkling lights everywhere.

So you and Haechan decided to take pictures and hit up all the rollar coasters now.

You rode the merry-go-round several times and took several crackhead videos and pictures on it.

You had your arm wrapped through Haechan's and your head was resting on his shoulder as the two of you strolled around the almost empty park.

"Haechan?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you for this night."

He looks down at you and you lean up and KiSs HiM (WHAAAAA My HeArT 🥺).

A slow smirk spreads on his face and he leans back down to kiss you again.

"Thank you for this night," he says between kisses.

Johnny ♡

He confesses to you.

You had a long day at work and was tired of all the cranky, asshole customers.

You had ranted about it to Johnny over the phone during your break.

"Well, gotta get back to it," you sighed as you looked at the time, seeing your break was over.

"Alright, I'll pick you up today," he said through the phone.

You exchanged goodbyes and hesitated before getting up and joining back up with your coworkers.

MoRe BoOtYhOlE cUsToMeRs.

You were just mentally and physically exhausted all around.

Finally your shift was over and you were excited to see Johnny (a bright side to your cruddy day).

"Hop in loser," he said as he rolled down the window on the passenger side and stared at your slumped form sitting on the bench.

"I'm... Exhausted," you muttered as you rubbed your eye.

"I'm sorry Y/N. A warm shower will probably really be nice when we get back home. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, it's okay Johnny. Thanks though."

"You know, that's what I really admire about you," he says as his hand rests on your thigh.

"What's that?" you chirp and lean close to him with your elbows resting on the center console and your chin resting in your hands.

"That you're so strong and that you push through each and every day. You give 100%, even if everything sucks. You always give your best. That's what really made me fall for you," he said, his hand moving from your thigh to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Aw, thanks Johnny," you said, taking his hand and kissing it as you heart melted. "You know my heart belongs to you."

Doyoung ♡

He confesses to you.

You and Doyoung (after weeks of begging him to do this with you) had composed a bucket list together of things you wanted to do.

One of them was spend a night on a beach.

"Ew, there's going to be sand everywhere," he huffs and pouts as you lay out the blanket on the sand.

"Oh well! All part of the experience!" you say as you pull your shirt off (you have a bathing suit underneath ObViOuSlY).

He chases after you into the crisp, ocean water.

He doesn't go very deep and neither do you; you both chill out in the knee deep section.

Night starts to fall and you and Doyoung take aesthetic pictures with the orange sky and dark blue water.

"So pretty," he sighs as you both sit on the blanket, wrapped up in towels with a small fire in front of you.

"Yeah it is," you sigh as well.

"Just like you."

"Yea- Huh?" As you turned your head to question him, he leaned in and connected his lips with yours.

You savor the moment, staring into his eyes as he slowly parts from you.

"You ruined it. I was aiming for your cheek until you turned your head," he jokingly smirks.

Taeil ♡

You both confess at the same time (like Mork).

All the members knew that Taeil was madly in love with you and that you were the same way.

"Let's play truth or dare!" Haechan shouted as everyone was thinking of something to do.

"YES!" everyone immediately caught on to the plan except for Doyoung and Taeil who protested the game.

"Taeil truth or dare?" Mark asked.

"I'm not playing," Taeil shrugged his response.

"Taeil truth or dare?"

"Urmmm... I just said I wasn't playing."

"Taeil truth or d-"

"Truth."

The evil expressions that were plastered on all the boys faces was easy for you to catch and you groaned in realization of what was happening.

"Who are you madly oBsEsSeD with? And don't lie, I read your diary," Mark folded his arms across his chest.

"I- WaIt A mInUtE!"

"Hey Y/N, who are you madly obsessed with?" Jaehyun suddenly blurted the question.

You blinked in confusion, hoping your blank expression would eventually cause them to change the subject.

"W-well I think it's pretty obvious now," you said as you nervously scratched the back of your neck.

"What? No way," Taeil gasped softly at your comment.

"You like me?!" you both blurted at the same time.

"Mission accomplished gentlemen," the rest of the boys in the room said in satisfaction as they high-fived each other.

Whew! This post took me forever to write and edit!!! Hope you enjoyed it though. Now I must relax my cramping wrist :') .

[eagles-translated]

Answering Eagles questions before the season 3 finale (Part 1/2)

I've received a bunch of questions since 3x08 and 3x09 dropped, so I compiled all the questions into two posts. I had to split them up because Tumblr only allows 10 images per post. Anyway, keep reading to see my answers and enjoy! 👇

My theory is that everybody will be gathered together for some event and then shit goes down. Sort of like the ending of 1x08.

We've seen an image of Adam, Omar, and Ludde together at a party of some sort. I can't post it here because of Tumblr only allowing ten pictures, but you can find it in Ludde's prediction post that I made prior to the season 3 premiere.

Felicia might be absent from this considering how her mental health has been recently, and instead opting to stay at home rather than attending a party.

I have my suspicions that Elias will be attending this party, though. We saw him at some concert in the season 3 trailer and they made it look like he was watching Amie singing in Stockholm. But maybe Amie will be performing at this party and Elias is watching her here instead?

It seems like Amie singing at the end of the season has become kind of a recurring theme. She performed "Follow" in 1x08 and "Second Sight" in 2x10 (on the radio, but my point still stands). I wouldn't be surprised if they followed this trend by having Amie perform a new song in the season 3 finale.

Maybe Elias approaches her after the performance to express how good she is. He hasn't really seen her do a live performance since 1x08, where she still hadn't really come out of her shell. They've also grown a lot closer this season. Perhaps Elias even has something more to tell her?

I can't help but feel like this party will end on a bad note, though. We have that whole thing with Andreas potentially buying a gun or whatever he's up to (discussed this more in another question down below).

I have a feeling this party is going to get interrupted in some way and that the season is going to end on a major cliffhanger.

I don't even know what they'll do with Ludde and Felicia. Ludde has no idea what happened to Felicia in these last two episodes, and I hope they'll have a conversation just to clear the air surrounding the whole press situation. Ludde still loves her even if he broke things off, and I would really like to see him reassure Felicia that the blame lies with Jack and not her. I don't think they will get back together and repeat what 2x10 did since the drama is still so fresh. Felicia shouldn't really get into a relationship right now, either.

I'm unsure about Klara. I feel like she's mostly done her part this season, but maybe things aren't completely finished between her and Elias. Maybe there were some things left unsaid on Klara's part when she met with Elias at the café, and Elias never really confirmed where he was at.

This talk regarding their relationship (and Eagles?) might happen in the season finale. I'm leaning towards them ending it for good since I doubt they will be getting back together. However, I'm pretty sure that it will be on good terms now after everything Klara did for Felicia.

I somewhat agree with this, even if it was worded a little harshly. Felicia shouldn't have been so quick to share the most personal thing that had ever happened to her on her first date with a guy she had just met. And she shouldn't have done the same thing with Jack, even if it was someone she'd known for longer.

I think she should've at least waited a while to see if the person she told her secrets to was trustworthy—sort of like Ludde did when he told Felicia the truth about how Andreas landed in prison. That's a huge secret and it made more sense to have it be shared closer to the end of the first season rather in the first three episodes.

On the other hand, I can definitely understand why she was so quick to share her problems. Felicia was really lonely when she first came to Oskarshamn. Her parents were fighting all the time, and her dad was only focused on Elias' hockey career. She carried these huge traumatic events and had nobody really supporting her when she ended up at the hospital and was sent to rehab. Felicia couldn't share the secret about her dad's affair either. She really had nobody in her life that she could talk to about any of this.

So it's reasonable that when she finally met a person who she really connected with, she felt comfortable enough to finally share these burdens she had been carrying. She actually started out by saying this to Ludde in 1x03:

I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t talk about it to people.

I don't think Felicia set out to tell her whole backstory to Ludde. It just happened. I'm not saying it was the right choice, but Felicia probably realized that she desperately needed someone to talk to. And she said herself that it felt really good to just get these secrets out (until it didn't when she thought Ludde had spilled the beans to Klara). Felicia even made sure to stress to Ludde that he couldn't tell anybody about her experiences in the US.

Felicia: I don’t want this to come out, that’s really important. Ludde: Of course, I’d never tell.

A similar situation arose with Jack. Felicia was more isolated than ever and she had aborted a child that nobody knew about—not even her mom. That's a huge secret to carry on your own.

Felicia had known Jack since she was a child. She trusted him and he was a family friend. Not only that, but Jack has the ability to be incredibly charming when he wants to be. If anything, it makes more sense that Felicia told her personal things to Jack rather than to Ludde. She couldn't predict that Jack would turn out to be a cheating asshole who would leak everything in the press. It's kind of sad that Felicia would have to constantly keep quiet about all the wounds she's carrying when support from the people around her is the thing she needs and craves.

I've never said that the Kroon family's reaction to them being slandered in the press wasn't valid. I actually understood their anger and frustration quite well, but they let their emotions get the better of them. Yelling at Felicia did nothing to help the situation even though it's fair that they would direct their anger at the person who was to blame in that situation.

It wasn't pretty, and ganging up on Felicia (when her personal business had also been leaked) wasn't the best way to deal with the situation. But because their privacy was violated, I understand it. I can agree with you on that part.

It just sounds like you're implying that Felicia isn't allowed to share personal stuff at all because it would be "gifting ammo to expose her family". If Jack had actually been a decent person and never ruined her family's reputation in the press, you wouldn't be as harsh on her. The situation just got blown out of proportion for everybody.

Put these questions together since they were sort of asking the same thing regarding the last scene of 3x09. Here is the full transcript from that scene if anybody needs a reminder:

Man: Hey. Andreas: Hello. Man: Wasn’t yesterday. Welcome to the outside. Andreas: Thanks. Hey… The last time I saw you, you said you knew somebody who sells. Man: Are you thinking of a fully automatic? Andreas: Yeah, whatever. Man: There’s a guy in Stockholm. I’ll fix it. I’ll send you the number. Just tell him I sent you. Andreas: Alright, good. Got it. Man: Good. Good, see you. Andreas: See you.

It actually didn't click for me at all when I first saw this scene that Andreas could've been talking about buying a gun—my first thought was actually that he was talking about a car because I'm that stupid lmao.

Anyway, there is definitely potential for the season to end on a cliffhanger involving a gun and Andreas. I have a few theories on what the season could end like. Season 3 has been so much darker than previous seasons, so while this might feel too serious for a show like Eagles it's definitely not out of the question after the recent episodes. Anyway, here's what I think could happen.

1. The season ends with Andreas having the gun—but we don't know if he'll actually use it 2. The season ends with Andreas just about to shoot someone—but we don't know who (?) 3. The season ends with Andreas having just shot someone—but we don't know who (?)

I don't know which one of these theories I'm leaning more towards, but I really hope this won't be the outcome for Andreas. He just spent close to a year in prison for something he didn't even do. Andreas is not a criminal, and it would be disappointing if he actually ended up doing this. They could be throwing us for a loop.

I mean, personally I don't think shooting somebody because they were the reason my younger brother didn't get into his dream school is enough reason to risk ending up in prison for. Yes, Ludde got his reputation ruined, but there are other ways to solve that than to resort to crime. Andreas should know that too, considering the whole thing where he got landed in jail because he tried to protect Ludde.

This could absolutely be the case but at the same time I'm a little unsure. Hopefully things will just go up from here since the last two episodes were so dark, but I'm unsure what that last scene in 3x09 will mean for the season finale.

I hope they will do something similar to 2x10, where the ending was more bittersweet than just sour. We had the moment with Elias finally being drafted to the US and then Felicia and Ludde finally getting back together. We saw Amie achieve her dreams as a pop star. And yet there were still sour tones with us seeing Klara's dad passing away, Ludde being brought to the police station, and Amie being entirely alone and heartbroken.

2x10 was a really good episode and the ending montage gave me goosebumps the first time I saw it. I think ending a season like that, with both positives and negatives, hits you more emotionally rather than just ending on one or the other. The 1x08 season finale was really depressing and while the cliffhanger was intriguing, it didn't hit as hard for me as 2x10.

I'm kind of curious if they'll be able to top that episode—it's definitely among my personal favorites.

My stance is that if Elias and Amie won't happen in 3x10, they will be guaranteed to happen in season 4. There is no way they're passing that opportunity up. They have clear chemistry, are fan favorites, and it absolutely makes sense for them to get together considering where they're at in their journeys—both having realized their dreams but then coming back to Oskarshamn because it didn't turn out the way they thought it would.

I think they have a mutual understanding of each other—in season 3 more than ever—and it would definitely be a shame if their potential was wasted. So I can't see the writer(s) passing up that opportunity.

There is a possibility for Elias to make a move in the season 3 finale, but I think it's better to keep our expectations low. We just had Felicia go through something really traumatic and her whole family is dealing with the ramifications of Jack slandering them in the media. Elias's relationship with Amie might have to take a backseat because of that.

There's also the thing where we thought that Petra might forbid Amie from seeing Elias because the newspapers painted him as a sex addict. But I think Petra and Amie have reached an understanding in their relationship after the whole Michael thing, and I can see Petra taking Amie's word when saying that Elias isn't what the press makes him out to be—and that he's not like his father.

I really do want to see something happen between them in the season finale, though. I'm excited but impatient for Elias and Amie and I think there are many fans who feel the same way.

But there is a reason they've been so slow to develop their relationship. Elias and Amie have grown as people separately and they're at a point where I believe they're more compatible than they ever were previously. They've been building their character development, slowly but surely, and I like that they haven't been rushed together like Felicia and Ludde were.

If nothing happens between them in season 3, don't lose hope. I think season 4 will absolutely be Elias and Amie's season.

I hope so. I hope Petra isn't listening to the tabloids and tries to see what's in front of her instead, which is that Elias is not Mats.

Elias is entirely his own person. I know Petra was heartbroken when Mats left her after getting drafted, but when Elias was put into this exact situation he hesitated because he didn't want to leave Klara alone.

Klara: Elias… I don’t understand why you’re even thinking about this. Of course you’re going [to the US]. You’ve always wanted this. Right? Elias: But I don’t want to leave you.

Petra doesn't know about this, but we as the audience do. Elias's actions have always been caring and supportive (and I'm not just saying this because Elias has always been my favorite character). It should only be a matter of time until Petra realizes that, if she just gave him a chance.

I think that Petra will eventually see that Amie has finally found someone special who makes her happy. That Elias isn't at all like how Mats was at his age, or like Michael who didn't even bother to support her.

Petra has been so unlucky in love and I hope she can see through her prejudices and let her daughter be happy and loved, in the way that Petra never really got to be.

It could happen, but even if it does I don't think they will be separated for most of season 4.

Maybe Amie decides to finally take charge of her career and tells the record label that she's doing this her way or not at all. Maybe she even decides to quit to try a music career on her own terms, or with a different label that doesn't make her as successful but doesn't control her.

I never felt like the particular record label Amie ended up with was a great fit for her. Yes, she's very talented and I would love to see her become an even bigger star, but only if it's done the way Amie wants it to be done. There could be the possibility of Amie leaving the label, just like how Elias left the US.

I definitely think Felicia has picked up on Elias overworking himself. He's been at the gym constantly, even during the school field trip to Stockholm. Elias left this huge opportunity in the US to come back to Eagles, and the overworking could be a result of him feeling like he has to prove to both himself and the people around him that this decision was the right one.

They've been super subtle about this whole thing and I hope they will be discussing it properly soon instead of just giving us small snippets. There was discussion about this being an eating disorder, but I think it's leaning more towards overworking like you said and bad eating habits (in my opinion, we would need to see something more drastic before drawing the conclusion that Elias might have an eating disorder).

There's so much that needs to be brought up in the season 3 finale—like what exactly Andreas is planning and its outcome, Felicia healing after her suicide attempt and potentially having a conversation with Ludde, and maybe some sort of triangle drama between Elias and if he'll choose Klara or Amie. There are so many possibilities here that I have my suspicions that this storyline won't be fully resolved in just one episode.

I think it will be pushed forward into season 4 because that seems to make the most sense right now. I've been wrong before though, so something else could definitely happen.

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Sleep Tight For Me...I’m Gone

Lately I’ve been writing these Better Days Are A Toenail Away™️ posts in Microsoft Word, selecting all and changing the font to Garamond, which is so readable and beautiful, and posting the Word docs, paragraphs by paragraph, inside these Tumblr drafts. It makes things look nice, to my old fashioned sensibilities, but fixing errors is a time-consuming and needlessly convoluted four-step process.

First, I have to copy, then delete the paragraph containing the error. Then I open the doc. and paste the error-ridden paragraph back into Word. After I find and fix the error, I need to save it and copy and paste it back into the post. It's time-consuming because I’m not just copying a paragraph. As you can see from more recent post, what I copied looked more like a photograph of the paragraph, not the words themselves written in Tumblr’s default font Arial. For an example of this, see below. I like the way it looks like old newspaper clippings. I posted an article about how my fent dealer John Smith kept getting robbed, and had resorted to putting a machete in front of his front door as a way of preventing this, a lever of sorts, which is plainly visible in the video I posted,

So today I’ve given up on trying to make my posts look like books or zines, and have given into the Tumblr font, which is about as pretty as a horse with his snout shot off.

There are two much longer posts I’m working on right now, one about Nirvana and one about Soundgarden, respectively, and how both bands were very unlike their public perception, but those posts are taking a lot of work so I’m putting them on the backburner because today is some dumbass corporation’s day where it tries to synthesize mental health and profit and the end result is as baldly capitalist and clumsy as you would expect. 

I’m not gonna name the company, or repeat their stupid fucking slogan. As far as I can tell (which isn't very far), talking about my trauma has never made me feel better. And in fact it has sometimes made me feel worse, because in telling you what hurts and scares me, I’ve given a part of myself away that I can’t get back. When you’re like me, and you’ve lost everything multiple times, sometimes the only form of power you have is how you choose, or do not choose, to tell your story. And in a world where everybody wants to tell “their truth,” silence is power. 

You don’t get to know me, sorry. I’m not gonna hand you my life, both my bad and good experiences, and conclude: “Welp, that’s why I’m so fucked up. Case closed.” 

Honestly, I used to be a little confused, or miffed that my former partner (who is an amazing person btw, in every respect) almost never spoke about some of the traumatic things she’d experienced in her past. I took it as a sign that she either didn’t trust me, or she didn’t think I would be a sympathetic listener, or the mere fact of my gender precluded her from sharing because I couldn’t truly understand what it was she had gone through. It’s not like I ever asked her to talk about it, but I did say, once or twice, “hey if you ever wanna talk about that stuff, I’m around.” She never took me up on it, and I let it go. 

But as I watched her, and saw her life unfold, over the years we spent together, I began to realize I wasn’t exactly in any position to be telling her how to live her life or how to be mentally healthy. After all, she has found success in a number of avenues, both creative and occupational, and I’ve found neither. I'm not saying the fact that she didn't talk much about her trauma is the reason for her success. I'm saying that she's forged a better path through life than I have, and maybe I should take a cue from that.

She never told me what to do, per se. It was more like living by example. But because I’m pretty dense, and a severe addict, our time together actually sorta reminds me now of that Cornell lyric from his first record: She’s going to change the world. But she can’t change me.

I have certainly found that talking about how shitty my life is only makes me feel more shitty, not free, or unburdened, or better. If you wanna talk about your problems, and you find it helpful, more power to you. Just don’t wait for a corporation to tell you it’s okay to not be okay. 

When Chris Cornell died I was so shocked. Of all the grunge icons he seemed the most stable, and he'd survived the rise and fall of two major label rock bands. If anyone had survived the media machine that chewed up and spat out Staley, Cobain, and to a lesser extent Andrew Wood and Shannon Hoon, it was Cornell. He would be the last guy to support hashtag activism like #StarbucksMyLifeSucks. Chris Cornell actually loved to fuck with the best laid plans of corporate rats. Molson once had a few promotional concerts in Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, called Molson Canadian Rocks Arctic, with both Hole and Soundgarden playing to a crowd of flown-in grunge fans and bemused locals. But the whole anti-corporate thing grunge was known for actually came through when Courtney Love told the crowd she “use[d] Molson Canadian to douche.” Lol. Here’s a photo of Love arriving in Tuktoyatuk.

Cornell told the same people “so we’re here because of some beer company? Labatt’s?” Both artists’ jabs are funny. Cornell’s was a bit more subtle, but that’s what Cornell was like. 

So today’s post is about Chris Cornell’s suicide, more specifically the media’s reaction to it. For whatever reason, when Cornell died, every single news outlet, from CNN to Fox to CBC, posted “Black Hole Sun,” as if it’s the only song he ever fucking wrote, or – and this is far worse – the only song he wrote that’s worth hearing. The problem with this is more than twofold or threefold. It's fucking hydraheaded. 

Not only is “Black Hole Sun” a mediocre piece of music, it’s a complete misrepresentation of Soundgarden’s sound. 

Now, I’m a huge fan of the A.V. Club series HateSong, in which public figures gleefully talk shit about the one song they hate more than any other song in the world. The Max Bemis (Say Anything) one where he talks about Nirvana’s “Rape Me” as a terrible rewrite of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is terrific, but comedian Anthony Jeselnik’s HateSong takes “Black Hole Sun” apart, and I love it. I think the best line is: I think the more I hear it, the worse it gets. AVC: After the song became a huge hit, Chris Cornell said that he’d written it in about 15 minutes. AJ: I totally believe that. I don’t believe that Soundgarden likes that song. Like, I remember Eminem once said that he knew his song “My Name Is” was going to be a huge hit because the first time he heard it he was annoyed. It’s something about an annoying song that just grabs onto people. But I don’t think that anyone likes “Black Hole Sun.” I’ve never heard of anyone who likes it. I don’t understand why it gets played so much. It’s become a summer jam, and it’s not a summer song at all. Jeselnik is right that Soundgarden didn’t think much of the song. Guitarist Kim Thayil wasn’t kidding when he disparagingly called it the “Dream On” of their live show. And Cornell himself, known for a meticulous approach to his songwriting, had admitted that with “Black Hole Sun”was “probably the closest to me just playing with words for words’ sake, of anything I’ve written. I guess it worked for a lot of people who heard it, but I have no idea how you'd begin to take that one literally.” I mean it’s obvious from the opening lines that Cornell is just playing with words and how they sound: in my eyes/indisposed/in disguises no one knows What songs would have been more appropriate for Cornell’s untimely death? Glad you asked! Cuz there’s like…fucking at least ten that would have been better. I’m not tryna be one of those “the deep album cuts are better maaaaaan,” but with Soundgarden, it happens to be true. With some bands, the single are their best work. With other bands, the singles are the hors d’oeuvres for the entrees. So what deep cuts would have celebrated Cornell’s death a bit better? Well, to begin with, Superunknown’s strange and stately closer “Like Suicide” would have worked, for obvious reasons.

“Tighter and Tighter,” a song that is actually about the moment of death and what it might feel like, is one of my all-time fav Soundgarden songs. Not only is it a creepy and prescient prediction of what Cornell’s death by hanging himself may have felt like, it’s opening line is a good description of the personification of death: Shadow face/Blowing smoke and talking wind

Another sample lyric: “A sucking holy wind will take me from this bed tonight/and bloody wits another hits me and I have to say goodbye/sleep tight for me, I’m gone/and I hope it’s  a sweet ride/here for me tonight/cuz I’m feel I’m going/feel I’m slowing down.” 

The morning after Cornell’s death hit the news my buddy and bandmate James told me that en route to work his phone, which was playing music randomly through his car speakers, landed on “Tighter and Tighter” and he had to pull over because he was tearing up. 

“Fell On Black Days” is another song about depression and mortality. Cornell had the following to say about the song: “Fell on Black Days” was like this ongoing fear I’ve had for years ... It's a feeling that everyone gets. You're happy with your life, everything’s going well, things are exciting—when all of a sudden you realize you’re unhappy in the extreme, to the point of being really, really scared. There's no particular event you can pin the feeling down to, it's just that you realize one day that everything in your life is fucked! 

Now, if that’s not a cogent and even-tempered explanation of suicidal thoughts, what is? Why else would Cornell have admitted to being “really really scared” by his depression unless he knew what that depression could ultimately leasd to? Here’s some lyrics to “Fell on Black Days.” Dig the high literary use of “whomsoever” and “whatsoever.” Whatsoever I’ve feared has come to life Whatsoever I fought off became my life Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile sunspots have faded and now I’m doing time cuz I fell on black days

Whomsoever I’ve cured I’ve sickened now Whomsoever I’ve cradled...I put you down I’m a searchlight soul they say but I can’t see it in the night I’m only faking when I get it right I sure don’t mind a change but I fell on black days how would I know that this could be my fate?

Eagle-eared listeners might think this version different from the album version. They are right. The rendition in the video was recorded live off the floor @ Bad Animals, the Seattle studio owned by Heart, where Soundgarden would record Down on the Upside. 

“Boot Camp” is a scary meditation about loss of agency that for years was tied with Zeppelin’s “I'm Gonna Crawl” for Creepiest Song to Cap a Discography, until Soundgarden reunited and released King Animal.

“Taree” is about ghost light, influencing events after dying and features Cornell’s most exhausted, convincing “yeah” @ 2:57.

“Applebite” is a Matt Cameron-penned ponderous clunker about Adam’s original expulsion from Eden. Doomy and death-laden.

“Let Me Drown” is a song about letting someone die.

“The Day I Tried To Live” is frequently cited as Soundgarden’s finest achievement, its odd time signature somehow sounds straight, thanks to Matt Cameron’s brilliant time keeping.

“4th of July” is a song about a post apocalyptic urban landscape, where the speaker isn’t sure whether he is seeing fireworks or bombs. 

“Limo Wreck” is a cool death song and has an eerie 9-11 prediction. “Building the towers belongs to the sky/when the whole thing comes crashing down don’t ask me why.” 

ANY of the above songs would have been better than that fucking asinine dirge-like major key fuckaround that has somehow not just become Soundgarden's signature song...but their ONLY song. 

Does nobody remember Johnny Cash covering “Rusty Cage?” 

“Outshined?”

“Burden In My Hand?”

“Blow Up The Outside World?”

Did none of these other songs get stuck in the electric head? (The electric head is Rob Zombie’s term for the technologically advanced culture we have found ourselves enmeshed in, or imprisoned by. It was the subtitle for White Zombie’s 1995 hit album Astro-Creep 2000: Songs of Love, Destruction, and other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head.)

For my money (which ain’t much honey), the song that best fits both Cornell’s artistic integrity and the sad circumstances of his suicide is “Tighter and Tighter.” I once wrote a whole article on the way artists use “yeah” as a placeholder or as a way to convey emotion when words themselves aren’t adequate. Dig that tired, world-weary exhausted “yeah” at 5:35 of “Tighter & Tighter.”

Or the creepy line going into the first chorus: remember this...remember everything’s just black or burning sun. Not that I agree with such a bleak worldview. It’s a writer’s line. And Randy Bachman has said, “when you’re a writer, you’d step over your own mother.” That’s the Cornell I want to remember. Not that he would step over his own mother. By all accounts he was a committed family man. I mean, I want to remember the Cornell who created strange atmospheric sonic worlds, who explored the dark side that sadly, eventually won out. His otherworldly beautiful music is what I choose to remember about Chris Cornell, not his estate tastelessly exploiting “Black Hole Sun” by using a line from the song to title a posthumous Cornell album of covers No One Sings Like You Anymore. Sigh.

First Cornell’s widow said this was “Chris’s last album.” Okay. What about the Soundgarden songs he recorded vocals for before he died? Kim Thayil was pretty diplomatic about it when asked recently. Cornell did record vocal tracks for the follow up to King Animal.

Kim Thayil: “Given our love for Chris, I do not see us reconfiguring without him.”

But he makes it clear in this interview that Cornell’s widow Vicky has those tracks and won’t release them to the band. Maybe because she blames the band for Chris dying that night? She’s not wrong to believe that they would have known, and seen, what kind of shape Cornell was in, at least at the venue, maybe not later at the hotel.

Kim Thayil: “It’s entirely possible that a new Soundgarden album will be released. Certainly. All it would need is to take the audio files that are available. I tighten up the guitars. Ben does the bass. We get the producers we want to make it sound like a Soundgarden record.”

Interviewer: “Is there an obstacle stopping that?”

Kim Thayil: “There shouldn’t be. There really isn’t. Other than the fact that we don’t have those files.”

Interviewer: “They’re not under your auspices?”

Kim Thayil: “Right. It would be ridiculous if [the record wasn’t made]. But these are difficult things. Partnerships and...property.”

You’re just gonna keep those wav files? And why title his covers album Volume 1 if it’s his “last album?”

Oh right. $$$

No one does sing like Cornell, but is “Black Hole Sun” really the best thing he ever did? The best song he ever sang? Should an album of covers be the last thing he gives to the world?

The only honest answer is no.

Sleep tight Chris. You’re gone.

[adonis-koo]

kiss me and take off your clothes (M)

Note: Bury a friend 3 is still in beta and all of my Hyung line fics are still in draft but I really wanted to post ??? Jungkook sweetie I’m so sorry.

My first attempt at smut so be gentle on me 😔 I’ve always wanted to write an 8th!member reader but not like this partners, lemme know if y’all want more 8th!M Reader.

Pairing: Platonic Jungkook/8thM!Reader, implied Taehyung/Reader, Reader is honestly a slut for ot7 if you squint,

Tags: implied romantic interest, mutual pining, switch!Jungkook, fairly vanilla, slightly kinky towards the end but nothing extreme

Plot: In which Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to be in your bedroom late at night, gives an even more shocking request.

-

The water pattered against the sink as you sighed into the warm wash towel, taking off your makeup that stubbornly stuck to your face the entire concert before beginning your extensive night routine.

More days then less you’d find yourself in Jimin’s bathroom to keep each other entertained as face washing was a serious business and often took almost an hour majority of the days. Your skin was more likely to breakout then others meaning you couldn’t necessarily afford to slack off.

Fans would love you regardless whether your skin was glass like or not, but it did help your self esteem seeing it clear everyday. You would’ve went to Jimin’s room but he had already passed out an hour ago along with Yoongi and Taehyung and Hoseok were binging on Netflix at the moment.

Any other candidates were out of the question, Namjoon had begun working on idea’s for the next album while Seokjin had already finished his nightly routine as soon as they got back to the hotel. And Jungkook? It would be a frozen day in hell before you could even get him to look at a cleanser, let alone apply it.

Sighing you vigorously ran through your routine, probably faster then you should’ve and a little more rough then normal, leaving your skin a blotchy red and rather sensitive by the time you had finished up. Knowing your luck you’d most likely breakout due to over exposing your skin to chemicals. Sighing you walked back out to your end before collapsing on the soft mattress.

It was nearing 12:30 and you would have to be at rehearsals first thing in then morning tomorrow in preparation for your second show in Chicago. It was unlikely you’d get any sleep tonight, just like you did any other night but it was worth a shot and your body had practically been begging to rest. Turning off the lamp you rolled over onto your stomach while yawning.

It couldn’t have been more then ten minutes of having your eyes shut before you heard a soft knock at the door, groaning you rolled onto your back. Who could be bothering you now? Probably Jimin he was such a brat when it came to wanting attention, he was your elder but he certainly didn’t act like it more days then less.

Your body protested as you tiredly slung your legs off the bed, slowly slinking to the door as you opened it complaining whilst yawning, “Jimin g- Jungkook?” You rubbed your eyes tiredly as they adjusted to the dim light, Jungkook stood on the other side, looking oddly nervous as he caught sight of you, “What is it?”

It was rare for Jungkook to ever be the one bugging you at night, he’d rather play Overwatch or if you were involved at all for something during the night it was often to prank you, but never, never would he knock at your door fidgeting. He swallowed slightly before looking away from you again, “Can I- uh come in?”

Stuttering? You squinted your eyes but said nothing as you opened the door, you had known him since you were both fifteen and he hadn’t acted like this around you since your debut. That was several years ago now and living together broke his shyness inevitably. Closing the door you turned back to face him, “So...?”

You rose your eyebrows expectantly as he fidgeted again, hesitance written all over his face, you could- unfortunately read him like a book, “Well...” he trailed off for a minute looking unsure of himself, “I was wondering...”

Sighing you dropped your shoulders impatiently, “Yes?” You shook your head slightly , you weren’t always so irritable but it was almost 1 in the morning and you did have practice early the next day. After a few seconds of silence Jungkook’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, “Ah, nevermind this was a stupid idea- I’m sorry for waking you Y/n...”

Jungkook began to walk past you as you took a deep breath, letting your expression soften as you caught his arm, feeling slightly bad for being so impatient with him, “It’s fine, what did you want to ask?”

He looked back at you, his pupils slightly dilated though it was difficult to tell in the lowlit room, it’s only source being the moonlight that streamed in, pressing his lips together he shook his head, “No really it’s fine...You need to get what sleep you can...”

His words lingered as though he was still debating on whatever it was he wanted to ask, he didn’t make a move to pull from your warm grip either as you furrowed your brows, “I’m not going to get any sleep whether you stay or not we both know that...So why not just ask what you want?” Finally you broke into that familiar smile you often wore, “You know I’m an open book.”

Jungkook looked down at you, relaxing slightly at the warm sight. For everything that had changed about you both your smile was the one thing that stayed the same, he liked it, a lot. Using his free hand to rub the back of his head he began to feel his face redden at the idea, “Well I was wondering if...” He stopped for a second looking down at you again before away, unable to look at you while asking, “If you could be my first...”

Your expression fell as you parted your lips, blinking blankly, that...you weren’t necessarily expecting him to say that, he couldn’t be actually asking...? “Uh...first as in...?”

It was difficult to see in the light but you’d like to imagine had it been daylight his face surely would’ve been stark red as he began to pull out of your grip, “See? I told you this was a stupid idea...”

But you began to laugh much to his humiliation, grabbing his arm again just as he escaped your grasp, pulling him back towards you as you grabbed his other arm, “No! It’s not a bad idea, I just didn’t realize you were still a virgin. You want me to be your first?”

Jungkook was just about ready to wilt under your smiling gaze, feeling like he was a schoolboy again as he squirmed in your grip, “Please don’t say it like that...I...” he looked away again closing his eyes, before rushing to explain himself, “I just want it to be with someone I’m comfortable with...someone I can trust...you were the first person that came to mind and you have experience...but you don’t have too!”

He quickly rushed the end, as if realizing he didn’t want to pressure you into doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. In fact he honestly figured you’d reject him, but surprisingly enough you only nodded with a shrug, “Well it’s understandable, we both know my first wasn’t exactly in a relationship.” You smile came off more wary as your brows furrowed.

And Jungkook knew exactly what you meant, you had lost your virginity young and of all people to Taehyung he would never forget Seokjin casually complaining about it the morning after at breakfast. But he never had the nerve to ask for details about how it had happened or why, or if there was a possible relationship between you both.

“But...” you pressed your lips together, letting go of his forearms before continuing, “It was really pleasant. I had a very nice time and I think that’s what made it so special. People often think they need to be with someone they love to share their first but I disagree. More times then less you’ll have your heartbroken by them and often regret it.”

Jungkook found himself curiously listening to your words, it was hard for him to not be relaxed by your words. Ever since he had finally asked you had been very casual about it, and maybe that’s what he liked so much about you, furthermore he didn’t feel so awkward anymore now hearing a little bit about your first, “I...actually had the same thought. I want my first to be with someone I care about-“ he cut himself off feeling rather flustere, not use to sharing such affectionate thoughts aloud, finally he forced himself to continue, “Someone I know I won’t ever lose. That’s why I wanted it to be with you...but I don’t want you to be pressured- Why are you taking off your clothes!?”

You stopped at your mid stomach at his flustered words, face red again as you put your shirt back down while asking, “Why would I reject you? Or feel uncomfortable? We’ve known each other for years now. Besides I feel rather flattered to be your first.” You curved an eyebrow, giving a smirk that made Jungkook have the urge to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment.

It was the truth honestly, you were one of the more- if not the most- sexually active member, you had slept with a fair share of people, relationship or not. This would be no different except in the realms of it being Jungkook’s first and him being your band mate. The only other aspect that would be different was you had never been anyone’s first before.

But you were more then happy to oblige as you nodded towards the bed, laughing at his face, red again as he ran a hand through his hair, looking back towards the door as though he are second guessing himself, “Look,” You smiled easily, sitting on the side of the bed as you shrugged, “I’m fine with it, I think the better question is, are you? It’s your first after all, you shouldn’t feel obligated to lose your virginity.”

“No that’s not it!” Jungkook rushes the sentence before quickly cutting himself off, flustered again as he murmured, “I just...don’t know when I’ll get in a relationship...and I’d like to be experienced when I do...” you could barely hear his voice by the end of his sentence, he was so clearly embarrassed it was hard not to laugh, “I’m just- nervous is all. What if I’m not good?”

Finally you nodded, understanding now that you should’ve expected it. Jungkook was without a doubt the most shy member, of course he’d be nervous about his first time. If that was the only issue then you had no problems gently guiding him. Standing up you crossed your arms with a cheeky smile, “Well the good news is it’s okay to be bad your first time. Not that I think you will be but...it’s a first time for a reason.”

You gave another laugh, deciding what tactic to use to break the shy boy out of his shell you had not seen in a long time. Sure you had seen it at award shows, backstage parties. He was an absolute hermit around other girls and god forbid IU be there or else he’d be hiding behind Namjoon and Seokjin the entire time. But you hadn’t seen him like this with you in several years.

Opening the drawer of your nightstand you pulled out your hand held speaker, Jungkook peered curiously but said nothing as you turned it on. Opening your phone you pulled up your favorite lo-fi playlist, setting both devices down on the nightstand before making your way towards him, nodding towards the bed as you encouraged, “Come on, sit down.”

You made no attempt to grab him, not wanting to run him off in the process. He stood still for a minute before slowly budging, following you back to the bed. You sat down cross legged on the middle of the leg as you patted the spot in front of you, “I’m not going to bite Jungkook....too hard.” You smiled cheekily at the end of your sentence.

Huffing Jungkook flusterstly sat down crossed legged across from you as he looked away, “Why do you have to be so casual about this?”

You tilted your head as you raised your eyebrows, “You don’t want me to be?” It was a genuine question, you had assumed it would help ease him into this but maybe you were wrong?

Jungkook finally looked back towards you, looking more at the features of your face rather then your eyes as he murmured, “No it’s fine...just unexpected. Most girls in Korea are too shy to even think about it. Is it different in Britain?”

Pondering his question for a second you finally shook your head, grabbing his hands as you laced them into yours, “No, you know I left when I was young, I think it just has to do with personality. When I was with Taehyung he was very casual about it too, he made it...” you licked your lips while thinking, as though attempting to find the right words to say, “Feel normal...I like that,” you finally looked back to him with an easy smile, “I don’t want sex to feel like a taboo or something we can’t ever discuss. It should be natural and normal.”

But Jungkook was still hung up on the beginning of your sentence, his face red again as he sighed closing his eyes, “Please don’t say that.”

“Sex?”

“Yeah.”

You tried your best to stop from laughing, but you gave the ugliest one you had all evening as Jungkook groaned whining, “Y/n! Don’t make fun of me!”

“I can refer to it as unmentionables but that’s extremely unarousing.” That made Jungkook groan even louder, and so did your laugh. You played with his hands before crawling closer while continuing, “I’m just being honest! It’s okay to just say it. Jungkook what will you do if you’re in a relationship with a girl who likes dirty talk?”

His face became red again at the idea, he was so in thought about it that he didn’t even notice you had made your way straddled onto his lap, your hands still laced in his as you looked at him amused, finally he resigned to reply, “But what if I’m not? I doubt any girl I date would be into that.”

You pressed your lips together before giving him a doubtful smile, “Well... I certainly have my work cut out for me.” You had finally let go of his hands in trade for wrapping them around his neck. Jungkook casually let his arms hook around your waist before realizing what position he was in now. His pupils going wide as his face went red, “What are you doing?”

“Well...I was going to lap dance you...” You replied raising an eyebrow with an amused smirk, “But I wanted you to be relaxed so I didn’t just want to jump in straight away, did it work?”

Jungkook looked away, his lips in a big cute pout, unwilling to admit that it did in fact, work. He actually felt a fair bit more relaxed now thanks to your casual approach. Finally he reserved to rest his chin on top of your shoulder pulling you into more of a hug as he murmured, “What now?”

He heard you laugh as your shoulder slowly raised from drawing a breath in, your heart beat was steady in comparison to his rapid one, how could you be so calm? “Well you need to relax, don’t be worried about messing up, this should be fun for both of us okay?” He felt your hand gently ruffle through his hair, making him relax into your touch as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, “And I have to ask just be sure but...do you really want to do this? You can ask me to stop at any time if you don’t want too.”

Jungkook pondered your words for a moment, genuinely taking them into consideration before admiring you. Just in general, you were so considerate of him he felt genuinely lucky to have you as his first, would any other girl be so gentle in her position? He was often put on a pedestal by everyone for being so good at everything he did, he was sure this wouldn’t be any different. Yet here you were, so understanding and gentle.

Finally Jungkook let his body fully relax as he nodded against your neck, finally murmuring, “Yes, I do.” And he did, god he really did. It would be an absolute lie to say he wasn’t attracted to you at all, you were incredibly beautiful and you had become an icon for your body during the Wings era. Probably his favorite era of you, it was the shortest though.

Puberty finally caught up to you and you filled out extremely well, the bodysuits just about killed him back then. But Bighit had thrown a huge fit about the weight gain that Jungkook would never in a million years consider a bad thing, after the BST mv they instantly put you on a diet. You stilled looked good, hell you looked amazing, but he would always find it a pity they put you through that.

It wasn’t just your body though that he liked, you were an absolute spitfire and a whole hearted extrovert. He always admired your confidence, the passion you put into your dancing and stage presence. Your voice was absolutely angelic in the rare moments he got to hear it’s true tone that was never used in songs. Really, you were like an opposite of him, in all the right ways.

Jungkook closed his eyes as he felt you ruffle your hand into his hair again, almost forgetting the entire reason he came to your room. You were one of the more cuddly members out of the group and admittedly, he always enjoy yours the best. His eyes suddenly shot up when he felt your lips press against his neck.

Tensing up at the new unexpected sensation, your lips were as soft as they looked, they weren’t as harsh as he expected either, just gentle little presses against his skin, your hand ruffled his hair again as if it was a reminder for him to relax. Forcing his shoulders down he closed his eyes again, deciding to let himself just feel you.

The lo-fi filled the silence as his lips began to part, feeling your lips open as your tongue pressed against his skin, dragging up his neck before you began to softly bite below his ear. His hands involuntarily grabbed your waist, squeezing slightly before running them up your sides. Taking it as a sign to continue, you began to wiggle your hips slightly, resting the water as you continued your kisses down to the base of his neck.

You could feel him swallow harshly, his hands suddenly grabbing your hips before letting go, I sure if you were okay with him being so touchy, laughing slightly against his neck you finally lifted your head to look at him, much to his embarrassment, “You’re doing good,” You murmured encouragingly with a soft closed mouth smile, affectionately running a hand through his hair, “It’s okay to touch me too, if you want, I’m not gonna complain.”

Jungkook looked away, nodding but saying nothing before looked back towards you almost timidly, “Could you...keep going? Please?”

Snickering at his words, you nodded, leaning back into his neck, his hand suddenly coming to your head, digging his fingers into your hair as he let out a soft sigh, enjoying your lips back against his skin. You smiled against his neck noticing his hesitance beginning to fade.

Slowly you began to press your hips down against him again, while working your tongue on the base of his neck. Feeling his breath catch in his throat as his hand untangled from your hair. The last thing you had expected was for both his hands to tightly squeeze your ass as he hips suddenly moved up back against you, obviously wanting more.

Laughing you rested your forearms against his shoulders as you looked at him, “That’s a relieving change of pace.” You had no problems looking him in the eyes while pressing your hips back down against him, feeling the beginning of a hardening bulge in his sweat pants. Jungkook however looked away flusteredly, unable to keep eye contact with you as you dragged your hips down his clothed hardening length. Unable to keep a soft moan from releasing his lips as he closed his eyes.

“T-that feels good...” he murmured, his face turning bright red as he admitted to the pleasant sensation. Smiling you nodded encouragingly, you already knew he liked it if he was moaning but verbal communication was always good. Knowing for sure he liked it you pressed your hips back down letting your hips circle against him as you felt your panties becoming ruined from wetness.

You were admittedly getting turned on yourself, feeling him harden and twitch beneath you it was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself going slow. Yours lips went back down to his neck a little bit more faster, biting and sucking skin as you let your hips drag against his length again, finally hearing him mutter an almost frustrated, “Fuck...”

Briefly Jungkook wondered why he hadn’t come to you sooner, this was better then any night with just his hand for company. He was rather confused when you hooked your arms around his neck tugging him as you got off his lap. He chose to say nothing as he let his curiosity lead him to the edge of the bed where he sat. Your mouth still working just as hard against his neck but you were kneeling on the floor between his legs.

After a minute you finally stopped, sighing against his neck before pulling away looking at him as you ran a hand through your hair, Jungkook gazed back at you, briefly wondering what you were thinking in this moment, but you said nothing as you took on a new tactic. Flustered Jungkook looked took aback when you grabbed the hem of his shirt, smirking as you lifted it slightly, before kissing his stomach.

Out of everything you both had done thus far he genuinely didn’t think this would be the most embarrassing, he’d never openly admit to struggle with self body images. But after the Fake Love era he did admittedly pressured to keep in shape, especially with his abdominal. He wasn’t sure why he felt so touched, so loved as you pressed kisses up his stomach, dragging your hands up his warm skin as you lifted the shirt higher and higher.

Rising to his collar bones you finally stopped as you tugged at the top, “Can I trust you to finish the rest yourself?” You teased lightly as Jungkook looked away, feeling a brief sense of insecurity over take him before he grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it over head as you began to work kisses back down his chest.

Your fingers dragged in your lingering path of kisses before you made your way down to his hips, looking down Jungkook swallowed again, feeling his length twitch again, seeing you between his legs was something he never thought he’d have the pleasure of seeing. Especially when the image shamefully crossed his mind often before hand. And it was even better then he had imagined.

Hooking your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants as you finally looked back up at him, as if waiting for his consent, he sighed closing his eyes, looking up at the ceiling as he ran a hand through his hair, “Fuck- keep going, please...”

You laughed, nodding as you began to pull them down as you made your first comment since starting, “You’re such a good boy Jungkook, always being patient and saying please.”

His face lit up again as he wiggled beneath you, not expecting to feel so aroused by the praise as his breath suddenly hitched at feeling your lips press against his inner thighs, “Why am I the only one close to naked?” He finally whined out wanting to think of anything other then the painful twitch of his members with your lips so close to him.

You gave a hum releasing his skin from your lips , making him almost whine again as you nodded, “Good point, you probably feel exposed being the only one like that.” you didn’t think much of it as you grabbed the plain black hoodie over your head. But Jungkook’s pupils were as wide as saucers as he gulped. You wore a lacy halter neck bra, it wasn’t padded and definitely meant for sleep.

But it hugged tightly around your breasts making you show far more cleavage then ever necessary, making him ready to moan in frustration at the sight of you kneeling before him, he hadn’t thought much of the right black shorts you wore before hand but now it complimented your top all too well. You pressed your lips together, eyebrows rose as you tilted your head, you had never gotten that response from someone before when it came to your body.

It hadn’t been until this past year that you felt genuinely comfortable in your body and loved yourself enough to not care what others thought. But seeing his reaction, it made you smile fondly for a second, your hands gently stroked his inner thighs while massaging them, “Better?”

Swallowing thickly Jungkook tried his best to not buck against your hands, “C-can you take off your top?”

Snorting out a laugh you curved an eyebrow, giving a smirk that made Jungkook ready to be devoured by you, “No. We can save that for later baby boy, I like to take my time.”

“I can tell.” Jungkook replied, trying to keep his voice composed as he felt your lips back against his thighs, “I didn’t think you were someone who liked so much foreplay honestly.” He murmured out, closing his eyes as he felt your tongue drag further up his thigh.

Your fingers fiddled with the band of his boxers as he heard you laugh, “Oh yeah?” you didn’t think it was possible to get anymore turned on but hearing what he could’ve possibly thought about you in bed made you even wetter, “What else did you think I was like?”

Feeling so entranced by your touch, your tongue, Jungkook didn’t even feel embarrassed anymore as he murmured, “I thought you’d be a lot more shy then this...”

You began to tug his boxers stopping just below his hips before finally letting your fingers slip down to his clothed length, gently palming it as he sucked in a harsh breath of air, “Y-y/n-“

Licking your lips you enjoyed the way he murmured your name absentmindedly, so obviously enjoying himself as you continued to stroke his length through the fabric, “So you’ve thought about me before? What a naughty boy,” you tsked with a laugh enjoying yourself as you continued, “So let me ask, what did you imagine me doing?”

Pressing lips together Jungkook finally bucked his hips against your hand as you squeezed his length, “I-I imagined your lips around me, taking me all down your throat...” the words so shamelessly slipped out of his lips as he obediently answered your question.

Smirking mischievously you began to bite down against his hips as you finally pulled his boxers down, letting his members spring out, cock standing firm with an angry red tip from so much foreplay. Gently you grasped the base of his length as you gently gave it a few pumps, emitting a cracked moan from him as you praised, “Mmm what a nice size baby boy.” You sent a playful wink up to his dazed lust filled gaze.

His knee’s fell apart and his hands behind him on the bed to support his figure as he looked down at you half lidded, “Suck me please.” He looked like such a top in this moment but he was such a bottom. The cutest sub you had ever seen. You only glanced back down at his hardened cock, pumping it again at the base as you worked your way up to the tip.

Dragging your grip all the way back down to the base as he cried out a whimper, “Y-y/n- please.” His voice cracked and needy as he begged. Sighing you drank up the sight as you finally complied, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

You began to pump the base of his cock again, unable to take it he began to buck his hips against your hand, letting a string of moans follow as you took his tip into your mouth, making him gasp as he swallowed thickly. Closing your eyes you bobbed your head slightly, sucking his tip like a lollipop before kissing down the shaft.

Letting your tongue start at the base of his cock before dragging all the way back up making his hips buck against you again as you took him back in your mouth, finally letting your cheeks hollow as you took him deeper into your mouth. Feeling his tip touch the back of your throat as you tried to keep back a gag, you were only half way down his length.

However all the jokes the other boys made about you deepthroating weren’t actually jokes. Jungkook tangled his fingers through your hair as he moaned your name again, feeling you start to take him down your throat as you began to slowly bob your head. Feeling his girthy cock fill your throat as you gave a satisfied hum, finally reaching the base of his cock before quickening your pace.

Jungkook ran his free hand through his hair as he looked down at you, fuck you looked so beautiful taking him. He licked his lips as he watched your hand make its way from his thigh to your breasts. Squeezing them before playing with your hardening nipples between the fabric of the lace. The sight was more then enough to make him buck his hips in your mouth causing you to gag. Feeling your throat squeeze against his cock as he moaned again.

Feeling his cock squeeze in your throat felt even better, slowly Jungkook tested almost curiously, letting his hips begin to thrust gently in your mouth. You paused your movement, as though waiting for him to continue, taking it as a sign Jungkook continued thrusting. Taking it slow at first as he watched your hand slowly slip from your breasts down your stomach to your shorts.

He swallowed thickly watching your hand slip between your legs as he almost breathlessly waited in anticipated for your next move, you began to stroke your heat playing with yourself clothed. Involuntarily making him buck his hips harsher into your mouth unable to control himself as he growled out, “Play with yourself for me.”

Jungkook was positive if you could’ve smirked at his words you would’ve, briefly glancing up at him from your position as he continued to fuck your mouth, taking his time again to enjoy the sensation of your throat. Watching your hand slip into your shorts as you continued to stroke yourself, your cheeks suddenly hollowed as your eyes fluttered shut.

Clearly enjoying yourself as he watched hyponized by your legs that parted for easier access before your hips began to rock. As if in sync he began to quicken the pace of his hips. Your fingers slid down your wet pussy as you let out a muffled moan, dragging them back up to your clit as you began to thrust into nothing but air. Jungkook’s pace in your mouth getting quicker and rougher causing you to gag again, making your eyes begin to gloss.

He seemed to enjoy it as it only made him thrust harsher as he let out another moan, you were getting close to getting yourself off before you suddenly pulled your fingers away from yourself. Choosing to feel the frustration wave over your body as you wanted to focus on Jungkook. Who didn’t seem to have a problem with that as he suddenly grabbed your head.

Tangling his fingers into your hair as he got a good grip before roughly thrusting in and out of your mouth enough to bring tears to your eyes. He was moaning loudly and dragging your name on his lips letting you know he must have been close. His hips snapped harder as he almost frustratedly continue to mouth fuck you, the last thing you expected was what came out of his mouth though, “Fuck- I bet you like that don’t you?”

He had almost maneuvered himself halfway off the bed to get a better position to thrust from as he gave another grunt, “You like taking this cock right? Mmm look at you, such a good girl.” his voice deepened enough to sent a jolt into your core. Your fingers suddenly back to your shorts again as Jungkook gave another growl, “Don’t touch yourself without my permission.”

Jungkook was so close, he needed this so much he couldn’t contain the absolute filth- which on any other occasion would’ve mortified him- from escaping his lips, you had let out another muffled moan, letting him know you were one of those girls who enjoyed dirty talk. The idea suddenly made him thrust harder down your throat as he moaned, letting out a laugh, “What? Does that make you wet? You’re such a dirty girl Y/n.”

Finally he kept the base of his cock all the way in your mouth doing short quick thrusts as he suddenly gasped, his knuckles clenched white as he felt himself getting closer by the second, “What are you gonna do when the roles are reversed? Hm babygirl? How loud are you gonna moan my name when I fuck you til you can’t stand?”

Jungkook couldn’t even register a thing that came out of his mouth as he felt himself on the cusp of orgasming, finally strumming a, “Fuck.” He practically whithered, tensed and he could feel the sweat running down his neck as he finally released. Strings of his release slipping down your throat as he finally calmed down. Heaving heavy breaths as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

Finally letting him slip from your mouth as you collapsed back letting your hands support your seated position, looking at him in disbelief. Jungkook was honestly surprised to see you so red faced as you gaped at him, “Is this really your first time?”

That...that honestly wasn’t anything of what he had expected to hear from you, awkwardly Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away from you, was he too rough? Was it bad? Or was it just plain cringeworthy, “I...was it okay?”

“Okay?” You raised your eyebrows almost offended as you finally collapsed onto the ground as you gave a weak laugh, “Fucking hell Jungkook,” you closed your eyes for a moment before looking back up at him, he was instantly shy again, back to his bottom tendencies as you gave a sheepish grin, “That was kinda hot.”

His face turned red as he looked down towards the floor, unable to hide his concern, “Was I too rough? I don’t want to be like that again if you don-“

“No!” You didn’t meant to cut him off, flusteredly you suddenly stopped, as you looked away, cheeks pink again as you laughed awkwardly, “No it’s fine, I enjoyed it a lot. I actually quite like it rough so don’t worry about that, trust me, I can take it.”

You didn’t think much about what you had said, but it honestly came as a shock to Jungkook, given how much time you had spent with foreplay he would’ve assumed you preferred it nice and slow. You even said so yourself earlier, but then it occurred to him, you must’ve really liked being dominated.

A cocky smirk suddenly curled onto his lips at the revelation while looking down at you. You actually enjoyed him getting like that...Jungkook wasn’t sure why it gave such a confidence boost but it did, “....Why are you looking at me like that?” Your eyes childishly squinted at him as you pouted, knowing damn well what he just discovered.

Jungkook finally stood up, before leaning down, scooping you from your retired position on the floor effortlessly. Placing you on the edge of the bed, grabbing your phone as he unlocked it. You watched him suspiciously, first of all wondering how he figured out your password, the second wondering what he was plotting. The familiar sound of Wiped Out, one of your favorite albums began to play.

An interesting choice given Jungkook wasn’t very fluent in English, though he often pestered you to help him learn since you were originally born in the U.K. not that you ever caved given his undisciplined nature. Regardless he set your phone down as he looked back towards you. A new confidence in his eyes making you swallow before looking away.

Thinking about what you did earlier Jungkook leaned into your neck, softly kissing the crook he was so fond of as his hand gently stroked your cheek. Letting his fingers drag down your jaw as he experimented with biting down the spot he previously licked. Making you squirm beneath him as your breath hitched, “Isn’t this suppose to be about you?” You finally objected as you tried to wiggle out of his grip.

Jungkook involuntarily made you press your back against the soft mattress as he caged you between his arms, a smirk on his face as he raised his eyebrows at the adorable pout on your lips, “Didn’t we agree to both have fun?” He challenged, suddenly diving down to your neck again, nipping down your neck to your collarbones.

His tongue dragged down to your breasts pausing as he cheekily grinned again, “It wouldn’t be fair to not let you receive. Besides I’d like to explore.” You couldn’t object as he softly bit down on the soft tissue, making you quietly moan as your hand shot up to his hair. Massaging his scalp as he continued down your breasts, finally stopping at the lace material as he bit the inside of his lip annoyed.

He had gotten to admire you plenty between his legs in it. Jungkook wiggled his hands beneath your back as he found the clasp. You waited for a second, and another. And it turned into a minute as he continued to fiddle with it as you belted out laughing, “Do you need help?”

No matter how good Jungkook was, as it turned out, he was not immune to struggling with your bra. His face red, ears and all his he huffed, running a hand through his hair, “No...”

His response made you laugh even harder as the sore loser in him was showing starkly, “My bra isn’t a competition Jungkook it’s okay.” You sat up a little to undo the clasp, “If it makes you feel better anyone I’ve been with has struggled too.”

That seemed to make him feel a little better though not by much as you unclasped the back, pulling the strap over your head before laying back down as he caged you between his arms again, regaining his cocky smirk as he replied, “Then I’ll just have to improve.” For someone who was such a sore loser he was awfully confident there would be a second time.

He began to kiss your left breast as he moved the material away, massaging the right with his free hand. Squeezing yours legs together tightly you bit your lip frustratedly. Noticing your gesture, Jungkook let his hand drag down your stomach before gripping your heat causing you to hitch your breath.

Letting his tongue swirl the perky bud in his mouth as he stroked your clothed pussy, his smirk returning as he felt you eagerly rock your hips against his hand, “Y-you really don’t have to do this...” you struggled to murmur as you attempted to squeeze your legs closed due to the sudden friction.

Jungkook finally slid his tongue down your stomach as he murmured, “I want too, let me play with you Y/n.” It was difficult to say no to that as he began to nip at your hips, his hand still on your heat as he gently stroked, feeling your panties that had long since been soiled by wetness, “Mmm I’ve hardly touched you and you’re already so wet babygirl.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t into dirty talk?” You huffed propping yourself up on your elbows as you indignantly sputtered the words out, cheeks pink from his lewd observation.

Jungkook rose his eyebrows as he let his fingers slip back up your panties, pushing against a bud making you suddenly whither, throwing your head back as you bucked your hips against him, “I never said that...I just suggested that I wouldn’t end up with anyone who would want me to say speak like that.” His lips slowly curled into a smirk as he curiously pressed against the bud against, illiciting a similar reaction from you, “But you like it, don’t you?”

Finally you looked back up at him, returning the smirk as you licked your lips, letting your hips continue to buck against his hand as you replied, “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” You shrugged as you dropped back down against the mattress.

Pulling your right thigh over his shoulder he began to suck against the inside making you squirm, “Don’t lie to me babygirl, you wouldn’t be this wet right now if you weren’t.” Gently biting the spot he previously sucked against as he hummed against your thigh, “What do you want me to do?”

Your face began to feel hot as you attempted to close your legs again, making him pull open them again with his free hand, “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no!” You instantly objected as you whined, wiggling underneath him as you felt his lips drag higher against your thigh. Feeling his lips smirk against your skin you wanted to huff, you should’ve known he would’ve took advantage of your tendency to enjoy subbing.

“Then be a good girl and use your words,” he chastised you as he let his hand slip down to your panties again, dragging his fingers down as he hummed, “What do you want babygirl?”

Finally you gritted your teeth before frustratedly whimpering, his foreplay just about killing you, you hadn’t been treated like this since your first few times with Taehyung, “P-please eat me.” Your face red as you murmured the request.

Feeling his tongue drag up your thigh as he stopped at your hip, hooking your panties around his fingers before dragging them down antagonizingly slow, you let out an impatient whimper as he tsked, “Patience babygirl, bad girls don’t get to cum.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows indignantly, he was gonna threaten that on his first time? Jungkook gave a bunny smile at your glare, knowing for a fact you would most definitely kill him if he didn’t let you release, “Gonna watch babygirl? Good, I want you watching every second I taste this pussy.”

Feeling your face become hot again you attempted to look away before feeling his hands squeeze your thighs making you look at him again, “Eyes on me babe, remember.” He...he was actually be serious?

Where did his nervous disposition go? It was nowhere to be found as he looked you in the eyes as you felt his mouth suck down against your heat, making you gasp while squirming beneath him. Watching your every reaction as he let his tongue drag up your vulva.

Stopping at the bud again as he curiously sucked it, watching your head throw back as you moaned, “Is this your clit?” He asked curiously, having heard about this more times then he would’ve liked too from the other members. He began to suck it again, swirling it with his tongue as he occasionally prodded its sides.

Feeling your hips attempt to buck against his face you whimpered, collapsing back against the bed as you grabbed his head with both your hands moaning his name, “Y-yes...please keep going- fuck.” He hummed as he let his tongue drag against it making you curse again before he quickly rubbed his tongue against it up and down.

Enjoying your taste as you whithered beneath him moaning more loudly then you would’ve liked, “I-I want your fingers inside me.” You stuttered out hotly as you attempted to prop yourself up onto your hands to rock against him better. Jungkook only tsked slowly down as you whines in objection, “Words babygirl, remember to use your words.”

Whimpering out your voice went an octave higher as you begged, “P-please.” Looking up at you briefly his eyes were consumed with lust as he let his fingers stroke your pussy before entering one finger inside you. Instantly you bucked against his finger as he let another slip in causing you to give a strangled moan.

Seeing you so submissive and needy was already enough to make him hard again as he felt his cock standing firm against the cold room air. Curiously he let his mouth find its way back against your clit as he pumped his fingers inside you. Just as he assumed you instantly whimpered bucking against his hips as you murmured, “Fuck, fuck, fuck...Jungkook. Mmm-“

Feeling a rough patch inside you he assumed this must’ve been your g-spot as you let out another loud whimper. Squeezing in a third finger much to your delight as he dragged his tongue against your clit again causing you to clench around his fingers, “Mmm fuck babygirl if you’re this tight around my fingers I don’t know if you’ll be able to take my cock.”

But you were too absorbed in him roughly pumping his long slim fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot each time as he went back to suck your clit again making you whimper, “Jungkook- fuck please-“ you began whimpering something out in English he wasn’t able to understand.

But that must’ve been a sign you were close as he felt you clench around around his fingers again. He began to slow his pace down inside you as he rhythmically began to pace himself, slowing down just enough to keep you on the edge of releasing. Of course you weren’t happy in the least consistently moaning and whimpering now, though all in English.

Jungkook was able to make out a few sentences as they were mostly repeated sounds of “Please.” It was becoming painful how close you were, you wanted it so bad. Jungkook gently stroked your thigh with his free hand as he finally murmured encouragingly, “Cum babygirl, you’ve been so good, cum for me.”

Letting his lips suck back against your clit his words seemed to be all you needed to hear as your hips bucked up again, Jungkook glanced up to see your lips parted and eyes closed before suddenly grinning euphorically as before panting, letting the orgasm wash over you in an intense wave of pleasure. What you didn’t expect was Jungkook to keep going as he roughly pumped his fingers.

Cocky to see if he could get you off again as you whimpered strangledly as his fingers roughly dug into your g-spot. The pressure in your core building faster and more painful this time as wrapped your arms around your face in a sob. The second orgasm came quicker and ripped through you stronger then the last as your voice cracked.

Slowly he let his fingers slip out of you as he took a deep breath, taking in your figure. Hickies covered your breasts and decorated the insides of your thighs nicely in his opinion. Purposely staying away from marking your neck as he was aware you’d have a concert the next day.

Sweat dropped on your collarbones and your cheeks were a bright red, your hair was in an absolute mess but right now, Jungkook wasn’t sure if you could get anymore beautiful and he hadn’t meant to voice it aloud but he did regardless, “You’re so beautiful Y/n...” he whispered under his breath as fondly stroked your hip bones.

Your hands were over your head now but your eyes were closed still recovering from your orgasm, not quite catching his words as you your chest heaved from heavy breathes. Finally opened your eyes as yawned, noticing you’re tiredness Jungkook frowned, “Are you sure you wanna keep going? It is rather late...”

Rubbing your eyes you sat up, looking down at his kneeled position as you yawned once more, “I swear I have more stamina then this- I’m fine.” You gave an awkward grin, “Besides it doesn’t look like foreplays gonna be necessary so it won’t be long.”

You leaned back against your hands as you shamelessly looked down at his hardened members, causing his cheeks to go crimson as he huffed, “You think I’m gonna go fast?”

Laughing you had to bite back your answer which was most definitely yes. Wanting to gain some control back in the situation you knew you’d have to keep your mouth shut, “No, it just usually goes faster, I don’t make the rules Kook, do you think id lie?” You asked innocently as you crawled into the middle of the bed as Jungkook cautiously store back.

Evaluating if you were telling the truth, finally he resigned to get back on the bed across from you, his face slowly becoming red as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, “Uh- would you like me-“

Curving an eyebrow you sputtered a laugh at his constant personality shift, it swung violently between nervous bunny to cocky brat. The smile on your lips looked fond though as you found his awkward demeanor cute, “Let me, it is your first time.” You reminded as you crawled toward him, “How close do you want me?”

“What?” Jungkook asked raising his eyebrows confused at your question. Watching as you climbed his lap again, making his cock twitch excitedly at having your body so close.

“Well, there’s lots of different positions,” you explained shrugging, “I wasn’t sure if you had preference.”

Jungkook thought about it for a moment before suddenly wrapping his arms around you, “This is fine.” He murmured against your ear, not willing to admit he wanted you as physically close to his body as possible.

Stroking his neck fondly you lined your hips up with his before sinking down, letting yourself adjust to his tip as he suddenly gripped your waist harshly, letting out a string of moans as you slowly let yourself slide down the shaft of his cock. Biting your lip as you let yourself clench around him, “Fuck, why are you so tight babygirl?”

He pressed his lips against your neck as he moaned when you began to lift your hips, rising slightly before lowering further down his shaft slowly, “I’m not tight you’re just big.” You let out a strangled laugh. Suddenly realizing your mistake as you felt his familiar cocky smirk against your neck.

Grabbing your ass, he nipped at your neck as he asked, “Oh yeah? Keep going babygirl.” Laughing at his words as you began to lift your hips again sinking down to his base before beginning to ride him.

Grabbing his shoulders as you heard him moan you began to ride a bit faster, “Don’t get too cocky it’s on the bigger side but it’s not the biggest.” You let your lips drag against his ear with a smirk before sucking against his neck. Squeezing your ass as you began to snap your hips a little more roughly he replied, “Size doesn’t matter that much if they can’t use it right.”

You began to laugh at his words as you pushed against at his chest to look at him, “It’s your first time!” Jungkook broke out of his cocky personas as he laughed breaking into a bunny grin as he suddenly began lifting you to make you go faster, “But it’s true, it’s only my first time and I already made you come twice.” He let out a heavy breath, “Probably a third by the looks of it.”

You clenched around him as you began to roughly ride him, having a hand down as you bit your lip with focused closed eyes, “Harder,” you murmured, Jungkook quickly lifted you swifter as you attempted you go rougher but your hips just couldn’t keep up. Groaning frustratedly it quickly turned into a whimper as his cock hit your g-spot, “H-harder please.”

Jungkook chuckled at your red face and high pitched voice, suddenly grabbing you and rolling you over the bed, now on top of you as he sudddnly thrusted roughly, “Better babygirl?”

Moaning loudly you smiled loosely as you let him grab ahold of your knee, lifting your leg to get a better angle, “Much.” He watched amused as you closed your eyes, letting him pound into you as his hips ruthlessly snapped in and out, even the bed had begun to rock knocking against the wall as your hips continued to trying keep in pace with his.

“Didn’t think you really wanted me to fuck you senseless but it’s kinda hot. You’re taking my cock so well babygirl.” Your breath suddenly hitched at the filth that poured from his mouth again as Jungkook continued to ruthlessly snap his hips against yours, his cock throbbing almost painfully inside you as it twitched hitting your g-spot again, “Mmm so tight, id fuck you all night if you’d let me.” His eyes closed as he began to mutter anything and everything that came to mind

And you knew he would if you had let him, finally you crumbled at his words joining, “F-fuck me til I can’t stand Jungkook, p-please. I need your cock- please.” Hearing your words instantly made him buck his hips roughly into you as you strangled a whimper. Your hips were beginning to become sore from being opened so wide for so long and your inside throbbed painfully from being stretched and fucked so roughly.

“Shh babygirl, just keep taking my cock,” He hushed you roughing grabbing your hips to shift positions to penetrate you deeper, getting to your g-spot again as you whimpered again trying to keep up with the speed of his hips, “L-let me ride you- please.”

Jungkook was too busy rough thrusting into you to hear at first, his cock twitching rapidly letting you know he was getting close, but so were you and you were getting impatient. Shoving him you suddenly knocked him back getting onto his lap again as you moaned, smiling cheekily, riding roughly as you buried your face into his neck, “Babygirl,” Jungkook growled lowly in your ear, annoyed you changed the tempo without his permission.

Just to annoy him further you paused before slowly sinking down to the base of his cock, emitting something between both a moan and groan of frustration from him as he roughly grabbed you hips, a loud smack rang out making you yelp, jolting your hips up and down, bouncing his cock. He...he just spanked you!

Your face became a hot red color as you felt another sting your skin as he growled, “Babygirl you don’t get to change positions without my permission.” He spanked you again harder making you cry out with a moan suddenly riding him faster, “But since you wanna ride my dick that bad I’ll put this position to use.”

Another spank stung your skin making you buck your hips as you whimpered quickly snapping your hips down against him as you buried your nose into his neck, “Mmm don’t tell me you enjoy getting spanked?” Jungkook asked tsking, suddenly spanking you again harsher then the last, making you bury your head in the crook of his neck as you clenched around his cock, “Of course you do babygirl, you’re so filthy, you know that?” You cheekily grinned into his neck as he grabbed your ass quickly lifting it to help you bounce his cock faster.

“Don’t kink shame me.” you muttered as you grinned excited from being so close to releasing, suddenly moaning at the fast rough pace, his cock consistently rubbing your g-spot as he kept himself half way inside you. Without missing a beat Jungkook responded, “Kinkshaming is my kink.”

You both began to laugh shakily, feeling yourself get closer and closer as you continued to clench around him, making him groan as he muttered, “Y/n seriously if you keep this up I’m gonna cum.” But his words only made you clench harder as you slid down his cock going to the base as you took it all down, letting your lips part as you began to pant riding ride him as fast as you could physically get yourself too.

“Then cum baby boy I want every bit of that cock inside me when you do.” It was the first time you had properly talked dirty to him the entire time and honestly? It was by far the hottest thing Jungkook had ever heard in his life, suddenly letting out a cracked moan as he felt his cock twitch again, “That’s it, cum inside me. I want that cock to fill me until I’m dripping.”

Getting frustrated at his prolonged orgasm he pushed you back into the bed, opening your legs as he suddenly brought his cock all the way outside of you before slamming back inside, continuing the motion as your moans suddenly heightened in audio, “Mmm Jungkook!”

“That’s right babygirl let everyone know who’s fucking you good.” Jungkook growled out, the idea of anyone else ever fucking you making him feel territorial, you were his, his pretty little pussy to fuck, “Moan babygirl.” He roughly hit your g-spot as he snapped out again, “I said moan.” His hips picked up in speed at your defiance as he growled, “Moan.”

Finally he cracked you making you rapidly clench against him as he harshly hit your g-spot again and again, giving a strangled loud cry as he snapped again, “That’s right, let them know who’s fucking you. Go on scream my name Y/n. Scream it.”

Your face was such a hot red at finally hearing your name instead of the pet name he had begun calling you, feeling you clench around him you finally began to cry out, “Jungkook! Fuck Jungkook! Mmm fuck!” Your voice raising higher and higher as you whimpered a beg, “Fuck please! Let me come please, please.”

Trapping you between his arms he got down on his elbows as he continued to thrust as rough as he could go, “Mmm that’s right Y/n, let them know who’s making you feel this good, keep begging baby.”

Whimpering you weren’t sure how much longer you could go, or him for that matter as you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his cock begin to brush against your g-spot again as you continued begging, “Please let me come, please, please Jungkook please.”

Feeling his hand slide down your stomach he began to brush his thumb against your clit as he slammed into you, “Mmm fuck, come baby, come for me.” You kept panting before suddenly screaming out his name as he continued stroking you, “Fuck, what a good girl.” His hips suddenly became erratic at hearing you whimper his name over and over again before quickly thrusting all the way inside you.

Giving quick erratic thrusts as sweat beaded down his collarbones, with one last long thrust you suddenly felt a hot liquid string inside you, once, twice, giving another thrust you felt a third come out before two pumps of his cock got out the last bit. You both stayed there for a minute breathing heavily before he finally slipped out of you.

Collapsing beside you as he suddenly pulled you into his arms, your legs shook like leaves and your hips shot in a dull pain as you slung a leg over his waist. Snuggling into his neck you murmured, “Are you really sure that was your first time?”

Jungkook only laughed, pulling the blanket over you both before nuzzling his nose into your hair, “Positive. Thank you for being my first. I don’t think I would’ve be as good as I was with anyone else.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly, finding he actually rather enjoyed having you in his arms. He had never voiced it aloud but he had always had a small crush on you.

But he knew it would never be reciprocated, you were too beautiful, too confident and extroverted to ever settle on someone as plain and boring as him, “Oh it was my pleasure trust me.” You laughed casually as you smiled against his neck.

Burying his nose back into your hair he inhaled your scent before closing his eyes, even if he could never be with you, this was enough. Even if it was only once. It was enough.

A suddenly slam against the wall jolted you both as you sat up looking wide eye at Jungkook, he looked just as confused until someone shouted, “If you both fuck again, I swear to god!”

You covered your mouth with your hand while grinning as you heard Seokjin screech from the other side, “We’re talking about this in the morning you brats!”

Jungkook and you both began to laugh as you laid back down, wrapping back around each other as you snuggled together, closing your eyes as you sighed contently.

You always had a crush on Jungkook, but realistically you figured he’d never actually like you in a million years but- atleast this would burn in your memory for a very long time. A glimpse at what it would be like if he did ever like you.

[lukeskywaker4ever]

Dom Pedro V King of Portugal The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

Unlike most of the other “Heirs of the Month” explored in this series Dom Pedro was already a reigning monarch during the period at the center of this essay. Though no longer waiting in the wings, he was nevertheless an ‘heir’ to a new era. The political landscape of early nineteenth-century Europe was undergoing a dramatic shift from a system that encouraged fierce competition between states to one of peaceful cooperation. From 1815 onward, the Concert System was established and the five Great Powers – Britain, Russia, Austria, Prussia and France – mediated the conduct of international diplomacy.

At the same time, monarchy, as an institution, was systematically becoming integrated into the state. The lengthy process of this integration, lasting well into the nineteenth century, provided monarchy with a brief opportunity to carve itself a practical role within the concert system. During this period, the term “monarchical principle” was utilized in an attempt to define the new role monarchs would have to play, but the exact meaning of what this principle constituted would remain a source of debate between autocratic-conservative and more liberal-constitutional voices. Despite this disagreement, the need for closer inter-monarchical collaboration was recognized by Europe’s royal houses and various means of communication were exploited and expanded.

It is within this atmosphere of carefully constructed correspondence networks and royal visits that Prince Albert, the husband of Queen Victoria 

and a central figure within the Coburg family’s pan-European network, attempted to further expand dynastic and political ambitions by mentoring the next generation of up and coming monarchs. Albert, a devotee of the monarchical principle, was also a firm advocate of constitutional government. He believed that in order for the institution to survive, a constitutional system was a necessity to safeguard monarchy against revolution. He further believed that unless change was instituted from above, the masses would not only make the change themselves, but would dictate the terms. With limited success in presenting his case to monarchs of his generation, he set his eyes upon the future.

When writing to his daughter, another one of his apprentices, on 13 November 1861, only days after Pedro’s early death, Prince Albert clearly expressed the high hopes he had placed in his royal pupil: ‘…he was qualified to effect infinite good for a degraded country and people, and also to uphold with integrity the monarchical principle, and to strengthen the faith in its blessings, which unhappily is so frequently shaken to its foundation by those who are its representatives.’

Albert’s biographers often cite the tragic death of the young King of Portugal, on 11 November 1861, as a starting point marking the Prince Consort’s final decline and death on 14 December 1861. This is not done without a certain degree of justification. Pedro, in addition to being a beloved nephew (and quasi surrogate son), was an eager participant in Albert’s dynastic ambitions: A network of monarchs, linked by blood, as an additional balance to the concert system. Albert’s diary entry for 24 November records that his nights since the event had been ‘almost wholly wakeful’, suggesting a fairly dark melancholy. Consider if you will: Albert and Pedro had actually only been in each other’s physical company for a total of just over a month in eight years. Their paternal-filial bond was formed largely through correspondence and mutual admiration.

Pedro’s character: A question of duality

Pedro was a complicated figure especially in his own country. Upon the death of his mother, Queen Maria II, in November 1853, the 16 year-old Pedro ascended the throne with his father, Ferdinand, acting as regent. His legacy in Portuguese history is passionately debated. He is generally regarded as a popular and progressive monarch. His reign, though short at just eight years, witnessed a period of progress in education, technology, infrastructure and public health. During the cholera outbreak of 1856 and a yellow fever epidemic the following year, Pedro built a lasting reputation amongst the Portuguese populace that bordered on sainthood. He had remained in Lisbon, without regard for his own safety, in order to supervise hospitals and to visit the afflicted. In 1857 Albert would describe this selfless act in letter to his brother Ernst as “very heroic”. This reputation was intensified exponentially in the years following his premature death.

The young King, in spite of his gilded reputation, also has his fair share of detractors. His greatest failing was his personality. Pedro was by nature a pessimist, but his was a particular brand of pessimism that was not attractive in a constitutional monarch. His relationship with Portugal was difficult to say the least.  He regarded the country as backward, corrupt and in desperate need of modernization. He despaired the subjects that divine providence had given him, much less the politicians, who were, in his opinion, of such an inefficient breed that he was obliged to intervene. He had a volatile temper and reacted immaturely to criticism. By his own account, ‘My good mother (Maria II) told me often when I was a child, “your passion is to torment yourself”’.

In short, Pedro was a monarch who meddled in politics too often, was too suspicious of those around him and, to a certain degree, distained his subjects. Yet, he was undeniably gifted, which, far from improving his situation, made it all the more difficult. He had a brilliant mind with liberal views in an unstable and backward Catholic state. As a result there were irreconcilable differences between King and country.

The first meeting: Pedro’s Grand Tour    

Albert’s first meeting with his nephew occurred during the latter’s Grand Tour on 3 June 1854. Pedro, travelling with his younger brother Luis, was escorted from Southampton station to Buckingham Palace. Before the month was over, a lasting bond had been forged between the 35 year-old uncle and the 16 year-old nephew. During their stay, the young gentlemen were treated to a host of entertainments: operas, dinners, and even a rail journey to Wales, stopping at major cities along the route. Pedro returned these kindnesses by charming his royal hosts, impressing them with his knowledge and liberal views. 

By the 18th of the same month, Albert was already advising the young King, helping him with his draft reply to the Lord Mayor’s address at Mansion House the following day. The visit officially came to an end on 3 July, with great sadness on both sides.

On 3 September, during a state visit to Emperor Napoleon III at Boulogne, Albert’s and Pedro’s paths crossed again. Pedro, on his way to Ostend and Osborne for the return leg of his tour, yet again made a favorable impression on his uncle. The following day Albert sent a telegram to Victoria asking her to keep the young royals at Osborne until his return. On 9 of September Albert returned to Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, just in time to catch his nephews before they returned to Lisbon. In his diary, Albert thanked a ‘piece of Portuguese backwardness’ – a coaling mishap on the royal yacht – ‘for the pleasure of seeing him again for a few minutes’. With the Grand Tour over and Pedro back in Portugal, the longest period these two men would be in each other’s presence ended, with the exception of a brief visit in August of 1855. Writing from Balmoral on 5 September 1857, Albert related to Pedro that since their first meeting:  ‘I always knew that our family ties were to turn into friendship…that is, a harmony of feelings and character. You can count on my friendship; and I’m glad to find that you feel you need to bond with me’.

Albert’s feelings were reciprocated as Pedro returned the compliment in a letter to his bride on 19 March 1858: “I traveled so for the first time and was lucky to find in my path, Prince Albert, whose friendship … has brought me so much happiness’. This bond of friendship and mutual trust was further developed in their correspondence between 1854 and 1861. In his letters to Pedro, Albert acted as a teacher, mentor, advisor and, often enough, even a surrogate father. Pedro played the role of scholar and apprentice. It is fair to say, that apart from his beloved daughter Vicky, Pedro was probably the closest individual to Albert of the younger generation.

Advice fit for a King

On 4 September 1855, twelve days before Pedro came of age (at 18) and was proclaimed King in his own right, Albert already sent his congratulations. In this first, of 34 surviving letters, he set the tone of the relationship by telling the young monarch that the ‘Holy Spirit appreciates a good will and honesty…so if you want to attract, follow these virtues’. Thus the life-long, though tragically short, apprenticeship began.

As discussed earlier, Pedro had a tendency of champing at the bit with regard to dealing with his government. Albert, in the same letter of 4 September, shared his view that the happiness and well being of a state could only be achieved through Divine Governance – that is to say, an imitation of a universal “natural law” by a sovereign through just use of the monarchical principle that encourages the creation of ‘good laws, institutions and useful healthy established principles’. Albert further stated that a constitutional government, though at times a burden for a monarch, does have its share of benefits including a protective shield against fallout from unpopular policies or in times of financial crisis.

In another letter (25 October 1855) Albert was complimentary of Pedro’s commitment to his duty, but he also cautioned him on the necessity of practicing the art of patience in regards to government or put at risk the fruits of his efforts. In an attempt to encourage, Albert recommended that Pedro keep the following lines, from a poem by Goethe, as a personal motto:

‘Wide the world, life never resting

Long the years of modest questing

Always delving, always founding

Never ending, often rounding

Faithfully the old retaining

New finds, open-minded, gaining

Pure the aims, promising the chances

Well! One should make some advances.’

Albert and Pedro were both avid readers, so when Pedro asked for recommendations, Albert was keenly forthcoming. In addition to sending along some precious volumes, he provided the young king with a brief description of each publication and, if the work was found to be especially invigorating or educational, an abridged review. A good example of the latter is the following review of Charles de Montalembert’s, The Political Future of England (1855): ‘It is a true masterpiece and very easy to read. England is the chosen theme, but it addresses the Continent; so everything you said is also perfectly suited to Portugal, and I believe that nothing could be more useful than translate it into Portuguese and disseminate it widely there’.

The reading materials provided, though largely of an educational bent, are refreshingly diverse and even liberal for a monarch of the period. Some of the gems include Pepys’s Diary which he advised Pedro to read first ‘because it is exhilarating’, Ludlow’s Memoirs ‘A Republican who considered Cromwell too monarchical’, and the speeches of that infamous English regicide, Oliver Cromwell, by T. Carlyle. Albert, likewise, made sure to have a copy of The Economist regularly sent to Lisbon in order to keep the King well versed on important economic and trade developments.

As early as 13 December 1855, Albert was already stressing to his nephew the importance of having both a private secretary and a librarian. This was particularly important given his exalted position. Speaking from his own personal experience, he pointed out that without reliable men in these positions, ‘I am afraid you will succumb to the weight of your work’. This advice must not have been taken to heart, because the sentiment was repeated in 1857. Albert, for a second time, mentioned the importance of hiring a private secretary and librarian, this time even going so far as to provide Pedro with the qualities he should be looking for in both. The ideal candidate for a private secretary should be ‘smart, efficient and hardworking, not too old,’ and able to relieve him from the ‘consuming burden of paperwork and prepare for you the analysis of the issues’ as required.  In a librarian, scholarly training is ideal. He should be in constant touch with advances in science and be able to maintain ‘books and papers in order, and keep you always informed on ‘everything that goes on in the great world’. Furthermore, the librarian should be able to assist in addressing issues e.g. education and hospitals. Albert’s last point on the subject was, ‘If an individual with this profile cannot be found in Portugal, it is preferable to hire a foreigner than to not hire anyone’. It is evident, from the list of qualifications for these positions, that Albert used his own staff as a model for Pedro to emulate.

Albert’s lectures on the importance of Pedro maintaining his health is a common theme in the correspondence, dating all the way back to November of 1855. The young king, ironically like his uncle, made a bad habit of working himself to exhaustion. By 30 January of 1857, Albert had good reason to be concerned. After disturbing reports of Pedro’s self-neglect and, upon viewing a photograph, Albert observed that it ‘shows you sick and afflicted’.  In the manner of an intervention, he wrote out a proposed list of how Pedro should put his ‘house in order’. In addition to the suggestions, which had, by this stage, morphed into quasi-demands, he reiterated that he must get a private secretary and librarian to remove some of the burden. He also stated, explicitly in his fourth and final point, that a Queen was needed, not only to provide a sense of domestic normality and stability but also to improve Pedro’s health by encouraging the better angels of his nature. Albert had good news for his nephew; he had found an ideal prospect, Stephanie of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen. Not only was she a catholic, but she also was also well linked to the Prussian Royal House.

Marriage: An ‘heir’ necessity

For Albert, finding a suitable bride for Pedro had been a project long before the intervention letter of 1857. Princess Stephanie of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen was exactly what was needed. She was young, good looking, well educated, Catholic, and most important of all, she was not of Bourbon or Habsburg blood. This, in Albert’s eyes, would further improve the future stock of the Portuguese Royal House.  In a letter to Pedro (29 March 1857), who was dragging his feet, he wrote that he did not believe that a better candidate could be found, ‘at least the Gotha Almanac tells me there is little choice’. He pressed the case further by pointing out that he would have the advantage of marrying a liberal Catholic princess raised in Protestant House. After further negotiations and some additional light prodding by Albert, who was acting as negotiator between the two houses, the union was officially proposed and consented to by June 1857. In his congratulatory letter of the 26th, with the marriage date now set, Albert suggested that Pedro should appoint an official negotiator. His last item of business was handling the delivery of the letters between the King and the family of his new bride.

Pedro and Stephanie were wed by proxy on 29 April 1858 in Berlin. Afterward the new Portuguese Queen made her way to Britain. Like Pedro, on his Grand Tour in the summer of 1854, Stephanie charmed everyone she met. The actual wedding took place in Lisbon on May 18, 1858. The marriage did not last long. The young queen died on 17 July 1859, from diphtheric angina that she contracted while opening the new railway at Vendas Novas. The death was a terrible blow for the family and it appears to have reawakened the morbid side of Pedro’s character who, in responding to a minister’s letter of condolences, stated ‘I and my peoples have been companions in misfortune’. On the 20 July Albert wrote to Vicky stating ‘I tremble for Pedro, whose deficiency in vivacity and cheerfulness… found its only compensation in his home happiness’. In Pedro’s letter to Albert, the sense of loss still echoed, ‘She was too good, my Stephanie, and a sense of duty urged us both. We were happy in our most hidden privacy, and we were able to defend it’. The letter ends with a request for Albert’s assistance in designing a hospital for poor children, which Stephanie had intended, now to be built in her memory.

Tragic death of the young King

The last letters exchanged between Albert and Pedro (16 May and 22 August 1861) discussed the necessity of the king’s remarriage. There appeared to have been a proposal of a union between the Portuguese and Spanish Houses, which Albert admitted he was surprised to hear. He went further by weighing the pros and cons of such a match. On a personal level, the Infanta’s character left much to be desired and the blood ‘promises little spiritual health, moral or physical’. On a political level, it offered the benefit of a better relationship with Spain. However, the likelihood of Portugal being dragged into Spanish disputes also increased. Towards the end, Albert advised caution, but he need not have worried. In his response Pedro stated that he had declined the offer. But his letter also revealed a lingering sense of depression and melancholy. On 11 November 1861, aged only 24, Pedro succumbed to typhoid fever. The young King’s death had a profound effect on Albert, as he related in a letter to King Wilhelm of Prussia dated 22 November, ‘I loved him and valued him greatly, and had great hopes’. Victoria shared their grief in a letter to daughter Vicky: ‘It has been a terrible blow to us – & to dearest beloved Papa – who found in him one entirely worthy of himself – which he alas! does not find in those where it was most expected and wanted.’

Three weeks after writing these letters, Albert would also be dead, thus ending the dreams of what might have been the fruitful collaboration of a gifted master and his talented apprentice – heir to a better future when monarchy would “effect infinite good.”

[ifyoucouldholdme]

The Six Dates of Eddie Kaspbrak

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Words: 1975

Pairing: Reddie

TW: Eating Disorder

The next morning Eddie fluttered awake to the unusual absence of a particular mop headed dork. Richie normally snored in a tussled heap well after Eddie rose for the day, forcing the other to crawl over his sprawling limbs to escape their wadded sheets. Today, though, the spread had been neatly laid down and tucked around Eddie. The smell of coffee brought him sweetly out of his dreams.

               “Richie?” he mumbled, still in a lifting haze. Richie never woke up early, much less make the bed or start coffee. A wrinkled letter folded on the nightstand caught Eddie’s eye. With a hefty sense of suspicion, he unfolded the note.

               My dearest, darlingest Edward Spaghettward,” it began. Eddie chuckled a low, “Even in a note, asshole?” and continued reading.

               “You’ve been working real hard lately, what with the studying, and the papers, and the chronic masturbation.” Eddie cringed. “You deserve some good clean fun. We’ve put together a little surprise for you. Be at the mall by noon today. Don’t be late or you won’t get any of this sweet ass for the foreseeable future. –Richie”

               “Bold of you to assume that I want your crusty ass,” Eddie smirked. With Richie, you could never guess what to expect. Eddie stretched with a yawn. “Guess I’m going shopping today.”

  The open lobby in which Eddie perched in waiting could hardly qualify as a mall at this point. It was more a few specialty shops interspersed with vacant hollows where other doomed businesses once profited. He sat on a bench between two such plots situated directly across from an alternative fashion boutique. Glimpses of band apparel and various jewelry and accessories peered out from behind the poster covered windows at Eddie in his plain khakis and polo. The store was what his mother referred to as a “tramp’s palace.”

               As a teenager, she refused to let him wear jeans at all, much less all black with a studded belt. The cartoonish image of Sonia’s overexaggerated scream which suddenly sprung to mind brought a snort out of him.

               “What’cha laughing at?”

               The snort turned into a shriek. Eddie nearly toppled out of his seat. Looking over his shoulder, he met eyes with a giggling Beverly Marsh. Her smile beamed down at him, probably due to the shimmering bronzer she wore, but partly, he thought, because Bev just had that kind of sunshine within her already.

               “Holy shit, Bev! You could’ve sent me into a cardiac arrest!” he scolded her. Beverly just winked in reply. “You’re not as fragile as you think, Eddie. You ready to go?”

               Eddie’s brow knotted in confusion. “Go where?”

               “Of course,” Bev rolled her eyes, “Richie didn’t explain anything, did he?” Richie never explained anything, at least not in any comprehensible way.

               “Apparently not. He just left me a note this morning saying to meet him at the mall by twelve.”

               “That goof,” Bev chuckled as she hopped in front of the bench. “Edward Kaspbrak, it is my pleasure to invite you to Eddie Spaghetti Week!”

               With a look of patient annoyance, he deadpanned, “Eddie Spaghetti Week?”

               “That’s right!” She smirked and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Each day this week, you’re going out on a special date with each of us. So, come on!”

               Eddie’s confusion swiftly turned to anxious embarrassment. His cheeks flushed, and his palms grew sweaty. “A d-date?” he stammered.

               “Don’t worry, silly,” she reassured, pulling the anxious boy to his feet, “they’re platonic dates. Well, at least mine is.”

               Wait, what? “What does that mean?” Beverly may or may not have heard, but either way she changed the subject and pulled Eddie towards the forbidden tramp store.

               “For my date with you, we’re going to give you a makeover!” Eddie instinctively opened his mouth to refuse, but this was finally an excuse to see what lay behind the barricade of posters. As loud as his mother’s voice was in his head, his curiosity shouted louder.

               Eddie’s hands trembled inside his pockets as he followed Beverly throughout the store. The day he finally stood up to his mother in the Derry hospital happened so long ago, yet he could still hear the piercing rattle of her voice warning him against the sin of the heavy metal bands and the black fingernail polish which now caught his eye. He recalled the day she caught him watching MTV. That day he learned all about Satan worshipping rock stars, the risk of AIDS from sharing needles with other drug addicts, and the homosexual snares of men wearing eyeliner. He knew somewhere on a conscious level that his mother’s hatred was just emptiness fueled by fear and ignorance, but that sense of shame she left behind still embedded itself deep in his bones.

               Beverly, having already found a basket full of makeup and skirts to try, rounded the corner to find Eddie lost in his thoughts while mournfully gazing at a display of studded wristbands and chokers. “Grab some, Eddie, and we’ll see how they look.” Eddie turned with the expression of someone who’s name was just called for the draft. “I…that’s…I wouldn’t be able to pull off a look like that Beverly…”

               The epitome of encouragement, Bev rolled her eyes with a smile and grabbed a handful of the accessories. “You totally can, honey. I’ve already grabbed you some outfits. Let’s try them out!” Eddie sputtered out excuses and denials, but Beverly took none of it. She grabbed him by the elbow and rustled him to the changing rooms.

                 Beverly must have had a drastically different concept of what fashion worked on Eddie than he did himself. He could see himself wearing the graphic tees, although some of them were a little overboard in their intense imagery. However, she had thrown him several pairs of skinny jeans over the changing stall door. The self-loathing mounted higher with each pair he tried on. Most felt like they fit. He could still bend his knees and squat down without splitting anything, thank God, but he wouldn’t dare wear anything so form fitting in public. He didn’t want to force anybody else to see the shape of his body, at least until he could force himself to slim down again. Lately he felt the pull to once again slide down the path of eating nothing but a piece of boiled chicken and two large cups of coffee a day. The last time, before he broke down, he was able to at least drop three sizes. He didn’t reach the goal he wanted, but at least he was skinnier than he was now.

               “Oh my God, Eddie, we have to get this one for you,” Bev decided, and she tossed a top over the door. Eddie caught the bundle of fabric and unfolded it. “I can’t wear this, Beverly!” he cried. The woman had thrown him a damn long sleeve crop top!

               “Just try it on Eddie. You’re going to look bitchin’, trust me.” Eddie wanted to trust the caring voice outside the changing stall, but she didn’t know. She didn’t understand how disgusting he looked. With a huff before he could change his mind, he slipped the shirt over his torso. As he looked in the mirror, he liked the style, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the midriff he despised so terribly. That was the final shot to his composure. He dropped to the bench behind him, tears finally overtaking him.

               “Eddie,” Bev’s voice floated through the door, much softer than before, “is everything ok in there?”

               “Fine. Can we stop now?” he sniffed loudly.

               “Can you at least let me see how it looks?”

               Eddie scoffed. “There’s no way in Hell I’m coming out dressed like this.”

               “Ok, then, I’m coming in there” Eddie panicked, turning just in time to see Beverly crawling under the stall door.

               “What the hell, Bev?” he whispered loudly. She stood, dusting herself off. She held a small bag of things she must have already purchased as he was going through the outfits they selected. She saw the tears falling down his face even though he tried to hide them. With a heartbroken smile, she kneeled beside Eddie, taking his hand in hers. “Eddie, honey, if you really don’t like this stuff, we don’t have to try any more on. But I saw you looking at some of the styles out there. You didn’t look like someone who absolutely didn’t want to try them out. I’d like to show you that you can try for anything you want to try, but I need you to trust me. Will you? At least enough to try and see what I see in you?”

               The sudden intimacy of the moment made him squirm in uncomfortable closeness. His entire childhood was spent denying anything he wanted himself, from wanting to date boys even to the clothes on his back. Beverly’s loving support was new to him, but he wanted to try. If not for himself, he could try for her. “Ok, Bev,” he whispered.

               “That’s my Eddie,” She beamed. It turned out, inside the bag was some hair gel, eyeliner, and various wristbands. She even brought out the studded choker that caught his eye before. After a moment, she had transformed him entirely with just a few simple adjustments. She swiftly swooped his hair into an oddly fitting mohawk, slicking every strand up to a fine point. His eyes watered badly when she tried to apply the makeup under his eyes, but after a few blinks and touch ups, he looked like a punk straight out of the rock concert. She placed the finishing touches with the wristbands and the choker and painted his fingernails black and yellow. “There we go,” she whispered, pulling out her phone, “You look fierce as fuck, Eddie. See?” She snapped a picture with her phone and presented it to a blushing Eddie.

               “Wow…that can’t be me…”

               “I told you to trust me. You definitely rock the punk look.” Eddie still felt ashamed of how much of himself could be seen in this outfit, but he had to admit that Beverly was right. He did look pretty punk. She raised the phone again. “How about you give me your best punk face?”

               Eddie thought for a moment, then made a face more bizarre than he intended. Beverly guffawed loudly, clasping a hand over her mouth as she remembered they were still in one changing stall. “Ok, I don’t know what face that was, but it was hilarious. Give me another one.” Eddie cracked a smile, then dragged his hands down his face and stuck out his tongue making a comedically grotesque expression. Beverly cackled, not caring who heard her this time. “Oh my God, what the hell is that supposed to be?”

               Eddie giggled wildly. “That’s what Richie looks like when he wants to make out.” The two carried on like this over several more poses in their impromptu photoshoot. Eventually, they exited the changing rooms and bought their choices before they could be kicked out. As they caught the bus back to the dorms, Eddie was too caught up in spending time with Bev to focus on whether people were staring at his weight or his clothing. He felt for once that he could be what he wanted. He rested his head on her shoulder, careful not to stab her with his now tall hairstyle. “Thank you Bev,” he whispered as he flipped through their pictures on his phone.

               She grabbed his hand and leaned into him as well. “Trust me Eddie. You are fierce enough to be anybody you want to be. Don’t forget that.” They fought to stay awake the rest of the ride home. As his mind wandered, he couldn’t guess how the others were going to top this day with Beverly. -  

[kaesaaurelia]

should auld acquaintance be forgot

This is a rough draft of the first chapter of a fic I’m writing, which will be called Hustler’s Blood.  It is Aziraphale/Crowley, with numerous OCs and historical figures, and is set in 1926 in Chicago, although it starts on December 31, 1925.

I’ve posted the first scene here before, as well as a few other bits and pieces, but since it’s New Year’s Eve and the fic starts on New Year’s Eve, and also since it’s my birthday and I just wanna, I’m going to share the whole first chapter here.

(I’ve been serializing it on fail_fandomanon but I’m a little over 100k words into writing it and it’s just reached the middle of the plot so it’s a lot to catch up on at the moment.)

6,666 words.  (There were 6667 but it was too perfect, so I deleted one.)  Small content warning for brief mention of pet death and resurrection.

Aziraphale looked right, then left, then walked into the dark alley in front of him. It was the fifth place he'd tried that evening, and the twelfth since he'd arrived in Chicago. Heaven had sent him to thwart Crowley's terrible wiles and keep him from pulling this entire city into Hell with him, but if even half of what he'd seen had been Crowley's doing, Aziraphale was going to be very impressed, and also extremely annoyed at his violation of the Arrangement.  Then, maybe it was rowdier than usual right now; it was New Year's Eve, after all.  Maybe things calmed down.

He knocked on the nondescript door in front of him. A hatch in the door slid back, revealing a suspicious-looking pair of eyes. "Yeah?" said the young man behind the door.

"Ah! Hello, thank you, the password is..." Aziraphale reached into the man's mind and plucked it out. "...Mirage."

The hatch clicked shut, the door swung open, and Aziraphale walked in. "Thank you!" he told the doorman, and looked at the scene in front of him. People were laughing and drinking and smoking and generally having a lovely time, although there was much more close dancing than was probably strictly necessary, and of course it was all dreadfully illegal and Aziraphale therefore disapproved wholeheartedly. He looked around for Crowley, or, failing that, a menu. He could really use a nice drink.

Aziraphale handed his coat and hat off to the coat-check girl, then returned to the door.  "Young man, I don't suppose you've seen my... acquaintance anywhere in here, have you?  Dark glasses, red hair... doesn't seem to know how to walk?"  Whatever form Crowley had taken probably had those three attributes.  Unless he'd been discorporated in the war.  Oh dear.  What if Crowley had an entirely new form?  Not that it was any business of Aziraphale's, of course, but it would make him much more difficult to find.

"You lookin' for Mr. Crowley?" said the young man. "You sure?" Behind him, the fistfight had metastasized into a brawl between four or five barflies.

"That's the one, yes! Where is he?" asked Aziraphale.

"Look, mister, I'm here to keep the trouble to a minimum --" Aziraphale somewhat doubted this, as no one had moved to break up the fight -- indeed, the patrons were cheering on their favorites and making bets "-- and I'd love to help ya out, but Mr. Crowley is kinda, uhh... he ain't gonna be happy if he don't know you, and I hear he's a lot of trouble if you do."

"I've known him for quite a long time. Trust me, I am aware," said Aziraphale. He smiled patiently, and waited for the boy to get on with getting him Crowley.

Aziraphale sensed a familiar twinge in the fabric of reality as the brawl ended abruptly. The last man standing cheered, and he could see money changing hands between winners of bets. "Well, uh... lemme see what I can do, okay?" said the doorman. "No promises."

"Oh, I don't think you'll need to go get him," said Aziraphale, for he could see a familiar swaggering figure coming towards them, pocketing a fistful of green paper and peering through dark glasses at the doorman.

"My ears were burning, is there something -- Aziraphale!" he said, breaking into a grin that made odd things happen in Aziraphale's chest. "How the Heaven have you been? He's okay, he's an old, old friend," he said, waving the doorman away.  He turned back to Aziraphale, still grinning.  "Hey! Come on to the bar, I'll buy you a drink!  Didn't think you'd turn up here."

"No, I would imagine not," said Aziraphale, trying to maintain an air of polite disapproval. "What happened to the Arrangement?" he whispered.

"Relax, angel, I haven't been doing anything," said Crowley, guiding him towards the bar.

Aziraphale glared at him, but followed. "You have!  You ended that fight early just now."

Crowley shrugged. "Would've gone that way anyway, though, eventually. I just sped it up a bit. What are you here for, anyway?"

"I was sent by Heaven to thwart whatever nasty things you're doing here," said Aziraphale. "Gabriel was very cross with me when he'd found out I lost track of you. Why didn't you tell me you'd left London? How long have you been here?"

"Why would I tell you?" Crowley asked. He was no longer grinning. "I thought you were sick of all that... hmm, what did you call it? Fraternizing."

Aziraphale stared at him, open-mouthed. "What -- that's not -- I didn't mean -- what about our Arrangement?"

"Well, since you called it off --"

"I did not! And anyway, you were sulking and I tried to wake you up but --"

"So are you saying you'd like to pick up where we left off?" Aziraphale wished he wasn't wearing those dark glasses, because then he might be able to tell what was going on in Crowley's head. Aziraphale thought he sounded hopeful, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"I..." He's tempting me, Aziraphale thought. He's only tempting me, and I should do my job properly, and I should never even have let on that I was here.

Crowley watched him silently.

"I -- I do, yes," Aziraphale admitted. The grin on Crowley's face made him feel a lot better about being a failure of an angel, though.

"Well, that's all right, then! Come on, I'll get you that drink."

"Are the drinks here any good?" Aziraphale asked.

"Mmmh." He made a sort of ambivalent whole body wriggle. "The recipes are good, but the alcohol they're working with is terrible. Been trying to fix that, but there's only so much you can do. Free will and all that. They keep cutting my stuff with drain cleaner and gasoline."  He made a face.  "At least I can report it as a success downstairs.  I'll see that you get something you like, though."  He sat down at the bar.

Aziraphale sat next to him, and it was remarkable how much better he felt now.  Wandering a strange city full of hooligans was all well and fine, but meeting up for drinks with Crowley was safe.  Crowley called over the barman.  "Oi, Pete!  Get me another old fashioned, and a gin fizz for my friend here!"

They weren't even supposed to be friends.

He's just tempting me, Aziraphale reminded himself again.  The problem was, all too often, it worked.

---

Crowley had been telling himself he was having a grand old time for the past few years, and especially this evening. Drinking alone was just how he happened to enjoy spending the evening. On New Year's Eve. It was fine. He'd picked the most raucous hole-in-the-wall he knew, or at least the most raucous one where they all knew him as Anthony Crowley and not any of his other aliases, and he had at least been enjoying seeing everyone reveling in ways they weren't supposed to.

(He'd been spending most of his free time as Anthony Crowley.  He had three other aliases, all with slightly different faces and bodies, but sometimes the roles he'd chosen for himself got tiring, and he'd... well, wanted to be recognized.  By anyone who happened to know him under that name.  Not specifically Aziraphale, but should Aziraphale come and check in on him, Crowley felt he shouldn't make it too hard for the poor bastard to see just how well Crowley was doing without him.)

If he was honest with himself (and he tried not to be) seeing all these attractive people with their equally attractive companions for the evening made him a little bit lonely.  He'd watched two couples break up tonight and another get together, and near the back of the room there was a group of three who seemed to be aiming to be more than friends by the first dawn of 1926.  He'd considered finding somebody, just for the night, but nobody really appealed.

Then the door had opened, and a chill wind had carried a slight scent of vellum and sanctimony to him, and he knew without turning around that Aziraphale was here. So he'd thrown his voice, whispered some insults from one zozzled patron to another, and started a fight so he had an excuse to not turn and look at the newcomer, to be totally absorbed in this fight, to make a bet...

And then he really, really wanted to know what Aziraphale was doing here. And to see him. And to talk to him. And to watch him try a really good cocktail and show him all the best restaurants in town and take him to concerts and impress him with how very well-connected and influential Crowley was now that he'd been free of the Arrangement for sixty-four years.

So he'd ended the fight with a snap of his fingers, collected his winnings, tried very hard to look suave, and then failed as soon as he actually set eyes on Aziraphale.  And now he was buying drinks. Well, not buying, precisely, but he was putting forth the fiction that at some point he would be paying for said drinks, and Aziraphale politely pretended to believe that.

"Ooh, this is good!" Aziraphale said, after a sip or two of his gin fizz.

"How long have you been in town?" Crowley asked.

"A few days. I spent Christmas on a ship to New York." Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. "It was a bit much. The food was good, though. You?"

"Oh, I've been here a few years. They wanted me to be sure the States didn't become a bastion of holiness overnight just because of this Prohibition nonsense."

"And?" Aziraphale asked.

"I traveled around, saw that humans still don't need much help humaning, and settled in here to take credit for whatever horrible thing they came up with next. Considered New York, stayed in LA for a few months, tried out New Orleans -- you really need to get down to New Orleans, angel, it's amazing, you'd love the food -- but this seemed to be the best place to hang around and watch everything go to Hell in a handbasket. Not so much going on that I can't keep track of most of it, but definitely plenty of havoc to be had. I did think I'd made an awful mistake in '23, because they elected a mayor who I think might actually... not be a crook --"

"Is that unusual here?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley snorted.  "Don't really pay that much attention usually, but everybody was so impressed with themselves for voting for somebody decent that I got worried."

"Ah, well."  He took a thoughtful sip of his drink.  "So what happened to him?"

Crowley laughed harder, and shook his head.  "That's the best part, angel!  The poor bastard's still mayor.  Everything he does to clean up the mess just makes everything worse!  I don't have to do a blessed thing.  I just write my reports and enjoy the show."

"Oh dear," said Aziraphale.  "You know, my lot think you've ruined this city personally."

"Nah," said Crowley, shaking his head.  "Barely touched it, really.  It was broken when I found it."  He shrugged.  "Fun, though.  So, what, did they send you here to clean my mess up?"

Aziraphale nodded.  He stared at his glass contemplatively.  Crowley watched him, wondering whether he saw it as half-empty or half-full.  Finally, he said, "I was worried about you, you know."

Of all the things Crowley had been prepared to hear Aziraphale say to him about their long absence from each other's company, this wasn't it.  "Worried?  What?  You were worried?  About me?"

"Well, you..."  Aziraphale trailed off.  "After our... misunderstanding, I stopped seeing you anywhere, so I --"  He was avoiding Crowley's eye now, looking over his shoulder at the other bar patrons.  "I checked in on you.  I -- I don't know if you remember..."  He looked down at his drink again.  Definitely half-empty, if Crowley was any judge of expressions.

"I don't," Crowley said softly.  He hadn't realized Aziraphale would care that much.  Or at all, really, given their last conversation.

An uneasy silence lay between them.  Finally, Aziraphale said, "And then when the war started up you were nowhere and I found a bunch of complete strangers living there!"

The expression on Aziraphale's face made him want to reassure, to apologize, to comfort.  To stop being everything he was.  "I thought you didn't want me hanging around anymore, that's all," he said.  "I thought you were done with our Arrangement.  And war is hell, so... I had a job to do."

"In the war," Aziraphale started, and then paused.  "Did you --"

"No, angel," he said, rolling his eyes.  "I didn't start the war, I didn't do much to make it worse, and frankly I don't know if I could have made it any worse than it was going to be already.  I did take credit for it because it got my head office off my back for a few years, and if you're going to judge me for that --"

"Crowley," said Aziraphale, looking wounded.  "I was only going to ask if you had to see much of the front."

"Oh."  Crowley took a long swallow of his old fashioned then, so as to avoid looking Aziraphale in the eye, not that Aziraphale could see his eyes.  (Thank Satan for small mercies.)  "Yeah.  I saw... enough."

"I'm sorry," said Aziraphale.

"Don't be.  Don't think I was ever really in danger, I just hung about asking questions, trying to get people to disobey orders, slack off...."

Aziraphale stared at him.  "That wasn't you, was it?  In 1914?"  Crowley frowned at him.  "Christmas?"

"That?  I thought that must be you!" said Crowley.  "Seemed exactly like something you'd come up with except for the football part, although I did wonder how you'd managed it.  Don't know how I'd even pull off something that big," he admitted.  "No, it wasn't me.  How could I possibly justify that to Downstairs?  It was so treacly too, and on Christmas.  Eugh."

"It most definitely was not," said Aziraphale.  "I got a very angry letter about it from Gabriel.  I'd sort of hoped it was you.  I thought... you know, you'd like people questioning authority and not doing their jobs, even if their jobs were murdering each other.  But I didn't tell Gabriel that, of course."

Crowley took another swallow of his drink, and said "Gabriel's a wanker."

"Crowley..."

"He is.  I loathe him and I think I've only ever met him properly once, but everything you tell me is always awful."  Crowley finished off his drink and waved the bartender over to get another one.  "He got angry at you for it?  What, did it show up in his miracle queue under your name by mistake?  Or however that works."

"He said it didn't show up at all and asked if I knew of any rogue angels operating on the Western Front.  I suppose I was the nearest agent they had.  I was... not really asked to leave London but I felt I should check in on the front every now and again.  You know, do some rounds at some hospitals.  Brush up on my French and German."  Aziraphale could have been discorporated, Crowley thought.  It was probably a good thing he hadn't known about it until now, although part of him mourned the loss of an opportunity to sweep in and be very impressive and good-looking and save Aziraphale's life.

He didn't want to think about all of that now, so he turned the conversation back to 1914.  "So... nobody did the truce, then?" Crowley asked.

"Humans did it," said Aziraphale.  "Must have.  Nobody else was involved.  Unless one of your lot had a very strange change of heart --"

"They didn't," said Crowley.

"-- or one of my lot thought, you know what, today I'm going to upset the Archangel Gabriel, it'll be fun!" concluded Aziraphale.

"Well.  Maybe.  I would.  I bet it would be fun," said Crowley.

"Yes, but you're a demon," Aziraphale insisted, in that infuriating tone of voice that suggested maybe Crowley had forgot.

Crowley ignored him.  "Why didn't they want it happening?  Really seems it ought to be right up your lot's alley."

Aziraphale shrugged.  "Wasn't part of the plan, I suppose.  Gabriel didn't really specify.  It is, after all --"

"Ineffable," Crowley finished for him, rolling his eyes.

Aziraphale made no reply.  He finished off his gin fizz instead.

"You can't plan for humans, that's the trouble," said Crowley.  "All you can do is plan for them to go haring off in some wild direction --"

"And whose fault is that?" Aziraphale asked, pointedly.

Crowley glared.  "I didn't make her eat the apple, you know.  Still don't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil.  For one thing, I'm not sure it took."

Aziraphale sighed.  "Much as I hate to admit it, you may have a point, my dear."

---

They soon got to reminiscing about times past, drinks past, temptations and miracles past, and somewhere after his sixth or seventh or... possibly tenth drink, Aziraphale stopped feeling guilty and let himself just feel warm and happy in this boozy, smoky barroom.  These newfangled sugary drinks really weren't as bad as he'd assumed they would be, and the people here seemed to be having such a good time.  It was a shame it was all illegal, and also apparently immoral.  Aziraphale was enjoying listening to Crowley tell a complicated story about an enterprising fellow he'd met in Cincinnati.

They both looked up from their conversation when a young lady shouted "Hey, it's almost midnight!" from one of the tables near the back of the room.

"Oh, are they going to be counting down to midnight?" Aziraphale asked.

"I s'pose so," said Crowley.  "In New York they have this... ball."

"Oh!  Like with masks?" Aziraphale asked.  He'd rather enjoyed those.  All the costumes were so much fun, and the food was usually quite good too.

"No, no, like... big round bastard," said Crowley, with an evocative gesture.  "Falls down at the stroke of midnight."

"Oh," said Aziraphale, frowning.  He tried to picture this, but it still didn't quite make sense.  Not that he was drunk.  As an ethereal being, he could put away a fair amount of alcohol, and all these silly sugary drinks couldn't possibly be very strong.

"You know, like a circle, but more," Crowley added.  His evocative gestures were getting more and more patronizing, and Aziraphale wasn't having it.

"Yes, I know what a sphere is, thank you very much," Aziraphale said.  "Why does it fall down?"

Crowley considered this.  Aziraphale was beginning to think Crowley might be a bit drunk, silly sugary drinks notwithstanding.  "Gravity?"

"So you don't know either," Aziraphale said.

Crowley chose not to answer this.  "I think they used to use them as... as a signal, for ships?  Only the New York one's just a signal for drunk people.  I think... I think they might have one at Greenwich," he said.  "For ships, not drunk people."

Aziraphale felt he was on firmer ground now that they were (conversationally) back in London.  "You know, they moved Greenwich."

"Did they?" Crowley asked.  "That must've been a lot of work.  Where's it now?"

Aziraphale tried to remember.  "Not in Greenwich.  I think it had something to do with trains.  To be perfectly honest I wasn't paying attention."

"I'll have to find out where they put it, then," said Crowley, making a face.

Aziraphale peered at him.  "Crowley, I didn't know you were interested in astrono--"

"I'm not," said Crowley.

Well then.  "So why are you --"

"To avoid it, obviously.  Last thing I want to do, find myself surrounded by a bunch of boffins who think they know everything about the stars."  Crowley somehow managed to visibly roll his eyes despite his dark glasses.

"I didn't know you were so against astronomy," said Aziraphale.

"I'm not against it," snapped Crowley.  "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well... that's fine, then," said Aziraphale.  He wished he hadn't brought it up.  Being back on good terms with Crowley had been so nice, for this evening, and he didn't want to lose that over... astronomy.  "So what happens at midnight?  The ball drops, and...?"

"I think they all kiss each other," said Crowley.  "You know, for luck."

"Oh!"  Aziraphale remembered a little village in Swabia with a tradition like that.  He thought it had been very touching.  Actually, it had been a bit more touching than Aziraphale was entirely happy with, in the press of humans enthusiastic to ensure their luck and their family's and neighbors' luck for the next year, so he'd gone invisible after the first few friendly little pecks on the cheek from people he'd never met, wishing him luck he didn't need.  He'd been biding his time, waiting on the right timing to perform a miracle.  "That's a nice tradition.  A bit lonely, though, if you don't know anybody."

Crowley shrugged.  "I'm a stranger everywhere.  I'm used to it."

Aziraphale realized then how much worse it must be for Crowley, who couldn't even feel the love and happiness of others as they shared their well-wishes en masse, of whom humans' first impressions tended to be untrustworthiness.  "No!  No, you aren't," he said.  "Not really."  He was having trouble putting this into words.  Maybe he had had a few too many drinks.

Crowley frowned at him.  "Sorry?"

Somewhere in the crowd beyond, Aziraphale heard someone shout "Ten!"

"You're not a stranger, Crowley.  Not everywhere," said Aziraphale.  It was, he felt, absolutely vital that Crowley understand this, especially right now.  Aziraphale didn't want to lose him again over astronomy or something stupid like that.

"Nine!"  There were more voices joining in.

"Ah.  Thanks?  How many of those have you had, Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, indicating Aziraphale's empty glass.

"Eight!  Seven!"

Aziraphale was having trouble concentrating on counting the drinks he'd had with everyone shouting numbers around him, so he dismissed this question.  He didn't see how it was relevant anyway.  "That has nothing to do with anything, Crowley," he said, over the entire rest of the room counting down.  "You're not a stranger to me, my dear."

"Aziraphale," Crowley said, sounding worried.

"Four!  Three!"

"You aren't, and you never will be, and I'm sorry we haven't spoken in so long, and --"

"Two!  One!"

Aziraphale decided, at this juncture, that since it was midnight, and since they were among humans who would presumably be expecting it anyway, he might just as well express himself more traditionally, as it were, so he leaned over and kissed Crowley.

His lips tasted like cognac and lemon, and he smelled good -- well, evil, technically, but in a way Aziraphale had always quite liked -- and it was all actually very nice until Crowley pushed him away, and said "Right, then, you'd better sober up."

"I'm sober!  I'm fine!  Can't be much in those drinks anyway, mostly sugar and --"

"Sugar and industrial alcohol, yes," said Crowley.  He stood, a bit wobbly himself.  "I'm sorry, I should have been paying attention --"

"I'm fine, Crowley, I'm not some lightweight," said Aziraphale, and he tried to stand too, but the room was surprisingly spinny and he ended up leaning against Crowley for support.

"Oof.  You definitely aren't," said Crowley, putting an arm around him.  "Come on, you can sober up or I can get you home, but I think you've had enough for now."

"I'm fine," Aziraphale insisted once more.  But, in order to humor Crowley, he tried to extricate the alcohol from his system.  Only it wasn't... normal alcohol, and he was having a bit of trouble, drunk as he was.  "Oh.  Oh dear."  He stumbled forward.  "Oh, you were right.  This is -- this is very strong stuff, Crowley."

Around them, people were singing Auld Lang Syne very badly.  They'd got through old acquaintance being forgot and never brought to mind, and now they were faltering.  Aziraphale considered helping them out, but all he remembered was something about cups of kindness, which he had probably had enough of tonight anyway.

"Come on," said Crowley, gently.  "I'll get you a cab.  Where are you staying?"  He managed to help Aziraphale through the smoky room, and with a snap of his fingers they both had their hats and coats back.

"Not staying anywhere in particular," said Aziraphale.  "I didn't think I'd need to.  Not as if I sleep."

"Ah," said Crowley, frowning.  He went strangely quiet as he held the door for Aziraphale.

The cold wind rushed into the room, crashing over Aziraphale like a wave.  It did clear his mind a bit, at least, as he stumbled into the alleyway.  He paused, waiting for Crowley.

"Well," said Crowley, following him out, "you could... you could stay at my place.  I've got plenty of room."

"Oh, I don't want to put you to any trouble," said Aziraphale, although if the headache he was getting now just from the minuscule amount of alcohol he'd managed to get out of his bloodstream was any indication, he would appreciate somewhere quiet and warm and safe very soon.

"It's no trouble at all," said Crowley, and he sounded like he meant it.

"Oh... fine," said Aziraphale, feeling he had put up enough token resistance to the idea to concede.  He leaned up against Crowley for support again.  "You are... such a good friend."

"I know," said Crowley, sounding miserable.  "Don't rub it in."

"Without you things were very quiet," Aziraphale said.  "Nobody to talk to.  I joined a club and that was all right for a while.  You might've liked it.  Or maybe you would have hated it, I don't know, but it would have been nice to find out."

Crowley sighed.  "I missed you too, angel."

---

The cab ride home was too long for Crowley's taste, but the last time he'd miracled a cab to go faster, the cabbie had panicked and they'd almost crashed, so Crowley put up with it.  He'd never bothered to learn himself; he hadn't enjoyed driving carriages with horses, because... horses, and he assumed cars would be much the same, only even stupider and harder to control.

Aziraphale was drunk.  Aziraphale was drunk and having trouble sobering up -- that was how drunk he was.  Aziraphale had been in the city for two days; had in fact only been in the States for maybe four days.  Had not known what the drinks on order were.  Crowley should've been clearer in his warning about the quality of American alcohol; should have mentioned that the reason they put so much fucking sugar in it these days was because it tasted extremely bad, was possibly laced with poison by the distributor, and occasionally made people go blind.

The actual government had been poisoning it lately too.  Crowley had written an entire report about it; governments murdering their own citizens for their own good always won him praise downstairs.  Well, not praise so much as grudging acknowledgment that that was actually pretty evil.

Anyway, Aziraphale would probably be fine in the morning.  At least, he would be fine physically.

Maybe he wouldn't remember kissing Crowley?

No.  No, Crowley always remembered everything he'd said and done while drunk, unfortunately.  It was probably one of the dubious perks of being a celestial being.  So Aziraphale would remember everything he'd said and did and he'd be horrified at himself.  And he'd be absolutely insufferable towards Crowley.

It hadn't even been a very good kiss, although Crowley felt that was probably because he'd been too surprised to respond in kind.  He looked across the back seat of the cab, to where Aziraphale was watching buildings go past, and decided he didn't dare ask for a do-over.

Hooray, 1926.

Ah, well.  He'd been hoping to invite Aziraphale back to his new digs for a nightcap anyway, so he could rub Aziraphale's face in just how completely, utterly, totally, undeniably, fantastically well Crowley was doing without him, but all those over-earnest pronouncements about what a good friend Crowley was had made him feel rather undemonically guilty about that plan.  He'd expected the Aziraphale who insisted they weren't friends and he'd got beatific smiles and endearments instead.  It had thrown him off.

There was also the matter of sleeping arrangements.  It was quite a large house, but there was only one resident, so Crowley had only bothered to put one bed in it.  Were Aziraphale sober, there was no question what Crowley would have done, given this predicament -- he would have apologized profusely, then suggested they share it, because obviously Crowley didn't have any other furniture at all upon which he could sleep; none of the couches would do, or the arm chairs, or even the pool table, oh no.  Because after all, if he was sober, Aziraphale would probably just opt to sit up and read all night rather than discomfort Crowley in any way.  It was fair if Aziraphale was sober.

(Read what?  Crowley's small and haphazard pile of paperback novels and pulp magazines?  Crowley decided that his first order of business once they pulled up to the house would be to miracle himself a library before Aziraphale could discover the lack of same.  And after that, he would just have to miracle a second bed.)

So Crowley sat in the back of the cab, watching the dark water of the lake lap up against the snowy beach outside, wishing things had gone differently.  He couldn't even put his finger on which things.  Should he have kissed back?  Should he have told Aziraphale he'd better go easy on the cocktails?  Should he have sought him out before sixty-four years had passed?

Maybe he just shouldn't have Fallen.  That would've solved pretty much all of Crowley's current problems neatly, and doubtless replaced them with an entirely different set of insoluble problems, mostly to do with Heaven being full of bastards with all the self-awareness of a chunk of pumice.  Also, he would never have met Aziraphale, so it was a rotten solution anyway.

"What a beautiful night.  From inside of a taxi, at any rate," said Aziraphale, watching the lights of the houses go past.  There were only mansions along this stretch of the road along the lakefront, and every light was blazing.

"From inside a taxi, lots of things are beautiful," said Crowley.  "You don't have to look too closely from inside a taxi."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes.  Crowley tried to watch the scenery passing by on Aziraphale's side, and not look at Aziraphale himself.  Now the mansions had been replaced with greystones and courtyard buildings.  Here and there tipsy people wandered out of buildings, or stared out at the dark, flat lake from chilly balconies.

"Crowley, I haven't ruined your evening, have I?" Aziraphale said, quietly.

The question took him by surprise.  "No!  Why would you say that?"

"Well, I mean, if you had plans..."

You showed up and you made my evening, angel, thought Crowley.  I can ruin my own evenings without you.  Aloud, he said, "I didn't, especially.  Er.  Speaking of plans, have you got any meetings with Head Office scheduled yet, or can we do brunch tomorrow?"

"Oh, heavens no, they're not expecting me to check in for a good long time.  To be -- to be perfectly candid I don't think they expected me to get here so quickly, my dear.  Should have some time to myself.  Brunch would be lovely."

Crowley grinned to himself, then remembered then that he barely knew any restaurants that were open in the daytime, because he only ever really had meals once every two weeks or so.  And surely none of the diners he frequented counted as good, although their rat populations had all taken a drastic hit as soon as Crowley had started coming around when he was peckish.  He'd have to call around to some of the people who showed up at his parties.

He wondered what Aziraphale would think of his parties.  Probably not much.  Not enough food.

He could fix that.

When they got to the house, Aziraphale stumbled out and handed the cabbie a fistful of cash before Crowley could stop him, and they made their way to the front door.  "Quite a house," said Aziraphale, looking up at it.  Crowley could not tell if he was being sarcastic or not.  "Lots of columns," Aziraphale added.  "And stairs."  Crowley realized Aziraphale had fallen behind, and went back to help him up the stairs.  "Thank you," said Aziraphale.  "What do you need so much house for?"

"What does anybody need it for?" Crowley asked, because if Aziraphale was going to be drunkenly judgmental about his house he'd also better sniff superciliously at everyone else in the neighborhood.

"Just asking.  I'm certain it's lovely," Aziraphale said.  He stared up at the house for a moment, and nearly lost his balance.

Crowley caught him and steadied him, then unlocked the door and held it.  "Come on, Aziraphale."

"Oh my," said Aziraphale, leaning against the doorframe and looking up at the vaulted ceiling of the entry.  "Looks almost like a chur--"

"If you must know," said Crowley, guiding him forcefully into the house with an arm around his shoulder, "I need it for parties."

"Parties?" Aziraphale asked.  They continued into the living room.  Crowley quietly added some built-in bookshelves and filled them with books while Aziraphale was looking at the grand piano.  Were those enough?  Aziraphale didn't even look at them as Crowley led him through a corridor and once more offered him help up the stairs.

"Sort of obligatory, parties," said Crowley.  He was trying not to enjoy how Aziraphale was leaning on him.  He could probably offer more support with his arm around Aziraphale's waist, but that seemed... dangerous.  "If you're going to show up out of nowhere being extremely wealthy and mysterious and clever --"

"Who's doing all that, then?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley pointedly ignored him "-- you've got to throw parties."  They paused at the landing.  "I'm practically carrying you up these stairs, you know, you should be nicer to me."

"I'm always nice, Crowley, I'm an angel.  Who do you invite?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley made a noncommittal noise.  "I don't really invite people, I just sort of decide, eh, it's been long enough between, let's have a party, and people think I invited them last week and show up, and sometimes they bring a friend or two.  Nobody I already hate, though.  Then I keep them around 'til the neighbors are angry enough to come over, or I'm sick of them, whichever comes first."

Aziraphale tsk'd.  "Poor neighbors."

Crowley left him to hang onto the banister for balance while he went to inspect one particular section of the wood paneling.  There was a forest motif here.  Or rather, a garden motif.  "Oh, don't pity them, angel, they deserve to be upset.  I returned their lost cat once and they've hated me ever since.  Couldn't stand the thought of it rubbing... cat elbows...? with new money.  Somebody'd hit it with a car, too, it was an awful job getting the poor thing back in working order."  Crowley found the tree he was looking for, pressed the third apple up, and the panel swung open.  "Be careful here, there's a step up," he said to Aziraphale.

He'd sort of hoped Aziraphale would say something about the secret door, like maybe, "Oh wow, a secret door," or "What an impressive secret door you have," or perhaps even "Take me now, you beautiful secret door owner!" but Aziraphale seemed unmoved, and merely took his offered hand and stepped through the secret door as if it was a blatant and conspicuous door.  "Well, that is a pity," he said.  "Still, you did them a great kindness."

"Oh, don't, angel, don't act like I did them a favor.  I reanimated their cat.  It's probably haunted or something," said Crowley.  "Perversion of nature, sort of thing."  The cat seemed pretty normal, from what Crowley had seen of it, but sometimes it left eviscerated birds on his doorstep, and tried to trip him when he went out to get the mail.  So probably it'd been a bad deed.  (Crowley did not know much about cats.)

"I don't think that's how it works, my dear," said Aziraphale.  He stumbled a bit, and when Crowley caught him, he beamed apologetically.  "I'm so sorry, you're being terribly hospitable and I'm..."  His face was so close Crowley could feel his breath.

He swallowed, and looked away.  "No problem at all."

They were slowing down now, because Crowley, specifically, was slowing down, because this whole "Oh, by the way, I only have one bed in this whole mansion, whatever shall we do?" conversation felt much less fun to have now that it was imminent.  They'd shared beds before, in other times and places when that was perfectly normal for two man-shaped beings who were merely friendly acquaintances, and it had been... well.  It hadn't been much, but it'd been nice.  This wasn't that, though; this was Aziraphale sloppy-drunk and overaffectionate, who would already wake up the next day and realize he'd done too much.

Crowley finally lost his nerve, and decided he'd have to just make a new bedroom.  There were plenty of other rooms here; it was only that they were unfurnished and completely packed with smuggled liquor.  The Canadian whiskey would be easiest to replace, so he sent a hundred and sixty-one crates of Old Log Cabin into the lake.  Then he realized he didn't know what sort of decor Aziraphale would like, except that probably it would be hideous and incorporate tartan, and he froze up.

"Is everything... all right, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.

"Fine, just -- fine," said Crowley.  "Which... which bedroom would you like?" he asked.

"What are my options?" said Aziraphale.  "Can I see them?"

"No!" said Crowley.  "I mean.  Not all of them.  It'd take a while.  Just, you know.  Describe... a bedroom."

"It doesn't really matter, Crowley, I just need somewhere to rest while this awful stuff makes its way out of my blood stream," said Aziraphale.  He was frowning at Crowley, which Crowley didn't like, and then suddenly he was smirking at Crowley, which Crowley liked even less.  "Have you got any tartan?"

Crowley knew he had been caught now, but there was nothing for it.  "I might do," he said, faintly.  "What, er, sort of tartan?"

"Oh, there's a lovely pattern I just don't see enough of these days," said Aziraphale, and he went on a long drunken ramble about the particular history of some ill-fated Scottish clan, and by the end of it Crowley still didn't know what bloody colors the tartan was, but he sort of wanted shortbread now.  He managed to get a color scheme out of Aziraphale (red and green, with occasional rogue blues and yellows, because fuck consistency) and tried to make the bedroom cozy, and by the end of it he was slightly regretting dumping all that whiskey into the lake, given that he could use some of it now, and that Aziraphale probably floated better.

Instead, he opened the door to the former whiskey storage room, and waved Aziraphale in.  "Oh, it's lovely!" said Aziraphale, seeing the awful, hideous room Crowley had made for him.  He beamed at Crowley.  "Thank you for everything," he said, eyes wide and earnest, and he took Crowley's hand, and squeezed it.  He looked at Crowley, expectantly, still holding Crowley's hand.

Crowley panicked slightly.  "Yes -- well -- it's nothing.  Goodnight!"  He took his hand back and retreated quickly to his own bedroom.  Upon arriving there, he took his glasses off and placed them carefully on the nightstand, sent his hat and coat down to the hall closet with a dismissive wave of his hand, and then fell back onto the bed, clawing his hands down his face.

[hazelmariewrites]

The Witch’s Burden: Chapter One

I’ve edited chapter one for draft two and I decided to share this snippet with you guys! Of course this might not be the same as the final product, but I’m happy enough with where it stands now to put it out into the world.

***

This fairy is being a huge pain in my ass. I know she did it—I can feel her guilt undoubtedly burning through my senses. I can also feel her trying her hardest to charm me, but the interrogation room had has prepped with iron in anticipation of this. There was a law passed years ago prohibiting the use of iron handcuffs on fey, but nothing saying that we couldn’t keep it in the room to weaken their resolve.

To anyone else she would seem harmless. Her petite body, blonde curls, and big brown eyes give off no hints of danger. Unfortunately for her, she reeks of fey. I had recognized it before I even laid eyes on her. The euphoric sensation, smell of lilac, and glittery haze had enveloped me as soon as I stepped foot into the coffee shop where she had been working in an attempt to pass as human.

My intuition is a unique ability that has fostered success as a detective at the Chicago Supernatural Police Department. Most witches have a specific skill that they are more gifted with than others, but a few—myself included—find themselves further equipped. I’m able to recognize other supernaturals, and different breeds present themselves to me in different ways. 

“I know you’re just doing your job,” the fairy says, “but I didn’t do it. I loved him, and my heart is broken by what happened to him.”

Her eyebrows pull together, and her eyes immediately begin to fill with false tears. A man had been found dead of apparent suicide on the upper East side, but the CSPD had reason to believe that there was supernatural involvement. When I discovered that his girlfriend was a fairy, it made sense. Fey are notorious for jealous violence.

“What did he do to deserve it?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat. “Was he seeing someone else on the side? Forget your anniversary?”

She shakes her head solemnly, but I can feel her anger boiling, so I continue. “Maybe he just got bored, then. Human men have the shortest attention spans, don’t they?”

I felt a shift, and her tears immediately stop. I push harder. “Maybe he never even loved you. Maybe he was just using you.”

Her face twists into a horrible expression as she begins to scream furiously. “He brought it on himself! I did everything for him. I broke laws to give him his dreams, and he repaid me by leaving! He thought he could do better! He’s better off dead!”

I sit back and let my shoulders slump in exhausted relief. She continues to scream as the door to the interrogation room opens and two uniformed officers unchain her to escort her to a cell. Jack comes over the intercom, “Good job Rebecca. Meet me in my office.”

Jack is my captain and mentor. When I first joined the CSPD seven years ago I was a meek, self-conscious girl with little knowledge about Chicago’s supernatural population. I knew only that there was a side of myself that I needed to attend to, and Jack helped me do just that. Jack himself was a warlock, so he took me under his wing. He helped me fine tune my abilities and grow into a half-decent witch and detective. 

When I get to Jack’s office the door is cracked open, so I knock lightly as I push it open further. He’s sitting at his desk, his head bent over a scattering of paperwork. As I enter his head shoots up. “Rebecca,” he greets, pushing the papers aside. “Congratulations on cracking that fairy. I was starting to worry, but I don’t know why. Doubting you never seems to do me any good.”

I smile with pride at his comment. Jack and I have butted heads a few times as I’ve been working to find my place at the department, but ultimately I’ve earned his trust. He stands and motions to the door, shoving the paperwork into his bag.

“Let’s go to Len’s,” he says, referring to our usual bar. I nod in agreement and follow him out. It’s well into fall, which means that it’s cold as hell outside. I zip up my puffy coat as we step out onto the street, but it does little against the biting wind.

“It’s a damn good thing Len’s is only a block away,” I grumble, earning a laugh from Jack. Jack’s best skill is fire, and as a result he’s able to warm himself with little trouble. I feel a wave of heat as he extends his magic to me. “Thank you,” I sigh in relief.

When we reach Len’s I’m glad to see that it’s namesake is nowhere to be found. The owner of the bar runs a tight ship, but when he’s gone our favorite bartenders sometimes give us special deals for being easy customers. We slide into our favorite booth just as a leggy brunette comes up to greet us.

“Hey there you two,” she says, grinning down at me. Shit. Bailey. I was supposed to call her after our date last week. I try to give her a genuine smile, but I’m worried that it comes across as more of a grimace. I’m not good at awkward situations, or at hiding my true emotions. 

Jack and I both order the same beer, as tall as we can get them. When Bailey walks away, Jack glares at me. “I see the tension, kid. Don’t you dare ruin this bar for me.”

I wave him off. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll call her later.” Jack rolls his eyes but doesn’t push me further. We talk about the fairy case for a while until Bailey brings us our beer. She hovers for a moment, but when she realizes that I’m not going to explain myself—at least, not in front of Jack—she finally leaves.

“Here’s the thing, Rebecca,” Jack says after a long drink. “I didn’t just ask you here because you did a good job today, although you did. A damn good one, actually.”

I raise my eyebrow at him. “There’s another case, and I’d like you to take charge on this one.”

Color me interested. “Go on,” I prompt, taking a drink from my own beer.

“There was a vampire attack in Logan Square last week,” he explains. “There had been several disappearances in the area, so now we’re starting to wonder if there’s a connection. If there is, we need to follow it and find the missing people.”

“You had me at vampire,” I say darkly. Jack knows my thoughts about vampires, as well as the reasoning, which I’m sure is why he’s chosen me for the case. He knows I’ll do just about anything to take down a bad vampire.

“That’s my girl,” Jack says, holding out his glass. I touch mine to his and we both take a long drink. “Aaron, the rookie, is the one who came across the vampire on a patrol. Maybe talk to him, and of course interview the vampire.”

I press my lips together. I don’t love the idea of being in such close quarters with a vampire, but I’ve done it before. In fact, the last time I checked I had the highest number of vampire arrests at the precinct. Not that I discriminate—I’ve never arrested one who didn’t wholly deserve it. My ranking is purely due to the fact that I’m one of the only ones in our department who has the guts to face off to a vampire in the first place.

Jack and I finish our beers and order another round as we discuss other things. I talk about a concert I went to see a few days ago, and Jack tells me about his great-great-grandson’s first spell casting. Family is important to Jack, especially as he’s getting older. At three-hundred and sixty-two years old he only has about another century and a half left in him. 

I’m the first to leave, citing Mike, my dog, as an excuse. I do have to get home to feed him, but I’m also ready to crawl into bed and process everything that’s gone on today. Jack gives me the stack of papers he was reading when I got to his office. They’re all articles about the disappearances. I take them eagerly and leave the bar. I barely make it a few hundred feet outside before I hear Bailey calling my name.

I stop, curse to myself, and turn around. Great, she’s chasing after me. I was really hoping she would just give up so we wouldn’t have to have this conversation. The smile on her face makes my chest constrict.

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” she says, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. She looks adorable, her nose just starting to turn pink from the cool air.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just been a long day.”

“Is that why you haven’t called me?” she asks. “Lots of long days?”

I sigh and shift on my feet. “Look, Bailey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you but I’m just not good at this, okay? I’m not good at relationships. I should have told you that sooner.”

Her smile starts to fade. “Oh,” is all she says.

“You’re amazing,” I assure her. “It’s nothing to do with you. I just have a lot going on and I should have known better than to start something I couldn’t follow through on.”

Bailey’s face pinches, like she’s holding back whatever emotion really wants to show through her features. “Yeah, you should have,” she says before turning to walk back to Len’s. I think about calling out to her, but I don’t. What’s the use? Instead I turn the opposite way and start back off toward my apartment.

Before I can even fully open the door to the one-bedroom where I live, Mike shoves his nose through the opening and pushes it the rest of the way. He jumps up, hovering on his hind legs in greeting. I smatter him with scratches, kisses, and sweet names before pushing past him to enter the living room.

My apartment isn’t fancy, but the fact that I’m able to even afford anything in a safe neighborhood on my CSPD salary is nothing short of a miracle. It took a lot of research, negotiation, and meditating with my green aventurine gemstones.

I microwave leftovers, because I don’t have the same affinity for heat that Jack does, and settle in the floor in front of my coffee table to dig into the food as well as the stack of papers that Jack gave me. The articles are all similar. Since crime isn’t at all unusual in Chicago, the first article details three people—two women, one man—missing from the area. If gives the basic run down of who they are and why they were in the area, and goes on to pose theories about what could have happened. They propose that maybe this is the product of gang initiation, or that maybe the disappearances are drug related. As the count rises, however, the articles gradually steer toward the conclusion that this is a case of serial kidnapping.

The disappearances span over only three months, making them hard to ignore. The Chicago Police Department—the vanilla one—has continually insisted that they cannot make any statements at this time without putting the case in jeopardy. That’s code for they don’t have shit. They only advise that people be cautious, travel in groups, and don’t spend time in the area if they don’t have to.

The kidnappings only take place at night. Of course they do, because vampires are burned by sunlight. It’s one of the classic myths about them that actually turns out to be true. They can eat all the garlic they wish and have no aversion to silver, but one step into the daylight and that’s it.

I take a too-big bite of an egg roll before standing and going to my book shelf. I run my index finger across the many spines until I land on a book that Jack gave me when I was still in training. Vampyrica: A History of the Living Dead.

I sit on my couch with my back against an arm and open the book as Mike jumps up and settles in at my feet. I thumb through the various chapters, looking for anything that might give me an idea of how the vampires are managing the kidnappings. Vampires don’t age, vampires have no reflection, vampires do not turn into bats…

Certain vampires, though few in number, have the ability to compel their victims into following their commands. These vampires are often high leaders, as their ability makes it easier for them to feed and become stronger.

I dog ear this page and slip the book into my work bag, planning to question our vampire about his coven’s leader and their abilities. Not that I can be sure he’ll share much.

It’s not that I’ve never partnered with double-crossers. In fact, I’d done so fairly recently when we were tracking a werewolf pack in the suburbs. It’s that I have a deep-rooted distrust and hatred toward vampires that’s been fermenting for twenty-three years. Something that I’ve never even considered budging on.

I’m the one who found my parents afterward. I knew something was wrong, but was too young to realize how exactly I knew. Looking back, I recognize that my intuition began at an early age. I felt wrong, and I wanted my parents’ comfort, so I went looking for them. They were in the kitchen. Their bodies were sprawled across the floor.

I called out to them. They didn’t answer. I approached them, and I’ll never stop wishing I hadn’t. I screamed before running upstairs to my room. I hid for what must have been hours, then remembered what they had told me to do if they were ever hurt or if someone broke into the house. It took a while to build up the courage, but eventually I sprinted to the wall phone in the hallway and called 9-1-1.

I lived with my grandmother after that. Before, I hadn’t gotten to see her much. I know now that it’s because my father wanted to keep me sheltered from our heritage. He himself was not a warlock, because in our family it’s only women who have the gift. He knew enough, however, that he and my mother had decided before I was born that they didn’t want my grandmother’s influence around me. I can’t imagine the life I would have lived if they hadn’t died.

I open my eyes and groan, frustrated that I can’t seem to clear my negative thoughts. Mike lifts his head and gives me a concerned expression. I lean over to give him a reassuring pat, then force myself off the couch to clear up my mess. In the kitchen I brew a sleeping potion, knowing that I’ll need quality sleep to prepare for the day ahead.

Tag list: @clarissalopeswriter@cloudyskycloudymind @snowdropwrites @writerfromthesea@vhum @blueinkblot 

[btsinspirationtakesme]

Burn

This is an alternate version of a story I published sometime ago. Incomplete too, I’m freeing up my drafts and I thought it would be nice to let go of some of my longer drafts that haven’t been finished.

Synopsis: Alone in Seoul, Taehyung proves to be your solstice. 

Three years had passed in the blink of an eye, and although you could never quite forget that you met Kim Taehyung, and sort of knew him...you also felt that you lost some sense of who he was like considering you met him so long ago. That, and he met thousands of people everyday. You were probably lucky to be a flash in his mind. He hadn’t been back to visit since the concert, and you weren’t surprised considering how well known his band had become.

You were now 20, and getting ready to move to Seoul for your first job ever. You had followed your passion for art and landed a place at a prestigious art school. You were also finally leaving the small village that you had grown up in your entire life, which was going to be a huge change for you to get use to. So many things had happened in the three years that you lived in that village. You had experienced your first everything. Your first group of real friends, your first betrayal, your first kiss, your first car and your first taste of what life had to offer.  

Life was waiting outside of that village, and you couldn’t wait.

“Do you have the number that the grandmother gave you!” Your mother had yelled over the phone. You were doing the last of your packing when you turned around.

“I kept it, but do you think it’s still appropriate if I call the number up? It’s been a while since she gave me it.” You said, the grandmother had moved away a year ago to be closer to her family in the city, since she was getting older. She had heard about your move to Seoul before she left from your mother, and had said if you ever had any trouble then you should just call the number. She didn’t say much, apart from some nice people would definitely help you.

“Only call if if there’s an emergency! Seoul’s a big city though, you’re not going to have problems like we do here.” She said. You nodded, and hoped that you wouldn’t have to call any strange number. You were all sorted to live with a roommate in Hongdae, close to the art school. You really didn’t have much to worry about, apart from understanding the metro system.

“If you need any extra money, remember to call me. Also, lock the doors. Make sure you get a full 8 hours of sleep, wear your beauty masks to bed-” You cut your mother off, she had given this lecture seven times.

“I know mother, and don’t forget to moisturise your knee caps!” You both laughed, an inside joke that you both had shared about dry knee caps. You knew you would miss your mother the most, since she had been the one to stay up with you all night whilst you cried thinking your fine art wasn’t good enough. This move was all her hard work and yours put together, since you were worried all this focus on art could possibly never pay off.

That night, you had said a temporary goodbye to your mother and friends (Hay-Jeon was the most emotional), and set yourself on an overnight train that would go straight into your new life in Seoul. You were determined to make yourself, and your mother proud. You wanted your art to  be seen on billboards, and you wouldn’t stop until you had made your dream come true.

New life.

More like con artist life.

Your so called ‘room mate’ had decided to text you last minute, to tell you they were gong to move back in with their ex boyfriend and leave the flat that had half the rent due from her side. You were currently unemployed, though you planned on finding work after you had settled in. You had made it inside your flat which was a small, modest property. You were starting to freak out after a while. You were already overwhelmed from the city, that even this small place of refuge was suffocating you as you realised you only had enough money to cover your bailed roomates side of the rent. That money would have gone to your food and living costs, since someone else would have been paying their side of the rent.

If you didn’t pay the rest of the rent in a week, you would literally be left homeless on the streets. You paced around the flat in worry.

“What do I do, what do I do?” You said to yourself. There was no one you could go to. You didn’t want to give your mother a heart attack already, and quite certainly weren’t about to call your friends from back home who would just tell you to come home. Hay-Jeon was a huge believer that you should just stay in the village, she loved it there whilst you wanted to explore the world. You couldn’t call her, not yet.

Your mind flashed to the number that you had taken a picture of with your phone. The number that the grandmother gave you. You had hoped you wouldn’t call this number so early on in your time in Seoul, or that you would even need to call the number, especially since you didn’t know who it was. You took another hour debating whether or not to call the number, but you sucked up your pride. You were going to be responsible, you were going to fix what had just happened and carry on with your new life so you could go home and make your mother proud.

Hesitating, you dialled the number and paused with a whole load of hope someone would pick up.

“Hello? Who is this?” His voice had gotten so much deeper, like fine wine.

The grandmother had given you her grandson- the now idol- Kim Taehyung’s number to call if you needed help in Seoul! Was she feeling okay? He was in and out of the country most of the time, how could he possibly help, or even want to help you?

“I’m sorry, I think I was given the wrong number!” You said, trying to cover yourself. You were so embarrassed, maybe the grandmother did give you the wrong number.

“Wait, you sound very familiar.” He said, keeping you from pressing the end button. Four years couldn’t change the erratic heart thumping that had happened only when you heard his voice. No one had come close to ever making your heart beat so fast, and you tried to shun the thought out of your mind everytime someone liked you.

“Hello?” He repeated, alerted by your absence.

“Yes...I’m Y/N. Your grandmother gave me this number to call in case I had a problem.” You said, feeling conscious.

“Oh, I remember her telling me. You got accepted into art school in Hongdae, right? That’s amazing! She showed me some of your drawings when she came to visit, they’re really cool. I have the one of me hanged up in my room.” He said casually.

You felt your cheeks nearly burst from the blood over flow in them.

“W-she, how did you see them?” You asked.

“Ah, she took some pictures that your mother showed her and showed me when I visited her last christmas at my parents house. I really liked the other one you drew of me. I showed my bandmates, they’re all jealous.” Yes, you were pathetic enough to draw his beautiful face again even after the concert where you were convinced he was just being a nice person inviting you to see him perform.

“Really? Y-you saw more of them?”

Three years on and with anyone else you came across as a fine young woman, but with this person you just had to be a complete child.

The drawing you had done of him was the one that got you accepted into art school, and you never really told anyone that was your winning submission.

“Yes! Are you embarrassed? You really shouldn’t be, you’re going to be a famous artist one day, i’m jealous. I wish I could draw like you.” He laughed, sending chills down your spine.

“Yes, no, I mean I don’t know what to say! Thank you, it means a lot to me.” You admitted, you didn’t know how to react when it came to him.

“It must do, we’re both artists. I know how it feels to finally gain some recognition for the hard work you put into an idea.” He said, hitting every string in your heart.

“Like a huge weight is lifted from your shoulder...but it’s not enough. You want more, you know?” You said instinctively.

“It’ll never be enough for people like us.” Taehuyng said to you.

“But anyways, since you’ve called me...It’s not good right? Did something bad happen?” He asked, and you were taken back to the reason you called in the first place.

Sighing, you opened up about everything. You told him about the room-mate you were supposed to trust, who ended up running away and not paying her side of the rent which was due in a week and how you had no money to cover both her rent and stuff you needed to live at the same time.

“Ah, I see. It’s actually common, people take good people like you for granted.” Taehyung said.

“I know you must be so busy, but is there anything you think would help me? I really just need a job.” You said, hoping to work for her side of the rent to cover the costs.

“You could work, but you won’t be able to focus on art school if you work for so long just to cover her side of the rent. You need to find another room mate first, but you need somewhere to stay first.” He said.

“Do you know anyone that would take me in? I wouldn’t be a bother.” You said, hoping there was some place that would kindly take you in until you could find another room mate and some work.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll have our driver pick you up and to our dorms. You can work for our stylists in the meantime.”

“What, this is a lot for you! You don’t even know what type of person I am, I could be the most messiest person ever.” You said, blurting out the most stupid things.  

“Sure, my grandmother told me how messy you are. She told me how you don’t help re-arrange her furniture and help clean her kitchen on your own will. She told me how you’re the most lazy girl she’s ever met.” He said laughing, knowing exactly well that you were the opposite of everything he just said. The grandmother had really kept him informed about you. Smart woman.

Your mind flashed back to the concert, and the kiss he shared with the pretty girl. You didn’t want to interrupt anything, especially considering how...attached they were.

“Will I be interrupting anything, I’m a girl and...do you have anyone that would mind?” You asked, hoping he’d get the hint. You didn’t want to stay with him only to be sneered at by a girlfriend.

“No...should there be?” He didn’t understand, and you realised how awkward it would become if you just blurted out if he had a girl friend.

“Great, thank you so much.” You said sincerely. Taehyung said it was no problem, a smile sent through his voice on the phone. After hanging up, you took a deep breath. What do I do, what do I do? Your mind filled with a thousand thoughts, realising how even after three whole years your crush on Taehyung had never quite gone away. You wondered if it would still be as obvious as Hay-Jeon had pointed out after the concert incident.

You had changed a lot in these three years, but it was like you reverted back to being an infatuated girl hearing Taehyung’s voice.

You slapped your cheek. Get a grip Y/N. You can’t like him, he’s just doing something nice for you. Don’t like him. You told yourself.

Later that evening, you had arrived at Taehyung’s after he sent for you. The ‘dorm’ he was living in was a fancy apartment complex, and you were buzzed through quickly.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s happy smile was one thing that always made your lips curve up. He looked genuinely happy to see you, putting your body at ease.

You greeted him back, and thanked him for letting you stay with him again. Taehyung rolled his eyes, and put his arm around you, friendly.

You tightened your fists, hoping your heart would slow the hell down. Taehyung was easy to talk to, he asked you about your life and what had gone on throughout the three years. He congratulated you on making it to art school, and said he was excited to see the work you were producing. You talked to him about everything he was doing, and you hoped the fan inside wasn’t making an appearance, but you couldn’t help it. Your probably couldn’t help the way your face brightened up next to him. You had to remind yourself that you were just here because Taehyung was a nice person, nothing more.

“Hello, who are you?” Kim Seojkin was sitting on a stool in their kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal whilst he asked who you were casually.

“This is the genius I told you about who drew me, her name’s Y/N.” Taehyung said, your heart beating faster knowing he talked about you.

You were so screwed, head over heels and he was oblivious.

Even Seokjin noticed. He smiled cheekily, glancing at you.

“Ah, the famous Y/N. Do you know every time someone goes into his room, he shows the portrait you drew of him?” Jin’s voice was cut shot by Taehyung slapping his shoulder.

“Yah, you’re just jealous.” Taehyung said.

After their little banter, Taehyung proceeded to take you to where you would be staying. He realised you were tired, and told you to relax and asked if you needed anything after you sat down on the spacious bed.

“You’ve done too much already, thank you.”  You said, turning to him before he left the room.

Taehyung must have sensed the slight shake in your voice, coming back and sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I know how it feels, coming to a new place from where you were. It’s overwhelming, but you get use to it. You even like it, Seoul’s different. You meet so many people, and some people aren’t so nice, but a lot of people are. Plus, cities need people like us. I know you’re feeling down because of what happened with your roommate situation, but you’ll be okay.” He said, re-assuringly sensing your initial discomfort.

“I just want to make my mother proud, she’s so hopeful I do something with my art here.” You admitted.

“It, feels like you’re under a lot of pressure now, right?” Taehyung asked, like he knew the feeling too.

You nodded. “I don’t know why I feel like this.” You said.

“It’s because we want to make something of ourselves here...it never stops. This feeling. It’s because we know what the alternative could have been.” He said insightfully, hitting every thought you were having.

“I loved the art shop I worked at, but there was no future there.”

“I love strawberries, but not when I would have to pick them.” He said, explaining his situation perfectly.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. I’m here for you.” He said, pushing your feelings everywhere. You smiled at him, but inside  your heart was pulling strings and beating frantically. He had said goodnight and left you to sleep, but your mind had just turned itself alive with thoughts of Taehyung.

You took a deep breath, this was just the beginning.

A month had passed since you had rocked up to Taehyung’s place, shared with 6 other men.

If someone told you this little detail three years ago, you would have passed out out of disbelief.

Yet, here who were, sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen of 7 internationally renowned artists, trying to cover your ears as another small brawl had started on who could have the last box of lucky charm cereal.

“Y/N? Can we have a opinion?” Jimin had nudged you, stopping you from eating your crunchy nut cereal mid way.

“Both of you said you were dieting.” You said, looking at Jin and Jungkook who were fighting over cereal. Yep, a month in and you had managed to become the self that you were always were in front of people you would have otherwise, worried about looking like an idiot in front of.

They paused for a moment, considering your valid point before ignoring it all together and continuing their petty fighting. Taehyung had just come out of the shower, taking the box of cereal from the middle of a heated debate and pouring the last of it into a bowl.

You smirked, well that ended that little fight. Taehyung had a habit of getting too used to your presence, he walked out of the shower with a towel covering his lower half and droplets of water still sliding of his tanned skin.

You were clearly one of the guys in his eyes, despite your feminine appearance.

“Don’t you guys have a schedule today?” You asked, clearing the last of cereal from your bowl and ignoring his lack of clothing.

“Nope, rare day, right?” Hoseok said.

“I’m going to sleep, because I haven’t slept a full night since last month.” Yoongi said.

“How’s your mixtape coming?” You asked, and Yoongi replied that it was going well. You smiled, telling him not to work himself too hard.

At that moment, Taehyung had planted himself down on the stool in between Yoongi and you, breaking up your conversation.

“Don’t you own a shirt?” You asked, this heart-beating thing was getting old, and it refused to stop whenever he looked your way.

“It’s my day off, I can do what I want.” He said, putting a mouthful of cereal in his mouth.

All the other members snorted seeing your interaction. You ignored them, looking at the time.

“I have class in half an hour. I’ll see you guys tonight. Let me know what we’re doing.” You said grabbing the canvas you were working on.

“Can’t you skip? I wanted to hang out today.” Taehyung said, pouting.

“I have a fine art lecture on Khalo, there’s no way I’m missing this.” You said, grabbing your back pack. Your heart needed a break from Kim Taehyung too.

Your fine art course was where you got a little peace from your heart, which was acting like it was this repressed creature everytime Taehyung smiled at you. It was like the vessel was telling you to hug him, touch him, kiss him, smile like an idiot back at him. You were also able to focus, when it came to college.You remembered why you were here, and why a month had passed and no alternative roomate had turned up for the flat you had rented. Taehyung and his friends were kind, letting you stay for free like that. They had also hooked you up to a job with the makeup team at BigHit, which meant you had a job to support yourself too.

You said your byes to everyone, and set out to catch the nearest metro to college.

“Wanna come to my exhibition this evening? I managed to score a room at the national art centre downtown.” Your art school friend, Leo had whispered in your ear as soon as you sat down next to him.

The art centre was notoriously difficult to book a room for, and it was usually reserved for actual artists. Not fine art under-grads.

“Yes! How did you even manage to get a room there?” You asked.

“I asked the owner’s daughter out on a date.” He shrugged.

“You know the owner? How?” You asked, intrigued.

“I looked him up, saw he had family on facebook. Found his daughter, flirted with her. Easy as pie.” Leo said as if he didn’t spend hours trying to search for personal information. You were jealous, Leo was everything that you weren’t like that. He was an artist too, but he was willing to go to the extremes for his art to be seen. His image also helped him, he looked like a young Orlando Bloom.

Meanwhile, you had spent 1000s of applications trying to get retailers to take in one of your pieces.

“I’ll see you there”. He winked, before the lecture lights dimmed and learning began.

That afternoon, you had come back to dorms and changed into slightly more exhibition ready clothes. These were also known as your dress to impress range. The exhibition would have great networking opportunities. You also really wanted to have an exhibition like Leo, someday so the thought of being able to get some really important numbers was motivating you.

“Wah, you look like one of those girls...” Jimin said, glancing at you whilst he grabbed some juice from the fridge as soon as you had come into the breakfast bar to grab some water.

“One of those girls?” You asked, confused on what girl you were. You looked down consciously at your leather jacket and red dress.

“Femme fatale.” He said expressively.

Before you could reply, Taehyung had strolled in from the communal recording studio and stopped seeing you.

He took a glance, and for the first time ever you saw him look...upset?

“You wanted to watch a movie today?” He said, in a low voice. You almost wanted to say he sounded hurt.  

“There’s an art exhibition that my friend invited me to, it’s a really good chance for me to promote my art.” You said, excited.

Taehyung’s face immediently changed.

“That’s great, this is what you’ve been waiting for.” He said, a whole smile on his face.

“I know, I’m hoping I finally land a buyer.”  You said, eyes hopeful. 

Taehyung smiled. “They’d be crazy not to buy your art.” 

You thought back to how much of a struggle it had been to get people to look at your work. Taehyung always knew the right things to say to you. 

“Thanks, Tae. Have a good night.” You said, leaving to go downtown to the exhibition. 

The exhibition was full of faces that you were sure had made it on the covers of Vogue, which intimidated you. You were surprised by how many people Leo knew, because the place was packed. 

“Congratulations Leo, I think you’re about to make it.” You said, once you had managed to catch up with your friend. He was completely wasted, probably from the realisation so many wealthy people had turned up to check out his art. 

“Thank you my lady! 14 years of hard, gruelling work and now my fruits are bearing. Have I introduced you to some people?” He said, voice slurring. 

[literalliterature]

Tagged by @unopenablebox. I really needed a distraction tonight so thx. Uhhhh I’m not really sure who I can tag aside from @salty-scribe but any writer who comes across this should feel free to do it!

1) How many works in progress do you currently have?

Mmmm there are about four that I’d consider myself to be actively working on right now, all of them short stories. One is in the final stages of editing and I’m going to submit it to my professor this coming Friday. I have two more for which I’ve really only written a few paragraphs each, but the stories are pretty well plotted out in my head and I just need to find the time to write them. The fourth...will honestly probably never see the light of day in its current iteration, as its very self-indulgent and I just work on it when I need to de-stress. There are also a bunch of other stories that are incomplete and I wouldn’t mind picking up again at some point in the future, though I’m not planning on doing so any time soon.

2) Do you/would you write fanfiction?

I have written quite a bit of fanfic in the past, but I haven’t written any since around September of last year. I wouldn’t mind picking it up again though.

3) Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

I use both pretty frequently and honestly I don’t have a strong preference one way or the other. I guess when I’m reading for school, I like to use ebooks because I find digital note-taking easier than doing it by hand, but I really enjoy the feel and aesthetic of a traditional book when I’m just reading for pleasure (plus I don’t have to worry about the battery on my device draining). 

4) When did you start writing?

When I was four I wrote a story about a unicorn on giant art paper and it just took off from there. However, I didn’t really start thinking of myself as a writer until I was seven, at which point I started attempting to write a children’s book series about my pet hamster.

5) Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

@salty-scribe @true-booty @hipsterspacetrash @unopenablebox @sundropcocoa and one non-Tumblr friend have all been subjected to my first drafts...I like to get as many of my friends’ perspectives as possible, as they’re all very smart people with good opinions.

6) Where is your favorite place to write?

Honestly? My room, preferably in the evening--it’s just the place where I have the fewest distractions, and I’m VERY easily distracted when I’m writing. When I was a kid, though, my parents would take me pretty regularly to listen to classical music concerts, and I really loved writing while sitting in the concert hall. I’d write in the concert programs while listening to the music.

7) Favorite childhood book?

That depends on what age we’re talking about! The first book I ever remember truly falling in love with was Kildee House by Rutherford Montgomery, which I discovered in the second grade. Then there’s the obligatory Harry Potter mention--my favorite of them was The Order of the Phoenix. I also ate up the Dear America series during my youth and honestly a lot of those stories still really hold up. I don’t know if I’d classify The 13 1/2 Lives of Captain Bluebear as a childhood favorite because, while I did read it as a kid, it’s still one of my favorites.

8) Writing for fun or publication?

I would love to be published at some point.

9) Pen and paper or computer?

Honestly, I really like writing first drafts on pen and paper. Getting started on a story is the most stressful part for me, and using pen and paper takes some of the pressure off because, hey, I’ll have to type it all out later anyway, so it doesn’t matter if the first draft is kind of crappy.

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

I’m taking one now! I’m also going to be taking one next quarter and, uh, hopefully every other quarter after that because I’m a creative writing major lol.

11) What inspires you to write?

Deadlines. Ummm...this is a very difficult question because honestly it feels like something different every time? I just sort of take ideas where I can get them, my dude. 

[awkward-whiteboy]

ANON ASK question

Sorry, Tumblr Mobile fucked up and posted it when I meant to save as draft

1: Name David 2: Age 19 3: 3 Fears dark, heights, someone staying in my life 4: 3 things I love Pugs Pandas Memes 5: 4 turns on Dimples, manors Eyes Booty 6: 4 turns off rudeness Controlling overlyobsessed egotistic 7: My best friend @rinkatai @aesthetichalestorm @bookerdewiit @pokemoncardinal and many more 8: Sexual orientation Male 9: My best first date Meeting her at wendys during her shift 10: How tall am I 6″2 11: What do I miss Being happy 12: What time were I born 4pm or 2am 13: Favorite color black 14: Do I have a crush Yes.. On someone I cant have 15: Favorite quote “I’m David and I’m a fucking piece of trash” - @awkward-whiteboy 16: Favorite place my mind. It’s dark, but I feel at home 17: Favorite food Potatoes breadsticks and chicken noodle soup 18: Do I use sarcasm Nope 19: What am I listening to right now People complain about  their exam grade 20: First thing I notice in new person Eyes 21: Shoe size 11.5 22: Eye color Hazel 23: Hair color Blackish brown 24: Favorite style of clothing Whatever I wear 25: Ever done a prank call? Nope 27: Meaning behind my URL I’m awkard white and a trash boy 28: Favorite movie Cure for Wellness 29: Favorite song Too many 30: Favorite band Too Many 31: How I feel right now Depress 32: Someone I love I rather not say publically, message me 1 on 1 33: My current relationship status ^^^ 34: My relationship with my parents Okay 35: Favorite holiday Leif Erkison 36: Tattoos and piercing i have None... YET 37: Tattoos and piercing i want? I got a guitar quote thingy I am saving to get 38: The reason I joined Tumblr Because I like pissing people off, and when I joined, straight, white, males were the most hated people on tumblr. 39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? .... This is too dark to write about, plus someone is reading over my shoulder as I write this. (MESSAGE 1ON1 FOR MORE) 40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? Nope, dont remember really ever getting any 41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? Nope, wish I could 42: When did I last hold hands? Don’t remember 43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? either 4 mins or 30 minutes 44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? guys shave their legs? 45: Where am I right now? Michigan State University 46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? No one probably 47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? Loud 48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? Both, when im not at college 49: Am I excited for anything? Nope 50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? Sort of. I don’t share everything 51: How often do I wear a fake smile? All the damn time 52: When was the last time I hugged someone? Don’t remember 53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? Happened before... just cry... again 54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? ALOT OF PEOPLE 55: What is something I disliked about today? I have my hellhole class 56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Living: Nikki Sixx Dead: Carl Sagen 57: What do I think about most? why people hate me 58: What’s my strangest talent? eating an ungodly amount of sour candy, and chugging lemon  juice really fast 59: Do I have any strange phobias? not really 60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? behind. I’m ugly 61: What was the last lie I told? I’m okay 62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? video chat, which ends up being no camera 63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? I take a class about this stuff. So I know way too much about this stuff 64: Do I believe in magic? ^^^ 65: Do I believe in luck? ^^^ 66: What’s the weather like right now? cold, and warm #puremichigan 67: What was the last book I’ve read? College textbook. (I really love it) 68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? I think?  69: Do I have any nicknames? CHEF GODDAMNIT DAVID 70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? broken toe, 71: Do I spend money or save it? both 72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? nope 73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? a girls jacket 74: Favorite animal? panda pug 75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? crying and studying 76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? ALLEN.................. 77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? High Hopes 78: How can you win my heart? Be nice and show me pictures of pugs and have sour candy 79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? “Goddamnit David” 80: What is my favorite word? FUCK and other words 81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr I don’t really have favorites, I love all the people I reblog from and those that do the same to me :) 82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? Don’t listen to me 83: Do I have any relatives in jail? Probably 84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? Invisibility and mind reading 85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? Who I love 86: What is my current desktop picture? a graveyard where a tombstone says “Here lies Davids hopes and dreams” 87: Had sex? Yee 88: Bought condoms? Yee 89: Gotten pregnant? NO 90: Failed a class? Currently I am xD 91: Kissed a boy? Nope 92: Kissed a girl? Yep, 6 93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? Yes.. Bad memories of them 94: Had job? Legally.. No 95: Left the house without my wallet? Yep, just did yesterday 96: Bullied someone on the internet? Never bullied, furthest I went was being a bitch to a kid on an online game. kid said if his father hears one more swear word he is grounded, I said “Well you’re father sounds like a lil bitch” 97: Had sex in public? I plead the 5th 98: Played on a sports team? A long time ago 99: Smoked weed? Yes 100: Did drugs? 5th again 101: Smoked cigarettes?^^ 102: Drank alcohol? Yes, a long time ago 103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? Nope 104: Been overweight? Nope 105: Been underweight? EVERY DAMN DAY 106: Been to a wedding? Yes, at least 5 107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? Yes 108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? Nope 109: Been outside my home country? Nope 110: Gotten my heart broken? way too many times. Do i have a heart stil? 111: Been to a professional sports game? Yep, a few 112: Broken a bone? Yes, pinky toe 113: Cut myself? I don’t know..

114: Been to prom? TOO MANY BAD MEMORIES.....

115: Been in airplane? Yes 116: Fly by helicopter? FTTTFTTTTTTTTTTT yes! 117: What concerts have I been to? Motley Crue 2x, Alice cooper 3x, Deep Purple, Edgar Winter Band, Iron Maiden, FFDP, Valraven, Wayland, StoneSour, Alter Bridge, and Skillet. Might go see Judas Priest in winter 118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? Nope 119: Learned another language? German, and a little Russian 120: Wore make up? Yes 121: Lost my virginity before I was 18? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH yes 122: Had oral sex? Yes 123: Dyed my hair? Yep, I suck at it 124: Voted in a presidential election? Sadly 125: Rode in an ambulance? Nope 126: Had a surgery? Nope 127: Met someone famous? A few people 128: Stalked someone on a social network? Yes, for their protection. 129: Peed outside? Yea 130: Been fishing? Yep, I like it for the quiet 131: Helped with charity? Yes, Red cross and food banks 132: Been rejected by a crush? :’( Atleast 5 times 133: Broken a mirror? Nope 134: What do I want for birthday? someone who will understand me and not judge

Ask me stuff :3 (ask as anon though)

[tipsycad147]

7 Awesome Ways To Manifest With The Waxing Moon

Julie Hopkins

I love the moon for so many reasons. It’s beautiful. It also helps me feel connected to my friends and family when I’m travelling. And it sets a good example for all of us here on planet earth by showing us how to flow through life’s changes with grace and ease. I want that energy in my life!

The moon has a 29.5-day cycle. This means we get to experience a full lunar cycle almost every month.

There are several popular ways people observe the moon’s phases. Here’s a breakdown of each one.

The Eight-Phase System:

New Moon

Crescent Waxing Moon

First Quarter Moon

Waxing Gibbous Moon

Full Moon

Waning Gibbous Moon

Third Quarter Moon

Waning Crescent Moon

Some people use a nine-phase system to include the dark moon, which refers to the time in between the waning crescent moon and the new moon.

The Four-Phase System:

New Moon

Waxing Moon

Full Moon

Waning Moon

The Two-Phase System:

New Moon

Full Moon

It really doesn’t matter which phases of the moon you choose to celebrate. I got back and forth between the four-phase system and the two-phase system depending on how busy I am, and what kind of energy I need at the time.

The cool thing is that even with so many variations, there seems to be a general consensus regarding the moon’s energies throughout its cycle.

The new moon is a time for setting intentions and introspection. The waxing phase is great for manifesting and making progress towards your goals. The full moon is all about celebration. The waning phase helps with releasing.

The Waxing Moon

Today, I’m focusing specifically on the magical energy of the waxing moon, or what I like to call the Make-It-Happen Moon. This phase lasts about fourteen days. It occurs right after the new moon phase and ends at the full moon. During the waxing moon phase, the moon will transform from a tiny sliver in the sky to a big ball of light. Each night during the waxing phase, the moon appears to grow a little more. It’s a visual representation of how we use our own power to take our desires from idea to reality.

The waxing moon offers its manifesting power to us freely. It’s available to us for those fourteen days each cycle whether or not we choose to use it. If you’re looking to make your dreams real, this energy will be highly beneficial in your magic.  

7 Ways to Manifest During Waxing Moon

#1: Set an Intention and Tell the Moon

Many people will tell you to set your intention during the new moon, but I think the first days of the waxing phase are excellent for goal setting. I’ll use the restful introspective energy of the new moon to let my ideas marinate. Then when the powerhouse energy of the waxing moon comes thundering in, I’m ready to commit to my intention.

Once I have a goal in mind, I’ll perform a waxing moon spell around it. Your ritual can include anything you want, but if you need ideas, here’s what I do.

Waxing Moon Intention Spell

Go outside or near a window on the first day of the waxing moon. (This happens about three nights after the new moon phase.)

Write an intention (or a word that represents your intention) on a bay leaf, and hold it between your palms.

Thank the waxing moon for being present for your ritual. I do this by holding my hands up towards the moon (with the bay leaf still pressed between my palms).

When you start to feel the current of energy from the waxing moon, bring your hands to your heart (still holding the bay leaf).

Spend a few minutes thinking about something that will bring up the feelings you associate with your intention. For example, you want to call in romantic love, so you visualise yourself getting asked out while you’re sipping a cold brew at your favourite coffee shop.

Next, open your eyes and light the bay leaf on fire. Do this in a fireproof container so you stay safe. Wait for the bay leaf to burn completely.

Watch that intention float up to the moon carried by the smoke.

Trust that the moon has received your intention and that it’s already helping you manifest it.

Thank the moon, and your spell is complete.

#2: Come Up With a Manifesting Plan

After you’ve shared your intention with the moon, start planning how you’ll create opportunities for your intention to manifest. If you’ve decided to manifest a new job with this waxing moon, brainstorm some actions you can take to align your energy with that of a new job. You could apply for jobs online, ask friends for leads, carve out time every day to visualise your job or look for internship opportunities.

After you have some ideas, get out your calendar and mark the last day of the waxing moon. (This will be the night before the full moon.) Plan what days you’re going to do each action. Shoot for one action a day towards your goal—even if it’s just a quick spell before you go to bed.

Finally, decide on how you’ll celebrate the full moon. This can be dinner and a movie, tickets to a concert, or a relaxing bath with some wine. Pick something special that you wouldn’t normally give yourself. Whether or not you stick to your waxing moon plan, enjoy your celebration. You and the moon deserve it!

Let’s say your intention is something huge like writing a novel. You’re probably not going to accomplish that during the fourteen days of the waxing moon. It will likely take you at least a few moons to bang out the first draft. If that’s your goal, plan the action you’ll take during this current waxing moon. You could commit to outlining a chapter a day for fourteen days. Or maybe you’ll choose to wake up an hour early to write. After the waxing phase is over, you can think up some ways to use the waning moon energy for your writing project.

(By the way, if your goal IS to write a novel, put your laptop or writing notebook by your window so the moon can shine on it. The waxing moon is great for cultivating creativity.)

#3: If You Need Clarity, Ask the Moon

The moon has been around almost as long as the earth has. It knows things. It can help you if you don’t know exactly what to manifest. You can access the moon’s ancient wisdom by simply asking.

Take a moment each night during this moon phase to close your eyes and send a question up to the moon. Something like, “What should I focus on tomorrow?” or “What should I create tomorrow?” will work just fine.

Imagine your words flying out of your mind towards the moon like a comet. Then open your journal and spend five or ten minutes writing whatever comes to mind. You’ll likely get your answer.

#4: Ask For an Unexpected Gift

I do this every night during the waxing moon and it’s brought me so many crazy wonderful things—a new project, an idea for a story, a random check in the mail, a flirty text from someone cute. It makes me smile just thinking about all my moon gifts.

Try it for yourself. You’ll notice quickly that when you work with the moon’s abundant energy, magic happens in the most surprising ways with very little effort. There are two reasons for this. The first is the moon is already putting off a strong manifesting energy. It wants to send blessings your way. The second reason is the moon knows what you want. It’s been shining down on you all your life night after night. You can trust the moon to send some love your way.

#5: Let the Waxing Moon Charge Your Magical Tools

The moon will charge anything its light touches with whatever energy it’s holding. For fourteen days, the waxing moon’s light will be sending out lots of joyful manifesting energy. Set out whatever you’ll need for your manifesting magic, and let the moon do its thing while you sleep.

These tools can include water, magical oils, herbs, crystals, incense, written incantations, journal entries, candles, magical card decks, or your cauldron. The moon won’t discriminate. Whatever you chose to leave out overnight, the moon will make sure it’s all ready to go!

You don’t have to make a big deal about doing this. For me, it’s like plugging in my cell phone before bed. It just takes a minute, and I go to bed knowing my tools will be fully charged in the morning.

#6: Take a Moon Bath

In addition to charging your magical tools, you can charge yourself by taking a moon bath. To do this, take a blanket or a lawn chair, and sit outside in a place where you get a nice view of the moon. Hold out your arms and let the moon’s light wash over you. Feel its manifesting power as it lands on your skin and seeps into your body. Breathe in the light of the moon. Smell it. Open your mouth and allow the light to enter your body that way. What does it taste like? Can you FEEL its power?

While you’re soaking in moonbeams, take a moment to admire the moon’s beauty. Notice the light and dark spots from the way the sun’s light hits the moon’s surface. Look for shapes or figures in the moon. Observe any feelings that come up as you’re doing this.

Also, you don’t have to sit. You can dance, jump around, or lay down. Let yourself be wild under the moon if you want. I feel a juicy sort of energy when I do this like I’m connected to all other witches from the past, present, and future.

Maybe you want to go camping and sleep under the moon. Maybe you’d like to cuddle with your lover, your cat or your family under the moon. Experiment with everything you can do in the moonlight. There’s no limit.

My favorite thing to do when I’m taking a moon bath is to revel in the abundance of the universe. I’m reminded that there are more than enough stars, more than enough sky and more than enough moonlight for everyone in the world. What a great energy to bring to manifesting spells!

#7: Invite the Moon to Make Magic With You

Go outside (or by a window if the weather’s bad) and actually perform your magic in the light of the moon. This could be a meditation, a spell or a tarot card reading. It’s a beautiful way for you and the moon to co-create together.

Be curious about this. Notice any unusual feelings that come up during your magic and journal about them. Keep track of the magical results you see. Are you manifesting faster? Did you feel a burst of energy when you lit your candle? Do money spells work better under the moon? What about love spells? Once you get familiar with the waxing moon energy, you’ll start to know what spells are especially potent when you team up with the moon.

The Moon and You

As you spend more time with the moon, you’ll strengthen your connection to it. Enjoy the entire process and don’t get hung up on your goals not manifesting fast enough or not being able to feel the moon’s energy right away. All that will come with time. Have patience with yourself just like the moon is patient with you. You have many more nights to explore the limitless power of the moon as you flow through every phase of your life.

Have you ever wanted to get more in tune with the moons energies and learn to incorporate this powerful source of magic into your witchcraft?

Lunar energy is such a prevalent part of modern witchcraft but it can be so hard to get started if you’re unfamiliar with the moons cycles and how each phase affects you, your magic, and your life.

In The Witch’s Guide To Lunar Alignment I make the process of learning about this amazing source of magic easy for you. With a guided tour through the cycles, a workbook to help you learn your personal lunar patterns, and a lunar calendar to track the moons phases, this course has everything you need to start working with lunar energy in your craft today.

Learn More Here >>

https://thetravelingwitch.com/blog/2018/5/27/7-awesome-ways-to-manifest-with-the-waxing-moon

[anghraine]

Having been wowed by your fanfic ("wandering inside this night" holds a special place in my RO heart), I'm curious: what is your writing/editing process like?

Oh, thank you!

My writing process really varies depending on what I’m doing, but I can explain it in terms of wandering inside this night.

It’s long and rambly, so you can scroll down for a very concise tl;dr version of The Process.

1. Eureka!

I pretty much always start out with 1) a vague sense of something I want to write about, and I sort of mentally fish around until I land on an idea, or 2) an idea pops into my head, or 3) some combination of both.

The last two are the most common for me—I have more ideas than I could ever write. With wandering, it was definitely that way. 

I was hollering into my tags about the Cassian-Leia parallels pretty early, which … Jyn-Han is obvious, but I felt like the Cassian-Leia ones went relatively unnoticed but were probably more profound. And as spies in the ragtag ANH-era Rebellion, it’s more than possible that they’d know each other; I’d made babbling posts, but I really wanted to do something with it. So I sketched out a backstory in until the last chance is spent, but I still wanted more, and also to get into Han-Jyn at the same time, and also just—have something fun! And suddenly (I was actually at a Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert, lol) the idea popped into my head of jumping to the Han/Leia meltdown of 1980 with established relationship Jyn/Cassian.

2. Percolation

This is particularly important for longer fic (or any long-form writing, really), but it helps with shorter things, too. It’s where you’re not actively working to figure out details or more ideas, much less writing, just passively letting your mind wander. It’s best if you’re actually doing something else—something that doesn’t take much attention, but enough that you can’t completely focus on your thoughts, like showering or washing dishes or something.

When something does come to mind, I scribble it down (or stick it in a doc in some form that will hopefully make sense to me later). Sometimes it’ll be scraps of dialogue, or a phrase I want to make sure gets in somewhere, or a plot-point, just anything that pops up. Ideally, though, I don’t write anything beyond that—just note down anything I might forget and let my ideas develop freely. 

Normally, I’d only do so much of that with something like wandering (fairly short, fairly light). But I ended up snowed in with my extended family, where I was both bored and unable to sit down and write. So I’m sitting there entertaining myself by imagining Jyn and Han, drinking buddies, and how that’d work with the Cassian-Leia brotp of ruthless idealism (Han would be jealous!), and just having that percolating in my head while I read fic and let stray thoughts pass through my mind. (‘Okay but Cassian would fucking hate Han’ being uppermost among them, lol)

3. Brainstorming/Outline

At this point, I try to pin down the free-floating ideas and/or organize what scraps I have into something coherent. With something longer, like ad astra, I generally do a pretty traditional outline—decide what the story is specifically going to cover, and where the things I’ve actually written fit with that, and what’s going to go in the spaces between.

It’s not classroom-style brainstorming; I usually brainstorm ideas by trying to put together an outline. I’ll be “okay, I want to start with something like that shot of Jyn on the platform with an Imperial ship at the end, but it’s Bodhi” and “they get sucked into the Death Star and Jyn exploits Cassian’s injuries to get in” and then I sit down and figure out how I’m going to get from one to the other. “Okay, so—there’s no way they can actually get Kaytoo, but maybe something—yeah, she just up and grabs his dismembered head l o l, okay, and there’s the jump into the ship which rattles Cassian further, and she’d try to treat him with whatever supplies are available, and we’d have Bodhi trying to get out without being shot down, and maybe I can work in the your father would have been proud of you line, and Jyn goes to check on Bodhi and they see the Death Star and…”

Also, it helps a ton to actually talk ideas over with someone else. With me, it’s generally @steinbecks​—not some strict ‘this, then this, then this, tell me what you think’, but ‘I had this idea’ and ‘OK BUT IMAGINE IF’ and ‘haha yeah exactly’ and ‘shit you’re right they do change outfits’ etc. 

4) Drafting (The Big One)

Ideally, I only get to this after nailing down an outline or at least getting a lot figured out in chats/notes to myself. That’s what I did for pretty much all my most successful longfics—First Impressions (f!Darcy/m!Elizabeth), Season of Courtship (Darcy and Elizabeth’s engagement), we get dark, only to shine (AU of The Borgias that moves the canon pairing getting together from S3 to S1), and now ad astra. It helps a TON if you have trouble with discipline and direction, as I do, because you can always go back to it and figure out where you need to be headed when you’re muddled/uninspired, even if some details change along the way. (They always do, for me.)

I did some of that with wandering, but … I was snowed-in, lol, and finally everyone had gone to sleep and my head was full of ideas. So I laid down with my laptop and just dove right in with the only clear line I had in mind: 

Han Solo once had apleasant conversation with Cassian Andor.

Just once.

That was where I planned it to begin! The actual beginning came later, because I very quickly ran into a problem—the sentence worked to jump into exposition, not an actual scene. And with the exposition, I needed to introduce 1) Cassian’s hatred of Han, 2) Han’s lesser but firm dislike, 3) Cassian and Leia’s history together as spies, 4) Han’s brief and half-hearted attempt to suck up, 5) Jyn and Cassian being married, 6) Han’s friendship with Jyn, 7) Han’s jealousy as contrasted to Cassian and Jyn’s mutual trust, etc. Yikes.

So I kept getting mired down in explanations and flashbacks (I actually wrote the scene where Jyn drunkenly complains about finding something for Cassian’s birthday, lol) that slowed it down. And I wasn’t really happy with anything—I constantly niggled at sentences and moved things around and rephrased and it just didn’t work right. I actually have the document I worked in (I didn’t have Internet at the time), so you can see this sort of intermediate stage:

I niggled with it for the rest of the vacation, then it hit me that the issue was that starting a fic with exposition was the real problem. Starting with ESB-era Han just being ESB-era Han could let me work the exposition section in, and without the pressure of it being the opening section I could keep it to a tangential aside and move the jealousy around and so forth. And from there I could just leap to the canon scene with bonus Cassian-Leia shared indignation, and impulsively I added Kaytoo at the end. 

Moral of the story: if you keep trying to make something work and it just won’t, there’s probably something deeper going on. Take a step back and figure out why it’s not working, and often you’ll be able to correct course. Once I tacked in that little ‘Han sulks’ section at the beginning, it all fell together easily. 

5) Revising!

You can probably guess from #4 that I do a lot of this as I write rather than after I write. That’s true, to an extent.

It can be a very … I wouldn’t say discouraging, but sluggish way to write, because you end up struggling over phrases you might not even keep in the end. I genuinely think it’s best to at least try to restrain the impulse to polish everything, but at the same time, there are some of us who genuinely can’t keep going if the current section isn’t working (again, see #4!). So I allow myself a certain amount of freedom in polishing-as-I-go, while restraining the impulse to do anything more substantial. The single best way of doing this is sprinting—writing in short, timed bursts with little to no editing, ideally with a partner that you check in with. (Again, I generally do this with @steinbecks​.)

However, even if you edit as you go and turn out pretty clean drafts, you should still revise at the end. What I generally do is, first of all, just quickly re-read. The writing process is a lot slower than the reading one, and it’s easy to get so focused on particular passages or sections that you lose sight of how it’s working as a whole. So that quick read-through is a way to back up and see how it’s holding together. It’s best if you give yourself a break before you do this—a day or two at least, to get your mind out of the writing mode and look at it with relatively fresh eyes. 

(I will say that I almost never wait. But I do pretty much always end up editing chapters yet again in the first couple of days after I’ve posted them. Sometimes it’s contuinity, sometimes a passage that isn’t working quite the way I thought, whatever. There’s always something. It’s why the chapters I post at Dreamwidth are generally cleaner than the ones at Tumblr, which are cleaner than the first versions posted at AO3.)

However you do that read-through, the most important for me is the next one. At this point, I read the whole fic/chapter/essay/whatever from start to finish—out loud. In fact, if it’s possible, I’ll do a full-on dramatic reading. By reading aloud, you can catch things like typos that your mind silently corrects for your eyes, but also it’s easier to notice sentence-level problems like repeated words/phrases and unvaried sentence structure. If something makes me cringe when I read it aloud, I cut it or rewrite. If saying it aloud makes it sound wrong for the character, it probably is wrong for the character. Sometimes I do the dramatic reading revision two or three times.

And then I either post or print!

The short version:

1) I get an idea, 2) I let the ideas develop without thinking too hard about them, 3) I nail down and think up specific ideas, mostly through chat and/or outlines, 4) I plow through a draft, rearranging/adding material if things just aren’t working, and 5) I revise, once with a quick re-read of the whole thing, and then again by slowly reading it aloud to myself to catch problems with (primarily) mechanics, voice, and word choice.

[ventingblacklist]

3x9  The Director

“Three hours to make one woman go away? We’ve collapsed entire governments in less time.”

We open on Liz in a jail cell. Same day. Ressler and company come in to transfer her to D.C.

Liz: Just so you know, I’m not ashamed of what I did. Ressler: You shot the Attorney General of the United States. Liz: He was a terrorist. Ressler: He was unarmed. Liz: Well, I’m glad you have your convictions. I just don’t wanna die for them.

They suit Liz up with chains and bulletproof vest and take her out to the vehicle. The cops turn their backs to her. Traitor to the country and all.

Laurel and the Director discuss Liz’s capture. Peter said she would never be caught, obviously intended to kill her instead. Reven might be dead, but she put protocols in place to activate upon Liz’s capture.

Peter: What kind of protocols? Hitchin: Cynthia Panabaker kind. Yeah. She’s White House Counsel, and a real pain in the ass. She’s drafted an executive order mandating Keen’s transport to the Federal Courthouse for a closed hearing – with Judge Trotter.

They’ve got about three hours to kill Liz before that transport.

Hitchin: You know, this entire airport novel started when you overplayed your hand with Raymond Reddington. It’s time for you to close the book on Elizabeth Keen. Permanently.

Red calls Ressler. Tells him that Ressler’s safety procedures will fail. That he has a plan, but needs one more day to put the final piece in place.

Ressler: Oh, so now you’re gonna share your plan with me now that I’ve arrested your partner in crime? Face it, Reddington. I beat you.

Red: There are no beatings here, Donald. No winners or losers. There is only Agent Keen’s life....you’re about to witness the full force of a shadow government working in concert to crush you.

Red tells him that they all need to guard her with their lives. Ressler tells him Navabi is off the task force. Red takes a moment to kind of warn Ressler to be nice to Dembe.

Liz is pretty much just thinking about how this is her last day on earth.

Karakurt and company make it to the cabin. Cooper takes Charlene to her sister’s. 

Red calls Aram. Tells him to change the password on the box. 

They bring Liz in and put her in the box. 

Liz: Whatever happens, I don’t blame you.

Ressler: I’ll keep you safe. I promise.

They put Dembe in holding. Ressler can’t get in touch with Reven. He tells Aram no one’s heard from her since last night.

You can tell Aram is feeling a guilty for snitching. If Liz dies, he’s gonna be feeling some big time guilt. The Director walks in.

Aram: You promised me that Agent Keen would receive a fair hearing. Ressler: Something’s wrong.

The Director claims they need to interrogate Liz about a terror attack being planned by Russia, so they’ll be moving her to CIA custody. Claims Ressler isn’t cleared to see the intel.

Ressler says he won’t give him the codes. But the FBI director handed them over to Peter. Or so he thinks.

Ressler stands in front of the box, ready to draw his gun. The code doesn’t work and Peter is pissed. But Ressler can honestly say he didn’t change it.

Ressler calls Reddington. 

Red: Agent Ressler. How’s our girl?

Ressler: You were right. I can’t protect her. ... Red: Are you ready to do your part now? Ressler: I won’t let him have her.

Red: I’ll take that as a yes. 

Ressler says he can’t move her yet. Red tells Ressler to keep guarding her and when the time comes, make sure Karakurt gets there safely. This of course leads to Red having to explain the whole Karakurt situation.

Red says he has to meet someone and hangs up. I wonder who the someone is...

I’m going to make far more out of this scene than is necessary, just because I so enjoy these two. 

“Donald. I find him so stiff so much of the time. He doesn’t appreciate life’s trimmings. Take yourself, for example.” Oh if he only knew. 

Red: It’s my understanding he fired you for helping Elizabeth come to my rescue.

Samar: He had every right. I went behind his back. I’m willing to take responsibility for my actions.

Red: Watch out. That’s the kind of spirit that could save America. Thank you for meeting me, Samar.

“What do you want?”

Red: We’re going to clear Elizabeth’s name. It’ll involve a sizable drug haul, an FBI heist and the US Treasury Department. But first, I need to make an appointment...with the Foreign Minister of Venezuela. 

Oh. Is that all? They’ve got, what, two, three hours to do all this? Good luck.

Ressler told Red Samar was off the task force and dialogue indicates that he called and asked her to meet with him. She’s there on her own time. And kind of outside the law at this moment. Actually, definitely outside it.

Ressler confides in Laurel since Reven said she was trustworthy. He tells her about Karakurt. Then Laurel asks about Markin, and Ressler knows: Reven’s dead, Laurel’s Cabal, and Karakurt is in danger. He tells Aram.

“Laurel Hitchin is in the Cabal. And I just told her where to find the only person who can save Keen. She just told the Director.”

Ressler can’t get a hold of Cooper. He’s going to have to get there first. Aram tells him to go. That they won’t break in because he changed the code.

Reddington blackmails Rafael to get a meeting with the foreign minister today.

Red: You see that lovely woman there? The one with the camera? She’s a stringer for UPI. Dear, dear friend. Shoots my Christmas card every year.

Pardon me as I catalog every Red/Samar moment.

Is it possible to ship a flirtation? I definitely do. They better not take this away from me.

Red: El Dorado came to represent the fantasy of boundless wealth – and that is what’s inside the package. Samar: I don’t understand. Red: You will, once we steal it from the FBI.

Samar smiles at that.

Cooper and Charlene argue about their marital problems.

Charlene: I mean, how many times do I have to tell you? It wasn’t about sex. Cooper: If it wasn’t about the sex, then why’d you have sex?

rofl

They’re so caught up in arguing that Cooper hasn’t been picking up. Charlene finally gets him to answer. It’s Ressler. They determine that Ressler is closer, so he’ll get to the cabin first.

Liz: He’ll come for you. Peter: Reddington? Yes, I expect he will, now that his prima ballerina is trapped in a jewelry box.

The Director tells Reddington on the plane that he knows who he is to Liz. And he asks if Liz knows the connection right after he mentions the prima ballerina, so I don’t think the ballerina reference was unintentional. It definitely means something. Ballerina post here. 

Peter: His connection to you. It’s always been curious to me. Follows you around like a faithful bloodhound. But you still don’t know. Well, that’s too bad. It’s a very unsatisfying way to go out, don’t you think?

Samar gives Red the details of where the package would be and who would have it at the moment. Red says they need to take it without them knowing, so they go to a storage locker of his to get some cocaine to stage a crime scene.

Samar says she never took him for a drug dealer. He’s not. He’s invested in medical marijuana though. Mentions that he enjoys opium dens, a little hashish. 

“But stimulants, I have no taste for. I prefer that slight curve at the small of the back, the swell of a breast, the soft nape of the neck to quicken my heartbeat.”

They’re so freaking cute. 

She never responds to his advances, but she definitely appreciates his appreciation. Especially after being run out of the post office on a rail.

They stage the crime scene. Samar calls it in, minus her accent. 

Once everything is set up, Red leaves her to it. Trusting her to get the package and bring it to the heliport.

Aram talks to Liz. About an hour to go now. Liz says she’s having trouble breathing. 

The Director confronts Aram about changing the code. 

“Losing oxygen in there? I’m sorry. We don’t have the door code... That would be a tragedy.”

Karakurt knows about Liz and Tom. Knows about the annulled marriage. 

Ressler shows up. The Cabal is on his heels.

The lack of oxygen is becoming a problem. Aram begs Sweatervest to do something, no sympathy. Aram tries to access the ventilation controls from his terminal.

Tom asks Ressler how the Cabal found out they had Karakurt. Um, tracking chip. Duh. You just spent the better part of a day running from the Cabal. Well, maybe Tom thinks that Ressler tipped the Cabal off even before, but.. eh. Continuity error.

Or yet another example of Tom being inexplicably stupid, like when he accused Red of needing Liz out of prison so he could have his little task force. Just, inexplicable dumbness. Do the writers really not keep track of what Tom should or shouldn’t know in any given episode?

Okay, rant over.

As for knowing about Karakurt at the cabin, Solomon was close to tracking them down there anyway, so not sure Ressler’s slip up to Laurel did much more than accelerate the process.

Aram can’t access the controls. He yells at the camera.

“I’ll go to the press. I don’t care! There are witnesses here. I will tell the world what you’re doing here. Fix the air!”

The Director tells Laurel she’ll either die in the box due to an “equipment malfunction,” or she’ll “try to escape” once she’s in CIA custody and they’ll shoot her.

“In any case, you are looking at a ghost.”

The FBI finally gets to Samar’s crime scene. I love the fake trooper guy. “We offered her a doughnut.” Trooper guy distracts the FBI guy and Samar grabs the case.

Ressler and Tom load their guns and settle in for confession time.

Ressler: I’m the one who tipped off the Cabal – about this hunting cabin. Tom: Are you kidding me? Why would you do that? Ressler: Trusted the wrong person. Tom: Let me guess, you were just doing what you thought was right. Even if you were dead wrong.

I swear, this has a double application. Tom is speaking of himself here. Trusted the wrong person. Did what he thought was right. Ended up dead wrong. At least, it would be nice if that turns out to be the case. 

Ressler tells him about his dad. I guess he’s telling everyone now.

“I spent all these years wanting to believe that he died for the right thing. I’m not so sure now.”

Liz passes out. Aram gives them the code. Some great acting from Amir.

Back to the cabin.

I can definitely see why some think that Tom is about to confess something here. After all, Ressler just shared how he screwed up. Tom seems to relate. Now they might die, and it definitely feels like it’s Tom’s turn to make a confession. 

Tom: The Cabal, the ones coming for Liz – 

Ressler interrupts. “They’re not gonna get her.”

And firefight ensues.

At the end of it, Karakurt has a gun trained on Tom, or so it appears. Karakurt says something. Netflix says it’s Russian. I’ve seen other places say it’s “knees!” in English. It sounds similar to “down” in Russian, “вниз” which sounds like “vniz.” 

If it’s Russian, then Tom knows Russian. Not really a surprise. 

They’re hauling Liz out and Aram pulls a gun on Peter.

Liz begs him to put it down.

Liz: Aram. Aram, look at me. Look at me. I don’t blame you for letting me out. I don’t. Now please put the gun down.

And Panabaker to the rescue!

Panabaker: Excuse me! Where exactly do you think you’re taking this young lady?

Hitchin: Mrs. Panabaker, right on time.

Lady, I love you.

Meanwhile, Red tries to talk Diaz into accusing Peter of war crimes. Just as Diaz is about to leave, Samar pulls up with the case. Diaz agrees. 

Solomon puts a gun to Tom’s head. Ressler puts his gun down because he sees Cooper coming up behind.

“Did you even go to the Academy?”

Cooper knocks Solomon out. When he wakes up, Ressler’s really wanting to shoot him. 

This scene is just weird to me. I don’t particularly care for it. Tom seems out of character in it, honestly. Just shoot the sucker. 

Ah, well. They arrest him.

Laurel gets off the phone with the Director of National Intelligence. Panabaker’s right, Peter won’t be taking Liz.

“I have never seen two people so disappointed that the country isn’t under attack.”

Like two scolded children.

Panabaker says she consulted with Reven and Liz isn’t going anywhere without Agent Ressler.

He walks in, right on cue. He stops to warn Laurel.

“I know what you did. I know you killed Reven Wright. This isn’t over.”

Liz thanks Aram. 

Haha, you didn’t kill me. Nanner nanner.

Cooper leaves home. They put Solomon in Dembe’s cell and let Dembe go. Tom handcuffs Karakurt to the table in what looks like a mobile home. Ressler tells Liz he believes she was framed.

Aram bikes out to meet Red over an open grave. Dude. Way to terrify the guy who you’re going to thank for saving Liz’s life. 

This is another weird scene to me. Who does this? ‘I needed to remember how it feels to bury someone I love, so hey, check out the open grave. And I’ll bury the lead and let you shake in your boots a bit before letting on that I’m forever in your debt.’

“I’ve stood over the open grave of someone I’ve loved too often. Once for my mother. And then...the others.”

Episodes 8 and 9 take place over the course of one day.