#so i have not re-read it and i could be completely wrong but fellas

[july-19th-club]

fellas, is it gay if you write your buddy a note addressing him playfully as 'dear sir ___' and then tell him about how he taught you what love truly meant? is it gay if you sign it with your full name? is it gay if the recipient stores it between the pages of a book of prayers, where it won’t be found for years until someone else enters the house where the book has been sitting and opens it up while dusting off the shelf? trying to decipher the code of an old Christmas card I found while cleaning the house I'm going to rent and im about to go totally spare

[problematicpervertpod]

recs on recs on recs

Yaoi/Manga I’m reading/have read. Please support the artists on official websites. If you have recs or want to chat about any of these get in my messages right the fuck now my dudes. Also spoilers, also this probably doesn’t make sense to anyone but me, also I think I’m funny sorry in advance.

Dangerous Convenience Store

Tags: Ongoing, self aware lead for the most part, gangs, smut, love triangle, possessive, not rapey, seme is like the fucking hulk compared to uke, college, age gap, good art, muscular bodies, seme is adorable/romantic in sp chapters, sexual awakening, meeting the gang (in two ways!), FAINTS OF CUTENESS/HOTNESS, the memes after every chapter got me gagged, HAHE hahahahahahahahahaha, OMG DO I GET SOME CNC?! (update: short lived), we stan a vocal man (Ahjussi), thigh fucking, my mans be like my thighs hurt fuck my ass instead DECEASED, ass smacking, these memes are so good god damnit, rimming

8/10, I live for Ahjussi (Am I spelling this wrong..)

The New Employee 

-love love love

Tags: ongoing, we stan supportive boyfriends, healthy relationship, boss/employee, smut, office setting, good art, 10/10 will re-read, muscular bodies

Love Shuttle

Tags: completed, ABO, enemies to lovers, possessive, coworkers, fake relationship, strong omega, the art sucks but I like the story, art gets better after the 1st season, alphas eyes change colors when happy/anxious, muscular bodies, 7/10, update 10/10 art is meh but fml this storyline is basic af in the best way and it’s the fluff/smut I need, when you’re caught by the folks *cringe*

Hold Me Tight

Tags: ongoing, boss/employee, bodyguard, gio can’t feel heat until felix comes along, uke is strong af, horny bastards, smut, possessive, tragic childhood, moving in together right away, rich seme, felix in a bunny costume though *heart eyes*, dialogue is great, rape in a technical sense but the vibe is written like both characters are all good after? Ex. hospital scene…dub con, ART IS GREAT, hand holding during sex, 10/10 will re-read, muscular bodies

Yours to Claim 

Tags: ongoing, love triangle, Dom/sub dynamics, smut, main is big switch energy, reincarnation, jealousy, manipulative, possessive, self aware lead for the most part, toxic af, GREAT ART, college, rich semes, 10/10 will re-read and not even finished, SONOFABITCH that cliff hanger!! Season 3 come thruuuu (I have to wait until November? *cries* BUT MAH LOVE TRIANGLE!!, I want a THROUPLE GOD DAMN IT

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Tags: obsessed with this story, will the incense burner scenes make it?? No tags because I'll never forget this one haha wangxian 5ever, send me all fanfics/fan art you have about this story, love Dark Wangji, Jadecest, ABO/omegaverse, Bottom Wangji/Top Wei Ying, and honestly anything regarding this fandom

Bj Alex

Tags: completed, great art, 11/10 will re-read, cam boy, fanboy, seme is an asshole, uke is so sexy, jealously, rich seme, enemies to lovers kind of?, CHANWOO IS MY BOY FOR LIFE, Chanwoo MD supremacy, BDSM (like really really), fuck I love Chanwoo, college students, rich seme, emotional rollercoaster, uke soft body, mean seme, college life, that one nosy bitch ass guy trying to expose my boys needs to fuck right off, seme split/fake personality, dub con 

Anti PT

Tags: ongoing, 11/10 re-readable, porn with feelings, love triangle, jealousy, attempted non-con, personal training wink wink, main love interest is actually the best, second male lead is a god damn creep, first time, smut, great art, sex addict/constantly horny uke, I WANT A HWI, 

Related: https://www.anime-planet.com/manga/anti-pt/recommendations 

Payback

Tags: ongoing, both are psychopaths tbh, revenge, gangs, uke sells himself to seme, violent seme, entertainment industry, brunette supremacy, what this motherfucker gonna do? hehe , great art, muscular bodies, dead dove do not eat, my mans must be GOOD looking/animal magnetism cause everyone losing their fucking minds, okay this is a comedy I’m dying, he tried to scare him with wanting to be a top but my psycho said REVERSEUNO BITCH I’M A VERSE (wait jk apparently *sigh*), anonymous masked sex (sad n’ kinky)

My Suha

Tags: ongoing, wow this gets dark, possessive af like holy shit, terrible people all around uke, rape, boss/employee, office politics/family politics, smut, characters that are punchable, dead dove do not eat, *velociraptor noises*, avoided this for a while but I’m back because nothing can be more emotionally devastating than Banana Fish, TIE HIM UP, FUCK HIS FACE ALKSJD:ASKD, FUCK SUHA UR SO HOT that dirty talk though YAS, glad I picked this back up lmao, GOD DAMN IT just when the package arrived then this red head fucker *screams*

Shame Application aka Dirty Vibration

Tags: completed, friends to lovers, model seme, cute af uke, love triangle, entertainment industry, smut, kink, all kinds of sex everywhere, realized feelings, mutual pining, jealousy, rich seme, blonde seme, big brother 1984 always watching, 10/10 would re-read, porn with plot, they were roommates!, ~straight~ seme, first times, great art, remembering some cringe but considering the story it’s par for the course

Will You Subscribe

Tags: ongoing, season 1 completed, enemies to lovers, cam boy, office politics, boss/employee, hiding a secret, public sex, stalkers/creepy men, emotionally stunted characters, mutual pining, idiots in lust, lingerie company, slut shaming, jealousy/possessiveness, season 2 bebeh, HOLDING HANDS *velociraptor noises*, LMAO okay my mans is not THAT old how tf does he not know netflix and chill, BUNNY COSTUME (quickly becoming my new fav trope in manga, A+ gang), oh we stan a good boy, wtf is wrong with wanting to do cam work, ‘I wish my marks could become permanent’ *omegaverse wink*, *works for lingerie company* *doesn’t understand where bf gets sexy costumes* like wut kind of fuckery…, cross dressing ftw, roleplay, classic BL miscommunication trope

Hyperventilation

Tags: completed, high school crush, unrequited love, mutual pining, smut, quickie (short story), class reunion, apparently furry with the extra chapter turning my man into a bunny but c'est la vie! https://myreadingmanga.info/korean-bl-animation-hyperventilation-engsub/ this is the animation of the same story, different endings but same in tone (this site is spammy AF but the English subs are so hard to find for this) 8/10 

Unmei no tsugai ga omae da nante

Tags: only one bed, ABO, office setting. Coworkers, enemies to lovers, competitive, equality in the omegaverse, dubcon, real dicks and not lightsabers, fated pair, art is cute af 8/10

K’s Secret

Tags: buckle up buttercup, dead dove do not eat, angst, pining, somnophilia, dub con, non con, boss/employee, manipulative, stalking, forced relationship, tragic childhood background, weird art but gets better,  uke: don’t threaten me with a good time but seriously stop threatening me, possessive & obsessive, seme is like the fucking hulk compared to uke, wow were going full psycho stalker hm?, dating a narcissist is all fun and (mind)games, con non con… ? honestly who tf knows, domestic!, OW MY HEART, the t/n WAP note sent me, ch 51 translated by gen z, do special ep= furry? Wait there’s a maid costume, bunny costume, directors friends keeping it real, rough translations 8/10

Enthusiasm

Tags: ongoing, dead dove do not eat, uke buys seme, masc boys, muscular bodies, fight club, master/slave, rich uke, revenge, real dicks not lightsabers, rough sex, cuckholding, daddy issues, suicide, wow the end of ch 5 punched a hole in my heart, penile implant life,  rough translations makes the storyline wonky, nvm back to lightsabers *star wars noises*, HAD ME FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAY I CAN NOT, shibari, possessive, wait this is cute *velociraptor noises*, angst, no kithes for you “bestie”, OBSESSED, honestly choke him pupper, STAY THE NIGHT ALKSDJA:SLDKJAS:LKDJA:SLDKj, problematic but I’m riding for these two, 

Ichimai Goshi Fetish

Tags: completed, short, fetishes DO start in childhood don’t they *ruminates*, author: describes ML as a beautiful 2D character meanwhile: ML IS 2D character, fellas is it gay to kiss the homies?, “real dudes don’t interest me” is a MOOD, comedy, jealousy, college setting, dialogue is A+, not lightsabers but not dicks either, first time, when you’re fucked so good you think you’ve died, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4uEq5Nx6ko, hero/villain roleplay. Fluff n smut 10/10

My Purrfect Boss

Tags: completed, tooth rotting fluff because blondie is so FUCKING cute little sensitive soul, golden retriever boyfriend, pure comedy, DECEASED, MY MAN JUST DID THE SLOW BLINK, office setting, boss/employee, ~wasted~ (red dead redemption meme),  FFS SO CUTE, he put a ring on it right away beyonce would be proud af, he protecc he attack but most importantly he hit it from the back, jealousy, honeymoon phase of dating, the ex is a snake (update: oh wow literally), I’m picking up abuse/PTSD vibes based on how Kang reacts to his ex :(, classic BL miscommunication plot, immediately no meme audio (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6XWSGfYnps) ,  I WILL STRAIGHT UP MURDER CHA WTF!!!!!!, gang rape, spiked with drugs that force heat, me rn:*screaming/rage*, psychotic ex/abuser, HE PROTECCC, actual relief after that scene jesus fuck, okay YES kings I see you, okay this is giving me cuteness aggression, hi yes I’d like to adopt a cat and a dog please 9/10

Following Namsoo to the Bathhouse

Tags: completed, same author as, “My Purrfect Boss”, A+ comedy once again, JUNIOR, gay awakening, “fap myself to death” DEAD, facial expressions are ridic, my minds telling me no but my body, my bodyyyy’s telling me yaaaaa, ya boy is literally losing his mind over this, actual lightsabers lmao, FLUFF, permasmile, 6969, THINKS THEY’RE GOING TO EAT RAMEN, dense gay, own your skin wtf okay hannibal calm down, everyone is officially cray,  ah I also am barfy when drunk, denial really is something hm, classic BL miscommunication plot, when people pleasing too far, happy ending 🥺🥰, side story: our crazy gets his very own crazy (ashton Kutcher from spread vibes), public sex, sex sparkle 9/10

Alien in my Closet

Tags: ongoing (maybe completed but def ongoing on the site I use), not rapey at all?? You’d think it’s impossible in this medium ffs, anti pt vibes, cute art, fluff ‘n smut, red head!!, they were roomates!, sex toys, bsdm, D/s (brat)dynamic or maybe owner/pet, bondage, *tiffany hadish voice* this is noiceeee, con humiliation/degradtion, SANTA CLAUS, edging, marking, one lotus please (he’s clearly read the 4 agreements and karma sutra), con non con, exhibitionism, the wrist thing stays on people, Katoptronophilia,  roleplay, is it stalking when you bring your friends?, lotus: welcome home cheater, the chin on the head thing gives me cuteness aggression, the twins are my favs, when ur crush vanilla af 😭, haesung: experiment on me daddy, no dick until halfway through/fingering supremacy, bedroom sessions has me gagged, voyeurism, wait they haven’t kissed this whole time I forgot (audio: https://www.tiktok.com/@ryley/video/6976701880277748997?lang=en), sunbae is sus, YES FINALLY A FUCKING SWITCH COUPLE AKJSDHALKSJDHASKLJDHALS KJDALKSJD (update: sort of), there’s a missed opportunity for an anal probe joke, damn it okay maybe sunbae is chill, 3 musketeers, my heart*implodes*, *velociraptor noises*, 12/10 would re-read such fluff my heart 

On Doorstep

Tags: completed, age gap, reese has ptsd, jimmy going from 0 to 100, jimmy really got down on his knees at work, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) deepest part you say, real dicks, ride him like a rodeo, quickie/short story, porn with plot

Gorani Jeon

Tags: ongoing, omegaverse, no alpha though, animal hybrid, art is beautiful like it's drawn on paper not a screen, 40 inch weave yours came in a pack, historical (non-modern), lord send me a sexy man pls, the memes after each chapter are golden, taking the phrase licking wounds literally, is that an eggplant or are you just happy to see me hehe, ahhh so inhibitors do exist here, vertical 69, here lays Bau fucked to death by Ran, WHY HE TOUCHING MY MAN, these chickens are dope, stomp on his dick, that’s what I call a happy meal, fucked right out the front door I’M DEAD, mpreg, i need a tiger+mountain god spin off (whoops dad/son my bad), slice of life, cute fluff 8/10

Room to room

Tags: completed, college setting, A+ dialogue, absurd size difference, unrequited love,  sexsomina, dubcon, angst, death by a thousand cuts emotionally, insecurity, body envy, pining, friends to lovers, they were roommates!, homophobia, sexual assault, PTSD, gays in denial, the tattoo 🥺 ow my heart, truly this is 90% smut, “going from unrequited love to fwbs is shittier than I expected”, dowan *bad blood by t swift* when he sees garam, ch 22garam reminds me of my ex and that’s not a compliment, I’m not gay but my boyfriend is vibes, triflers need not apply, spanking, 😭😭😭😭😭 my heart hurts, is anyone getting a bit of a puppy play vibe? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vni9ZWmDXis, handcuffs, lots of head we stan, dowan’s gotta a touch of a foot thing or maybe body worship thing, asdlfgkjs ;dlkfgjsd;flkgj;sdflkgj;sdlfgjs;d/gkdf SO CUTEEEEEEEEEEE, roleplay. They broke the bed no use of crying over spilled milk ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), side stories delivering man in uniform and sex toys AND puppy, asdlkjaslfkasdjfl;askdfjasdf the shirt thing is so hot, watersports, I take it back this is 98% smut 9/10

Mistake Lover

Tags: completed, when ur bff is back on their BS, love triangle, coworkers, i swear all these ukes look the same to me at this point (which is very cute), GE!!!! (wangxian flashbacks), wait no smut?.... Paused

Yagi to ookami no hatsujou jijou

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, literally on my reading list because a comment said “nice cock 10/10”hahahaha, animal hybrids, scifi/aliens, me during chapter one: am I a furry? No. Am I? Relevant audio https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=noJNIqvDfoo, hotties when human GOD DAMN, bi king, okay I stan this girl changing gears take your opportunities honey!, does blondie have a tinder or how is this happening? (update: called it), feminization, dubcon/noncon, marking, heats, idk about 10/10 cock but not lightsabers, translation is ruff (get it?), a yankee hahaha, literal wound licking, googles chimera, *claps* yes king selfish call his ass out, tail holding caaaayoooot, not that isn’t usually copious amounts of cum but really this is a lot 8/10

Make Me Bark

Tags: completed, $250 a month rent?? *cries in Californian*, god damn it these grey haired 2D men are really hot fml, “next months rent is a looming concern but I hope it’ll get better” followed by apartment on fire is how I feel about reality, rare characters that smile way more than they frown, sex toys, kink, puppy play, owner/pet dynamic, sugar daddy/baby, college setting, harness, muzzle, leash, tail plug, shirt thing!!, soaked briefs, playing barbie IRL, omg meet cute at the adult store, intercrural sex, possessive/jealousy, ah fuck yes I saw this panel on IG but it didn’t have the source but now hehe, whipping, choking, spanking, *bookmarks*, simp city, childhood friends, side couple cute af, yeonsoo: sorry I’m an anti romantic, size queen, mens lingerie, domestic, mutual pining,  these bestie pairings are *chefs kiss*, skinny but muscular bodies/no ridiculous size differences, “does he have a big dick?” “probably” “well tell him to come” GAGGED AJKSDHALSKDJHA this dialogue pure comedy, exhibitionism, human auction, maid costume, men in heels, topping in a dress, girl at the bus stop HAHAHA, ffs this is so cute, side stories: it’s a small world afterall, dynamic role reversal, pink haired boy is guru, SCREAMING AKDJA:SLDKJA:LKDJA:LSDKJLAKDJA:LDJAL:SKDJASLKDJA:SLKDJLAKSDJLASDJ:LASJD:ALSKDJASL:DJ:ASLJDPUTARINGONIT!!!! 11/10 

Gurume no fukurami

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, food fetish, feeding fetish, age gap, throuple-eqsue? There’s 3 people involved, paused ch 1 pg 30

Under the Green Light

Tags: ongoing, thank you IG for rec’ing this, brunette supremacy, neurodivergent?, lmao @hag, this statue is everything I wonder if it’s based on a real piece?, we went from talking art to being pinned to the ground REAL quick, translations rough but not as rough as my mans here, draw me like one of your french girls vibe, sass master, these dicks are ridiculously huge which is saying something for this genre, i love a verse/switch, “first time he’s asked someone to stop so his self-esteem is hurt” HAHAHAHA, stealing bae’s shirt, facials galore, car sex/public sex, jin not into praise kink clearly, sort of slut shaming jealousy, marking

Walk on Water

Tags: completed, for being about porn it’s not that smutty (i take it back), “don’t even think about running away” got me like https://giphy.com/gifs/VABbCpX94WCfS, actual dicks (lightsabers later must be the cleaners not the OG), muscular bodies, blonde seme, brunette uke, k mcqueen is everything, honestly haven’t loved a couple this much since chanwoo x MD and I LOVE THEM, jealousy, orgasm denial, the angles/frames of the art in this are insane (11/10), emotional intimacy CUTENESS HASIHDLASKDHJLAKSJDH, i wanna lick lick lick you from your head to your toes, dirty talk A+, bestie you turned out to be Judas you judgy fuck how dare you touch my man, Ryan is 50 shades of fucked up bb needs therapy, Chang and yeowoons sexual tension is *chefs kiss*, I ship it/all my ships sailing, woof non con but expected tbh, YEAH BABY YEAH *Austin powers voice*, fml I don’t want this story to end, meeting the Hets ™ would make me nervous too, spiderman kith, mirror sex sjkadfhasldjkfh, 34+35, JOI but with a partner? Not D/s, promises are made to broken hehe, that feeling when you understand the title, omg the fan art is so cool!! 15/10 would re-read seriously I can’t explain how well the artist used angles/how she portrayed the scenes was fucking MASTERFUL

Woof Wolf

Tags: that's my best friend (saweetie), red heads, werewolf au, college setting, students, shoot a shot in your mouth while I'm riding, facials, marking

Sexual Awakening of an Ex Delinquent 

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, sexual coercion/non con/dub con, tiddies, bondage, nipple play, edging/orgasm denial, candy in ass wow, food kink, kink in general, rich seme working class uke, lightsabers,  big dick Jesus fuck, exhibitionism, public sex, men's lingerie, Blondie is a sweet baby angel, self hatred/homophobia, sexual narrating that has me like oof 😣 that's not how this works but okay, the sweet spots thing is a great line, man is a slave to the sweets, lmao at the meme at the end of ch 9 fucking facts, kidnapping plot, rapey guys all around this story, tattoo/back story reveal has me like *nods head yes*, my throats broken has me gagged, crazy amount of sfx noises that distract from the art (I really appreciate cleaners I realize), first times, rushed ending feels,  would rate 6/10 not terrible but probably won't read again.  

With Your Tail Yes

Tags: ongoing, IG rec, quickie/short story, on man brunette looks EXACTLY like a different character by another artist like for real duplicate, home boy pulled Elle Wood’s Bend n Snap and we are HERE FOR IT, lingerie/cross dressing, okay compilation of short stories, great artwork but wtf these are far too short (maybe uploaded wrong..?), *immediately makes deal with the devil because yum*, ah okay previews THEN stories, human animal hybrid situation, lightsabers, fucking imagine your crush delivery the sex toy you ordered online HAHA *dies*, buys toys because men ain’t shit is a VIBE, you know he’s always wearing matching sets because he’s 100% that bitch, dub con/non con, knotting (unexpected), exhibitionism, public sex, good ol’ fashion blackmail to get your lover to stay with you trope, sexual assault/attempted rape, victim blaming, shibari, leashes, D/brat dynamic sort of, copious amounts of cum, lube? What lube?, marathon sex, first time, 75 hours?? Immediately no meme, 7/10 mostly for art/concepts but not execution

Heat and Run

Tags: ongoing, IG rec, omegaverse, friends to enemies to lovers, multiple couples as main to sides then sides to mains, my heart dropped because I thought the first sex scene was incest but then realized I’m mixing up all the characters derp, dense gays, this is america (the shooting comment WOOF reality feels bad man), blondes have more fun, real dicks, dubcon/CNC dealers choice, mutual pining, idiots in love, big alpha energy BDE, there are moments I feel Hayoung on a spiritual level and not sure that’s a compliment hahaha, orgasm denial/edging, istg if he bonded without Hayoung permission *jenna marbles BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII YOU BETTAH NOT*, also I was hoping the idol was him but realizing it’s probs his sis, *deep sigh*, BDIRL, wow racism, oh no oh no no no no no meme audio, listen everyone needs to get into therapy to break that generational trauma is all I’m saying (not excusing abuse at all, trauma isn’t a free pass), NO ONE WANTS TO PLAY A GAME WITHOUT KNOWING THE RULES :ALKSDHJALKSDJA:SLKDJTRUE, matthew singing bo burnham: I’m problematic *background singers ‘he’s a problem!’*, i ship it yolo, JAEHO STAN (no means no!), mpreg, god damn it I am so worried about him getting roofie and the party scene hasn’t even started ABO WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TOO ME, OH THANK JAEHO, dayummmm that clapback was real fuck him UP, me clapping: MARK HIM MARK HIM, GOD DAMN IT WITH THESE ONGOING FUCKING CLIFF HANGERS FML, marked via knotting? Okay that’s new, but also like normal marking I think, fucking til bottom pees trope

Heaven Officials Blessing

Animated series season 1 complete. Live action currently filming (same director as Untamed too UGH SO HAPPY)

Tags: ongoing, same author as my fav ever MDZS, just finished season 1 animated on netflix and can no longer avoid this because I LOVE THEM, all the memes on IG make sense now, Prince voice: Dearly Beloved (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXJhDltzYVQ) we are gathered here today to dive deeper into a fandom I will never escape, ART IS AMAZING (https://tenor.com/view/incredible-talented-lady-brilliant-gaga-gif-14857187), group chats are always chaotic tbh, wait a minute meme audio: bride = bottom? How tf did I not get that the first time round *sigh* always hoping for a verse couple, the asst. Boys I ship hard, the sass, fuck this is going to just be pure angst isn’t it *straps in, has fluffy manga queued*, even if no smut 11/10 gege porn, not subtle, god FUCK this ART IS SO FUCKING GOOD THE TALENT skjas;ldkfja;, 🥺, traumatic cliff moment *mdzs flashbacks*, HC smirk is my new favorite thing, no fucking but lots of touching, size difference, horror, gore, wuxia, great side characters, my ear feels tingly too lmao, SOMEONE BETTER GET THESE MF SNAKES ON THIS MF PLANE (cliff), umbrella moments got me uwu, gimme at least didi pleaseandthankyou, FUCK I LOVE THIS ARTIST she keeping us WELL fed with these extras DAYUM, wind/earth master ship please sail, CALL ME DADDY IM DEAD, HC has LWJ energy like you are not qualified to talk to me LOL, WAIT this totally counts as there was only one bed trope, also I’m already excited about omegaverse ff (send me recs please please please)

4 week lovers

Tags: ongoing because apparently I want to torture myself, mutual pining/”unrequited love”, college life, friends to lovers, blackmail ur crush into sex trope, public sex, I was going to tag possessive body language but possessive in a general sense apparently (starting strong yessss), sure jan @unrequited love dialogue, THEY WERE ROOMMATES *cackles*, sus haha, rough translation, pure comedy, shirt thing!, casual abuse :( (back story, traumatic childhood), I’m getting TharnType vibes (but not quite…), that note is precious, cry during/after sex, great angles, dialogue A+ 

Burlesque Night

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, stripper/body guard, coworkers, lust at first sight, magic mike vibes, fridays = getting fucked on stage O-O, well that was traumatizing af, took a bullet, real dicks, LDR, CUTE, I’m not in love with you… sure jan, OH WOW MASTER dlksaj;alsdkja;lsdkja;sld, gay awakening/first time, the art detail is *chefs kiss*, disappointed but not surprised :( :( :(, we stan a yes and lover, shirt thing, still not sure wtf the vertical anus thing is but full circle moment haha, you know what fuck it I’d re-read this 9/10

My one and only cat

Tags: ongoing, cat hybrids, god damn it I’m totally in furrydom ffs, ah well here we go, idol hot = loneliness wahhh /s, so hot he literally transforms other beings, omg a cat cafe CUTE, fuck that cat is cute *so fluffy*, stalker status, comedy, real dicks, I think the uncle would be supportive/jealous even I hope they talk about it I’m dying to know his thoughts, big tiddies, if this ain’t the cutest shit FLUFF/SMUT, copious amounts of cum, ate it with the panties on, CAKE, xmas, his milkshakes bring all the boy(cats) to the yard, trifling bitch

Imitation Mate

Tags: completed, omegaverse, alpha x alpha. Class rivals YAS, childhood frans, enemies to lovers omg this is all the shit I want, manipulation 1000 but yolo I ship it

Mr. 100% Perfect

Tags: ongoing, so relatable, OCD?, hoarder, when I read the title I thought mental illness and I was right, masks ugh RELATABLE, getting back together w ex, woof sibling drama/manipulation, suicide attempt, omg their communication regarding the psycho is REFRESHING, OMG JEJU ISLAND I see it in every fucking kdrama ever but this is the first time I’ve seen it mentioned in a manga *hm* interesting, furry furry everywhere, eye contact, finished reading season 1 pause for an omergaverse cause, okay I’m back and season 2 starting STRONG #1 men are gross #2 mans just went right to a blowie while mf was trying to pee lmao i can NOT the germs barf, fuckboi extraordinaire stressing over a textback is *great*, that istg face is perfect, HYUNGGGG, hand on his heart OW MY HEART, vibe check LOL, here for this plot dev, END OF SEASON2 NOOOOOOOimnotready. Head bonks CUTE

The origin of species

Tags: ongoing, omegaverse, sex tape, blackmail, i already don’t like this teacher, size difference, ‘JUST DIE’ hahahahahaha, I’m in love with noona, wait Ahjussi means uncle/mister? Dangerous convenience store has a new meaning to me now, DECEASED @they won’t, copious amounts of cum, alcohol to have intimacy *sighs in early 20s*, also WTF THEY ARE FUCKING AND THERE’S NO PHERMONE STUFF! What’s the point of being ABO without smell *swaggy p meme???*, wait okay ch 11 it begins, stockholm syndrome but since childhood I’m fairly certain *looking at you teacher I don’t trust these mfs*, dubcon obviously, also the can’t be knotted thing has me *cardi b meme that’s weird that’s sus* obvs poor bb about to get preg af, five word horror story: I won’t hurt you again *why tf you lyinggggg why u always lyinggg meme*, white collar crime, what’s the point of a contract when there’s no actual choice

How to Chase an Alpha

Tags: ongoing, lowkey been avoiding this one not because I think it’ll be bad I just..idk the brain is a weird thing, page 2 and I love mains attitude fucking gagged sass me bb, starting with rough translation but it be that way sometimes, GROUNDS HIMSELF BY TOUCHING HIS BLACK CARD I CANTTT, pheromone city fuck it UP, MC is a MOOD, mutual pining, when u and bae both hire PI’s to get info on each other, R-E-S-P-E-C-T, shirt thing, fucking chuffed about the rival fucking bring it, funny art, cheated on ugh mah heart I saw it coming and it still hurt, pure comedy this airport scene is so funny to me wtf, LDR, good ol murica fuckboi, LOVE HIM RIDE FOR UR MAN/MORALS, liams a little rapey rapist hm? No one’s ever said no… well being flooded with pheromones isn’t consent my dude, istg liam = I love it when they struggle, obvs jealousy/possessive tag but such is ABO, cat suit, BUNNY suit, sexy costumes, god damn it I love them that proposal/mpreg so cute, imprinting AW, ugh baes fam is so cute I needed that bc I wanna strangle wooyoungs dad, THE SECETARY is my fucking fav never stops being A+, SEC+LIAM?? Here for it *i ship it*, FUCK SO CUTE 12/10 re-read, fluff n smut, excited for how to chase an omegaside story hyung needs love!, JINI is mood, sales king I’m dying, that collar is ~hot~ btw

Egoism

Tags: completed (because jesus I can’t with ongoing, theheartbreakTM), UPDATE FML THE HEART BREAK IS REAL also no smut, omegaverse, hey stepbro, starts with rape, possessive/jealousy (isn’t all ABO?), age difference (6years, alpha is younger *can I get hyung plz lord*), HYUNG, woof this dad SUCKS, child abuse, rape culture *sigh*, I wanna get jacked like rick and summer and beat tf out of the dad, me n my cat, TELL EM HONEY I love this MC, traitor indeed, beta x omega btw, fated pair, coercive sex, didi going to be his own demise, BREAKUP/TIME SKIP NO this is BL hell, the rona is mentioned in this, ALL I WANT IS TO HEAR YOUR STORY WAHHHHHHHHHH also YES MY SHIP IS GOING TO SAIL I CAN FEEL IT, okay honestly frustrating a bit but also liked it yah 7-8/10, won’t re-read unless I’m looking for hurt though cause the comfort is BRIEF

Yarichin bitch bu

Tags: ongoing, reading because I watched this anime after seeing it mentioned in the comment section of -im-being-harassed-by-the-sexiest-man-of-the-year, anime was 2 eps a fucking wild the way this is uploaded SUCKS, no reality porn what plot rape-y ridiculous and now I need to read the source apparently haha, I need to know much more about yuri and blue hair guy ASAP (they have the spin off*adds to list*), high school setting, smut, studentsxstudents/teachers, photography club my ass, sex toys, kinky, crossdressing, gay awakening, unrequited love, jealousy, fake relationship, two faced people, OCD, COMEDY, rich people problems, hoarder, inferiority complex, one bed, toono is a dumbass in this love triangle or denial might be a better word, they are cousins my dude stop shipping it (I say to both toono and myself LOL), I wanna see Yuri’s face laksdjf;aldskf, vibrator #18 line is fucking iconic, yaguchi is about to get real interesting (BPD?), lies/manipulation, oh toono you sweet summer child, YURI i can’t wit chu, wait did he just punch the student because he won’t kiss him or???, dubcon/noncon obvs, finally my verse couple but they’re not a couple (yuri/tamu), they all care about each other is a weird way awwww, love confessions to pet vibrator scene are ICONIC MY DUDES I CAN NOTTT, lowkey living for Yuri’s drooling at this point, Jimi gives me such bad second hand embarrassment, Yuri the switch verse bb I’ve been looking for need more!, internalized homophobia, blackmail, MIDDLE FINGER IN THE AIR YAS KING, the heartbreak of ongoing/hasn’t been updated in years

Yarichin bitch bu dj wa

Tags: not completed I think, years old though, see above you know what it is, so cute omg, FIRST KISS AW, degradation kink?, MY VERSE COUPLE I’ve finally found you, biting, choking, rough sex, sex toys, they had fun together for another two hours DECEASED

Fucked by my Best Friend

Tags: ongoing, friends to lovers, body swap, Porn what plot, cannon threesomes in past maybe??(MFF for sure but MMF??), beach life, revenge, he became a HOT woman so honestly get over it, sloppy seconds, first off you’re both sluts second lmao this is going to be wild hm?, fellas is it gay if you kiss the homies, classic did you cum guy jfc, that’s how you get preg dumbass, ah the joys of being a woman /s assault in der clrub, *DEEP SIGH* @ you almost being raped turns me on, YES TURNING BACK DYING, gender has nothing to do with this LOL but true. Also yes cannon threesomes/orgies, googles frotting, mans like narrating playtime, intecurial sex public sex, lingerie, this is the closest thing to straight manga I’ve read hahaha, THE SCIENCE OMG FUCKING RIDIC :you need a mass amount of semen within you SURE JAN, possessive. Objectification, she trying to fuck without Shion LMAO, 34+35, do you think he’s on r/nofap, dry orgasm honestly impressed with mans rn ngl, spit as lube, anal fingering, just helping the homies find their prostate, bottom shaming (disappointed but not surprised), bis/gays in denial smh, question if he has a wet dream will he turn into a woman?, shirt thing, lol at female orgasm =anal in switcharoos mind, paging doc perv, shion is enjoying dressing up hm? Same dude, biggest reality gap is believing shion got admitted to a college HAHA, bad anatomy all over the place dude, rui is a dedicated exhibitionist, HE SO TIGHT BECAUSE THERES NO LUBE team no lube over here apparently not even a courtesy spit, yandere territory sort of?, Mayu with the dick wet comment is *chefs kiss*, THE HEARTBREAK OF ONGOING WAHHH I can’t believe I read all this but I can? 8/10 problematic possessive porn

[catb-fics]

So I’ve decided to just make this a short story for now... there’ll be one more part after this but who knows? I might come back to it at a later date and write a longer story to include the other lads... maybe go a bit ‘Twilight’!

Love Bites (Part 2)

Warnings: Not yet but things are def heating up! / Word Count: 2.2k

Read Part 1 here

It's a dull, dreary Monday morning as you make your way to work. November has brought with it all the chill you might expect from a mid-winter's day, and you pull your coat around yourself tightly, wincing slightly as you catch the plaster that's covering the cut on your hand. It still smarts slightly, but the sensation is nothing compared to the embarrassment you feel when you re-play the incident of Van ordering you out of his house in your mind. It's silly really, you'd only just met him and you'd barely got past the introductions, but for some reason you've just not been able to get him out of your head.

You'd toyed with the idea of going to his house the next day and apologising, but Emma had talked you out of it. She was probably right. I mean, did you really want to get mixed up with someone with a temper that volatile?

"Hi Y/N!" Vicky, one of your colleagues, greets you as you walk into the office, a ridiculously huge grin plastered across her face.

You eye her suspiciously. "Why are you so cheerful on a Monday morning?"

"I should be asking you why you're not more cheerful!" Comes her reply, confusing you further.

"Why should I be?"

Now Vicky looks exasperated, shaking her head. "Why didn't you tell me you had a fella?"

"Because I don't..." you begin, but your words are cut off as she reaches down behind her desk, pulling out a beautiful bouquet of red roses.

"Oh well... you definitely have an admirer then!" She grins, thrusting the flowers into your hand. "These arrived first thing... Hold on... you really don't know who they're from do you? Look... there's a note."

You accept the flowers, staring at them dumbstruck. "It must be a mistake..."

But no, there nestled among the petals is a small red envelope with your name clearly printed on the front. You eagerly grasp it, gently placing the roses on your desk, your mind flicking through possible candidates and rejecting each one.

Dan, the boring guy from accounts you'd gone for a curry with two weeks ago? Not likely....

Steve, Emma's older brother who's always flirting with you? But he has a girlfriend...

The new guy from the office downstairs who you were chatting to in the kitchen last week? Impossible... you're not even sure he knows your name!

"Open it!" Vicky's urging, clapping her hands in excitement. "They're beautiful, hand-tied and everything. I think they're from that posh florist in town. You know my sister got her wedding bouquet from there..."

But you aren't listening to Vicky. You're reading the note, a shocked kind of disbelief paralysing you momentarily.

Y/N, please accept my apologies for how I acted on Saturday night. I'd like to make it up to you if you'd let me? Dinner tonight, 7pm, my house. Van x

Fifteen minutes later when you've finally managed to  shut Vicky up firing questions at you about your mysterious admirer, you're on the phone to Emma, who's equally shocked at your surprise gift and the offer of dinner.

"Oh my god, I can't believe it! So what are you gonna wear?" She says excitedly.

"Hold on... you're talking like I'm actually going to go."

"Y/N... of course you gotta go! The guy spends 15 minutes with you and he's already sending you flowers!" Her voice is raised.

"But you were saying he was a psycho for reacting how he did..." you protest.

"Well... that was before this! Go on... give him a chance... he's said sorry. Just go and see what he's like."

You pause, feeling torn. Emma speaks again, her tone teasing.

"And he's gorgeous!"

She's not wrong. You think back to the way he looked at you with a certain sort of hunger and flurries of excitement run through you. By the time you've come off the phone Emma's well and truly convinced you, and it's hard to concentrate on your work for the rest of the day. A tiny niggling doubt keeps surfacing as you wonder how the hell he knew you worked here, but you push it away. You've made your mind up.

* * * * *

On Emma's instruction 'not to look desperate' you turn up to Van's house that evening at 7.15pm, but then start profusely apologising for being late as soon as he appears at the door. You decide you're just not cut out for acting cool and aloof like Emma suggests. One glimpse at Van and you're acting like a schoolgirl with a crush again.

"Hey, stop apologising, I'm the one who should be saying sorry, remember?" He smiles as he beckons you inside.

"It's fine, really. And the roses were beautiful. Thank you so much."

He grins. "It's the least I could do... look I'm really sorry if I upset you. I don't know what came over me."

He starts leading you down another dark and winding hallway that's in the opposite direction to where the party took place. It occurs to you that if you didn't have Van leading you then you could easily get lost in this house. It's like a maze.

"Really it's fine Van, I was careless smashing the glass. And my cut's healing up really well..."

You offer your hand for him to look at. You've taken the plaster off, hoping it will heal better in the fresh air. Van suddenly stops dead in his tracks, grasping your hand, his eyes fixed on your injury. It looks red and angry still. He screws his eyes shut and visibly shudders, so you snatch your hand away.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were so squeamish!" You laugh. "My sister's the same. Gets really freaked out if anyone hurts themselves. Can't stand the sight of blood!"

Van glances over at you, smiling, but his eyes look strange again. God, what is it about those eyes? It's like looking into an icy cold pool, and you feel if you look for too long you'll be pulled under the current.

A few more twists and turns down various corridors and Van opens another door to reveal a large room with a heavy wooden table flanked by many ornately carved chairs. It looks like something from a medieval banquet hall. You wonder what on earth Van does to afford such a grand house. He looks like he's no more than mid-20s. Maybe he inherited it.

Van gestures for you to sit at the head of the table, drawing the chair out for you in a gentlemanly manner.

"Oh, I've not taken your jacket yet," you hear him say from behind you and you feel his hands on your shoulders so you shrug out of your jacket.

Wow, this guy does NOT know the boundaries of personal space. No sooner as your jacket's slipped off your shoulders than you feel his head dip down so it's flush next to your neck. You've chosen to wear a pretty lace off the shoulder top and you're stunned when he sweeps your hair to one side, pressing his face against your bare skin and you actually hear him deeply inhale.

The gesture makes you feel both intensely awkward but excited at the same time and you're not sure how to react. You'd pretend not to notice if he wasn't still lingering there.

"It's Chanel again before you ask!" You laugh nervously.

He lets out a noise almost like a little sigh and it sends a spike of heat through you. "Mmm... I've changed my mind. I don't think it's your perfume after all.”

Okay... this is getting weirder by the second. So he's saying you smell nice? You'd be completely freaked out if you weren't so goddamn attracted to him.

Finally he pulls away and you realise you've been holding your breath. He takes the seat to the left hand side of you and looks at you for a long moment.

"Do I make you feel uncomfortable Y/N?"

What are you supposed to say? Come clean and admit that, yes, every little action, every look he gives you sets you on edge?

"No of course not," you hurriedly say, lying through your teeth.

The knowing smile he gives you tells you he knows the exact effect he's having and maybe he's actually enjoying it, and you're not quite sure how you feel about that.

Thankfully the door creaks open at that moment, distracting you both. A short, dark-haired guy with a cheerful smile steps into the room, carrying a bottle of wine and a fancy silver platter which he places on the table in front of you, removing the lid with a flourish. The food looks amazing, restaurant quality and presented beautifully, but you're confused. Van doesn't have any food in front of him.

"Are you not eating?" You ask him.

He leans back in his chair, taking a sip of the wine that's just been poured. "No... let's just say I have... a very... refined palate."

"Oh... errr... okay," you mumble, taking a large gulp of the wine. "I feel a little awkward being the only one eating."

"Please don't... enjoy the food," Van gestures towards your plate. "Besides... I'll be eating later... I hope."

There's something about his statement and the way he says it that makes your belly flip. He's looking at you almost like he wants to devour you, and you glance down at your plate, feeling flustered.

"That'll be all Larry, you can go," Van addresses the young man who brought the food with a wave of his hand and you find yourself smiling as he turns to leave.

"What?" Van says.

"Oh... nothing," you reply. "It's just I'm surprised that you have staff!"

Van outstretches his arms as if to indicate the whole house. "Well I definitely need a hand managing this big, old place. And you know... it can get quite lonely at times. It's so nice to have company."

This surprises you. Van seems so charming despite his little quirks, and you're surprised some lucky lady hasn't come along and snapped him up already.

The food is every bit as delicious as it looks and the wine's amazing too, some posh vintage that Van delights in telling you all about. Despite your earlier uneasiness you find yourself starting to relax. It becomes apparent that Van loves to talk, so there's never an awkward silence. He asks you lots of questions about yourself and seems genuinely interested in all you have to say. You're conscious that your life might seem boring in comparison, but Van seems rapt hearing even the most mundane details. In contrast, he seems evasive about the details of his own life, talking in vague terms or steering the conversation back to you.

Before long, you've finished your meal and Van enquires whether you'd like dessert. You have a real sweet tooth and you're tempted, but the fact that Van won't be joining you makes you decline. He tops up your wine glass instead and leans back in his chair, regarding you with a little smile and his eyes simmering with that same hungry look he had earlier. You feel the tension fall back over the room.

"You know, you should wear your hair up, you have such a pretty, delicate neck," Van says, and the comment catches you off-guard. You're not comfortable receiving compliments at the best of times, and his forwardness makes you feel even more shy.

"Err... thank you..." You find yourself pushing your hair back over your shoulders, allowing Van to admire you all the more.

He leans across the table towards you suddenly, raising a hand, letting his fingers gently trail from below your jawline down your neck to your collarbone. His hands are cool but you feel like his fingertips leave a trail of fire in their wake. You feel a deep flush rise right through your body.

“And your skin... it’s really rather beautiful... so soft.” His voice is smooth like honey.

Your words catch in your throat and you want to look away, but Van’s caught you in his gaze and you find that you’re not able to.

He smiles again. “I’m embarrassing you.”

“A little...” you admit, but you don’t want him to stop. Your pulse is racing and you can’t help but look at his full, pink lips, imagining what they’d feel like on yours.

“I like it,” Van says. “You know when you blush, the blood rises to the surface of the skin. Don’t you think the human body is amazing? You can tell so much just by observing...”

You squirm a little in your seat. Van moves even closer, leaning right in so he’s just inches away. He speaks again.

“Take you now for example. Your pupils have dilated. That tells me you’re feeling attraction... and desire...”

Oh shit, he’s so fucking intense. You just sit there, not daring to speak, your heart pounding, waiting for him to make his move.

“And your heart’s beating fast too. Believe it or not I can actually hear the blood rushing through your veins...”

What? Surely not?

“I doubt that...” you say in a quiet voice.

“Oh... I’m full of surprises Y/N,” he says mysteriously.

“Really? Like what?” You ask, waiting with baited breath.

He doesn’t say a word, just holds you under his enchanting gaze, letting his lips part slightly, just enough so that you can see his perfectly pointed white teeth.

Read Part 3 now...

[canid-slashclaw]

Pocket Raptor Surprise

The heat from the midday sun beat down relentlessly upon the parched soil of the Dry Step Mesas. Off in the distance, massive vines snaked their way up from a ravine that looked as if the surface of Tyria itself had cracked open releasing some ancient and malevolent force. For a certain pair of intrepid (and over fashionably-dressed) bounty hunters, such trivial things were the least of their concern.

Amalthia tilted her head back as she raised a metal canteen to her gaping maw then shook the container a few times before giving her human husband an apprehensive gaze.

“Kal?”

“Yeah, babe?” Kaleb replied as he noticed a decidedly scolding look on her face.

“Did you, like, happen to forget to bring some extra water rations after knowing full-well that we’d be trouncing around in a godsforsaken freakin’ desert?!”

“Um, no,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, wasn’t that your responsibility? You know-- taking care of provisions and all?” He, then, gestured to her with a pistol finger and wink.

His action only enabled his wife in unleashing both her inner, as well as outer, charr. “My responsibility? Are you freaking kidding me!? You damn know good and well that it is my job to maintain all the weaponry and your job to handle the other logistics… like keeping us fed and hydrated. After all, you are the chef de partie of our little outfit, right?”

“Woah, woah. Stop right there, miss pissykitty! Just ‘cause you have fangs, horns and a furry tail doesn’t automatically make you the only master-at-arms here. We’re a team, remember? It’s both our jobs to watch each others’ backs.” He stepped closer towards her offering his hand.

She looked away, bowed her head, sighed for a moment before looking back into his eyes then letting out a subdued growl. “Gah! You’ve got a point. Sorry, love. It’s just this heat is really putting me in a pissy mood.”

He gently clasped hold of her paw then gave her a kiss on her lower right ear. “I’m sorry too, babe. For being an idiot and all. Yeah. The forgetting the water thing? That’s totally on me.” Amalthia leaned her head into his, gave him a gentle nuzzle under his chin then licked him on the face. “Why yes it is. But I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you... this time. But piss me off again and you’ll find yourself greasing your own piston for at least the next six months.”

“Well that’s comforting to know. At least we can cling to each other until we succumb to dehydration and someone eventually finds our mummified remains lovingly wrapped in each others’ deathly embrace,” Kaleb said with a smile as he began to massage the back of her thickly muscled neck.

She looked lovingly into his brown eyes as a fangy smile flashed across her face. “Mister Grimwald – you have got to be the most wonderful bundle of human weirdness that I’ve ever come across. Okay… I think the heat is really getting to me now.”

“Why’d you say that?” Kaleb looked at her puzzled.

Her ears began to twitch. “Don’t you hear it? Oh wait… your hearing isn’t as sensitive as mine.”

“No. I do hear it. Oh wait… look!” He swung his head around suddenly then pointed towards what appeared to be a chicken-sized velociraptor. She turned and saw it as well.

“Hey little guy.” Kaleb reached into his coat pocket then pulled out a roll of dried meat as he began waving it at the small creature. The raptor cautiously backed away from him while making a high-pitched chirping noise. “I’ve got some jerky. Wanna try?”

Amalthia shook her head. “Um. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kal.”

“Aww. C’mon, Ama. How bad can a little fella like this be?” Kaleb said as he pointed towards what appeared to be the creature’s nest. “Hey look. Eggs. If we take one each to nourish ourselves and save the rest, then maybe we can hatch them. Katie always wanted an unusual pet.”

His charr wife let out a more forceful growl this time. “No! We are not hatching anything that comes from this awful place. Remember why we came here -- for the bounties, right?”

Her husband huffed. “For the bounties. I got it. But, dammit Ama, we could raise a clutch of these and sell ‘em in Lion’s Arch for a fair amount of coin. I mean what kid wouldn’t want one of these for a pet?”

Shaking her head, Amalthia promptly reached into her husband’s rucksack then pulled out a field guide titled, Tyria’s Field Guide to Native Flora and Fauna Vol. IX. Using her long clawed index finger, she quickly thumbed through the pages until found what she was looking for.

“Let’s see. Raptors… raptors… Big, mean teethy, poison clawed… Oh. Here it is!” She looked up only to find that her husband had suddenly darted off towards one of the nests. As she watched him snatch up the eggs then put them into his rucksack, she began to read aloud what was in the guide. “Pauxillum fiken talus admorsus – or more commonly known as the Pocket Raptor, is a diminutive subspecies of the common featherbeak raptor and is almost exclusively found in the Heart of the Magumma Jungle and is… oh for Scorchgazer’s sake... are you even paying attention to me, Kal!?”

Her husband gave her a thumbs up even though he was still engrossed in gathering up more eggs from the nest.

“It says pocket raptors are vicious creatures that will bite your face off if half given the chance. So you’d better put those eggs back now before mamma comes back.” She angrily snapped the book closed then shoved it down into her pants pocket.

The mesa suddenly became alive with dozens of high-pitched chirping noises. As Kaleb stowed away the last of the eggs, he was immediately greeted by three more of the tiny raptors. Each of them tilted their heads trying to get him into their field of vision as they began moving towards him at an alarmingly brisk pace.

“Back away from them, Kal. Now!” Amalthia yelled just seconds before the trio lunged at her husband.

With reflexes rivaling those of a cat, Kaleb dodged the assault as the three little beasts leaped just inches above his face. Whirling around as fast as he could he pulled forth his revolvers, Sweet Pea and Lulu, then leveled the barrels at his attackers making sure that his wife was not in the line of fire. The bore of each pistol erupted in a plume of red-hot gas as two of the critters exploded into grizzly globs of flesh and guts; the demise of the third followed a split second later.

Amalthia drew a holosmithing sword from her waistband as her entire body became aglow in a brightly lit shroud of charged energy. Scores more of the creatures appeared from practically every nearby nook and cranny as they began swarming the couple from all angles. A series of deft swishes from her alighted blade reduced several of the vicious attackers to piles of dust as more of the ravenous critters quickly emerged to take the place of their fallen littermates.

“We’ve got to get the hell out of here!” His wife said as her energy shroud began to take on a faint red glow. “Either this asuratech, or my temper is gonna blow at any moment. And when it does, I promise it isn’t going to be pretty.”

Kaleb holstered his pistols then drew forth the greatsword that he had slung on his back. “Bob – time for some action!”

With a series of lightning fast strokes, Kaleb and ‘Bob’ managed to cleave dozens of the little beasts in two as he re-positioned himself in a back-to-back stance with his wife. Moving with an unspoken synchronicity, the husband and wife bounty hunter team hacked and slashed their way through the onslaught until they reached the relative safety of a nearby natural bridge.

Amalthia pointed towards a bluff in the distance. “Hey, look. A downed airship. I’m willing to bet there are some supplies up there, including water.”

Kaleb shook his head. “An airship? Damn, we must have overlooked it the first time around. How could we have missed seeing something that obvious?”

Amalthia laughed. “Because you, dear husband, were too damn busy picking up raptor eggs for your little pet menagerie.”

As the couple wandered closer, several figures began to emerged from atop the bluff. Clad in black and silver armor, the pair quickly realized the individuals were Pact soldiers who were most likely survivors of the airship crash.

“Ho there, stranger,” yelled the tallest Pact member who obviously looked to be a norn and, was in all probability, the leader of the group. 

After they met up with the surviving Pact members, Kaleb and Amalthia pitched in to help set up a makeshift camp complete with a mess hall and cooking station.  As Kaleb sat down and began guzzling down a huge stein of fresh water, the Pact leader sat down beside him and chuckled. “Word has reached my ears that your cooking skills are the stuff of legends. Thanks to you and your amazing, and also most unusual wife, my troops will enjoy the first good meal they’ve had in a good long time.” Kaleb smiled at the compliment. “Your ears wouldn’t be wrong. But the misses? She’s one helluva cook too, yanno. Not that I had anything to do with it, mind you.” The Pact leader let out a boisterous laugh as he gave Kaleb a hearty slap on the back. “By the spirits, you must be part norn. At least in heart anyway.”

“Chow had better be ready soon. Moog has been staring at me for the last hour. It is not that his staring alone that has me concerned so much as when he starts staring at the salad condiments then back at me that gives me some pause for concern. Not that I think he would actually do anything, mind you, but...” a sylvari Pact member said as he casually pointed towards his asura comrade.  

“Oh please. Just looking at you gives me indigestion. Where is our sustenance?”

“Say please.” Amalthia’s voice chimed throughout the tent as she walked towards the table carrying a pan of what appeared to be full of some type of fluffy yellow substance. “Be careful. It’s very hot.” Kaleb looked at his wife and beamed. “Damn, babe! I can’t wait to try it.” She smiled back, her fangs showing. “And I can’t wait for you to try it, my love.”

Once the portions were doled out, everyone in the camp ate heartily then thanked Amalthia for the delicious meal. She sat down beside her husband and nestled her chin atop his head.

The norn Pact leader looked at the unusual couple and commented, “that whatever it was, was absolutely amazing! What did you call it, again?”

Both Kaleb and Amalthia said in union, a frittata.

The norn looked dumbfounded. “Oh. It tasted just like eggs.”

“That’s ‘cause frittatas are made with eggs,” Kaleb pointed out.  Amalthia just nodded with a smiling closed-eyed grin.

“Oh. I see. That meal must have been truly magical because during the crash, our only container of poultry products was smashed against the rocks.”

Then it suddenly dawned on Kaleb. He turned around then looked his charr wife in her eyes then asked, “Ama?”

“Yes, Kal?”

“What did you use to make that frittata?”

She rolled her amber eyes, put a clawed index finger to her pursed lips then looked up for a moment before looking back at Kaleb. “Just what was on-hand. Why?”

“Eggs. Where did you get the eggs?” Kaleb demanded. The norn butted in. “Yes. Such a meal is deserving of a special name. Something memorable, something legendary!”

Amalthia scratched her chin for a moment before responding. “Something memorable... something legendary. Hmm. Let’s see -- I suppose the only thing one could possibly call it is...

...Pocket Raptor Surprise!”

[nijiirorhyme]

Hello fellas! SO I posted this fic a while back, BUT I re-read it and I ended up being pretty dissatisfied with the final results of it. I also decided not to make part of a series anymore, so now it’s just a stand alone! Alternatively, it can be read here! I hope you enjoy!

Title: A Mundane Morning

Pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 3609

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Cooking

Summary: One morning, Hinata and Kageyama attempt to make pancakes. What could go wrong, right?

Just like his name and fiery personality, Hinata awoke when the sun had already started its slow— yet steady rise in the sky. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside him, it was exactly 9:30am. This was the usual time Hinata arose on weekends, as he liked to sleep a few more hours those days instead of getting up at six o’clock sharp to commute to school, and so did his boyfriend. He turned around to face the man that was laying in bed behind him, who was snoring gently, chest steadily rising and falling with every breath he took.

It was these moments that Hinata loved. The relaxing days they would both stay in bed and unwind after the week’s gruelling volleyball practices. Even though they were both bundles of endless energy, they still needed to recharge once in a while, and their bodies thanked them for it. He shifted his weight to rest on top of the latter, giving him a little peck on the cheek, receiving a grunt from him in return.

“Tobio,” Hinata whispered gently into his ear, like he always did when he woke him up. “WAKE UP!”

Kageyama instantly jolted awake in surprise, which was followed by rolling off the bed and face planting into the cold hardwood floor beneath him. He clawed his side of the bed, gripping onto the bedsheet as leverage to help himself up. His chin, forehead, and nose were a scarlet red from the impact, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Did you have to yell dumbass?!” Kageyama shouted. He was angry, but that was the usual Kageyama when Hinata did this to him anyways and every single time, he would fall for it.

Hinata snickered, covering his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, Tiredyama.” His words dripping with sarcasm. “Do you want me to kiss it to make it feel better?”

Instantly, Kageyama stopped in his angry tracks. His face was still red, but for a completely different reason. He sputtered out a reply, “Y-Yea actually…” This was so unlike the usual, uptight, yelling-in-Hinata’s-face Kageyama, that Hinata was actually taken aback. Who knew his boyfriend could be so timid and adorable?

With a spring in his step, the orange haired boy bounced to the other side of the room. On his tippy-toes, he closed his eyes and puckered his lips, when suddenly THWACK, an equally as thick skull collided into his. He lost his balance and fell ass- first onto the floor.

The shorter man held his head, which was throbbing in pain. He looked up at his boyfriend, who had a smirk plastered on his face.

“What’dya do that for?!” Hinata winced. That was definitely going to bruise over. Some said Hinata had a thick skull, but in his opinion, Kageyama’s was ten times— no, twenty times thicker.

Kageyama outstretched a hand. Hinata accepted it, allowing Kageyama to pull him up. “Good morning, Shoyou. Do you want me to kiss it better?”

-

Although the two of them had no intention to step foot outside of the house today, which they had all to themselves as Hinata’s mom and sister ran errands, they changed out of their pyjamas into their lounge wear. Hinata looked around his messy bedroom for his favourite shirt and a pair of shorts. After a quick glance with no sign of them, he searched through the pile of clothing in the far corner of the room. He stuck his hands into the pile of dirty laundry, sifting through it until he found what he was looking for. He pulled both articles of clothing out of the pile, slipping on the oversized pastel yellow t-shirt that he obviously stole from Kageyama and his favourite pair of shorts he received from Oikawa for his birthday last year. They weren’t particularly his style—with little alien heads scattered around them on top of a navy blue background speckled with tiny stars— but he was honoured that the Grand King would even give him a gift in the first place, seeing how he was dating the underclassman who was a complete pain in the ass to him.

It was time for breakfast and Hinata was ready to eat. His stomach growled violently in hunger, making its voice known through the loud rumbles that came from it. So, he made his way into the kitchen, where Kageyama already was.

“What are you looking at?” Hinata came down the stairs to find his boyfriend squinting at a piece of paper taped to a cabinet door at eye level.

Kageyama stopped what he was doing and looked up at his short boyfriend, who skipped the last step of the staircase by jumping from the second last. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He asked, squatting low to open the cupboard below the one with the piece of paper. He pulled out a large metal mixing bowl, “I’m making breakfast.” he stated matter of factly. 

Hinata furrowed his eyebrows. He was skeptical. This wasn’t the first time Kageyama had tried to make breakfast from one of the recipes in his mom’s cookbook that she always left in the kitchen. For starters, neither of them knew how to cook and every time they tried to, the dishes they made would end up tasting horrible. Secondly, Kageyama only had a certain amount of patience when it came to cooking. The second whatever they were cooking hit the pan or pot they were using to cook it with, the temptation to turn up the heat in attempts to speed up the cooking process was too great for Kageyama. He always gave into it, which usually resulted in billowing smoke clouds, burnt food, and the both of them running around the house to open every single window so the fire alarm wouldn’t go off. All in all, it wasn’t Hinata’s favourite thing in the world to do, but he admired his boyfriend for giving it his all. It was the thought that counted, not how it tasted in the end.

“Let me give you a hand at least.” He lightly bumped Kageyama out of the way with his hip so he could see the recipe. It was a very simple pancake recipe. It clearly and thoroughly listed every ingredient they would need and every direction they needed to take in order to create perfectly delicious pancakes. Hinata’s confidence in his cooking abilities swelled as his eyes continued reading down the page. If he and Kageyama screwed this up, they would be the biggest idiots in the entire world— no, universe.

Kageyama nodded in approval. Since he was grabbing every kitchen utensil they would need to make these pancakes, Hinata started on grabbing the ingredients they needed. He looked at the recipe again, reciting the ingredients they needed out loud to remember, “Flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, milk, two eggs, and vanilla extract.” He bounced around the kitchen, setting each ingredient on the island in the center.

Once everything was assembled, the two got to work. Hinata rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders. “Where do we start, Chef Kageyama?”

Kageyama’s face flushed a bit at the title he was given. He took the recipe down from the cupboard, cleared his throat, and read out step one word for word, “‘In a bowl, mix together all the dry ingredients.’ Sounds simple enough.”

Together, the two boys poured all the dry ingredients into the plastic bowl with less than accurate measurements. Hinata started to mix the concoction of powders together until Kageyama took the metallic whisk from his hand, tsking.

“You’re not mixing it enough. Here.” He motioned Hinata to hold the bowl down for him. The shorter man braced for impact.

Kageyama took the whisk in his dominant hand and as if he were using the might of Zeus, he stirred as fast as he could. Clouds of powder puffed up into the air as the contents of the bowl splashed over its rim.

Hinata coughed as he inhaled particles of it that were hanging in the air, “You’re stirring too fast, Idiotyama!” He grabbed Kageyama’s forearm and wrenched the whisk from his hand and said, “You have to make it more like zoom!”

Hinata kept the bowl steady by placing it between his stomach and his arm. At the same pace, the orange haired boy mixed at the exact same speed as his boyfriend, more powder further splashing out of the bowl and onto the counter. 

“No dumbass!! It’s more like whoosh! Give it to me!” Kageyama gripped the bowl and tried to tug it out of Hinata’s grasp.

“No!” Hinata put the whisk down and tugged against Kageyama, who was also pulling the bowl in his direction. “It’s like zoom!”

Kageyama, “Whoosh!”

Hinata, “Zoom!”

“Whoosh!”

“Zoo-”

The bowl slipped out of both of their grasps, it was airborne. All they could do was watch as it started its descent downward. It was as if the bowl was falling in slow motion-- their mouths agape at the spectacle. As it plummeted to the floor, a plume of the rest of what was inside blasted upwards, covering the two in a powdery mess.

The two coughed violently, the powder making its way into their lungs. Hinata’s mom was going to be pissed. Usually, she had the patience of a saint since her son and daughter were possibly the most energetic children known to man, but Hinata could already imagine her patience thinning upon seeing the disaster of a kitchen they left in their wake.

The orange haired boy looked around, there wasn’t a single spot around them that wasn’t dusted with powder; even his feet were covered with an avalanche of it.

“... That’s what happens when you go 'whoosh’ instead of ‘zoom', Idiotyama.” he added.

-

After trying to clean up the powder as best as they could, they measured out all of the ingredients and tried again. Instead of going ‘whoosh’ or ‘zoom’, the two compromised with a more moderate mixing speed, which they now dubbed in their language of onomatopoeias as: ‘zwhoosh’.

“What’s the next step?” Hinata asked curiously as he looked into the bowl at their combined dry ingredients, satisfied that none of it ended up anywhere outside the bowl.

Kageyama read out loud, “‘Make a well in the center and pour in the milk.’”

A simple instruction that could be carried out by a child, except, “What do they mean by ‘well’?” Hinata asked, picturing an actual well that people used in the olden days to get water from. How would they fit an entire one of those in their bowl?

“I think they mean something like this…” with caution, Kageyama carefully scooped all of the ingredients into the middle of the bowl. He cupped one hand around the mountain-like pile and used the other to carefully dig a hole in its center.

“Woah! You’re a genius, Kageyama!” Hinata exclaimed, sparkles in his hazel eyes. Even if Kageyama could be a dumbass, Hinata loved how smart he could be sometimes. “You stir as I pour the milk in.”

Not wanting to mess up like last time, Hinata followed the instructions to a T, pouring the milk into a measuring cup before plopping it into the bowl. The recipe called for one and a quarter cups of milk and to mix until it was lumpy, so Hinata added as much as they needed to get to that consistency, reaching his goal with careful precision. Then, he threw in a little bit of vanilla extract in and cracked two eggs, disregarding the little bits of shell that fell in as he did so. Step two was done and Hinata was proud that they made it one step further this time.

“What’s next?” Hinata asked, clapping his hands together to try and get the rest of the flour off of his hands. He took a whiff of the batter in the bowl, the light aroma of vanilla extract drifting into his nostrils. His stomach growled in response to the delicious smell of the batter. “Mmm, it smells good.” he thought aloud.

Kageyama didn’t take any further glaces at the recipe. “We cook them.” He simply said. He walked to the wall near the stove, taking one of the larger frying pans that hung off the rack and put it on the stove. He turned the knob of the burner and with a click, the burner ignited, gradually heating up the pan. He took the bowl of batter in one hand, then grabbed the ladle beside it and moved both beside the stove. Kageyama then scooped a whole ladle full of the chunky substance onto the pan.

“Oi! Wait, Kageyama! Don’t you have to butter the pan before you-”

Ssst. It was too late. The batter from the ladle pooled in the pan slowly, making a perfectly round pancake in the center.

“You idiot! It wasn’t non-stick!” Hinata exclaimed. He ran to the stove and turned it off, grabbing the pan as he did so to bring it to the sink. Using a bit of elbow grease, the orange haired boy tried to get the pancake off the pan, but to no avail. Pancake remnants were already caked onto it. If the incident with the first step was bad, ruining his mom’s favourite pan was even worse. Hinata turned to Kageyama, his face pale from the thought of his mom getting mad.

“L-Let’s use another pan…”

-

Hinata’s right arm hurt from scrubbing, but he managed to get the pan looking almost as good as it looked before they had first used it. He went over to the appliance rack, and took down a shabbier looking pan, handing it to his boyfriend, “Here, use this one.”

Kageyama put the pan on the stove and turned the heat up. This time, he buttered the pan and laid down the second pancake, the satisfying sizzle from the pan made Hinata’s stomach growl fiercely. These pancakes were taking ages to make.

Hinata took a spatula and lifted the edge of the pancake, glancing at its golden underside. It was time to flip it, but they weren’t going to take the easy way out. They wanted to flip it like professional chefs do.

The two looked at each other and as if they could read each other’s thoughts, nodding at each other in mutual agreement. Kageyama moved out of the way, feeling Hinata’s desire to flip the pancake emanating from him. Hinata took the handle of the pan in both of his hands, jostling it to shake the rest of the pancake free. With a flick of his wrists, the pancake lifted off the pan and spun in the air. Everything was perfect about it; his form, his technique, even the spin, except... that it didn’t land back into the pan. The pancake’s unpredictable course found its destination the wall behind the stove. It slid down the wall, well out of their reach. The two looked at each other again, an apologetic look making its way onto Hinata’s face. He laughed awkwardly as he ruffled his own already tousled hair.

“Whoops.”

Followed by the standard Kageyama insult, “Hinata, you dumbass!”

..

The easier method with the spatula it was.

-

After what felt like hours of struggling trying to make these pancakes, the two finally made a stack of pancakes that would sate their monstrous hunger.

Hinata was so hungry he could eat a horse. Looking at the golden brown pancakes that stared back at him, he licked his lips and reached over for the maple syrup. It was hard to wait for Kageyama, as he preferred to clean up before eating, but he got the “okay” to start eating first since he knew Hinata was hungrier.

He popped open the lid and poured a generous amount over his breakfast, watching the amber coloured syrup dribble over the sides of the massive stack of pancakes and pool onto the plate below.

“Thank you for the food.” He mumbled. Using his fork, he cut out a small triangular piece and lifted it to his mouth. When he popped it into his mouth, Hinata’s eyes went wide as if he were experiencing an outer worldly experience. His mouth was instantly met with the lightest pillow-like texture. The pancake’s flavour was subtle, yet effective as it danced across Hinata’s taste buds with the rich flavour of the maple syrup as its complementary dance partner. He never knew it, but the fruit of his own labour tasted twice as yummy. Not too sweet, not too dense, looks like they weren’t the biggest idiots in the entire universe after all!

“Are they good?” Kageyama appeared from behind him, resting his head on Hinata’s shoulder, a glass of strawberry milk in hand. Did strawberry milk even taste good with pancakes? Never mind. He wasn’t going to question his boyfriend’s love for the beverage.

Hinata nodded excitedly as he cut his boyfriend a slice. He brought the fork to his boyfriend’s mouth, which he accepted without hesitation.

Kageyama nodded in approval. While it wasn’t enough to make his eyes sparkle like Hinata’s, it was enough to remind him how worthwhile it was to make something for yourself. He turned to look at his boyfriend, whose smile was plastered so wide against his face as he ate another piece, savouring it. The sheer bliss on his face was something Kageyama savoured more than the pancakes. A small smile made its way onto his face as he sat down in the seat opposite of Hinata, joining his boyfriend in eating breakfast.

The rest of the meal went on without much conversation. Once they were done with their initial reactions, the two scarfed down the pancakes at an abnormal speed. Kageyama was eating so fast, that he almost choked on a piece of pancake. He smacked his chest in a fit of coughs to ease the painful sensation of swallowing a large piece too quickly, accompanied by downing his entire glass of strawberry milk.

-

Once the two of them were full, they relaxed on the couch, listlessly watching TV together. Hinata rested his head on Kageyama’s lap, as the latter languidly thread his fingers through his bright orange hair. The drowsiness of eating too much was heavily weighing on both of them as sleep slowly pulled at their eyelids. A comfortable silence settled over the two.

Hinata looked up at Kageyama, whose head was already drooping with sleep. He smiled. It was mundane days like these that Hinata loved the most. He wouldn’t trade anything in the world for them.

Hinata turned over so his head was facing towards Kageyama’s torso. He inhaled deeply, the delicate scent of lavender detergent coming from his dark blue t-shirt comforting him on his way to dreamland. With the soft mumbling coming from the TV in front of them and Kageyama’s scent, it was the perfect recipe for Hinata to fall asleep.

And just like that, the two of them did.

-

“We’re home!” His mother announced,

“Onii-chan!!” a bundle of energy took off her shoes with haste and ran through the house. “We’re home! Let’s play- Huh?” his little sister Natsu stopped in her tracks once she stumbled upon their sleeping forms. One of Hinata’s arms and legs were hanging off the side of the couch, snoring loudly with his other hand placed on top of his stomach. Kageyama didn’t move much in his sleep, his head craned downwards, mouth open wide with a long string of drool dangling down from one corner.

“Natsu, let them sleep. How about you help me make dinner?” her mother said softly, putting her index finger up to her lips.

“Okay!” Natsu beamed back quietly. She tiptoed into the kitchen with her mother, ready to help make a delicious meal they could have all together when the two of them woke up.

-

A Small Epilogue: What happened to the Pancake that went behind the Stove?

It had been a month since Hinata and Kageyama had attempted to make pancakes.

The sun shined on a bright and early school morning. “Shoyou! It’s breakfast time!” his mother called from the kitchen.

The orange haired boy pushed his blankets off of him and made his way downstairs to where he smelled an awfully familiar scent. It was the scent of pancakes.

He plopped himself in the nearest chair, yawning as he scratched an itch on his chest. “Good morning.” he slurred.

“Good morning, Shouyou.” his mother greeted him.

“Good morning, Onii-chan!” Natsu greeted him enthusiastically, bits of pancakes spewing from her mouth with every syllable. When was she not an energetic ball of sunshine? Sometimes Hinata thought that she had even more energy than him.

He went through the same process of drizzling the pancakes with sweet maple syrup and brought a piece to his mouth. It tasted great, as expected of his mom, who had several more years of experience cooking under her belt than him and Kageyama.

“Are they good?” She asked, turning off the kitchen fan to halt its humming. Right as she stopped the fan, an unpleasant stench wafted into Hinata’s nose. It almost smelled like rotten eggs, but with something else in it that Hinata couldn’t quite decipher.

Hinata’s mom audibly sniffed the air, but upon doing so, covered her nose in disgust, “Ugh, what’s that smell?”

Suddenly, it all came back to him. He remembered the pancake that he flipped that went behind the stove. He put his fork down and stuttered out, “A-About that…”

Thus, that was how pancake that was never heard from again declared its presence once more.

[readbeneaththelines]

Love Hurts Pt. 1

A/N: This is a Re-Edit of a collab I did with @beautifulseoulliar a while back. I am re-editing it to share with my lovelies that love BTS. This is a multi P.O.V. Each person will be mentioned before their part. This is Angsty AF, but I loved writing it. Hope you all enjoy, and get ready, It’s a Long Ass Ride!

Synopsis: Yoongi is a tattoo artist with a broken past. Namjoon is the innocent college boy that is about to learn a few lessons. Will Namjoon teach Yoongi that love is still possible, or will he regret ever meeting the mysterious daangerous Yoongi?

Characters: Tattoo Artist!Yoongi x College Student!Namjoon

Warnings: Angst, Smut, BDSM scenerios, broken Yoongi (is that a warning?), some fluff, and I’m sure there are others (please let me know if I need to add some)

Word Count: 4690

ccr to gif owner

(Namjoon)

They say that you should never wonder on a bad day how it could possibly get worse. I guess I should have remembered that as I was trudging home, cursing waking up this morning. My day had started off bad- a missed alarm, which meant I was forced to watch from a block away as the bus drove away without me. It had simply snowballed from there, with a missing paper-laying at home on my desk, right where I’d left it so I wouldn’t forget it- to detention during last period because of the forgotten paper. I mutter under my breath, wondering just how bad it was going to get.

And of course, the clouds just had to open up on me several blocks from home. I shiver as the wind whipped past me, seeming to try and push me back. If you’d told me at this point that wind gods were trying to keep me out in the elements for as long as they could, I wouldn’t have been surprised. 

When I finally get home, I unlock the door, slightly amazed that the key doesn’t break in the lock, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. The apartment is quiet, the only sound the slight tink of the sink dripping in the kitchen. I sigh, relieved that Hoseok isn’t home right now. As much as I love him-he is my best friend, after all, and has been since we were kids- I don’t feel like being bombarded with questions right now. 

I toe off my shoes and drop my soaked bookbag by the door, padding across the living room and up the step to my bedroom door. Flinging it open, I enter my room, not bothering to shut the door as I strip out of my wet clothes. My phone I rescue from the back pocket of my jeans, blessing Hoseok for buying me a waterproof case for my birthday. I toss it onto my bed, then grab some pajama pants from the drawer and slip them on. Then, gathering up my wet things, I carry them to the bathroom and dump them into the washing machine. Grabbing a towel, I rub at my hair, finally just draping it over me as I head back to my room. I lay down on my bed, grabbing my phone as I sink down, making myself comfortable as I unlock the screen with my thumbprint. 

1 new message. 

My head starts to pound and I feel my stomach drop to my feet as I open the message and read it. 

Joon, I’ve been thinking, and…

I can’t help the cry that spills from my lips as I bolt upright, throwing my phone as hard as I can across the room, where it hits my bookshelf and falls to the floor. I don’t know if I’ve broken it, but I couldn’t care less at the moment. 

My day has now been crowned with a fucking cherry-my boyfriend just dumped me. Bastard. Now what am I supposed to do? I lay back down, everything inside me hurting, but I don’t cry, because that’s just not something I do. Instead, I plan to just lay here and slowly die. 

(Hoseok)

Just as I'm walking in the door, I hear a loud crash coming from Joon's room as he screams.

What the hell is going on?

I scramble up the step, flinging his door open. He's lying on his bed, phone on the floor by the bookshelf, shattered screen and all.

I can tell by the look on his face, whatever was on that phone was not the best of news. 

“Joonie? What's wrong?”

I walk over, sitting on the edge of his bed. I lay my hand on his shoulder, silently waiting on him to talk. 

Namjoon's not much of the talking type, but sometimes, he and I can have some pretty decent conversations. We've know each other forever, having grown up in the same neighborhood. We've seen each other through some pretty fucked up things, but hey, what are friends for, right?

After several minutes of him mumbling and sighing dramatically, I was able to piece things together. 

So, his jackass of a boyfriend, who I hated anyway, broke up with him. All of this, after a day from hell, that he swears will only get worse. 

“Joon, my friend, what you need is a night out with me and some friends. We'll help you forget about today, what do you say? “

Pulling my best aegyo, I add with flair.

“Please, pwetty pwease? I Pwomise that you'll have fun!”

He finally agrees, only because he said my aegyo was on point. 

I call up my girlfriend, then my boyfriend, and a few other mutual friends and plan a night out to remember. Little did I know, that tonight would change Namjoon forever.

(Namjoon)

I didn’t hear the sound of Hoseok coming in the front door of the apartment over the noise of my phone shattering, so when he comes bursting into my room, I wince. He glances at me, then across the room to where my phone lays in shards on the floor. His brows crease in worry. 

“Joonie? What’s wrong?”

As usual, it’s hard for me to get the words out, especially when he sits down beside me, one hand resting comfortably on my shoulder. I bury my head in my hands and try to get it out. After a while, he seems to understand, both about the day I’ve been having and my boyfriend breaking up with me. 

“Joon, my friend, what you need is a night out with me and some friends. We’ll help you forget about today, what do you say?”

I peek through my fingers, studying his face. He grins at me, pulling out his amazing aegyo, which always works on me. 

“Please, pwetty pwease? I pwomise that you’ll have fun!”

I can’t deny that, so I nod reluctantly. Maybe a night out will be better for me than laying around the apartment. He whips out his phone when I agree, going out to the living room and closing my door halfway for privacy. He calls both his girlfriend and boyfriend, then a bunch of other friends, planning our night out. I half listen as I debate what to wear, deciding on something simple, since I’m not totally sure where we’re going or where we might wind up. I slip out of my pyjama pants and throw them on my bed for later. Then I slide into a pair of dark skinny jeans with large rips in the knees. A white t-shirt is next, and I complete it with a black-and-white striped jacket. I slip my tennis shoes on, run my fingers through my hair and observe myself in the mirror above my dresser. Not bad, but I decide to add one last thing, just because tonight I feel like I deserve it. I pull my eyeliner from my dresser drawer, where I keep it tucked safe under my socks. Lining my eyes makes them look even more amazingly cat-like than they normally do, and it’s the one vanity I allow myself. I know it gets me more looks than normal, which tonight I decide won’t be a bad thing. Smiling a little at my reflection, I turn to head out to the living room and join Hoseok. 

(Hoseok)

“Alright Joonie, let's go!”

We head out the door, walking down the street to meet with our friends. Namjoon is quiet, still sulking after his shitty day. Once we are all together, we pick a club with a bass, planning on drinking our cares away and dancing with almost anything with two legs. We decided on Le Queen; even though it's a gay club by nature, everyone goes there. 

The line was longer than the block, but we knew the owner. Shooting her a text, we were on the guest list before we got there. I really owe her a threesome with me and Chae. The music was blasting, sweaty bodies covering the dance floor like a crazed mass.

“Joon. Let's hit the bar first! First round’s my treat!”

The night was beginning, but I don't remember the end. Yeah for alcohol, right?

(Yoongi)

I really hate idiots. I hate dense idiots even more. I am trying to get the director in my company to see that I have to order the ink supply for the studio. My partner artists were running low, and they had clients coming thereat the end of the week. Our tattoo studio was about to open another shop and we still didn't have everything, which my director should know, but obviously didn't. Damn idiots. 

After spending three hours arguing with said idiot, I was ready to explode. I was going to be late to Le Queen, having to do body art on one of the dancers before her performance. I also really hate being late, so when I got there, I headed straight for the bar to get my drink order placed while I was getting set up. 

I was slightly, okay very, impatient, so I tried to ask the guy in front of me to hurry up. What preppy college kid would wear jeans and a jacket to a gay/Drag Queen club? Why would they be in this club anyway?  Tapping him on the shoulder, I was about to say something when he turned around. The first thing that caught my attention was his eyes. I am a sucker for eyes, they are the window to the soul, and I always want to search someone's soul. It's a way to keep them from trying to get into mine.

His eyes were cat-like, accentuated by heavy lines of eyeliner, that made them more mysterious. He was younger than me by at least a year or maybe two, innocent looking face. Aish, poor fella, going to get himself hurt with that face. But I had to admit that he had a strangely alluring pull about him. His hair was a deep red, his bangs slightly over his eyes. His lips were a bit plump, but not too overly plump, just kind of pouty.

Going back to his eyes, I focused on them while I spoke.

“Hey, I need to place my order, can you hurry it up just a bit?”

He just kinda looked at me, turned back around and kept ordering. Little shit, if I wasn't in a hurry, I'd be busting your preppy little ass. Finally he stepped aside, and I placed my order, telling them I would be backstage, prepping for the body art.

Preppy kid had walked away, and I caught sight of something when I wound up behind him. The way his body moved when he walked, those long legs stretching with each step in not quite a strut, not not quite a sway, but a bit of sass and and I couldn't help but follow him until I absolutely had to walk backstage.

Wonder if he can dance as good as he looked. I would have to wait and find out later. Off to paint some naked body now. 

(Namjoon)

Hoseok is his usual bouncy self when we leave the apartment, heading down the street to our usual meet-up spot with everyone he was able to call. As a group, we start our short walk to the club- Le Queen, a gay/drag queen club we’ve been to a hundred times before, and one of the few where I feel almost completely comfortable. Hoseok takes out his phone as the club comes into view, shooting a text to the owner, a woman he’s known a long time. I have my suspicions about their relationship, but I’d never bring it up. At any rate, the reply allows us to bypass the huge line, which I’m thankful beyond words for. I couldn’t imagine hell, but standing in line for hours after coming out to have fun might be comparable. As we entered the club, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was packed, as usual, which was usually a problem for me-I hated large crowds, but here it felt safe-there were way too many people for anyone to notice me. Hoseok turned to me, grinning, as most of our group splintered off, looking for a place to sit. 

“Joon. Let’s hit the bar first! First round’s my treat!”

I nodded, giving him a small smile, and we headed for the bar. He managed to order a drink and down most of it while I was still considering. Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around, a little apprehensive for being touched. But what I came face-to-face with made my mouth go dry. 

To say he was gorgeous would be a gross understatement. His blue hair was something I was instantly jealous of-I’d tried it once with my own hair, and Hoseok had called me a mermaid for a month-but it seemed to suit him. His eyes were cool behind round, wire-frame glasses, and his white shirt hung loose on his slender frame, the top two buttons undone, giving a glimpse of a tattoo across the left side of his chest. He was probably a year or two years older than me, and he had an air of danger. In short, he was like my every wet dream come to life. But something in me recognized the potential for violence in him, and it both attracted and scared me. This was the kind of man I tried to avoid-the kind that could steal my heart by barely trying and stomp it into dust. I’d seen his kind before, even had a close call a time or two, and those had been learning experiences. I knew better than to do anything other than get out of his way, as soon as possible. 

“Hey, I need to place my order, can you hurry it up just a bit?”

His voice, smooth and dark as whiskey, had heat rising in my cheeks as I realized suddenly that I’d been staring. I blinked, forced myself to turn back to the bartender and choke out an order. At the same time, I was hyper-aware that he was still just behind me. I waited nervously for my drink, and when it was in my hand, I turned and walked away, without looking back. And, even though I knew it was a horrible idea, I couldn’t help but put a small sway in my walk, just a hint of sass. I giggled as I slid into the booth with my friends, keeping my head down until I couldn’t feel the heat of his eyes on me anymore. 

(Hoseok)

“There’s the Joonie I know and love! What’s got you so tickled?”

Namjoon joined us at our booth, a wide grin on his face and a giggle. I don’t like seeing him where he can’t just be happy and enjoy himself. When he gets like that, I know the only thing to bring him back out of his shell is a night out. Maybe even find him a one-night stand to get him over the ex-jerkface. Did I mention I hate his ex-boyfriend? Anyway, we finished our rounds, then Chae and Jimin went to the dance floor. I love watching them together, in more ways than one, but I digress. So NAmjoon and I are left in the booth, his eyes looking around, maybe trying to find someone he wants to hook up with for the night. I just sit back and enjoy the atmosphere. Getting ready for the performance tonight. There are a couple of Queens dancing and I couldn’t wait to see it. I was also itching to get on the dance floor, so I grabbed his wrist and drug him to the center of the floor. 

Man, can he dance too! Namjoon dancing, is like watching the sunrise after a storm, it enraptured me. He is fluid, graceful, and I would even admit, sensual. Everyone around us backed away, giving him room and just watched. He could get lost in it, and I was envious of him at times like these. When the music ended, he stood there breathless, and when he realized every eye was on him, he blushed and hung his head as he left the floor.

(Yoongi)

I started my painting, working on every minute detail she wanted me to add. It took my about an hour to finish her upper body, and I needed a break before finishing. I went to get another drink and stretch my limbs. I noticed people moving aside, their eyes trained on the center of the floor. I had to see what was so special that people weren’t dancing. I made my way to the upper level, pushing my way through some drunk people in my way. 

When  looked down, I couldn’t help but stare. The preppy college kid was dancing, and it was amazing. Those legs were… I can’t explain it. His body could hypnotize you with the way it moved to the beat. His muscles were taut under his jeans, his arms reaching out for miles. That red hair, already damp with sweat, hung over those soul catching eyes. When the music was over, he stood there like a statue, panting hard. Damn, I could make him pant harder. I shouldn’t be thinking like that, but I was. Funny thing was, when he noticed those people around him, he was suddenly shy. That’s not what happens to someone who can move like that. I had to tear my eyes away from him, but I was going to find him later.

I went back to finish my painting, but I just couldn’t keep my mind focused. Damn preppy college kid, you better not leave.

(Namjoon) 

“There's the Joonie I know and love! What's got you so tickled?”

I flashed Hoseok a smile as I slid opposite of him, but refused to say anything. He squinted suspiciously at me, but didn't push. I looked around, eyeing potential one night stands, the alcohol and beat of the music making me feel a little more uninhibited. I caught him looking at me from the corner of my eye, and I turned to look at him. He tossed the remainder of his drink back, then slid out of the booth, grabbing my hand. I knew he wanted to dance, so I took another drink and followed him onto the dance floor. 

The dance floor was the one place I felt completely at ease, no matter how many people were around. On the dance floor, with or without a partner, the world fell away and it was just me and the music. My body swayed and dipped, and my head fell back, eyes closed. But I could still sense Hoseok near me, and I effortlessly kept him as my anchor. 

And then the heat of that stare was back. It was almost a physical touch, and it almost made me falter. I opened my eyes, looking around, body still moving, until I looked up to the balcony on the second level of the club, and the guy from the bar caught my attention. I felt a familiar spark ignite in my blood, and I knew without a doubt that if he made a move, I would be going home with him tonight. 

(Hoseok)

After we finished dancing, Namjoon headed back to the booth and I stayed behind to dance with my lovers. I had seen enough, and I was ready to take them both home and have my own fun. Asking Namjoon if he was ready to head out, he told us that he was planning on staying a bit longer, that boy obviously knew what I was up to so he was being nice and letting me have the apartment for awhile. He’d come later, after everyone was either gone or asleep in my room. And that’s why I love that boy, he knows me so well.

“Alright then, we’re heading out. Call me if you need anything.”

Giving him a quick hug, we were out the door in a rush. 

(Yoongi)

I finished the body painting, admired my work for a bit, then headed out to the club. I want to see the performance, I swear I do, partly, kinda. Screw it, I want to find preppy college boy and talk with him. Who knew, he could be a pretty good release for my stress after today and painting all night on a moving canvas. I scanned the dance floor, no such luck. Looking to the bar, I caught a glimpse of him in a booth towards the back. Good, he hasn’t seen me yet. I walk around the long way, making sure I stay hidden by the throngs of drunk people stumbling around and bumping into me. I swear, one more drunk idiot running into me, I will just have to go all psycho on them, and that’s not hard for me to do lately.

I make my way to the far side of the booth, sliding in beside him. I have just a few seconds to really look at him before he notices I am in his booth. He is pretty hot for a preppy college kid. This close, those eyes are extremely sexy. His jawline is perfect, and i find myself wanting to run my tongue over it. Shit, it has been way too long. That red hair gives his complexion a haunting paleness. It reminds me of coffee with almost too much cream, but you want it anyway. It’s smooth and flawless. The way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, make me want to make it bob for other reasons.

If he doesn’t talk soon, I may be having a one night stand right here, and not that I would mind that, but he probably would. Ah, he looks at me at last.

“Hey there preppy college boy. Names Yoongi, What’s yours?”

(Namjoon)

When the song ended, I made my way off the floor and back to the booth. Hoseok stayed behind, his hands on his girlfriend’s hips as she swayed to the music, and his boyfriend behind him, plastered against his back. By the blissed out look on his face, I knew that I’d be staying behind at the club while he took them home. It meant a couple more hours at the club for me, but I didn’t mind. At least my best friend was happy. Sure enough, after another half-hour, he made his way over to me, politely asking me if I were ready to go. Shaking my head, I told him to go ahead, I was going to hang out a bit longer. Winking at me, he took his leave. 

“Alright then, we’re heading out. Call me if you need anything.”

He hugged me, then headed for the door. I waved as they left, then sighed as I sank into the plush back of the booth. I was tired, and I really did want to go home, but there was no way I was going to cock-block my best friend. And even if going home didn’t hinder his ability to be with his lovers, it would certainly not help my mood to hear the three of them, with our rooms sharing a wall. No, thank you, that was something I’d avoid at all costs. 

I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn’t even see him coming. Usually, with someone who has caught my interest as much as he had, I made it a point to keep tabs on them. Unfortunately, this time I let my guard down, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t alone in the booth anymore. Blinking, I realized he’d slid in across from me, and was staring at me intently, studying me. I have no idea how long he’d been there, but I could read the hunger in his eyes well enough. I had a feeling that he didn’t let people read him very often, but here he was, looking at me as if I were a particularly tasty treat. I swallow, hard, and his eyes follow the movement of my adam’s apple. When he finally speaks, the sound sends blood straight to my cock, making me half hard in an instant. 

“Hey there preppy college boy. Name’s Yoongi. What’s yours?”

As far as pickup lines go, it’s kind of cheesy, and I want to laugh, but I get the feeling that that wouldn’t go over very well with him. So instead, I shrug. It’s half a protective measure, half a flirt. I don’t know if I could even answer him if I wanted to- he makes me nervous, and being nervous makes it hard for me to capture the words I want to use. I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, suddenly worried that I may not be able to speak at all. And, suddenly reckless, I make a huge effort to answer him, for heaven only knows what reason. I know this is a bad idea, but I can’t seem to stop myself. 

“Namjoon”

 (Yoongi)

So, his name is Namjoon. And that voice, it's so soft. Not like soft soft, but just the right amount of soft. As I look at him, I can tell he's getting nervous, and I secretly want to warn him that he has good reason to be. 

I'm usually not as nice in the bed as I am in public, a few lovers have found that out the hard way. I like control, lots of it, and that innocence in his face tells me he hasn't been treated as rough as I like it. I hear my brain telling my crotch, guess you need to break him in. I really want to listen to my brain right now.

I feel a familiar stirring low in my gut, but if I plan on taking him home, I have a feeling I need to take it slow and play my cards right. Guess my little brain didn't get the memo, though.

“I see your friends left, need a ride home?”

(Namjoon)

“I see your friends left, need a ride home?”

A small, quiet voice inside me is telling me that accepting a ride home from this guy- Yoongi- would be the epitome of a bad idea. I usually listen to said voice- I’ve had years to learn that it’s usually the thing I should listen to when I’m making important decisions. 

And if there were ever an important choice to be made, this is it. 

I swallow nervously, his hot gaze staring me down, seeming to promise so many things I’d love tonight, but that I might well regret in the morning. 

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

I nod almost imperceptibly, then I say it out loud, just to make sure he knows I’m accepting. 

“Yes, I suppose I will.”

I readjust my body, acting like I’m relaxing, when in fact I’m more aware of him than ever, waiting to see what he’ll say. 

(Yoongi)

Nice! I get to take him home, but not to his place if I can convince him to come home with me.

I begin thinking, with my little brain, all that I could do to those pouty lips. I don't usually prefer the younger ones, but there is something about him that makes me want to break him. I really hope he's not as innocent as he appears, because that would make me feel bad if I cause him some pain.

I nod, getting up from the booth. When he stands up beside me, I find that he is almost my height and actually had some semblance of strength in his body. Oh boy, this could be fun. 

We head out, walking the short distance in silence. I wonder what he's thinking, hopefully the same thing I am. A one night stand, that's all I need, to get today's frustrations out of my system. Rough, hard sex, just the way I like it.

“So, college boy, your place or mine?”

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi@trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

[sebeth]

Fantastic Four # 9 - 12

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 A Brief Summary: Doctor Doom suffers another embarrassing defeat

Debuts:

·         The Ovoids

·         Impossible Man from the planet Poppup in the Tenth Galaxy

·         Willie Lumpkin

Favorite Cover: #12 – The Fantastic Four Meet the Hulk!

Invisible Girl Hostage Count: 5 out of 9 issues

Points of Interest:

·         The issue opens with Reed using his “electronic x-ray camera” with “radioactive film” in an attempt to learn more about Sue’s invisibility power.  Sue urges Reed to hurry as it’s “hot and stuffy” while “Torch keeps his flame on”.  Said Torch is acting as Reed’s lab assistant. Johnny is taking notes while engulfed in flames – except for his hands.  Between the causal use of “radioactive film” and Johnny walking around in flames, it’s a wonder the group lives long enough to battle Doom later on.

·         The FF’s signal flare appears in the sky. The trio attempts to exit the lab but the door is locked. Johnny decides to burn through the door but is stopped by Reed: “Trying to stop you from blowing us up, kid! Did you forget how sensitive that nuclear device is to heat?!” Johnny was completely engulfed in flames only four panels earlier and Reed didn’t seem to care but now it’s a no-go.

·         Is it safe to keep a nuclear device in the middle of New York City? Especially with Johnny and Ben living in the building. The duo engages in destructive rough-housing on a near-daily basis!

·         Reed attempts to stretch his arm to reach the Fantasti-Car so the trio can leave via the window but the strain proves too much. No worries, as Johnny has learned something new: “I can concentrate my flame so much that it burns without heat!” What?!

·         The trio escapes the lab. Reed decides “Let’s forget the Fantastic-Car. We can make better time without it!” Again, what? Johnny, maybe, but not the other two. And this is the era where Johnny randomly loses power due to “exhaustion”. Wouldn’t it make more sense for Johnny not to use his powers until the group has reached the scene of crisis? Especially when you have an awesome car-plane just waiting to be used?

·         The three head to the source of the flare. Sue causes a car crash with her “now you see me, now you don’t” routine. I never understood how Spider-Man was a “public menace” and the X-Men were “hated and feared” by the general public in comparison to the Fantastic Four in the early days of the Marvel Universe. Spider-Man mostly stopped criminals and the X-Men were isolated in Westchester County minding their own business…meanwhile the Four, in the heart of NYC, can barely go an issue without causing a mass panic or massive property damage…many times caused by Ben having a tantrum!

·         The source of the “emergency” is Ben wanting to show off the new statues Alicia has made of the team’s enemies. Sue protests the inclusion of Namor. Reed questions Sue over her feelings for Namor: “I thought we had an understanding.” Sue admits she’s not sure of her own feelings.

·         Johnny’s glad he’s “not old enough to have all those kinds of mushy problems”.  Karl Kessel’s “Human Torch” series contains pre-transformation flashbacks of Johnny flirting with girls. And he’s flirting with Valeria, Princess Pearla, and soon to be dating Dorrie Evans in the “Strange Tales” series. Perhaps Johnny’s referring to “serious” relationships?

·         Doctor Doom has returned to earth! And decides to storm Marvel Comics and terrorize Stan Lee & Jack Kirby with the sight of his unmasked face?!

·         Doom proclaims: “I do no blame you for shrinking from the sight of me! I still cannot bear to gaze upon my face myself! But I must remove my mask at times else I feel it will strangle me!”

·         Reed has the nerve to question Ben: “What makes you so bad tempered all the time?” Seriously, Reed?!

·         We have a fun moment of Johnny & Ben uniting to prank Reed by stretching his clothes.

·         Doom ambushes Reed. Victor explains he was rescued by the Ovoids, an alien race whose “science and culture were a million years ahead of ours”.  Doom learned many abilities from the Ovoids including the ability to switch bodies with another person. Victor promptly switches bodies with Reed.

·         The rest of the team arrives and subdues Doom (Reed). Ben and Johnny are very excited to have captured Doom (Reed) and devise ludicrous ways to imprison him. Not to worry, Reed (Doom) had devised a cell to contain him.

·         Kirby draws some extremely creepy “Evil Reed” facial expressions.

·         Back at the Baxter Building, the rest of the team is overrun by a herd of miniaturized animals: horses, bears, kangaroos, moose, elephants, cows, camels, zebras, birds, etc. The trio scramble to contain the animals and return them to Reed’s lab: “You know how angry he gets if anyone interferes with his work!”  

·         Reed (Doom) returns and the trio questions him – 1) Are these the animals stolen from the zoo and 2) Why are you shrinking animals?

·         Victor spins a story that this “reducing ray” will expand the team’s powers and allow Ben to transform at will. I know Reed is the scientist of the story but that explanation makes no sense. The team chooses not to press the matter of the animal theft and forced experimentation.

·         Doom (Reed) escapes from his cell and seeks the aid of Alicia Masters. Unfortunately for Reed, an invisible Sue was visiting Alicia and knocks him out.

·         Alicia is confused: “How can that be Doctor Doom? There’s an aura of goodness about him…of nobility!” Really, Alicia? You can sense that from an unconscious man in a suit of armor? I wish someone would establish Alicia had minor empathic abilities – otherwise, her “sensing” is ridiculous.

·         Johnny & Ben arrive to defeat “Doom”. Ben is furious that Alicia was threatened: “You tried to scare Alicia, did ya? Nothing can save ya from me now, ya miserable ghoul…I ain’t kidding now! He threatened Alicia! Do ya hear me? He dared to threaten Alicia!”

·         There’s a cute scene where the team takes Doom to the parked Fantasti-car only to discover a group of neighborhood kids palying in it.

·         Johnny and Ben suspect something is off with Reed & Doom so Johnny uses his powers to create a mirage to test their suspicions. I love Silver Age powers – always used in ways that make no sense with actual science.

·         Doom is found out, re-switches bodies with Reed, and shrunk to nothingness by his own reducing ray. The next time Doom achieves god-like powers he should erase everyone’s memories of his ridiculous Silver Age-shenanigans.

·         Issue #11 opens with a cute scene of the team encountering a group of children playing “Fantastic Four”. The team shows off their powers for the children. Johnny wisely reminds the kids “Throwing fireballs is easy for me, fella, but don’t you ever play with fire. It’s too dangerous for little kids.”

·         We meet Willie Lumpkin, the team’s mailman. He volunteers for the team: “I haven’t exactly got any super powers, but I can wiggle my ears real good.”

·         The team goes through their fan mail: Johnny receives love letters; Ben gets pranks from the Yancy Street Gang.

·         Reed has yet another cure for Ben who is understandably wary: “I’m sick of being a guinea pig for you! None of these things ever work right!” Ben takes the cure and transforms back into his human form. Ben, Reed, and Sue are ecstatic. A more cautious Johnny muses to himself: “Poor Ben! If he changes back to the Thing again, I don’t wanna be around to see it!”. Johnny decides to head to the garage to “fool around with my new TR-4!”

·         Reed and Ben recap their meeting in college. Ben was “State U’s football hot-shot”. Despite being polar opposites, “I was a millionaire’ son and he was from the wrong side of the tracks”, the duo quickly became best friends. Their friendship persisted throughout World War II. Ben was “a Marine fighter ace over Okinawa and Guadalcanal” and Reed was “behind the lines, working with the underground for the O.S.S.” The timeline of these events would put Reed and Ben in their late thirties at the time of their transformation into the Fantastic Four.

·         Due to the sliding timescale, the World War II bit has been retconned from Reed and Ben’s past. I think Ben’s time in the military is still part of his background – the era has simply changed. I’m not sure about Reed.

·         Sue had begun dating Reed before he left for the war: “It’s always been you, since we were kids together living next door to each other”. This would be retconned later – Sue and Reed wouldn’t meet until Reed was entering college.

·         Sue brushes off Reed’s devotion as the “shadow of the Sub-Mariner” lies between them. The whole Namor storyline could have been resolved much sooner if it was acceptable for comic book women, or women in general, were allowed to have lustful thoughts about men. Sue hasn’t spent enough time with Namor that didn’t involve threats to her, her family, or the human race in general. Poor Sue isn’t allowed to admit she appreciates Namor’s fabulous body in a tight, small speedo so the audience is left with her swooning over his “gentle”, “conflicted” nature. I love Namor but there has been nothing gentle or conflicted in his FF appearances. Execpt for the time he swam with the dolphins but Sue wasn’t there to witness it.

·         We get yet another recap of the infamous rocket flight. I understand the “every issue could be someone’s first” principle but were at issue #11 and it’s been recapped in half of the books.

·         Sue’s upset because a few pieces of mail state she “doesn’t contribute enough to the team”.

·         Reed defends Sue by saying Abraham Lincoln’s mother didn’t fight but she still contributed?! Kick him, Sue! Kick him!

·         Ben becomes overly excited and turns back into the Thing.

·         The boys surprise Sue with a birthday cake.

·         Impossible Man arrives on Earth, causing confusion and chaos in his wake. The Four battle Impossible Man in the Flamingo restaurant. He eventually becomes bored and leaves the planet. If you’ve seen the Impossible Man of the 2000s Fantastic Four cartoon, you’ve basically read this issue.

·         Johnny uses his powers to create “hypnotic rings” during the fight with the Impossible Man. You’ve got to love Silver Age powers!

·         Issue 12 begins a classic rivalry of the Marvel Universe: the Thing vs the Hulk.

·         Alicia and Ben are leaving a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Ben comments “I get my kicks from low-down New Orleans Jazz”.

·         The army pours into town and mistakes Thing for the Hulk, prompting a mistaken identity fight.

·         Ben is quite irate over being mistaken for the Hulk.

·         General Ross arrives at the Baxter Building. He wants the Four to locate the Hulk.

·         Ross shows a picture of the Hulk. Sue fades from sight: “The sight of that monster unnerved me so that I lost control of my visibility power!” Really? I don’t buy it. First, it’s only a picture and secondly, she lives with Ben and has battled Skrulls and monsters from Monster Island. It’s not like large creatures are a foreign concept to Sue.

·         Even Ben thinks its bull!

·         The boys show off, proudly proclaiming how he – and he personally – will capture the Hulk. Unfortunately for Johnny, flying around the small room a few times exhausts him flame. I appreciate the time it takes Johnny to master his abilities – it’s more realistic as opposed to the “instant mastery” route but two laps around the living room shouldn’t wipe him out as this point. He’s been the “Human Torch” for months as this point.

·         Reed praises Johnny’s skills as a mechanic: “That flame of his is one of our most potent weapons as well as his mechanical skill.  In fact, I’ll give you a little demonstration! Johnny has just finished modifying our Fantastic-Car!”

·         Johnny encourages Reed: “You tell him, Big Daddy!” In an alternate universe, Johnny married Reed Richards – was that his pet name for him?

·         The Four and the General head to the Southwest to search for the Hulk. The Four meet Bruce Banner and Rick Jones.

·         Reed has “long been an admirer” of Banner’s atomic research. Banner returns the praise: “I’m highly flattered that the most brilliant scientific brain of our time should say that to me”.

·         Johnny both shows-off for and pranks Rick. Neither are impressed with the other. Johnny: “Look at him green with envy! Trying hard not to admit he’s overwhelmed by me!” Rick: “He wouldn’t be so swell-headed if he knew I was the Hulk’s partner!”

·         Johnny tends to dial up the obnoxiousness and showboating when he’s with another teen hero: Spider-Man, Rick Jones, and later, Iceman. Possibly a combination of eagerness to impress/work with someone of his age group and a desire to be the best of said age group.

·         The army base’s saboteur “the Wrecker”, but not the Wrecker, kidnaps Rick Jones causing Bruce Banner to unleash the Hulk.

·         The Four and the Hulk meet up in a “deserted Western ghost town” and fight. Ben finds and frees Rick. Hulk flees the scene.

·         The Four prepare to leave the base. Reed hints to Bruce: “I’ve got a feeling there’s a lot we have to talk about – like you, and Rick, and the Hulk, for instance!”

[derekmsheen]

“My 16th Birthday” or “How I Made Birthday Money Working For The Sinaloa Cartel!”

I sat behind the steering wheel of the battered red truck. I wasn’t sure why he asked me to sit in the driver’s seat, but I instantly obliged. I jumped out the passenger door and got in through the driver’s side. I didn’t feel confident trying to slide over the gearshift, with the truck still running. God knows I would’ve dropped it into gear on accident and sent the little Toyota rolling down the hill on our first day out together. I didn’t want to take any chances disappointing him so I made sure to get out and walk around.

He didn’t notice how nervous I was and I’m sure, in retrospect, he wouldn’t give a shit either.

He walked off towards the open bay door of the auto body shop and disappeared.

“Son, if you see me running, be ready to hit the gas” he said, before he got out of the cab and went to the bed of the truck to retrieve his leather briefcase.

 My instincts were telling me what we were doing was wrong, but at this point I didn’t feel confident asking any questions: things were happening so fast and I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t equipped for any this.

Hell, I didn’t even know how to drive a clutch.

But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that. I’d figure it out if I had to. I’d seen his father sitting in this very seat, pushing the clutch with his giant boot and jamming the stick in any number of directions as the tiny truck lurched and bucked against the will of an overburdened clutch.

My grandfather only had a 4th grade education; If he could muster the coordination to drive this thing, I could probably manage.

 It was already getting dark and I was pretty sure we weren’t going to make the movie, like he promised.

I didn’t know yet this was a routine we would follow for the rest of our time together: unfulfilled promises made to secure my cooperation. So here I was, sitting in a running truck I was unqualified to operate, without even a learner’s permit. The guilt was like a sour ball of heat in my stomach, but I was trying so hard to ignore it.

 It was my 16th birthday and I was finally with my Dad.

     My day had started earlier than usual: at 6a.m. I managed to rouse myself, get showered and dressed without waking my mom. The night before, I’d cancelled our birthday plans together by lying about a date with a human girl. Barbara was so excited at the possibility of me liking a girl that she told me we could reschedule my birthday dinner for later in the week. If she knew that I blew her off in order to meet up with my biological father, she would never forgive me.

Barbara had love in her heart for even the worst of people, but when it came to Michael Sheen, she was unapologetic about her anger and distrust of him.

She served him with divorce papers while he was in jail, awaiting sentencing for narcotics trafficking, which came as a complete surprise to her; until then, she was completely oblivious about his second life as a young up-and-comer in the Colacurcio crime syndicate: an extension of the Gambino crime family.

After their divorce was final she was adamant about zero visitations until I was old enough to decide whether I wanted anything to do with him.

She was very careful about the potential of poisoning the well so instead of telling me anything about him, she almost never spoke of him at all. Unless of course I asked, then she would open the old “hope chest” and show me the pictures of a young Michael holding his baby son, followed by a few newspaper articles, offered without comment, from the day the FBI stormed Francis and Isabelle’s home and placing Michael under arrest for high treason. More on this later.

   We made a plan to meet at the King’s Diner, down the highway from the apartment I was currently sharing with Barbara, around 7:30 in the morning. Michael told me the plan was to meet up early, run a couple of errands and then grab some lunch followed by any movie I wanted to see.                                      I had chosen “Spies Like Us”.

  I arrived at King’s early enough to watch all the older union guys and dock workers show up for their first AA meeting of the day. Apparently, every morning at 7A.M. sharp, the banquet room became an ad-hoc sobriety hall, complete with its own coffee maker (one of those big, industrial size aluminum numbers) and fresh donuts. Some fellas ordered breakfast, which allowed me the opportunity to hear parts of their stories every time the server pushed through the swinging doors with plates of food perched up and down each arm. I sat at the diner until 11am, drinking coffee and re-reading the same paper for a while, trying to find new, unexplored parts I hadn’t examined yet, so I didn’t fall asleep at the diner’s counter. There was never a moment where I thought about going back home; I would wait all day if I had to. It was my birthday and I was going to spend it with my father, even if I had to wait until sundown.

 When the little red truck finally pulled up to the front of the restaurant, I could tell Michael hadn’t been awake for long. His face was covered in light stubble and he carried heavy dark bags under his eyes. I paid for my coffee and went out to meet him as he reached over to the passenger side door and opened it from inside.

“Hop in, son!” he managed a half smile as I jumped in. The truck was filled with the rich odor of booze sweat and I instantly understood why he was 3 hours late. I tried to ignore it, rolled the window down and leaned outside for fear of dry heaving and blowing my cover.                                                                        I asked him where we were going for lunch.

“I was thinking we’d hit this barbeque place in Aberdeen. A friend of mine lives out there and I thought we’d go say hi?” he replied.

“Isn’t Aberdeen three hours away?” I asked.

“I know I said we’d hit a movie” he replied, “but I have to run some errands first and I thought we’d do it together? We can spend some time talking and catching up” he offered, weakly.

I tried to mask my disappointment and sound agreeable.

“Um…yeah, that’s okay. We can hit a later movie.”

He didn’t reply, he just wrestled the clutch into drive and we hit the highway.

    We drove in relative silence, with an occasional break for heavy sighing, belching or rubbing his face to stay awake, for what felt like days. I found myself annoyingly tapping along to the beat of the wipers as we plugged along the wet backwoods utility road on which we were currently driving. We’d left the freeway some time ago and were driving through a part of the countryside I wasn’t familiar with.  I couldn’t ever remember being out this far.

Eventually, he slowed the truck and hit the turn signal as we pulled onto a long, muddy road, towards a huge, modern looking home, behind a massive iron gate. As he pulled up to the callbox he rolled his window down, reached out and hit the button.

A voice came over the tiny speaker:

“Hi Michael. Hold on” a man’s voice called out as the gates began to open and we slowly drove through.

Michael stared ahead and said “Son, this is a guy I work with. Would you mind hanging out with his kid while we do our business. Do you mind?”

“I guess not?” I replied, barely hiding my irritation.

“I didn’t tell him you were coming with me and he’s a little paranoid. Nothing to worry about, but you can play video games or something, then we’ll grab some lunch. Okay?”

“No problem, Michael”

He looked at me, perturbed.

“You can call me Dad, son. It’s alright.”

“Sorry. No problem…Dad” the word fell out of my mouth clumsily.

     He pulled the little red truck onto a paved turnaround and parked, next to a silver Mercedes, which was parked next to a silver Land Rover. It was an enormous home. Huge floor to ceiling windows let me see inside. It was decorated for the holidays and I could see a massive Christmas tree. It had to be twenty feet tall and still didn’t begin touch the vaulted ceiling, where a massive wrought iron chandelier hung near the largest fireplace I’d ever seen.

  Michael went to knock, but the door opened before his fist touched it. The man on the other side was still in his bathrobe and ushered us in, holding the door open for another moment and nervously looked around outside, before closing it behind us. Michael extended his hand and it just hung there as the man ignored it. He never even looked at me, instead pushing my dad towards an office to the right of the entrance. They both went in and he slammed the door behind them.  I stood in the foyer, stunned and disoriented by the size of the place.

I found my way to the living room and saw a very young boy, maybe seven years old, watching cartoons in his pajamas. I sat on the couch next to him. He looked up at me for just a second, then back to the television. I sat and watched tv without ever saying a word to him.

     Eventually I heard them emerge from the office, their voices getting louder as they made their way to the living room. Michael looked around nervously as the man in the robe split off into the kitchen.

“Let’s move” he whispered. His tone seemed hurried.

I Iooked up and saw the perspiration soaking through his shirt. He was the color of bleached paper.

“You okay?”

“We need to get the FUCK out of here” he spat quietly through gritted teeth and made a rolling motion with his hand.

I hurried off the couch and followed him. He was nearly to the truck before I even reached the door.

     I ran out to the driveway to catch up and he’d already started the truck. Once I was inside, he hit the gas so hard the truck backfired and lurched forward. His face was turned, staring at the front door of the house, as he put the truck in reverse and backed out from between the two luxury vehicles. We made our way toward the gate, which was slowly opening for us. Once we were just outside the property, Michael let out a barking cough and wiped sweat from his eyes.

He slammed the brakes and skidded the truck into the dirt along the side of the road. He hurled himself from the driver’s side door and began making circles around the truck, his arms lifted over his head. He steadied himself on the truck’s short bed and began to dry heave, but nothing came out. He grabbed the door and pulled himself into the tiny cab, his eyes wet with tears and sweat, cheeks flush and his breathing labored.

“Dad? Are you alright?” I asked, fully aware he was the opposite of alright.

“No”, he answered curtly, before he whispered “fuck” under his breath.

He took one very deep breath and stared ahead just before announcing, “one more stop before lunch. I promise.” He said as he pulled back onto the utility road.

     We drove in silence for almost an hour, before Michael pulled off the freeway and stopped in front of a small uniform supply store. There was a cartoon police officer painted on the big display window with the word “SALE” next to him in a loud Day-Glo color. He left the truck running and told me to wait as he made his way around to the bed of the truck and grabbed his briefcase.

I stared out the rain-covered windshield for twenty minutes.

He seemed almost relieved when he got back in the truck. “Alright” he said as he pulled his seatbelt over his lap. “Let’s get some lunch!”

“We’re gonna meet up with my friend Big Lou” Michael announced, breaking a very long silence. He’s a good fella. We met on the inside.”

I knew that ‘inside’ was slang for Lompoc Federal Penitentiary, where he had spent the previous 9 years.

“Now, when you meet Lou…” he cautioned, “don’t stare. He’s a big fella; easily over five hundred pounds. He had a cell to himself because no one else could fit in there with him. He’s a funny dude, you’ll like him”.

I wasn’t sure why he was selling Big Lou to me so hard, but I was about to find out.

Then, out of nowhere, he shared a weird piece of life advice with me.

“I hope you never end up there but if you do, don’t take anything anybody leaves on your bunk. I mean it. Cigarettes, magazines, drugs? Those aren’t gifts and nothing is ever free. Catch my drift?” I assumed that last question was rhetorical but Michael continued to stare at me, expecting an answer.

“Um…yeah? Got it. Thanks?”

“Good. I’m serious” he added.

    We pulled up to Big Pig BBQ at nearly three o’clock. There was only one other car in the parking lot and it was a beat to shit Ford LTD with a piece of plastic wrap over the blown-out passenger window. Michael parked next to it and as we got closer I could see that the car was a dumpster, filled to overflowing with unopened mail, newspapers, blankets, empty food wrappers and bags. I had to stifle a gag as we walked past it and the smell of wet rot punched me right in my empty stomach.

“Looks like Big Lou beat us here” he said as I tried to keep my insides inside.

    The restaurant had a rustic log cabin vibe going on and the front counter was empty when we walked in. Michael scoped out the dining area and pointed at a big corner table where the largest man I’ve ever seen had somehow managed to squeeze between the table and the wall and was now struggling to free himself to rise and greet my dad. Big Lou’s massive arms flapped like a flightless bird as he desperately tried to escape the tiny space he’d jammed himself into until, with one final upward heave his torso squooged free and his tremendous gut slid across the table as he crab-walked out of the tiny corner booth. He was now damp with sweat as his unsteady legs prepared to once again carry more than they were really equipped for.

He was a mountain of moist black skin and when he grabbed Michael he absorbed him more than embraced him.

I immediately understood how he acquired his nickname.

Michael introduced me and Lou extended a giant hand, the size of a canned ham, soaking wet with perspiration.  It wrapped itself all the way around my tiny arm like a hungry python.

    “You’re handsome just like yer daddy” Big Lou told me as his face creased into a pleasant smile. We all made our way to the counter and a lone employee appeared from behind swinging doors.

      When our orders arrived, Big Lou had four separate baskets of smoked meats and sides that took up most of the available table space. He jammed a wad of napkins into the neck of his humongous and grease stained tee shirt as he set to work on emptying every one of those baskets by the time I’d even finished my one meal.

I tried tuning in to their conversation but It was difficult to hear over Lou’s wet chewing which made everything sound like it was underwater.

I was actually thankful they left me alone. Big Lou didn’t seem like a person I would ever have to meet again and, frankly, I just wanted to get the out of this place and go see a movie.

Out of nowhere, Michael asked me to run out to the truck to grab his briefcase and I became immediately irritated. Suddenly it hit me that we’d only met two days ago and now I’m in the middle of Aberdeen at an empty BBQ restaurant, watching an ogre gorge himself to death not long after running for our lives (from God knows what) at some yuppie mansion in the middle of nowhere, then sitting in silence in a shaky old truck with no heat and on my fucking birthday??

‘Goddammit’ my brain hollered.

‘I just want to see my fucking movie and go home’ I kept repeating to myself as I reached under the rain soaked tarp, feeling for Michael’s briefcase.  

‘What’s so friggin’ important in here?’ I thought. I quickly glanced at the clasps and noticed it had a combination lock. I wondered if he’d rolled the tumblers after closing it, last time? Maybe I’d peek inside. I used my thumb to push the squared button on the first clasp and realized it was locked. Dammit.

I swung the case by the handle for a moment to see if I could feel what was inside, but nothing shifted. It was heavy. What the hell was in here that was so important?  Then it thankfully occurred to me that I was probably better off not knowing and I made my way back inside. When I came back inside they were sitting closer to each other, their heads low and they spoke in whipsers. I made my steps heavier so they could hear me coming and set the briefcase on the table. Michael grabbed it and quickly hid it under the table without ever looking up at me.

He reached into his pocket, grabbed a wad of money and peeled off a ten-dollar bill.

“Why don’t you go grab us a piece of pie?” he asked

“I don’t think I can eat another thing. I’m pretty full.” I answered.

“Son, go get us a piece of pie. Please” and jammed the bill in to my hand and nudged me towards the front counter.

As I walked back towards the front counter I began to feel helpless and a little trapped, but I just kept my head down, hoping this weird day would end soon and then I ordered two pieces of pie.

       We watched Lou struggle with the driver’s side door and try to fold himself into the tiny trash packed car. As he turned the key the car belched and coughed black smoke. Suddenly the smell of wet garbage became stronger as my throat began to burn from re-swallowing my lunch.  

“Y’all be good now!” he called out over the radio blaring an unidentifiable mix of static and possibly Lionel Richie.

“We’ll talk soon, Lou” Michael said as he patted the meat of Big Lou’s arm.

Lou carefully backed his wreckage out of the empty parking lot and I could now see that both taillights were shattered as he pulled onto the highway, black smoke following him down the lonely road.

Michael and I got back in the truck and headed towards the freeway.

“What’d you think of Big Lou?” Michael asked, as the little truck accelerated towards the freeway entrance. I’d been quiet since lunch. My irritation had gone from hiding deep under the surface to nearly full-blown visible, but I was aware that Michael was oblivious to it.

I let out a deep sigh and obliged him, “Yeah, interesting guy”.

“You wanna know what he was in for?” he asked.

“Nah, It’s none of my business”

“It’s pretty crazy. You sure you don’t wanna know?”

“Was it murder or something?” I asked, half-heartedly. It was obvious he wanted to tell me.

He dropped the truck into a lower gear and stared dead ahead when he spoke.

“Lou had a real specific job.” his face was searching for the right language to use, careful to edit his thoughts before he finally blurted “he was a contract rapist.”

For a moment, I was confused because none of those words seemed to fit together.

He took his eyes off the road for a brief second when he noticed my silence.

“Not women. His specialty was men.” He followed this batshit statement with a nervous laugh, as if even he couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth. I kept waiting for him to break and tell me he was kidding or he was testing me and then tell me that Big Lou was actually just a murderer.

 Nope.

 Then he continued:  

“He’d get called in on special occasions. Like, when a juror or a witness needed extra persuading? Mostly he’d get hired by ex-wives wanting revenge on their husbands. He got caught when some rich guy fucked his wife over in a divorce and she hired Lou to ruin his life. They caught him sneaking into the guy’s room. He thought Lou was there to kill him. Must’ve shit a brick when he found out what he was really there for?”

“Wait…for real?” I croaked, unaware how dry my throat was.

“Son, why would I make up something like this?” he seemed incredulous, before adding, “Besides, most of them had it coming.”

My sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t process how he was capable of rationalizing something so fucked up and I suddenly wanted to be home.

I wanted to be home so bad.

I wanted to see my mom and tell her she was right. That I should’ve listened to her. That I was naïve and she was so right. I wanted to apologize for everything and somehow magically wake up in my bed this morning. Forgetting to call my dad and celebrating my birthday with my mom, just like we’d planned.

 I knew absolutely nothing about this guy. Where he’d been the last fifteen years and six months. What he’d done all that time. I didn’t even know why he was in prison? I was so desperate to just hop right into a truck with this dude and try jumpstarting a relationship, knowing absolutely jack shit about him, other than he was partially responsible for my existence and I did the very thing I’d been warned never to do with someone I didn’t know, especially if that stranger was my dad.

Now I was hours from home and daylight was starting to fade.

I was panicking, but I promised myself I would do everything in my power to bury it deep down, as far as I could, until I got home. I didn’t want to let him see me like this. Not on our first day together. I had plenty of time to regret this later.

But I had no idea just how long this day would actually last.

 Now, back to the beginning:

 Here I was, sitting behind the steering wheel, staring out the windshield and hoping to see Michael walk, not sprint, towards the running Toyota, I finally see someone come into view from the light of the open bay door: it was Michael and he waved, smiling, as he calmly walked towards the truck.

Relief washed over me. I wouldn’t have to learn how to drive a manual transmission under extreme duress and he’d promised me this was be the absolute last stop.

The clock above the odometer ready twelve after six and the last light of the sun was simply a purple blister over the horizon.  

As he made his way to the driver’s side, he motioned for me to scoot over.

Still afraid of hitting the stick and sending the running truck down the road, instead I got out and walked over to the passenger side.

I didn’t even wait for his seatbelt to click before asking him, “So, is that it? Are we done for the day? Can we go see a movie now?”

He flashed me an exhausted grimace as his hands slowly rubbed his eyes, “We’re done, but I don’t think we’re gonna make that movie.”

I was already expecting this, but I wanted to make him say it out lout. It was oddly satisfying, knowing I was at least right that he would disappoint me.

“Okay” I said while yelling ‘fuck, fuck, fuck!’ in my head. It was anything but okay.

  “Look, we need to head back to mom and dad’s before I get you home. I gotta get something from the house and they’ll want to see you, since it’s your birthday. You okay with that?” he asked.

‘Fuck no, I’m not okay with that’ in my head.

“Yeah, sure” I said out loud.

   The house they lived in was the one where my mom started her labor pains. They sold it not long after I was born to open a short-lived Pizza Pete’s franchise. During that time, they lived in a trailer park in Burien and when the old house went back on the market, they bought it back immediately. Michael had been living with them since his transfer. He didn’t have a job or savings and his parents let him live in the downstairs TV room, until he could get on his feet. I imagine if my grandfather had his way, he’d have let Michael stay there indefinitely. I always felt like he was the Devil on his dad’s shoulder (oddly, I don’t think there was an angel on his other shoulder) that helped justify his day drinking and gambling at the shitty, smoke filled card room ironically named “Gold Nugget”. Which, coincidentally, was a place that Gary Leon Ridgway would frequent in between Green River murders.

     We pulled into the covered car park as the little Toyota bathed the front windows of the little house with its dull headlights. The upstairs curtains parted and I saw the tiny bird-like frame of my grandmother peek out to see who was there. Then she let go of the drapes and opened the front door as Michael put the truck in park and turned it off.

As we got out of the truck, she stood at the top of the steps with a dishtowel, drying her hands.

“Well, there’s the birthday boy!” she said with a sharp smile. “You’re another year older and another year wiser, right?” she asked as she wrapped her paper-thin arms around me.

“Hi Grandma” I hugged her back and she walked us into the living room.

My grandfather, Francis, sat reclined in his worn leather chair and folded his newspaper onto his lap. He was not a quiet man and possessed all the physical grace of a club-footed ballerina. His shirt was wrinkled above his stomach and one button had popped open, exposing the white flesh if his belly. The legs of his pants were pushed up over his socks as if he’d slid onto the chair from above, legs first. His oversized orthopedic shoe (compensating for a weakened ankle; the by-product of an injury he suffered during WWII) had a thicker heel and sole that was supposed to help make his gait more even, but instead caused him to lumber like Frankenstein’s monster, due it’s excessive weight. For some reason, as a kid, every time I watched him walk it I would picture a bowling ball falling down a long flight of stairs. I’m still not sure why my brain chose that particular image, but somehow it suited him.

He adjusted his dirty glasses and swept his hand over the top of his sweaty head, flattening what was left of his long white hair, over the top of his head.

“Well, this just warms my heart” he croaked with a tinge of sarcasm.  

“The apple and tree. Let’s hope they don’t fall too close together” my grandmother added and this made both of them break into a fit of laughter.

 Michael wrapped his arms around his mother’s smallish frame and then walked by his father, reached out and tousled up his hair, which made his father spit out “sonofabitch” under his breath, as he quickly swept his meaty paw up to brush his hair back into place.

 “What did you two boys get into today?” Isabelle asked.

Michael spoke before I could.

“I took Derek with me to see a couple of friends, then we had some lunch and drove around. Just talked and caught up” he shot me a sideways look I instantly recognized as the ‘keep your mouth shut’ signal.

The one thing we seemed to share genetically was an ability to lie without any effort or emotion whatsoever.

I tried not to make eye contact with either of them. I knew she could read me like a book and would have instantly known something was up. Instead, I made my way to the bathroom while he talked, so I could just hide.

I heard her ask if we were hungry and dad told them he had a late lunch and he just wanted to spend another hour or so catching up with me before he had to drive me back home.

‘Shit’ I thought. My stomach sank at the thought of another hour “hanging out” with Michael. I just wanted to go home.

Then I heard my grandmother say she needed to get my birthday card since I was here and it would save her trouble of mailing it.

I waited another couple of minutes and flushed an empty toilet before running my hands under the sink.

She was standing just outside the bathroom door when I came out.

    “Happy Birthday, birthday boy!” she shouted and I was wound so tight I almost screamed.

“Since you’re here we’ll just give this to you now” she said as she thrust an envelope into my hands. It was bright yellow and had the word “Favorite Grandson” written in flawless calligraphy. I managed a ‘thank you’ and gave her a big hug before I walked over to Francis and gave him a half-hug, which was clumsy and lacked feeling. He smelled like stale peanuts.

Michael announced we were going downstairs before he had to take me back. I put the unopened card in my coat pocket and followed him, hoping none of them noticed me visibly cringing.

I followed him through the living room, past the kitchen and into the tiny office where my grandmother paid all of the bills and wrote her letters. It was littered with pictures of the savior, her grandchildren and old black and whites of her and a thinner, healthier Francis dressed in his Navy whites. He was a dashing young man with strong features and towered over Isabelle by a g foot and a half.

They both hollered “Goodnight” to us as we headed down the stairs from the office into the darkened TV room.

The TV room somehow got labeled as a “basement” even though it was actually at ground level and the picture window looked directly out on the front grill of the Toyota, parked mere feet away.

Michael flicked the switch on the room’s only lamp and the room filled with a warm, yellowish light, illuminating the single orange couch and the large wooden console television in the corner.  There was a second door that led out to the covered driveway and a set of French doors, behind which sat the washer and dryer. The room was sparse. There was a small garbage bag, in the corner, with Michael’s clothes inside and two blazers on hangers, suspended on the curtain rod.

 I had to remind myself that he’d only been on the other side of a prison fence for a week or so.

The couch was covered with two blankets and a single discolored pillow. He sat and propped his head on his elbow and with his other hand, reached into a pants pocket to remove the truck’s keys.

“Do me a favor, son” he said as he reached over to hand them to me. “Go outside and grab my briefcase out of the truck please?”

And for the second time I begrudgingly obliged him, took the keys and headed out the side door. I walked over to the still warm Toyota and retrieved the ratty case from the truck’s bed. It was substantially lighter than before.

I handed him the case and truck keys, which he dropped onto the side table, where the lamp sat.

I saw his thumbs roll the tumblers on the case’s combination lock and pop both latches open. He lifted the lid of his attaché, reached inside and pulled out four separate stacks of hundred dollar bills. Each stack was approximately 4 to 5 inches tall and contained by a thick rubber band. Michael sat two of the stacks next to him on the couch, removed the band from one and began peeling off bills, one at a time. Oddly, the stacks didn’t seem to change in size.

“I’m sorry we never made the movie, but you really helped me out today. Here…” he said as he handed me a stack of bills before wishing me a

‘happy birthday’.

I was frozen dumb as I sat holding a wad of cash and the day’s events came rushing back as it suddenly became very clear.

My mind started racing through every possible ‘what if’ scenario and it felt like there was a hole burning through my stomach.

 “You could say thank you” Michael broke the momentary silence. He was staring at me, impatiently waiting for a response. My mind cartwheeled over and over as I could see myself arrested and the sound of cuffs as they locked my arms behind my back. I could imagine calling mom from jail, crying.

I was rapidly flipping through every single thing that could have gone wrong. I was on the ridge, staring down at a full-blown panic attack looking straight back at me.

I was also thinking about that wad of money in my hand. I wanted to hand it back but part of me also wanted to count it?

“Um…thank you?” I managed to stutter, while my eyes darted from his to the front window as I waited for the red and blue lights of all the police cars I expected to swarm my grandparent’s tiny house any moment.

“Um…” I started and he cut me off before I could finish.

“You really want to know? Because if I tell you, you’re an accomplice.”

‘Holy fucking shit!!’ my brain started hollering on a loop.

I looked directly into his eyes and thought very hard before answering him.

“Yes please” I blurted with shaky confidence.

He lowered his head and the smile disappeared completely.

His voice dropped to a low, whispering baritone and he scooted closer to me.

“That guy we met this morning is Phil. We used to work together before I went back inside.”

He continued, “I owed him some money and we had to work some things out today”, he paused and I could see the color leave his face as he drew a breath.

“He put his gun in my mouth and that’s why we had to leave in a hurry. I wanted to get out of there before he changed his mind.”

  I felt cold all over before he went on.

“We moved almost two kilos of cocaine today. There’s a thousand dollars in your pocket for helping me. That was my cut. The rest is Phil’s.”

I’m not sure what my face was doing during his explanation, but he could tell I was shook. He put his hand on my shoulder and tried to change his tone.

“Son, look…when I pay him back, I’m done. I just have to tie up some of these loose ends and try not to get my head blown off. I’d really appreciate if you kept this between us. Not your mom, not your friends. Nobody. We’d both be in serious trouble.”

Fear was morphing into rage now: Why didn’t he give me a choice? Why on my birthday??!

I felt betrayed.

I felt tricked.

My anger was now bubbling up to the surface and I could tell he sensed it. Like a magician, he reached under the couch and produced a bottle of Dewar’s Scotch.

“Look” he said, holding the bottle in front of me, “why don’t you go upstairs and grab us a couple of glasses.”

I didn’t have the energy to protest and like a good automaton, I wordlessly rose from the couch, walked up the stairs, entered the kitchen and grabbed to small tumblers from a kitchen cabinet.

I made my way back downstairs and set both glasses on the side table with an over emphasized firmness.

“This won’t make everything better, but it’s a start” he said as he filled one of the glasses to the middle and the second one an inch from the bottom. Michael handed me the less full glass and extended his in a gesture to toast.

I just stared at my glass, desperately trying to think of a way to not have to put it in my mouth. I saw myself sitting at that early morning AA meeting, surrounded by grizzled old men and telling my story of the night I started drinking which was also, coincidentally, the same night I became a coke dealer.

Dad took a mouthful of Scotch, while I sipped mine with hesitation. It tasted like wet leather and cigar stubs to me, but I managed to swallow the first two sips without gagging on it. Everything tasted like fire and failure and I reflected on how nice my morning was before everything turned to shit.

    Michael had already poured a second tumbler full of Scotch, all the way to the top and took a largish swig from the glass, emptying it by half.

“I’m sorry, son” he said, with actual sincerity in his voice.

He continued staring into his glass as he spoke,

“I didn’t want us to start out this way. Believe me, I thought about this day a lot when I was inside, and this was never my plan.”

This little glimpse of vulnerability, along with the Scotch, helped lower me back to DEFCON 3.

“One more for both of us” he said and filled my still half full glass with more Dewar’s. Then he topped off his own. He tipped the glass back and swallowed its contents whole.

I stared at the full glass of peaty brown Scotch. Its oaky musk was already burning my nose. I put it to my lips, closed my eyes and emptied most of it. I tried not to let it touch my tongue, before swallowing but it didn’t matter, because it already begun its conflagration inside my mouth and then the coughing started.  My throat was on fire and my eyes filled with tears.

Then, as if by magic, my brain became warm and suddenly all the white noise and panic just…disappeared.

  “I was on trial for murder once. It was in the papers. That’s not why I was in this last time.” This confession seemingly came out of thin air and he grabbed the bottle, pouring another full glass. He sipped this time.

“When was this?” I asked.

“Seventy-seven or eight” his words were beginning to slur. “I was acquitted, so I got to come home.”

 I poured my own glass this time and downed it as Michael drunkenly slapped a hand on my knee and leaned directly into my face before slurring, “I’ve done some bad, bad things. I’m a bad guy. But there’s nothing harder than killing a man after you’ve seen a picture of his kids.”

 Then he leaned back onto the couch and put his hands over his face and after a couple minutes of us both sitting in silence, the snoring began.

 I don’t know if was the fear or the adrenaline or both, but I was instantly sober. My mind felt clear and I had my legs back. I stood up and covered him with the blankets balled up next to him and made my way up the stairs and into the living room. I pulled one of the knit shawls from off the back of the couch and wrapped myself up as I leaned my head on one of the tiny throw pillows.

I replayed our conversation over and over in my head until I eventually fell asleep.

 Francis and Isabelle were up very early and when they found me on the couch, they roused me awake.

 “Good morning, sleepy head” my grandmother gently whispered. “What a surprise to see you here?”

I was quick to cover, “We stayed up late talking and dad fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake him up.”

 My grandfather was already pulling his pants on, in the middle of the living room.

“I’ll get a shirt on and drive you back. I’m sure your mother is worried sick about you, son” he said as looped his belt around his sagging waist.

“I’m sure you didn’t tell her you were seeing your dad? Am I right?” Isabelle asked.

I nodded and she added, “Well, you can sneak in without waking her up and say you got home late. She’d be beside herself if she knew you two got together.”

 The sun was barely up and there was low mist covering the roads as we drove in silence. Our apartment was only a few miles from their house and the drive was mercifully short. I thanked my grandfather for the ride and before I got out he wished me one last ‘happy birthday’ and then said, “Your dad has a good heart, son. He does bad things, but he doesn’t mean to. I pray for him every day. You should too.”

I managed a half-hearted “I will, sir. Thanks again for the ride” and rushed to shut the car door so I could get back to the normalcy of home.

A plume of steam followed his Buick as he drove away and I took one large breath, let it out and made me way back home. On my way up the stairs I checked my pocket and the wad of cash was still there, then I checked my pocket for the card, felt it and pulled it out. I slid my pinkie under the corner flap and peeled it open in one move.

I didn’t read it, I just slowly opened it and let the check slide into my palm; it was fifty dollars. I slid the check in my pocket, next to cash and finished climbing the stairs.

Mom was still asleep and I was already preparing my alibi for when she grilled me about coming home late.

She never did.

                                                                    EPILOGUE

 Years later I discovered that my father was actually in Lompoc for orchestrating a million-dollar arms deal that included (among multiple assault rifles, surface to air launchers and surveillance equipment) a nuclear bomb.

Federal agents surrounded my grandparent’s house as SWAT team snipers perched on the roofs of neighbor’s homes and uniformed agents pulled everyone out of the home and forced them all onto the lawn at gunpoint, before finally taking my father into custody.

After a lengthy trial, it was discovered that Michael did not possess nor have the intention of delivering any of the above-mentioned weapons of mass destruction, he was sentenced to 13 years and served 9.

The buyers he’d spent months with, setting up this sale, were undercover FBI agents.

 This was a year after he, along with two other accomplices, snuck into Robert Wyckoff’s home and shot him three times, twice in the back of the head, execution style. Wyckoff, an attorney, was apparently under FBI surveillance for money laundering and racketeering. He was also handling a probate matter for Michael’s then wife, Nygen. Wyckoff was seated at the desk in his home office with a picture of his children facing him.

[marvelous-heroimagines]

Old Soul

Requested by: @seb-satann

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Word Count: 2.4K Warnings: Fluff, swearing

A/N: Reader loves the 1940s, and is convinced that she was born in the wrong era. I hope this is okay/follows the request!

~~Bucky’s POV~~

Bucky wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave, and he hadn’t even gotten to the door yet. But he didn’t want to let his friends down. After a lengthy discussion with Sam and Steve, about how Bucky could re-enter society and make friends now that he was back from Wakanda, he’d decided to take their advice. Sam had suggested tagging along to one of his meetings, and listening to other vet’s share their struggles. As much as Bucky appreciated Sam’s offer, he didn’t feel like he’d be comfortable there; there was no knowing if Bucky would enter the community centre and see someone the Winter Soldier had almost killed.

So Bucky took Steve’s advice, go and find something that used to make him happy. The first thing that Bucky thought of was dancing. Before the war, there wasn’t a time when Bucky had denied a dame’s request to go dancing. He used to be good at it, and all the ladies loved him for it. But he didn’t know if he was any good after everything that he’d been through. So Bucky decided to attend a dance class. After figuring out how to use Tony’s laptop - that thing was so high tech it made Bucky’s brain hurt - he found a small, local dance studio. Bucky had gotten a little excited when he saw that they offered classes in Swing. So here he was, dressed in casual workout attire and nervous as hell, staring up at the dance studio’s sign.

Music floods out of the front door as soon as Bucky opens it. Just the sound of familiar music made him feel better, and he started to feel hopeful that he’d make some new friends. No one is sitting at the front desk, making Bucky worry that he’d read the time on the website wrong and was late. He quickly follows the music through the small front room, and bursts through a pair of double doors.

Bucky wasn’t late, he was early. He starts to mumble an apology, but is transfixed as he watches a couple dancing in front of him. They were the only two in the room, and the way they moved made him think he’d been transported to the 40s. The couple kick and spin effortlessly, grins on their faces.

The woman’s eyes land on Bucky, and she abruptly stops, leaving her dance partner to complete another turn before he noticed she wasn’t following the steps anymore.

“Uh, sorry,” Bucky shouts over the music, “I think I’m early,”

The man moves to the corner of the room, and turns down the music, as the woman approaches him with a smile,

“That’s okay,” she says. As she approaches, Bucky can’t stop staring. She was beautiful, and just her smile took Bucky’s breath away, “You here for the 4:30 class?”

“Uh, y-yes,” Bucky stammers, making his cheeks flush. He may feel like he’d been transported back to the 40s, but he’s definitely not there. He was so much more confident around women back then, “I can come back later?”

The woman shakes her head, “No, that’s okay. Are you the fella that called earlier today?” Bucky nods, “Well, since you’re new, why don’t we run over the basics? Have you done much swing before?”

Bucky can’t help the playful smile that dances on his lips, “A lil’,”

“Wonderful,” she says with a smile, “Well, I’m Y/N,”

“Hello,” Bucky steps forward and shakes her hand, “I’m Bucky,”

“Y/N,” the man in the corner calls out. Bucky looks over and sees that he has a sports bag slung over his shoulder, “I’m gonna get out of here, see you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing,” you say as the man takes his leave,

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Bucky apologises,

“No, no,” she dismisses, “It’s no trouble,”

“Are you sure?” Bucky checks, “I can wait until 4:30, if you want to finish dancing with your... Boyfriend,” Bucky makes the noun sound almost like a question, hoping that she’d correct him and the man wasn’t more than a dance partner,

“Brother,” she says, her lips turning up at the sides just before she hides her face behind her hair, “And it’s quite alright, we were almost done,”

Bucky can’t stop the goofy grin that spreads across his face, his sly attempt at asking if Y/N was single was obvious, but she played along with it - a good sign, she wanted Bucky to know that she was unattached.

“Alright,” she says, beckoning Bucky to join her in the middle of the room, “I’m gonna count out some steps, and we’ll see if you can keep up,”

“And how long have you been going to this dance class now?” Sam asks after Bucky finishes telling him and Steve everything he’d learnt about you,

“A month,” Bucky mumbled,

“So you’ve been seeing this girl 3 times a week, for a whole month, and you haven’t asked her out yet?” Sam cocks an eyebrow at the brunette super soldier.

Bucky sinks further in his seat, “It ain’t that simple,” he tries to defend,

“Buck,” Steve speaks up, “I’m with Sam on this one... You clearly really like Y/N, just ask her out,”

“How?” Bucky asks desperately, “What do dames like to do these days? I’d take her dancing, but that’s all we do together,”

“Well,” Sam scoffs, “I don’t think women like to be referred to as dames anymore,” Bucky rolls his eyes, but silently takes note, “Just ask her out for lunch, or coffee, or drinks... It’s not that hard,”

“Sam, I haven’t even been interested in a woman for more than 70 years,” Bucky deadpans. Sam nods an understanding,

“There’s not much else we can suggest,” Steve says, “You’ve just got to take the plunge and hope that she likes you too,”

Bucky nods, dreading the idea of having to put himself out there. He thought that you could be interested in him, as more than a dance partner, but he couldn’t tell; he wasn’t any good at catching hints or seeing signs. Bucky’s eyes wander around the room, until they land on the clock.

“Fuck! I’m going to be late,” he jumps up, “Wish me luck,” he practically pleads the boys who mumble their well wishes.

~~Reader’s POV~~

The sound of your foot impatiently tapping against the wooden floor echoes throughout your empty dance room. You scowl at the ticking clock on the wall, so loud it was practically mocking you.

Bucky was late, for the first time, and you were beginning to grow annoyed. After first meeting Bucky, and seeing that he needed a little work, you’d been having private lessons with him. The private lessons were only 45 minutes long, and he was already 15 minutes late. It wasn’t the fact you were wasting your time waiting for him that frustrated you, but the fact that as the clock ticked away, you had less and less alone time to spend with him.

It hadn’t taken much for your feelings to grow towards the brunette. You were infatuated the moment you laid eyes on him, but the longer the two of you spent together, the more you started to enjoy your alone time with him.

Suddenly, the double doors to the dance room burst open. The frustration that had been building for the last 15 minutes evaporates instantly. He was visibly out of breath, with an apologetic expression on his face. The idea that he had potentially ran all the way here because he realised he was late made your heart skip. Maybe your crush wasn’t one sided.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologises as you move to the corner of the room and select a song, “I didn’t realise the time,”

“A text would have been nice,” you intended your tone to be light, but a fraction of annoyance lingering,

“Sorry,” he mumbles, dropping his gaze, “But... I was getting advice from friends,”

Your eyes narrow as you try to figure out what he needed advice on, “Did they help with your dilemma?”

“They tried,” Bucky chuckled. He was fiddling with his fingers as he starts to approach you, “They didn’t have any tips with how to do this with confidence,”

You frown at him, cocking your head on the side, completely lost. Bucky takes a deep breath, “Would you like to get coffee sometime?” he rushes through his words.

It takes you a few moments to process his question. But when it hits you, your stomach flips, “I thought you’d never ask,” you say playfully.

Bucky’s face lights up, a grin breaking across his face, “Really?”

You nod excitedly, your heart thumping with exhilaration. You glance down at your watch, “We could go now? Unless you wanted to dance?”

“No, no,” he says quickly, “Now is great,”

You beam a smile at Bucky and rush over to the corner. Grabbing your bag and phone, you have to remind yourself not to run. As you follow Bucky out of the studio, you type a quick text to your brother, telling him that you were no longer available to dance in half an hour.

You had been blabbing for too long, telling Bucky how you and your brother opened up the dance studio after 20 years of dancing at competitions together. You were worried that you were boring Bucky, but he seemed to be listening attentively and asking you questions about every little detail.

“I’m sorry,” you finally stop yourself, “I’ve been talking about myself for so long... Your turn,”

Bucky’s eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, and takes a deep breath, before starting to talk at a rushed pace.

“Y/N, I really like you,” he admits, his words almost stringing together with speed, “So I feel that I need to be honest with you. I’m the Winter Soldier. I don’t do that anymore, and I only used to because I was brainwashed and forced to work for Hydra. Now I’m an Avenger and I help people to escape a life under the same circumstances, or from people like who I used to be. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid it would frighten-”

“Bucky,” you interject, “I know,”

Bucky’s jaw almost drops open, “What?”

“I’ve known who you are the moment you walked into my studio. You were huge news after you were framed for the UN bombing last year,” you say. As he notices your continued kind and soft demeanour, he starts to relax, “It doesn’t change how I feel about you,”

Bucky relaxes back into his chair, “Really?”

You nod with a smile, “Plus, I’d love to hear all about the 40s,” you say, “I’ve always been obsessed with that time period. It’s one of the reasons I gravitate towards Swing dance... My brother always says I was born in the wrong era,” you chuckle.

Bucky takes a second, reading your facial expression and body language. He seems content that you’re telling the truth, and excitedly leans forward.

“Well,” he begins, “The food wasn’t as good,”

Bucky continues telling you everything about life before the war. How his Saturday nights were filled with dancing and movies with women who swooned just looking at him - you couldn’t blame them - and his days were spent making sure Steve didn’t get into too much trouble.

“Ready, doll?” Bucky calls from the lounge room. You hardly hear him, too engrossed in straightening and re-straightening your flare shirt in the mirror. Suddenly, his frame appears behind you, and his arms wrap around your waist, “Relax,” he coos,

“I am,” you say stubbornly, an annoyed frown on your face when you can’t seem to get your outfit right. You glance at your watch, and a long groan escapes you, “And, we’re late... Great,”

“They’re going to love you,” he tells you while dragging you out of your room.

You move to your record player and delicately lift the needle as to not scratch your record, “No, they won’t,” you insist,

“They’ll love you because I do,” the moment the words fall from Bucky’s lips you whip around to stare at him. He looks shocked by his own confession,

“You love me?” you ask, your voice rising as butterflies explode in your stomach,

“Well...” he rubs the back of his neck as blush peppers his cheeks, “Yeah. I love you,”

Before Bucky can even blink, you’ve thrown yourself on him. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you kiss him hard, “I love you too,” you breathe against his lips after pulling back.

Bucky grins down at you, his eyes crinkling with joy. He interlocks his metal fingers with your flesh ones and pulls you out the door.

~~Bucky’s POV~~

Bucky hadn’t intended to tell you he loved you for a little longer, not wanting to jinx it or scare you off, but the moment he did he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And you reaffirming your love for him made it all the better.

The closer you and he got to the Avenger’s Tower, the more nervous you became. Bucky tried to reassure you that the team were going to love you, but you still fidgeted with your skirt.

Your breathing was shallow as the two of you waited for the elevator to climb to the residential floors, so Bucky gives your hand a comforting squeeze.

The moment the elevator doors open, every member of the team is grinning at the two of you. You and Bucky hardly have time to step out of it before you’re pulled into hugs by everyone.

As everyone hugged you and introduced themselves to you, you glance back at Bucky a relieved smile on his face. He can’t help but smile when you meet Steve; who gives Bucky a proud look. Bucky chuckles and shakes his head at his best friend who was acting like a proud father.

Sam, Tony and Steve wander over to Bucky as Nat and Wanda chat with you.

“God, Barnes,” Tony says, followed by a low whistle, “You’ve done well,” Bucky shoots Tony a warning glance, but the billionaire only chuckles and holds his hands up defensively, “I’m just making an observation, buddy,”

“She seems like a really nice lady, Buck,” Steve says, still sporting a proud smile,

“Yeah...” Sam drawls out, “She’s far too good for you,”

Bucky would normally roll his eyes at Sam and make a witty response, but in this instant, he couldn’t deny the bird was right. You glance back at the boys quickly, and beam a smile at Bucky, making his stomach flip.

“Yeah, she is,” Bucky agrees.

Tags: @meep-meep22, @klutzly, @coffeeismylife28, @leahhavoc, @hantu369mc, @redstarstan, @heismyhunter, @rosyfluffyprincess, @invisible2niall, @goldenlifevsgutter1996, @addictwithafandomblog, @buckyobsessed, @bearded-bucky, @pleasefixthepain, @caitsymichelle13, @stratmoxphere, @wunnywho, @impala-moose, @thedarknesswarrior, @girlwith100names, @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked, @addictionmarvel, @melconnor2007, @ipaintmelodies, @bexboo616, @woww-za, @spn-worm, @specs15, @sebstanwassup, @spookydoritos, @fanboyswhereare-you, @theclonewarss, @psychicwitchphilosopher, @tcmhollnd, @all-that-glitters-is-cold, @xplumsceptrequeenx

Tags that didn’t work: @mo320, @mrs-stan-barnes

[brianvictrpetro]

💲13,000,000.00 to anyone who can MATHEMATICALLY prove me wrong! FELLA with THE HELLA GOOD HAIR! 1st thing 1st, LIFE IS A GAME MEANT FOR EVERYONE TO PLAY & LOVE is THE GRAND PRIZE! So while most people will call me a HATER, I'm just THE ULTIMATE swiftie who can read Taylor Swift like a magazine! Blank Space, Love's a game wanna play, eh? @joe.alwyn is N🚫T The King of @taylorswift 's heart as stated in THE reputation volume 0NE magazine TELL ALL INTRO! U not hip to the fact that there was a picture of JOe & Taylor on a picaresque balcony in summer air from JUNE 2017? U need to re-read your rep vol 1 TELL ALL INTRO: 2017 and if you DIDN'T see A PICTURE of it, it couldn't have happened right? putatio in reputation is UNDERLINED on the ALBUM COVER:MEANING : reckoning/calculating : MEANING Taylor Swift DOESN'T make mistakes! U need to rewatch the ReadyforitMV where her 89 is in RED UNDERLINE next to the 91. She nEVEr opens that door behind her into JOE's future, rather she walks away from him in a complete opposite direction where @ :23 (🤟) seconds RED breaks them handcuffs off of her wrists. New Romantics:"THE BEST PEOPLE IN LIFE ARE FREE!" Think of it as ENCHANTED forcing laughter, faking smiles. Begin Again: first time PAST IS PAST. Dancin with our hands tied : IF I COULD DANCE WITH YOU:AGAIN! She chooses RED! They know nothing about. That reputation volume 2 magazine CAMO Jacket 84 Golden Tattoo. 84 GOLDEN TATTOO the only golden tattoo to ever make a mark "ON HER" & NOT a WALL! You are in LOVE: You understand now why we lost our minds & fought the WARS & why she spent her whole life trying to put it into words. @cia  RED HORSE:WAR MTMBOF 🤟❤💙💛 #STATEOFGRACE #RED #TREACHEROUS #IKYWT #ALLTOOWELL #TENMINUTES #IALMOSTDO #WANEGBT #STAYSTAYSTAY #THELASTTIME #HOLYGROUND #SADBEAUTIFULTRAGIC #THELUCKYONE #EVERYTHINGHASCHANGED #STARLIGHT #BEGINAGAIN #THEMOMENTIKNEW #COMEBACKBEHERE #GIRLATHOME #TREACHEROUSTAYLORSVERSION #REDTAYLORSVERSION #STATEOFGRACETAYLORSVERSION #TaylorNation #taylorswift #swiftie #swifties #RENEGADE #BIGREDMACHINE #MissAmericana #BRITs @capitalofficial @brits @bigredmachineadjv @recordingacademy @universalmusicgroup @aarondessner @cia 👨‍🏫 (at New Wilmington, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSiuwRxMVGf/?utm_medium=tumblr

[welshjule]

You got me begging you for mercy

To my Friends, Family and all Readers,

Welcome to my first blog. Every week I will be posting a story ‘loosely based’ on my life in Australia since 1982. My aim is to provide a little escapism in a sometimes-hard world and to hopefully make you laugh. The content will be mature themed as I am in no way attempting to be a role-model!

Happy reading my Darlings

Let me know what you think.

Ju xx

Perth, Australia.

January 1995

It was a Sunday night and I had just put my daughter Alice to bed. The house was red hot, the windows were wide open and there wasn’t a breeze; it was like living inside a sweaty sock. Summer in Perth can be brutal and it is a dry, burning heat that scorches the hair on your arms and rips the skin off your feet if you try and walk barefoot outside. The temperature had hit forty degrees that day and I only had two stand-up fans, so a load of our family and friends had been swimming at the local pool.

We got home and Alice, who was about five years old, spent about two hours in a cold bath – in her bathers, underwater, face-down and pretending to be dead! My job was to run in and rescue her every so often but I kept forgetting. I gave the nickname ‘Insane Alice’ to my daughter when she was very young because she was my wild, brave, curious nutcase, who always had something to say and most of it was somewhat demented. Over the years, we dropped the Insane bit and it was just Alice, but to tell the truth, she’s still a bit touched.

My Father called her ’his Alice’ for thirty years.

So, my exhausted daughter was now asleep with a wet towel on top of her and a fan blowing hot air around her room.

Walking into the kitchen, I stuck my head under the cold tap until my hair and face were soaking wet. Grabbing an ice-cold beer from the fridge, I wandered out to the garden and laid back on an old lounger. Tracey Chapman was singing about a fast car as I lit a fag and skulled my beer.

The house was like a furnace and there was no reprieve outside. From November to March, you went to bed sweating and you got up the same way. We lived in a low-income area and nobody had air-conditioning; you just had to deal with the heat.

At that time, single mothers didn’t get to choose the houses with alarm systems and swimming pools. We could only afford tired, old rentals with dripping taps and broken flyscreens and to make matters worse, I was cleaning two ‘beach-front’ mansions a day while Alice was at school.

 #These were palaces, with huge swimming pools, wine cellars and balconies overlooking the blue ocean and I earned a pittance. I had to shut my mouth like Ruby from ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ when the ‘lady of the house’ complained about smears on the bathroom mirror or dust on the roof because I needed the money.

Looking around now, my poor garden looked so sad; that unrelenting ball of fire had burnt the beautiful flowers I had planted and singed the lawn so badly that it was now just dry, straw.

I was feeling a bit weird and conflicted because everyone around me seemed to think that I should be trying to find a man to ‘look after me and be a father to Alice.’ Don’t get me wrong, it was said with kindness, but I was bored of the whole thing.

Thirty years ago, there was a real stigma attached to being a single mother. If your marriage failed but the dad was still on the scene with the kids, that was ok. If there was no father in sight, it played with people’s heads.

I chose to leave Alice’s father when she was a baby and bring up my daughter alone and I loved it.

I didn’t have a man and I didn’t really want one.

But some people just weren’t comfortable with it. Was I a lesbian? Did I hate men? Was I flirting with their man? They wanted to set me up with their husband’s mate from Bunnings and it was all, ‘We’ve got to find you a nice fella’ and ‘you can’t be too fussy.’ What a cheek! I was thirty years old with no visible hump on my back. Who were they thinking of wheeling in? Alf F##king Stewart?’’

There was a lot of pressure

And It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried.

I’d been to Bachelor and Spinster Balls, joined ‘Parents Without Partners’ (very creepy) and even went to ’Japanese conversation ‘night classes because everyone told me ‘There are loads of divorced men learning languages now Ju. There will be blokes everywhere.’          The only man I ever spoke to was wearing a grey cardigan and had just retired from the civil service.

God knows I tried

And I was about to try again

In 1995, there was no tinder or instant messaging because there were no mobile phones or computers (well not in our house anyway). People had to leave their residence and go hunting in pubs and clubs on a Saturday night for their own Brad Pitt or Pamela Anderson and it was utterly soul destroying.

But I had the Wanneroo Times and I was on a mission.

This local community newspaper had started printing adverts in their classifieds for single people wanting to meet a partner. It was basically, ‘man seeking woman’ or ‘woman seeking man’. Then, everybody told massive lies about themselves; ‘very attractive, happy go lucky, no baggage, loves a good red wine and walking on the beach at sunset.’ It was ridiculous but that didn’t stop me filling in the form.

My advert said,

If you are a sports fanatic and watch it on tv all weekend – read on

If you are bitter about your wife taking everything from you in the divorce, we’ve already met - read on

If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain, warm winter fires, bubble baths and collecting driftwood. Stop reading Sir, for you are a dead set serial killer.

I didn’t say much about me, just,

’blonde, thirty, likes to write.’

And I posted it off.

It took a week to receive any responses.

I’d been watching ‘Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves’ and wondering how I could get in touch with Kevin Costner to tell him I was waiting for him here; in the hottest, most isolated corner of the world!

But I was feeling quite hopeful and ready for some romance in my life. I spent most of the week singing ‘You know it’s true, everything I do, I do it for you.’

On a Monday morning, the postman dropped an official looking, brown envelope into my post box and I had seven letters!!

Buzzing with excitement, I made a cup of coffee, lit a fag and opened the first one.

He had a wife but they didn’t sleep together. He desperately needed passion in his life, maybe two afternoons a week! Yeh right, dream on!

Three more were married and just wanted a bit on the side.

My fifth would-be suitor boasted of a body tattooed from his neck to his toes and a willingness to provide colour photos. I just couldn’t stomach it!

And the sixth little gem was a smooth-talking illiterate who claimed to be a ‘mad rooter’ but added that, ’If I was a ‘Fat Sheila,’ then not to bother eh!’

I could feel a black depression impending; Was I supposed to settle for this group of no-hopers?

But there was one letter remaining and that was written by a man named Fred.

Fred was English and had been in Perth for a couple of years. He worked in some office and liked Guinness. That was good enough for me!

We spoke on the phone a couple of times and met for a quick coffee. He was a nice bloke and didn’t seem to be deranged. He asked me to go to the movies to see ’Braveheart’ and I said ‘’lovely.’’

So, its Friday night and I am sorted. Alice is staying at my parents’ house and I have a date!

The Commitments are slaying Mustang Sally and I am drinking a vodka and tonic. My hair is a work of art! It has been washed, blow- dried, straightened, back-combed and gelled, plus I’ve used half a can of hairspray, so this hairdo is not shifting.

On goes the make-up, a pair of jeans that are much too small and a black shirt. Sounds simple doesn’t it?

But it is still 32 degrees at 6.30pm and the sweat is dripping down my back. I am sitting on an ice pack with my feet in a bowl of cold water and the pedestal fan is coughing, stale air at me like an old family dog. The jeans are slowly roasting my legs, the underneath of my hair is soaking wet and the makeup is dripping off my face.

But I don’t care, because I’m looking good, the house smells of ’Red Door’ perfume and I’ve had a few puffs of a lovely old joint I found on top of the kitchen cupboard.

I am ready for action!

Fred turned up at about seven and he looked very smart with jeans and a blue shirt. He was quite a portly fellow, very suntanned and with a completely bald head. I don’t know if he’d ever had any hair and I didn’t really care.

I was flying!

We were a bit early for the movies so we went for a drink first. The pub was practically empty but the night was young, so I told Fred that it was my shout. He asked the ‘gothic and heavily pierced’ barmaid, if she could make him a flat, white coffee and she looked at him with complete disgust. I ordered a double vodka and we sat down for a chat. I really wanted to find Fred attractive but he wasn’t giving me much.

He had a very strong Yorkshire accent and was into cycling and re-cycling. He started telling me about sustainable compost heaps and I just glazed over.

But, as I sat looking at him, the room started spinning and Fred began to morph into Dierdre Barlow from Coronation Street and a brown, boiled egg.

That old puff was strong!

’’I’m that choofed you chose me lass,’’ he said ‘’and I’m having a grand time, but I’m not one for the drink.’’

’Jesus Christ! When am I going to cop a break?’ I thought, ‘I’m a thirty-year-old woman wearing skin tight jeans and high heels. My legs are shaved, my elbows moisturised and I HAVE THE HOUSE TO MYSELF!! Who gives a shit about recycling?

I didn’t want to talk about Fred’s ‘loovely bunch of lasses at work’ or ’the benefits of riding a bicycle.’

My life consisted of chicken nuggets, nit shampoo and a daughter who was obsessed with a demonic dessert called Strawberry Shortcake. This nauseating strawberry cake had three best friends called Apple Dumpling, Raspberry Tart and Cherry Cuddler. They sounded like a bunch of sex workers and their pimp was a freak called ‘The Prickly and Peculiar Pieman from Porcupine Creek. Alice had it on an old video and played it constantly. She had been speaking in an American accent for about three weeks and I was over it!    

 I wanted to act like a teenager. To get absolutely wasted, fall-down drunk and extremely immature. I wished Fred would suggest a drinking game so that we could get really loud and find everything hysterical. I needed him to make me laugh because that is sexy. I wanted to completely skip the bloody movie altogether!

Nah, take that back.

Fred was, in fact, an egg that spoke with a Yorkshire accent and he was boring me to death.

So, we walked to the cinema and bought our own tickets, (very civilised), then I was straight into the Candy Bar. Buying a very expensive choc- top ice-cream and some popcorn, I asked Fred what he was having and he said,

’’Nah, I’ll not have owt, I’m watching me weight.’’

That really irritated me because I’d been considering a box of Maltesers too and now I couldn’t have them because I would look like a pig.

We found two seats in the middle row. The place was packed out because it was the first night the film was showing.

‘’So, Fred, what’s this Braveheart about then? It’s not going to be all blood and gore is it?’’ I asked.

“I don’t know Julie, I haven’t seen it,’’ he said, but it translated to, ’’Ah doon’t know jooleh, I’ve not seen film.’’

Now, don’t forget, I was deep in the grip of Sherwood Forrest and I thought Braveheart would be similar; some battles, dodgy accents, a love story, some fantastic one-liners ‘a la’ Alan Rickman.

I thought wrong.

The beginning of the film showed the beauty of Scotland with some hauntingly lovely music and a softly-spoken narrator. By the time I had eaten my choc-top, there were bodies of men, women and children hanging from beams, heads chopped off and the stabbing and slashing of everyone in sight; including the poor horses.

I was in a hell of a state!

Alice always compares me to the late, great, British comedian Larry Grayson when I am out of my comfort zone and am shocked or horrified. I get flustered and loud, highly camp and completely over the top.

I have to have things explained to me very clearly.

This film was way beyond my comfort zone.

My hands were over my eyes and all you could hear from me was ‘’Oh my God, when are they going to stop killing?”  ‘’Oh, that’s gross!’’  ‘’I can’t look!’’  ‘’Why is there so much blood?’’ ‘’What’s happening Fred?”

And then an English soldier ties Braveheart’s beautiful bride to a tree.

I’m thinking, ‘’hurry up Wallace and save your woman.’’

Everyone is waiting for Mel to rescue her but he’s missing in action.

And the English Bast##d slits her throat!

Now, we still had about three more hours of this film to endure and the main character’s wife was dead. I just couldn’t believe it. She was exquisite, almost heavenly.

What was going on?

Í nudged Fred, ‘’What’s happening Fred? Is it a flashback or a dream? Is she coming back?’’

I was beside myself.

Fred was getting a little snippy at my endless questions and bad language because I couldn’t stop saying ‘’Oh F#ck’’ every time a limb was chopped off and it was constant carnage. It simply never stopped.

There was a teenage boy and his girlfriend sitting next to me and I tearfully asked the boy what he thought was going on. Did he think the lovely Marrun was coming back? Was it a flashback? He just looked horrified and two minutes later they both left.

So, now I’m crying and it’s serious. I’m absolutely gutted about useless Wallace not getting there in time and I don’t really feel like watching anymore.

Worse though, I haven’t got a tissue!

I am sobbing and my nose is running and I am doing that unattractive, hiccupy thing.

Fred’s forgotten his handkerchief and I’m hyperventilating and trying to quell my hysteria. But it’s just so sad and all you can hear in the whisper quiet audience are my racking sobs and sniffs. In the end, I had to use a KitKat wrapper and the sleeve of my top to wipe my nose. (yeh, I know, disgusting).

So now I’ve got to sit through another 150 minutes of butchery and treachery, heads in the mail, people being thrown out of windows and the mass raping of young maidens. It was relentless and I was suffering very loudly.

Fred was peeved, “Nah then, Jooleh, joost try to be a tad quieter pet. I can’t ‘ear film.’’

I was frazzled and I hadn’t even got to the torture of William Wallace.

What a joy that was!

About thirty minutes of Mel being hung, drawn and quartered very slowly with some lethal weapons (sorry, I had to).

First, he spits out the anaesthetic drug the princess slips him and then he refuses to shout ‘mercy’ to end his own torture. It was all too much and I kept shouting ‘mercy’ at the screen and crying loudly, but Mel just kept hanging on in there.

William Wallace was no pussy!

Eventually though, all the organs have been removed from his body and he has to die.

In his last few seconds alive he sees his wife, Murron, walking through the crowds, waiting for him and she is so beautiful, it’s heart breaking. Braveheart shouts ‘Freedom’ and I’m completely finished.

Before anyone could move, I was out of my seat. ’’I’ll see you in the foyer Fred,” I sobbed and ran to the toilets before the lights came on.

My body was shaking, my legs were like jelly and I was sweating. I felt like I had given birth to ten-pound triplets in an African hut, alone and without pain relief!

Then I saw my face in the mirror and stopped dead.

The old mascara I had found in the kitchen drawer was not waterproof and I had these black spider lines all down my cheeks. My eyes were smudged with dark grey eyeshadow, my nose was bright red and my face was blotchy and oily, with no trace of a base!

For some reason, my hair had also suffered and it looked like a yellow bird’s nest that had been sat on.

I hadn’t brought a handbag out with me, just a small purse, so the only things I had to rescue this complete disaster was a ten dollar note, a factor 30 lip balm and a furry tic-tac.

Everybody was coming into the lady’s toilets now and they were all looking at me. One girl came over and pretended to care but I saw straight through her. I’d heard some of her friends laughing at me during the torture scene.

I didn’t have a spare head so there wasn’t much I could do. I just washed my face, blew my nose and went out to meet Fred. I refused to look him straight in the eye though because I was hideous.

As we drove back to my place, the car was silent and I knew that Fred was sulking.

He eventually said ‘’Appen, A’Il see film again wit’ lasses from work. I missed most of it!’’

I thought, ‘’Oh do one, you Bloody tart, you are definitely not coming in for coffee.’’

We hit my driveway and I jumped out of the car like an Olympian.

Fred said something that sounded like ‘’See thee soon then Lass’’ and I said ‘’lovely.’’

Slamming the front door, I felt shell-shocked.

I jumped under a cold shower, washed off all the makeup and gunk from my hair and tied an old sarong around myself. Making a cup of tea and some toast with Nutella, I grabbed the remote and sat on the sofa.

Two minutes later, it was just me and Kevin.

I didn’t think I would ever hear from Fred again, but he rang a few nights later while I was watching ‘Home and Away‘ with Alice.

‘’Ow do Jooleh love, can ya guess where I am?’’ he asked jovially.

I froze. Oh my God.

“You’re not outside are you Fred? ’I asked,

‘’Nah’’, he chuckled, ‘’I’m lyin’ in’t cold tub, sipping hot brew and eating an apple pie. Blooody Bliss!’’

I hung up the phone and we never went out again.

Dating makes me realise why I’m not married!

If you liked this story, there’s a lot more to read because Alice and I have been writing tales ‘loosely based’ on our lives for many years, with the hope of finally finishing a book called ’A Mother like mine.’ Every Saturday, I will be publishing a blog so that you can read it over the weekend. Sometimes, Alice will write one too.

We will talk about love, losses and dating disasters, womanhood, teenage years and being a Welsh, single parent family in a rough-arse suburb of Perth in the nineties; from our two, completely different perspectives. I will even tell you how my true love literally walked through my front door and I almost took Alice to live in Texas! Our stories will be mostly funny but there will also be our recollection of some hard times. Nobody escapes them and sometimes it helps to read about other people’s battles.

 Future titles include;

‘The Good, The Bad and the Aussies’

‘A Gang of Gary’s’

‘Doyawannarootorwhat’

‘Sorry about my little fella?’

‘Six months pregnant or a Tattoo?’

[theresawelchy]

How to Build an Effective Remote Team

Howdy fellas!

Never before has there been such a large number of remote employees scattered around the world. And several businesses that prefer a remote team building format still increases. It is a flexible and viable model if it is properly organized.

A work team is like a ship’s crew: everyone has a role to play in a huge effective system. A remote team is a virtual ship crew, a ship that floats in the future of work.

Like most IT companies, Standuply crew has a cozy office too, where we go to work every day. As an office team, we managed to reach considerable heights in product building, but it was time to expand the team. So we decided to set the course in the direction of remote team building and began to look for employees in other places.

Now, many months later, we know a lot about remote work: how to work from home, how to manage a remote team and how to create a business with employees who rarely see each other in real life.

Don’t get us wrong, we don’t want to say that everyone has to quit office work and start working remotely right now. We really love our office, but also we have an experience of remote team building and now want to share it with you hoping that it will help those who have not passed that hard way yet. So are you standing in front of the challenge of building a remote team and do not know where to start? Then this article is for you.

Cast off! We are going on our journey across the workflow! Remote workflow, to be specific.

Less is More

This is the first rule that you need to consider in team building with remote employees. First of all, you need to identify the people you need and what they will do. No need to recruit a lot of people, just take three persons who will be able to do the work for the five. This does not mean that three people have to work for the whole company, it means that working remotely employee performs a greater amount of work than working in the office, making the same efforts and not being distracted.

Most modern IT offices are coolly equipped, there are a lot of bean bag chairs instead of hard ones, and even hammocks, you can play kicker with colleagues, and some offices like Google’s one reminds children’s town. We do not argue with the fact that a cozy office is indeed awesome because everybody should work in comfort.

Those who go into remote work just clearly understand that work is the work, not just a kicker.

They create a comfortable area around themselves for work and they have no temptation to have snacks with employees and games. They plan when they work and rest during the remaining time.

This rule is about minimalism. Remote employees just don’t need such stuff that office gives, such as table football, and bean bag chair could be at home.

Find an ideal employee

Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest! um… startup.

Search for perfect employees, who will succeed in the project implementation and will strive to realize the global idea. Companies that hire remote employees are much more likely to find a candidate with the unique abilities necessary to perform tasks because the geographical search from one sea expands to the world ocean. There are dozens of such skills, but we have identified four main criteria, which we look at when choosing an employee:

– Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of.. enthusiasm!

Any captain wants each of the crew to share the interests of the whole ship, see him/her being proud of work and striving for common success. Enthusiasm is the fuel in the workflow ship that keeps it afloat. It all starts with an idea and desire to bring it to life. It is critical that applicants are interested in your company’s area. If a candidate at the interview did not even bother to read about the project on its official website, he/she would waste your time.

– Perfectionism (but not too much)

For a remote employee, it’s important to think critically and evaluate the work done objectively, especially if the time zone is different. Being picky and look at work as a head. The person needs to clearly understand the main goal, be able to break it into small ones and move step by step to achieve the main goal.

– Make work, not shirk

Office employees are used to working and getting paid for the time, for example from 9 to 6. Remote workers are paid not for the time, but for a result that should not be affected by any distracting things, whether it’s a sudden general cleaning or a kid who wants to watch SpongeBob right now. Or possibly it is you who want it, whatever. All this can cause the work to be completed in the last minutes before the deadline.

– Desire to work

And to learn. If the person is too lazy, has no desire to develop, and is looking for work only for money, most likely he/she is not interested in the company’s goals at all. The imaginary presence of a few working hours at the computer will not help this new fish to join the team. But what is more important is to contribute to the development of the company. It’s not gold that should keep a sailor on board.

As a rule, lazy employees are eliminated at the test task stage. If they are not really interested, they will not spend their time. You don’t need people like that.

We’ll talk more about how to cultivate these traits to go to a remote job as a job seeker and without any discomfort, but this article is not just about that.

I will call you yesterday…

Or timezones problem. Well, let’s say you found the perfect sailors on your virtual ship, but here’s the problem – time zones. If the time difference is up to 8 hours, it is almost invisible. Anyway, most of the day you are in touch with the employee.

In some cases, you will have to initially look for an employee to work at your night time, which means a time difference of 10-12 hours because the position involves working in shifts, but 24/7.

This time gap reduces the ability to call/chat during the day, so you need to allocate a couple of hours to call and give as much detail on the daily tasks for the employee to prevent possible questions to you.

What about tools?

For the most automated operation and correct processes resolution during remote team building, you will need some tools. Fortunately now on the market, you can find a lot of cool programs-assistants both paid and free and even choose by the price/functionality ratio.

– Messengers

Among messengers, we prefer Slack, of course. Our Standuply bot daily helps hundreds of teams to organize processes in Slack and to establish communication channels. Here you can read more about how to run standup meetings in Slack via Standuply. For us, this messenger is like an office: logging in Slack means coming to work.

Build a better team culture in Slack with Standuply too!

Still, of course, we use Telegram and Skype. The first is more convenient for chatting, the second one is useful for calls.

– Tasks trackers

Notebooks in the past! Use task trackers to not keep all your plans, ideas and tasks in mind. In our opinion, Asana, Trello or Jira are the most convenient ways to plan your workflow as in a diary. All tasks can be painted on the urgent or not, and forget something very difficult because everything is before my eyes. Actually, the most difficult thing is to teach each team member to use task trackers and systematically mark each step.

– Time Helper

It’s not so easy to find common work time and schedule calls with employees scattered around the world. If team members are in different time zones, you’ll need the World Clock program for Mac. In other cases, Every Time Zone or World Time Buddy will help you with time planning.

– Cloud Storage

So, in a big team, you can not deal without a storage solution which extends to cover network drives. And in that case, for us, Google Drive has no equal. It will not only free up space on your hard drive but also make it easier to communicate with your team. It is much more convenient to share a link to a document and give access to editing instead sending the same file to each other for the sake of one little edit. In addition, if your computer suddenly breaks down, you can be sure that your documents are safe in the network.

– Remote Screen Control

“Ahh! I clicked something and it’s all gone! Devs please do something!” Huh, familiar words from employees who are far from coding, aren’t they? In such a situation, it is easier to do yourself than to explain what button to press. For remote support and screen sharing, you can use a wonderful TeamViewer that allows you to control someone else’s computer and solve the problem with your own hands. Also, this program is used for remote technical support of users.

Motivation

It is hardly possible to single out a special motivation for remote employees, as for a separate type of employees. Each person’s motivation is individual, regardless of whether it is a remote or office employee. And it is important to focus on the person, analyze and to think, what is important for each one. The difference is that it’s much more difficult to understand the values and aspirations of the employee, whom you don’t see daily in the office.

Normally, it’s a set of needs, for example, an interesting area, a convenient schedule, and a decent salary. If the person is attracted only by the format of remote work or a good salary, but absolutely do not care about work itself, then it is unlikely to achieve good results.

Your sincere interest and praise even for the simplest tasks are very important for the employee’s good motivation. Did a newbie just solved a simple problem or came up with a new idea? Tell that person is doing great and you never would have come up with that yourself. Without any sarcasm, just let the employee know that he/she is important and much in the project depends. And then the person will do very best not to let you down.

Control your control

Obviously, when you build a remote team, it is difficult not to worry about the employees’ productivity. How do you know if a person is really working if you are not sitting in the same room? But actually, the problem is not about hundreds of miles between you and the employee. The problem is about lack of trust.

Some companies force remote employees to install special programs on a personal computer for time control. These are accounting systems for website traffic and counting employees’ work time. We strongly don’t support such method (and we didn’t even mention these apps in the tools section) and that’s why:

Firstly, such a distrustful attitude kills any motivation and initiative. Your employee will do the job half-heartedly and just to work off the required hours.

Secondly… Really, if there is a need to control your worker so much, do you need such worker at all? People choose remote work for freedom and the opportunity to work for the result, not for the number of hours spent on the site. Remember that your remote employees are your secret weapon.

Give your employees the freedom they are looking for and you will be surprised how effective people can work if they are not pressured.

Instead of conclusion

If you follow these uneasy rules (who said that remote team building is an easy thing?), you can assemble a remote dream team. Because the opportunities for this become more and more widespread every day. New developments are emerging, the interest of remote employees is growing, and the owners of companies are finding more and more benefits of such a solution. Remember, it is not enough to find and organize really valuable employees. They need to be interested and motivated for the best result — and this rule is applicable for any type of teams.

So good luck and may the wind be in your jib!

DataTau published first on DataTau

[travelling-trooper-blog]

  Trevor and I arrived in Pescara by bus from Rome at around 1 pm on the 7th. The plan was to meet up with Michela at the beach at around 6 pm after she was done work.

With time to kill, first on the agenda was finding a place to store my huge backpack for the afternoon so I wouldn’t have to lug it around all afternoon.

Surprisingly, the train station didn’t have any lockers, so I ventured off to the nearby G Hotel to see if they would hold it for me. I don’t think of myself as being very charming, but I do think I have a an innocent smile that could make people go, “Aw shucks! Alright, fella, you can store your drugs here for the week!” Don’t worry, I don’t abuse this power. I use it responsibly.

With my bag safely stored, I could officially roam around Pescara with the weight of the world off my shoulders (not kidding there). I had a bad case of the “Put-food-in-me-before-I-kick-a-puppy” level of hunger, but I was worried about getting pizza from the wrong place. It was like my tongue was a born-again-pizza-virgin, and it was saving itself for the right pizza. I didn’t want to put just any pizza in me. I wanted it to be so good I shed tears. Anything less would be a tragedy. I was waiting on Michela’s professional advice before deciding on where to get my pizza from. And so, that’s how I found myself ordering from a sammich store. Michela would later try to shame me for eating at a typical tourist spot like that. They were at least good sammiches, though. And huge!

With my hunger satisfactorily slain, it was finally time to hit the beach! I swam and re-read Catcher in the Rye all afternoon. It was bliss.

Just before Michela was scheduled to pick me up, I went for a walk along the boardwalk, which was a pleasant experience in and of itself. There were people on bikes, elderly couples holding hands, kids playing in a pool, people dining outside–there was literally something for people of all ages to do.

I walked until I reached the bridge that connects the main land to the waterfront on the other side of Pescara River, then I turned back around.

As I was scavenging for the spot I found along the boardwalk that offered up free Wi-Fi the first time around, a car started honking something fierce. That’s when I raised my eyes away from my phone and saw Michela laughing and waving me over. She was in traffic, driving right alongside me.

We were the first ones to arrive at her place, but her mother wasn’t too far behind. Bless her soul, she made an admirable effort to speak English. She had completed an English course, and was eager to practice, but I think it was still a bit overwhelming for her. I tried to speak slowly, but whenever I asked her a question, her eyes popped out of her head.

Eugenia was the epitome of motherly. After our first meal, she offered me a glass of a clear liquor called Genzian. It apparently helps with digestive problems–not that I complained of such problems; she was just looking out for me, as any good mother does. After a food nap, I happened to open the bedroom door just as she was walking by and heading to the bathroom. As soon as she saw me, though, she stopped in her tracks with a look of alarm. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” she asked. You can’t get more motherly than that.

Actually, you can. The following morning, I woke up and my laundry was folded. (Also, I love that I had to hang my clothes to dry on a clothes line over the balcony. It just felt so right.)

As for Gino, Michela’s father, you could definitely tell she got her athletic genes from him. The man may have been in his late 50’s, but he looked like he could probably kick my ass. Sports was clearly a way of life for him. Michela later told me sports was always on the TV in their household. This was completely true. Tennis, track, basketball–you name it.

In fact, on my last evening there, I walked into the living room and found him sitting right in front of the TV on a night table like a child sitting inches from the screen during their favourite cartoon. Hilarious. By coincidence, it was the FIBA Under 19 World Cup Final, which Canada just happened to be dominating over Italy. (Sorry, not sorry, Italy.)

Gino came across as an intelligent, passionate, and caring man. The relationship between he and Michela is what all fathers should strive for with their daughters: Playful and loving. Michela said that he’s basically just a big kid. I could totally see that.

Dinner that first night was a spectacular feast of two different types of pasta–one with just pasta sauce, and one with sausages and mushroom. There was also cacio e ovo (balls of cheese and egg with tomato sauce), polpette (metaballs with meat and veggies), and watermelon for desert.

I was so impressed with the food that I dared to ask the one question I was dying to ask: Could you teach me how to make pizza? I had to ask. Not asking an Italian mother to teach you how to make pizza would be like meeting Tom Brady of the New England Patriots and not punching him in the balls. Some things you just have to do when the opportunity arises, or you’ll regret them for the rest of your life. This was one of those times. Eugenia agreed to show me on Sunday. I was so excited I could’ve yelled out, “I love you, mamma!” and kissed her on both cheeks.

Later on, while Michela was getting ready to go out, I sat in the living room with Gino to watch some TV. Of course, he was watching sports. Volleyball, to be precise. I was impressed and proud to find that the Toronto Raptors are a fairly popular team in Italy, thanks to the previous work of our man, Andrea Bargnani. Gino was apparently a big NBA fan. He was even fairly familiar with the world of American football. I was liking this family more and more by the minute!

Fun fact: Apparently the name of the football movie, Any Given Sunday, when translated from its Italian title to English, is written Each Damn Sunday. I don’t know why I find that so fascinating.

Eugenia joined us shortly after. Gino changed the channel during a commercial break and found the Wimbledon match between Andy Murray and Italy’s own Fabio Fognini. Murray was up 2 sets to 1, but Fognini had him on the ropes. He was up 5-2, on the brink of tying it up at 2 sets apiece. Murray somehow managed to climb his way out of one set point after another until he eventually took the set 7-5. The entire time, I was getting just as much fun out of watching the loving couple watch the match as I was from the match itself. Gino would shake his head, while Eugenia would scream something in Italian every time Fognini faulted or Murray squeaked out another point. It was just nice to watch the pair enjoy each other’s company after so many years together. Michela later told me that the two still hold hands when they walk down the street. Damn it, I love these guys!

Michela came out towards the end of the match and seemed so convinced Murray was going to take the set, I was convinced she had a copy of the Grays Sports Almanac from Back to the Future in her back pocket. We left as soon as Murray proved her right, and as we headed for the door, the TV changed back to volleyball. Sports: All day, everyday.

That first night, I got a taste of just how small Pescara really is. All night, in restaurants, in the street, at a club–Michela kept stopping to say hello to somebody. This would continue for the whole weekend. Pescara: Where everybody knows your name. After a quick beer, we spent the rest of the night hopping back and forth between Lampara, Penelope, and some other place. They all started to blur together after a while. Michela and I were graced with the company of two of her unabashedly gregarious friends. Michela wasn’t fond of one of the three places–Penelope, I believe–because it’s clientele is very “bloccato.” They’re stuck up, pretentious jerks dolled up in their fanciest fancy attire. Have I mentioned how much I love the Tatone family?

We stumbled home at 3:30, well beyond my bedtime. Michela laughed at me for commenting on how late it was. I’m such an old fart. Maybe I need more people like her in my life to keep me young.

Pescara: Mia nuovo famiglia Trevor and I arrived in Pescara by bus from Rome at around 1 pm on the 7th.

[brianvictrpetro]

💲13,000,000.00 to anyone who can MATHEMATICALLY prove me wrong! FELLA with THE HELLA GOOD HAIR! 1st thing 1st, LIFE IS A GAME MEANT FOR EVERYONE TO PLAY & LOVE is THE GRAND PRIZE! So while most people will call me a HATER, I'm just THE ULTIMATE swiftie who can read Taylor Swift like a magazine! Blank Space, Love's a game wanna play, eh? @joe.alwyn is N🚫T The King of @taylorswift 's heart as stated in THE reputation volume 0NE magazine TELL ALL INTRO! U not hip to the fact that there was a picture of JOe & Taylor on a picaresque balcony in summer air from JUNE 2017? U need to re-read your rep vol 1 TELL ALL INTRO: 2017 and if you DIDN'T see A PICTURE of it, it couldn't have happened right? putatio in reputation is UNDERLINED on the ALBUM COVER:MEANING : reckoning/calculating : MEANING Taylor Swift DOESN'T make mistakes! U need to rewatch the ReadyforitMV where her 89 is in RED UNDERLINE next to the 91. She nEVEr opens that door behind her into JOE's future, rather she walks away from him in a complete opposite direction where @ :23 (🤟) seconds RED breaks them handcuffs off of her wrists. New Romantics:"THE BEST PEOPLE IN LIFE ARE FREE!" Think of it as ENCHANTED forcing laughter, faking smiles. Begin Again: first time PAST IS PAST. Dancin with our hands tied : IF I COULD DANCE WITH YOU:AGAIN! She chooses RED! They know nothing about. That reputation volume 2 magazine CAMO Jacket 84 Golden Tattoo. 84 GOLDEN TATTOO the only golden tattoo to ever make a mark "ON HER" & NOT a WALL! You are in LOVE: You understand now why we lost our minds & fought the WARS & why she spent her whole life trying to put it into words. @cia  RED HORSE:WAR MTMBOF 🤟❤💙💛 #STATEOFGRACE #RED #TREACHEROUS #IKYWT #ALLTOOWELL #TENMINUTES #IALMOSTDO #WANEGBT #STAYSTAYSTAY #THELASTTIME #HOLYGROUND #SADBEAUTIFULTRAGIC #THELUCKYONE #EVERYTHINGHASCHANGED #STARLIGHT #BEGINAGAIN #THEMOMENTIKNEW #COMEBACKBEHERE #GIRLATHOME #TREACHEROUSTAYLORSVERSION #REDTAYLORSVERSION #STATEOFGRACETAYLORSVERSION #TaylorNation #taylorswift #swiftie #swifties #RENEGADE #BIGREDMACHINE #MissAmericana #BRITs @capitalofficial @brits @bigredmachineadjv @recordingacademy @universalmusicgroup @aarondessner @cia 👨‍🏫 (at New Wilmington, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CR5ZIbmpFjo/?utm_medium=tumblr

[brianvictrpetro]

💲13,000,000.00 to anyone who can MATHEMATICALLY prove me wrong! FELLA with THE HELLA GOOD HAIR! 1st thing 1st, LIFE IS A GAME MEANT FOR EVERYONE TO PLAY & LOVE is THE GRAND PRIZE! So while most people will call me a HATER, I'm just THE ULTIMATE swiftie who can read Taylor Swift like a magazine! Blank Space, Love's a game wanna play, eh? @joe.alwyn is N🚫T The King of @taylorswift 's heart as stated in THE reputation volume 0NE magazine TELL ALL INTRO! U not hip to the fact that there was a picture of JOe & Taylor on a picaresque balcony in summer air from JUNE 2017? U need to re-read your rep vol 1 TELL ALL INTRO: 2017 and if you DIDN'T see A PICTURE of it, it couldn't have happened right? putatio in reputation is UNDERLINED on the ALBUM COVER:MEANING : reckoning/calculating : MEANING Taylor Swift DOESN'T make mistakes! U need to rewatch the ReadyforitMV where her 89 is in RED UNDERLINE next to the 91. She nEVEr opens that door behind her into JOE's future, rather she walks away from him in a complete opposite direction where @ :23 (🤟) seconds RED breaks them handcuffs off of her wrists. New Romantics:"THE BEST PEOPLE IN LIFE ARE FREE!" Think of it as ENCHANTED forcing laughter, faking smiles. Begin Again: first time PAST IS PAST. Dancin with our hands tied : IF I COULD DANCE WITH YOU:AGAIN! She chooses RED! They know nothing about. That reputation volume 2 magazine CAMO Jacket 84 Golden Tattoo. 84 GOLDEN TATTOO the only golden tattoo to ever make a mark "ON HER" & NOT a WALL! You are in LOVE: You understand now why we lost our minds & fought the WARS & why she spent her whole life trying to put it into words. @cia  RED HORSE:WAR MTMBOF 🤟❤💙💛 #TaylorsVersion #LoveStoryTaylorsVersion #FearlessTaylorsVersion #JumpThenFall #Untouchable #ForeverAndAlways #CIWTR #SuperStar #TOSOTD #Fearless #Fifteen #LoveStory #HeyStephen #WhiteHorse #YBWM #Breathe #TellMeWhy #YoureNotSorry #TWILY #TheBestDay #Change #TaylorNation #taylorswift #swiftie #swifties #loverfesteast #loverfestwest #MissAmericana #recordingacademy @capitalofficial @amas @iheartjingleball @recordingacademy @universalmusicgroup @rockineve @cia 👨‍🏫 (at New Wilmington, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNEle7cnyvd/?igshid=1w784l4goi3cs

[brianvictrpetro]

💲13,000,000.00 to anyone who can MATHEMATICALLY prove me wrong! FELLA with THE HELLA GOOD HAIR! 1st thing 1st, LIFE IS A GAME MEANT FOR EVERYONE TO PLAY & LOVE is THE GRAND PRIZE! So while most people will call me a HATER, I'm just THE ULTIMATE swiftie who can read Taylor Swift like a magazine! Blank Space, Love's a game wanna play, eh? @joe.alwyn is N🚫T The King of @taylorswift 's heart as stated in THE reputation volume 0NE magazine TELL ALL INTRO! U not hip to the fact that there was a picture of JOe & Taylor on a picaresque balcony in summer air from JUNE 2017? U need to re-read your rep vol 1 TELL ALL INTRO: 2017 and if you DIDN'T see A PICTURE of it, it couldn't have happened right? putatio in reputation is UNDERLINED on the ALBUM COVER:MEANING : reckoning/calculating : MEANING Taylor Swift DOESN'T make mistakes! U need to rewatch the ReadyforitMV where her 89 is in RED UNDERLINE next to the 91. She nEVEr opens that door behind her into JOE's future, rather she walks away from him in a complete opposite direction where @ :23 (🤟) seconds RED breaks them handcuffs off of her wrists. New Romantics:"THE BEST PEOPLE IN LIFE ARE FREE!" Think of it as ENCHANTED forcing laughter, faking smiles. Begin Again: first time PAST IS PAST. Dancin with our hands tied : IF I COULD DANCE WITH YOU:AGAIN! She chooses RED! They know nothing about. That reputation volume 2 magazine CAMO Jacket 84 Golden Tattoo. 84 GOLDEN TATTOO the only golden tattoo to ever make a mark "ON HER" & NOT a WALL! You are in LOVE: You understand now why we lost our minds & fought the WARS & why she spent her whole life trying to put it into words. @cia  RED HORSE:WAR MTMBOF 🤟❤💙💛 #AMAs #willow #champagneproblems #goldrush #ttds #tolerateit #nbnc #happiness #dorothea #coneyisland #ivy #cowboylikeme #longstoryshort #marjorie #closure #evermore #rwylm #ittg #evermorealbum #TheLakes #TaylorNation #taylorswift #swiftie #swifties #loverfesteast #loverfestwest #rockineve #happybirthdaytaylorswift #MissAmericana #taylurking @capitalofficial @amas @iheartjingleball @netflixfilm @virginatlantic @rockineve @cia 👨‍🏫 (at New Wilmington, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKdlukDH914/?igshid=15bscjhedfpgq