#so it would take all their sweeter songs into a totally different direction

[1eos]

i know i said a few years ago i feel bad that 4/6ths of vixx all have lower registers but their songs are so high but i don’t feel bad anymore bc i listened to some of their older songs and leo’s sweet tone really made like 85% of their songs work. i consider jaehwan to be the leader in harmonies but leo is DEFINITELY the leader in mood. the cuter/more romantic songs would be nothing without him sorry to deep voiced line but they absolutely should have been forced to sing higher 😭😭😭😭 jelpi may be evil nd play obvious favorites but its all to create timeless BANGERS. i believe in unfair line distributions im sorry love lalala would be SHIT if everyone got equal lines

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Types of kisses with Jimin

First Kiss

Jimin had finally worked up the courage to ask you on a date. He was worried you would reject him and didn’t feel the same way. So after much encouragement from Taehyung he finally asked you, and when you agreed he was absolutely over the moon! He wanted everything to be perfect. Since you two had been friends for quite some time he wanted everything to be perfect so he could show you just how much he cared for you and was serious about a relationship with you. He took you to Busan to spend the day at the beach with him and watch the sunset. He had a blanket spread out close to the water, occasionally the waves would come high enough to barely touch the tips of your toes and you always let out a string of giggles that sounded like the sweetest melody to his ears. As the sun began to set and the sky was bathed in hues of orange and pink, you felt the tips of his fingers brushing shyly against your hand. Which was odd to you, Jimin was usually very affectionate with you and didn’t hesitate to initiate skinship. He seemed to be nervous or unsure of himself. 

“Jimin you can hold my hand, it’s okay. It’s not like you haven’t before.” You notice his lips puff out slightly in a pout and you get a strong urge to kiss him. But you push it down, for now. 

“Well, yeah but that was different before.”

“How?”

“We were friends before. Now we’re um.. together? At least I hope we are.”

“Are you asking to be my boyfriend Park Jimin?”

“Well uh- yeah I would love nothing more. But I just don’t know if you feel as strongly as I do. I have been crushing on your for so long, probably since we first met and holding your hand or hugging you always made butterflies flutter around in my stomach but now that I am on a date with you? It’s just that much more intense because I am not trying to push my feelings down anymore and keep them hidden so I just feel.. everything, and....”  He’s rambling now, and you decide to finally put him out of the anxious state he’s worked himself into by kissing him softly on the lips. He jumps and tenses for a moment, his eyes are comically wide until he closes them and lets himself get lost in the moment. With shaky hands he brings them both up to cup your face as he presses his lips more firmly to your own. You could easily stay like this forever, but you know he’s probably still lost in his head wondering what your answer would be. 

“I would love to be yours, Jimin.”

Lazy Kisses

You knew Jimin had spent most of the night practicing for their comeback stage, and that he would be exhausted the next day. So you woke up early to cook him breakfast and make sure he would be energized for his busy schedule. You walk into the room with a tray of food and open the curtains to let the sunlight in, but he wouldn’t budge. You set the tray on the nightstand next to him and run your finger through his hair, trying not to squeal over how adorable he looks with his lips pouted and eyes slightly scrunched from the light. 

“Jimin. Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up.” He grumbles and throws the blanket over his head. You can’t help but chuckle as you crawl into bed next to him, and gently pry the covers away. His hair is sticking up in every direction and you’re so endeared by the sight of him. 

“I don’t wanna get up. Just want to stay in bed with you all day.”

“I know, and I would love that too but you have more practice today and you have to get up. Come on, I even made you breakfast!” He perks up a little and turns to his side to see what you’ve made for him. 

“Ah you’re an angel y/n! Thank you!” He leans in and kisses you gently. He pulls away and gives you an odd look, before leaning in to kiss you again. He kisses you all over your face, each kiss lingering longer than the last before a final one is planted on your forehead and you absolutely melt. 

“Could stay here all day just kissing you.” He mumbles against your forehead. 

“I could stay here all day getting kissed by you.” You feel him smile before he pulls away and finally sits up. He’s in the middle of eating when his phone chimes with a text message. He asks you to check it for him. 

“Looks like you get your wish after all. Namjoon says they are giving you guys the day off.” His face lights up almost immediately.

“Really?!”

“Yep! So hurry up and eat so we can go back to what we started.” You lay back down and within moment his soft lips are back on yours. You spend the day lost in one another and in each others arms, leaning in to kiss the other every so often just as a reminder of how much you care for each other. 

Heated Kisses

Jimin had been teasing you all day. He knew what he was doing, getting you riled up on purpose. It started when he invited you to the studio to critique a new dance he was working on for their comeback in a few months. Except in your mind you knew that was a lie. The way he was moving his hips and looking at you like he wanted to devour you, told you a completely different story. This was not some dance he was working on for a new song of theirs, no. This was just for you. When he started walking over to you, swaying his hips with a sultry gaze in his eyes you covered your face with your hands and screamed into them. 

“Park Jimin, what are you trying to do to me?”

“Hmm, nothing my love. I am afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He winks at you and immediately turns back around to turn the music off. “You want to go grab something to eat with the guys?” You nod your head, eager for a distraction to forget about what he was just doing moments ago. 

Except it wasn’t a distraction for you at all. Oh it was so much worse. He scooted his chair as close to yours as possible, and had his hand on your thigh the entire night, every once in a while moving it to your inner thigh and squeezing, most of the time causing you to let out a choked off sound and the other members to look at you with concern. 

“Everything okay y/n?” Namjoon asks. Jimin takes this opportunity to lightly ghost his fingers up your inner thigh, avoiding where you want him most. 

“F-fine! Oh would you look at the time. I think we should go now since I have to be at work in the morning.” 

“You have the day off tomorrow what are you talking about, y/n?” Jimin smirks at you as if to challenge you and you’ve had enough. 

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest then? Your precious little Jiminie here has been teasing me and getting me worked up all day and I can’t take it anymore. So if it is okay with you, I would like to go home with my boyfriend so he can finally finish what he started.” Jimin chokes on the rice he was shoveling into his mouth at your bold remark. 

“Ew! Okay both of you get out of here now. I don’t even want to think about that.” Jin makes a fake gagging noise and poor Jungkook is staring at you both in shock. 

“Alright then. Jimin, we’re leaving. Now.” You grab his hand and yank him up from the table and into the car. The moment he closes the door you’re in his lap, straddling his hips and gripping the hair at the back of his neck to pull him in for a heated kiss. He moans quietly in surprise, not expecting you to pounce on him so suddenly but he quickly catches up and his finger tips tightly grip your waist under your shirt. They ghost up your sides and lightly trail back down and you can’t help but shiver. You feel him smirk into the kiss before he pinches your side, causing you to yelp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you until you pull away, panting heavily and eyes lazily starting to droop closed as you try to relax and settle your racing heart.

“Are you tired already y/n? Oh, baby we’re just getting started.”

Sweet Kisses

Jimin’s kisses are always sweet in your opinion. But this time they were sweeter than normal. You two were making edible cookie dough in the kitchen. You were skeptical how good it was going to be, as the last time you two tried to bake it was a total disaster. You were still finding globs of batter in the kitchen even a month later. Jimin puts the spoon in his mouth and you carefully watch his expression. He seems to be thinking for a moment before a wide grin spread across his face.

“This is so good! Oh my god.” He grabs another spoonful and pops it into his mouth. “Oh this is absolutely heavenly.”

“Hey! Share some with me, I helped!” 

“No way! You were a nonbeliever and thought it was gonna be bad and made me try it first. I’m not sharing.” He clutches the bowl to his chest and you pout. “Don’t you look at me like that. No no don’t- Oh fine.” He holds the spoon out and you go to eat some but he quickly pulls it away and kisses you instead.

“Jimin, as much as I love your kisses. If you don’t let me try some of that I am going to hit you.” He bursts into laughter. 

“I will give you some. If you give me 10 more kisses!” And how can you say no to such a sweet request? You kiss his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, his chin, the top of his head, and finally his lips. You did deepen the kiss to distract him while you snatch the spoon out of his hand and finally ate some of the cookie dough. 

“Oh wow this is good.” 

“You play dirty you know?” He’s pouting slightly so you hold the spoon back up to his lips. 

“Want to go watch our movie now?”

“Yes! But the bowl stays in the middle of the cushions between us.” You roll your eyes but it quickly turns into a fond smile when you see the way he’s looking at you.

Wedding Kiss

When it was announced that he could now kiss you and officially be married he froze. He couldn’t help it, his mind just blanked. And suddenly he was terrified that this was all just a dream. You could see the nervousness in his eyes and placed a comforting hand on his cheek.

“Jimin? My love, what’s wrong?” He seems to snap out of it as his gaze suddenly meets yours.

“Is this real? Like is this really happening? Are we about to be married? Because part of me feels like I am dreaming and just made the whole thing up. Because you’re so perfect. You mean the world to me. You’ve been there for me through anything and everything and have shown me so much love and care. I am just.. having a hard time believing you are r-OW! Why did you pinch my cheek so hard?!” A chorus of laughter rings out from the wedding guests, however Jimin hears your soft giggles over everything else. 

“To prove to you that you’re awake and not dreaming! Now kiss me please. I don’t want to wait another second to be Park Y/n.” His eyes fall onto your lips and he moves in. The kiss is gentle, and sweet. And holds all of the love he feels for you in that kiss. He can’t help it. He’s just so happy that he starts giggling joyfully into the kiss. The kiss turns playful, and soon he’s peppering kisses all over your face causing you to laugh even more. He moves his lips to yours once more and plants a final peck on them. 

“I love you, Jimin.”

“I love you too, y/n. So so much.”

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Tidings of Something” (au)

Summary: When Emma gets injured during a routine bail bonds job, it may be the Christmas miracle she never knew she needed, if only because it finally gets her to open her eyes about the man that helps her through everything. Killian would’ve preferred the Christmas without picking Emma up from a hospital, but doesn’t much mind the way it all turns out.

Rating: Barely even T, I think.

A/N: So maybe it would’ve given me away had I said “Hi @captainmorningstar! I’m your secret santa and I’m never on time!” and she would’ve been like “Oh! My santa is lifeinahole because she never posts anything when she’s supposed to!” and then at least it would’ve been anticlimactic when I forgot to hit anon. Despite all that, I had a blast gathering the info for this and writing it. Thanks to @cssecretsanta2k19 for putting this together - for putting us together. I had such a fun time getting to know my darling giftee and writing this tailored gift for her. I hope you enjoy it, my dear!

-x-

It’s the second week of December, and already Emma has heard the song playing over the speakers at least twenty times. It doesn’t help that there are only thirteen Christmas songs total and the radio stations just cycle through each iteration on an endless loop. Despite all of this, though, Emma is humming along to the soft strains of an instrumental “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” as the pain meds finally start to do their job.

“Swan?”

The sound of his voice is sweeter than any song ever could be, and with a struggle, Emma opens her eyes to the bright fluorescents overhead, blinking until Killian’s face comes into focus above her.

“Hi there,” he says when he can see she’s tuned in.

“Hi,” she responds, her voice dreamy and her smile as big and as dopey as she imagines it is. She’s caught up in the blue of his eyes, the perfect lines of his face, the worry lines crinkling his forehead as he visually checks her over.

She’s fine, of course. Not the first time she sprained her wrist, but the rib subluxation is something she could’ve lived without.

The stress on Killian’s face fades slightly as he looks at her, relief taking its place.

“You had me worried, love.”

“Nothing to worry about,” she wheezes out as she struggles to sit up. “I’m fine.” A deep inhale of breath says otherwise as her left side reminds her of that whole rib thing and she winces, doing her best to keep her breathing even so she doesn’t hurt herself again.

He hums his response, settling onto the bed next to her as he asks her to explain what happened. It’s a brief story, thankfully: bail runner caught on, shoved her as hard as he could, and took off. It wasn’t until she’d slapped the cuffs onto him that she realized she was in pain, once the adrenaline started to wear off. Somehow, she made it to the hospital on her own and it wasn’t until they said she wouldn’t be able to drive home that she realized she was going to need help. Enter Killian: faithful friend, dockworker with an understanding boss, love of her life that she’s never told.

He smells like salt today, and there’s a hint of fish from working so close to the cannery, but she doesn’t mind, not when she carefully rests her head on his shoulder and melts into his embrace grabbing onto his prosthetic hand in a gesture of comfort. She’s not sure how much longer she can stay awake, so she’s thankful when the doctor finally comes in with her final advice for recovery.

Emma’s going to be off work for a while, which is going to suck. She’s set for now, but a month is a long time to go without a paycheck. The only bright side is that she works her ass off all year so she can take it easy around Christmas, so she was looking to spend less time chasing after people anyway. 

She’s been here for a couple days staking out this particular mark, so they have to get her packed and checked out of her hotel. They make arrangements with said hotel to leave her car there until Killian and David can come down to get it, and then Killian is bundling her into the passenger side of his vehicle, easing them onto the highway and turning down the volume when Emma inevitably caves and falls asleep after the first five miles.

She doesn’t wake again until they’re pulling up in front of her apartment building. Then it’s a delicate operation getting her out of the truck and into her apartment. The sprain in her wrist isn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Maybe a little more pressure from the fall and she’d be dealing with a fracture instead, but it certainly doesn’t tickle right now. It’s still easy enough to get changed on her own and settled into the bed, accepting the glass of water that Killian hands her after he knocks to make sure she’s decent.

“Try to rest. I’m going to grab us some dinner and come back in a bit, okay?”

Emma’s too tired to even speak, so she nods, nesting down into her bed and letting her body finally rest.

-x-

It’s only after he knows she’s fast asleep that Killian leaves, carefully locking the apartment door behind him when he goes. He heads to the sheriff’s station first, as he knows David needs to hear in person that his adopted “little” sister got the shite kicked out of her at work today.

Getting the call from Emma was terrifying; he probably would’ve panicked if he’d gotten the call about anyone, but with Emma it’s… different. He’s been in love with her for so long now that he can’t even recall when or how it happened. But he’s the person she calls when she’s in trouble, and a devoted best friend. He can’t mess any of that up with feelings that she doesn’t reciprocate.

“Killian? What are you doing out of work so early? I thought you guys were shutting down the spare docks for the season.”

“We were. But I got called away on an emergency so I left this morning before lunch.

“What kind of emergency?” David asks, his voice and face going deadly serious. There are only so many people in this town Killian knows, and David knows which one he would drop everything for without hesitation.

“Don’t worry, it’s all okay,” Killian says first. “Emma called from Portland because she took a bit of a spill. Nothing is broken, but she’s a little bruised.”

Immediately, Killian can see David popping into “overprotective brother” mode and understands that this is exactly why Killian was called to tend to Emma instead of him.

“How bruised?”

“It’s just a sprained wrist and she almost dislocated a rib. Nothing but some standard pain killers involved. She’s already back home and resting. You and I will have to drive down to Portland this weekend and retrieve her vehicle.”

The other man relaxes, even if just slightly, at hearing that nothing is broken and that she’s already home. Killian’s been around long enough that he knows exactly how this all goes.

“I was hoping, however, to enlist your lovely wife to help keep an eye on her. She’s going to have to refrain from work for a little bit but we both know Emma loves to push herself even when she should be resting.”

“Of course. She’s going to do what she wants, in the end, but maybe we can at least keep her entertained enough that she won’t feel the need to go out looking for trouble.”

He’s always thankful for David. Not only is he a friend to Killian, but he’s on similar wavelengths when it comes to how Emma works. They know she’s a woman of her own mind, and that she is not to be directed, so they work to find healthy alternatives.

For all the years that Emma has been in his life, she’s been chasing bail skips. He’s seen it hurt her but he’s also seen how much of a thrill she gets from a victory. It probably feels like vengeance against Neal every time she catches a scumbag that should be in jail, and so he’s happy to support her ventures. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the daylights out of him when she gets injured, though.

One thing is for sure, he will always stand by her decisions, will stand beside her in every way he can, but he’s still allowed to wish she’d take the position David offered her as a deputy for their sleepy little town. He understands why she can’t, but it doesn’t stop him from hoping sometimes.

-x-

When Emma wakes up, it’s to a much darker apartment, but she can smell food. That’s what draws her slowly from her bedroom, taking her time and being extremely cautious with her left side.

She loves her job. She wishes it wouldn’t lead to moments like this, but this is the exception and definitely not the rule. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about joining the simple life sometimes.

A while ago, David offered her a position at the station as a deputy. She said “no” without even really thinking about it, but over the last couple months she’s been thinking more and more about what it would mean to take it.

She wouldn’t likely get beaten up anymore, that’s for sure. Storybrooke is more about minor traffic violations, and a yearly dispute, usually between two of the miners that happen to be brothers, and only after they’ve been drinking after work. They deal with petty squabbles and neighborly disagreements, but they’re so simple and easy to solve, and at the end of the day, everyone still loves each other in this town.

Having a job at the station would mean seeing her brother more often, and staying in town. It would mean a dedicated health care plan and like, a 401k. It would pay the bills a little more predictably than her current adventures. And while that’s all really boring stuff at this point, it would feel good not to worry about those things as much as she does right now.

And so she considers telling Killian she’s been thinking about it again. Been thinking about a lot of things, really, but she can’t tell him – not when he looks so devastatingly handsome standing in her kitchen plating up whatever’s been heating in her oven while she’s been sleeping. Because there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same way, and taking a job at the station means she can’t just leave if it all goes to shit.

“You’re awake!”

Her attention is brought back to the man in her apartment and Emma shakes off the rest of her thoughts. This right here, having time with her friend, is what matters more than anything.

They settle in and eat dinner, watching a movie when they’re done and everything has been cleaned up (by Killian, of course, because he wouldn’t let her lift a finger). She falls asleep on his shoulder less than halfway through, succumbing to the chaos of the day earlier than she meant to.

When she wakes again, it’s morning, and she’s in her bed.

There’s a note on the fridge telling her to take it easy, and she scoffs at it as she goes to brew coffee. It’s not like she had anything planned for the day, work or otherwise.

She’s not sure if he made the plans for her or if Elsa decided on her own, but it’s just after noon when there’s a knock on her door and the blonde is standing there with a deck of cards and a tray of to-go hot chocolates.

“Did he put you up to this?”

“Nope. Told me what happened but I decided to do this all on my own. Besides, you probably didn’t have plans today anyway.”

Her words are an echo of her previous thoughts, so she shrugs a little and opens the door wide to let Elsa in.

“I was surprised you didn’t call David,” Elsa says after they’re settled in around her coffee table, lounging on cushions and blankets, looking like they’ve nested for the remainder of the winter.

“He would’ve flipped out. And Snow would’ve mothered me to death. Killian panicked, but he at least takes care of me the way I need him to.” She’s staring at the cards in her hand, trying to decide if it’s worth it to keep looking for an ace or to start discarding them from her hand.

Elsa hums at that, and Emma gives her a look. “What’s that noise for?”

“Oh, you know.”

When her friend doesn’t continue, Emma stares harder.

“Oh, come on, Emma. What was it you said to me once about knowing me before you knew me?”

Emma takes her time responding, shuffling her cards and finally discarding the five of diamonds instead of the ace. “I said I knew you because I knew myself. We were both loners, looking out for ourselves, and trying not to hurt anyone else along the way.”

“Exactly. That’s the kind of bond we had when we were still a pinch hostile towards each other when I moved here, and now we’re friends. So imagine how much more I know about you now, and how much you’re avoiding the elephant in the room.”

She stares at Elsa, trying to gauge exactly what she’s talking about. She knows it’s in reference to Killian, but Emma works so hard to keep that secret buried deep. There’s no way Elsa could know how she feels, is there?

“When are you going to tell him how you feel?” Elsa asks, eliminating all questions about what thinly veiled conversation they’re having.

“Never.”

“Emma.”

“He can’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t need this baggage hanging around him when I could run at any moment.” She blurts it out, surprising even herself with the intensity of the words.

Elsa puts her cards down, completely abandoning the game at hand and reaches over for Emma.

“Has it ever occurred to you that if you ran, he would follow you?”

“I’m not sure he would, actually.”

“That man would follow you to the ends of the earth, or time, if he had to. But if you need proof, please look at the guy that left work in the middle of the day to drive to Portland to pick you up and take care of you because he knows the right way to take care of you. Your words.”

Her little speech is topped off with a raise of one of her perfect eyebrows.

“I’m not saying you need to confess your feelings right now,” she adds, grabbing the cards from Emma’s hand and gathering them all to re-deal. “But think about it. Also you should’ve discarded the ace. I’m doing you a favor.”

Emma shakes her head as she motions for Elsa to continue, taking a moment to sip from her hot chocolate and consider her options. She sets herself a deadline of January 1. Maybe by then she can make up her mind what to do or not do.

-x-

On Saturday, early in the morning, Killian pulls up outside of Emma’s apartment. David is dropping off Snow to spend time with her while they go down to Portland to get Emma’s Bug. 

But before they can get to that part of the plan, they have to make it there first.

Killian and David actually have a fantastic relationship. They bonded over having pains in the ass for brothers, and their friendship with Emma (even if David’s goes a little deeper than his own – being siblings by legal decree does mean a little more than “best friend” after all). But currently, you’d think they were strangers with the way the silence sits heavy between them in David’s SUV.

He tries to think of things to talk about, but nothing comes to mind but how to tell his very good friend that he’s in love with Emma. That’s not a conversation for a car trip where he literally cannot escape if the other man tries to aim his side of the vehicle at a tree.

Finally, he settles on something more mundane, asking what David got Snow for Christmas, and if he had any good ideas for what to get Emma this year.

That, of course, derails the conversation pretty quickly.

“You could get her your honesty about how you feel about her,” David suggests, still driving in the same calm and collected manner he has been the whole time.

“Pardon?’

“You heard me. I think she’s the only person in Storybrooke that doesn’t know how you feel.”

“Aye, well, all the more reason to not tell her. I don’t need to scare her off.”

“Why would that scare her off?” David asks, glancing over at Killian to see the tired look on his face.

“I know Emma. I know how she thinks. And she’s sworn off love for so long that I feel if I admitted my attractions that she would split as soon as she could,” he says in response.

“You never know until you try,” comes the answer to his statement, but Killian isn’t convinced.

“Does she need a new blanket for the living room, do you think?”

“You two are more alike than you think,” is David’s final comment before letting Killian successfully change the subject without returning to it again.

When they get to Portland, Killian stops in at the front desk to let him know he’s back to gather Emma’s car, making sure everything is still squared away with that before he goes out and gives David a thumbs up. The other man still waits until he sees that the Bug is successfully running, and then they both head back on the road to get home.

Killian has to pull into a gas station not long after they start driving, though, after a glance at the gauges tells him that Emma never bothered to fill up after she got here. He checks over the contents of the car quickly, making sure nothing was disturbed as he finds that the passenger door was also unlocked this whole time.

One item in particular draws him up short, however, when he reads the heading and discovers it to be an apartment application for a building not far from the hotel he just left.

When was she planning on telling anyone she was interested in moving down here? By the looks of it, she got two-thirds through the application before it was left on her passenger seat.

His heart sinks looking it over, where she’s even filled out potential move-in dates for right after the holidays are over. He can’t imagine Emma living outside of Storybrooke. She was there when he moved to the US and she’s been there for him ever since, and he never imagined she would leave. Apparently, though, she had other plans that she wasn’t sharing.

Maybe he should invest in some packing materials for Christmas in order to help her, if that’s what she wishes to do.

With every mile he drives closer to home, the more his heart aches. Should he tell her he found the application? Should he try to convince her to stay? No – he’s always claimed he would support her in anything and everything she ever did, and this change in location will be no different.

Instead, what Killian decides to do by the time he gets back, is bury the knowledge of what he’s found. If Emma wants to move, she will tell him - tell all of them - in her own time. 

By the time he makes it back to Storybrooke, he’s worked his own mind into a frenzy. All he wants to do is drop off the keys and get back home. But when he gets to Emma’s door, he can smell the food first, and hear the laughter of their friends beyond the wood. Emma must sense his arrival because she whips open the door right as he’s about to knock.

“We thought you got lost!” she says, smiling wide and yanking on his sleeve to pull him inside. “We made dinner. Come join us.”

Despite his internal turmoil, Killian obliges, kicking off his shoes by the door and hanging his coat where it always hangs. He heads to the kitchen table when he’s settled, doing his best to put on a happy mask and enjoy the time with his loved ones. 

He sets himself into the easy rhythm of traditions, passing the food in the order they always choose, and stacking the plates in a particular way when everyone is done. 

As a group, they initiate cleanup. Emma and Killian fall to their respective roles of washing and drying the plates, while David packs up the food and stores the leftovers away. He and Snow leave shortly after with their own container of food, leaving Emma and Killian by themselves as they finish the dishes. 

A million times, he tells himself to stay quiet, but that doesn’t stop him from blurting it out after five minutes. “So, the Portland Arms is a nice building.”

“It… you saw the application.”

“It was on the seat of your vehicle, so yes, I saw the application,” he says with much more attitude than he meant to. 

“It’s just…”

“Just what, love? Just a couple hours away? Just a change of scenery and nothing else will change?”

“I was going to say ‘just an application’ but you’re right with both of those, too.”

Killian sighs, deflating a bit as he places the last dry dinner plate on the stack. “I’m sorry, Swan, it’s just the thought of you leaving is a lot to take in. But if it’s truly what you want, then just let me know what you need me to do and I’ll be happy to help.”

“Hold your horses,” she tells him, patting him on the arm when her hands are dry. “I’m not going anywhere yet. Like I said, it’s just an application. I don’t know if I want to move in the middle of winter so it may be a while.”

That her obstacle is the middle of winter rather than anything else tells him a lot about her feelings on the matter, so he lets it drop. 

-x-

It feels like there’s something brewing that Emma can’t control. She’s not sure what exactly, but ever since they went down to get her car and Killian found that stupid application that she left on her seat, there’s been some underlying tension that they can’t seem to shake. He’s been moody, but also pretending he isn’t. She’s not sure why she didn’t tell him the truth, but it’s her own damn business, anyway! 

On Christmas Eve, he comes over as he always does in order to decorate her tree. Normally, Emma is fully immersed in the process of picking out, cutting down, and hauling in of her tree. This year, she had to skip the second and third parts of that, only having a hand in picking out the one she wanted while David and Killian were the ones to bring it in. It’s been in the stand for a couple days now just waiting for the trimming part, but they always wait until the day before to do that together. 

While David and Snow are busy decorating theirs and getting their little family home ready for the holiday, Killian comes to her apartment. He doesn’t put up a tree of his own because he spends so much of his time at Emma’s place. 

He doesn’t do a lot of holiday decorating for that same reason, and Emma gets why he might be upset with the idea of her moving to Portland because all of his traditions that have been formed over the years will be moving with her. 

Clearly, she didn’t consider how hard he might take it if she actually moved away. 

But as she carefully sits there unwrapping and adding ornaments to the tree, she can’t imagine doing this without him. They have assigned parts in this play: they pick the tree together, and Killian puts on the lights while she fetches the skirt and the ornaments, then he’s in charge of the garland and Emma tops the whole thing with the star. 

This year they had to make some concessions to make sure Emma doesn’t hurt herself, but she’s still taking care of the ornaments while Killian struggles to get the beaded garland untangled. He’s muttering to himself, saying how he meant to wrap them around something last year when they packed it all up, but it’s all a diatribe to himself and she just listens and tries her best not to laugh. 

He’s helpless. Adorable and helpless. And she doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she’s already moving towards him - the small swan ornament she’d been holding is abandoned back in the box and she’s grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards her.

There’s a look of shock on his face as she tugs him down, and then she’s not thinking about how there was no warning leading up to this but how right it feels to be kissing him. Killian’s surprise wears off quickly and then he’s kissing her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. She can feel the beads of the garland digging into her side where he clearly didn’t drop the strand but she doesn’t care, especially when her hand buries into his hair and she’s not sure she ever wants to surface from this again. 

He sighs out her name as they break apart at one point, and that’s when reality comes crashing down on her. What is she doing? And what is he doing kissing her back like that?

“I’m - I’m sorry. I’ll be right back,” Emma stutters out, making a dash for the bathroom. She takes her time, pressing a cool washcloth to her face and running the faucet for far too long before she exits again. 

When she comes back, the living room is empty. The garland is neatly strung around the tree, but the coat rack reveals no extras and it’s clear that he’s made a swift exit while she tried to collect herself. 

There’s a note by the tree, hastily scrawled but still more beautiful than most handwriting she’s ever seen. In it, Killian explains that he’s had a rather long day and he’s headed home to get some sleep, but that he’ll see her in the morning when they all exchange gifts. With a sigh, she turns back to her ornaments, adding the last few she had left before.

It takes her that long to realize that Killian has already added the star to the top of the tree, probably foreseeing that she can’t stretch like that on her own right now. She doesn’t even plug it in to see it all completed, instead flipping off the rest of the lights and making sure the door is locked before going to bed.

She knows why she kissed Killian - she wanted to. She wanted… wants him. She just doesn’t know why he kissed her back like a man on a mission and then bolted while she tried to make heads and tails of the situation. 

Her dreams are fraught with weird scenarios, one of which has her tangled in strands of lights and garland, trapped in a Christmas prison. She calls out for help repeatedly, but never gets an answer. Then she calls out Killian’s name and she can immediately hear a response for her to hold on, that he’s on his way.

In the morning, she wakes with that dream fresh in her mind and her heart still aches a little at the message. In all situations, great and small, she knows without a doubt that Killian will be there to help her. So what’s holding her back from telling him how she feels? 

The whole day feels different. Killian is usually the first one at her door in the morning but he’s not there when David and Snow show up. They’re the ones helping Emma put together brunch, just waiting for the oven timer to ding when Killian finally walks through the door looking like he slept about as roughly as Emma did. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he tells her as she helps him out of his coat. “Had to take care of some things at home.”

It’s a lie. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him lie to her this blatantly before. He’s lied to her about small things before, but this is the first time she’s heard him outright lie this bad since they drove down to Boston one summer and he claimed he wasn’t lost. When they ended up in New Hampshire, he finally admitted his wrongdoing. 

But when she looks a little harder at him, he averts his eyes, moving instead to remove his boots and wander over to where Snow and David have already made themselves comfortable in the living room. 

That’s the way it is all through brunch and the cleanup from their meal, and even most of the way through presents. He only really looks at her again when he thanks her for his gift. His eyes say volumes about how he’s feeling, so while the words were quiet, he’s practically screaming his gratitude in looks alone. 

When she opens the gift from him, her heart almost stops. Nestled in the small box is a swan pendant, vastly different than the last one she owned when she was younger, and already holding a lot more meaning than the little keychain some asshole once lifted from a gas station for her. She kept the old pendant for the longest time as a reminder not to trust anyone. It was Killian that helped her finally get rid of that necklace, patiently sitting with her as she took her time, made peace with all the bad memories, and then chucked it into the ocean from the boat he’d taken her out on that day.

“I hoped it would have slightly better memories than the last one,” Killian says, and she didn’t even notice him move closer until she realizes how near his voice is. “May I?”

She nods, watching in silence as he lifts the necklace from the box, taking his time to grasp the clasp between his fingers and pinching it open while holding the other side with his prosthetic. She holds her hair up and out of the way as he latches the necklace behind her, his fingers lingering just a bit before he abruptly stands. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some work to attend to,” he says, looking regretfully at Emma before he heads for the door. He makes sure to gather his gifts, thanking David and Snow before slipping from the apartment as quickly as he showed up. 

It takes some acting, but she plays off his departure as nothing major. It’s clear he’s never mentioned the apartment application to David and Snow or else one of them would’ve blurted out an objection already. So she plays along and smiles through the rest of their time together. 

Just after they eat dinner, Snow excuses herself. “I’m going home for a moment, and I’ll be back with more cookies,” she tells them. 

Another lie, Emma can tell, but she lets her friend go, realizing pretty quickly this is a case of Divide and Conquer between the married couple. 

“I’m going to make you more hot chocolate. And when it’s done, we’re going to have a talk,” David says when the door has shut behind his wife, confirming her suspicions. 

Emma bites back the smile the best she can and follows him into the kitchen.

-x-

It’s snowing and cold but Killian doesn’t really notice any of it. His hand is shoved into his pocket and his prosthetic is resting on the wooden railing overlooking the docks. 

“I would be lost without you,” he repeats to himself. It’s the inscription she put on the inside of the compass, a beautiful rosewood piece that he would normally be so excited to display in his home until it was time to bring his own boat out of winter storage. 

Now, after everything that’s happened the last couple weeks, he can’t tell its intended meaning. She’s talking about moving, and then she kisses him, and then runs away, and then gives him this particular gift with this particular message? 

He watches his breath fog out in front of him, noticing that even that looks sad and aggravated.

“Thought I might find you out here,” comes a voice from behind him.  He turns to find Snow standing there, bundled against the cold and holding a hot mug that she hands to him.

The tea is one of his favorites, and he sighs in the comfort of the gesture.

“You two have been keeping secrets from us,” Snow says. “You don’t need to tell me everything, since I’m sure it means more to you and Emma than it does to me or David. There’s some things that I do know. It’s that you don’t get a happy ending without working for it, and that everyone deserves love. I can tell you have feelings for Emma that go beyond best friends. And though she’d never admit it, I’m pretty sure Emma feels the same way.”

“You’d get along with my brother,” Killian says, managing a smile. It doesn’t last, though. “And I don’t know if she truly does.”

“You won’t know until you talk to her.” Snow reaches out and clasps his arm. “Look, Emma has waited a long time for someone to come into her life that she trusts enough to give her heart to. And I think she so badly wants it to be you, but she’s too scared to make a move without knowing for sure how you feel.”

It’s sound advice, to maybe even make things a little more obvious to her. Handing her a necklace doesn’t explain his reasoning behind it - that he not only bought it because he thought of the way she’d smile when she saw it, but also because she deserves to replace every last memory from the last man she trusted that broke her heart. 

Snow shivers, bringing him back to the present and he’s finally aware of the snow falling heavier now than it was before. “It’s cold out here. Go home,” she tells him. “And Merry Christmas!” With a quick peck on his cheek, Snow turns and walks up the path back towards where she can see David waiting in his truck to pick her up. 

He turns back towards the water, staring out at the darkness beyond his vision. 

His friend is right. He needs to tell Emma how he feels, and he needs to do it before it’s too late. Liam always tells him that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. With one more look out to the water, he turns to head back to Emma’s apartment, but she’s already there.

She’s a couple meters away, shivering slightly despite her warm weather gear, and it’s only once Killian turns that she seems to come back to herself. 

“What are you doing out here, love? It’s freezing.”

“Says the man out here without a scarf or a glove or a hat?”

“I wasn’t really planning on staying out long. It just sort of… happened.” 

“Killian.”

“No wait, there’s something I need to say before we go any further.” He braces himself quickly, moving towards her slowly as he starts to speak. “When I met you, I was a broken man. I'd lost what I thought was the love of my life. After that first Christmas I spent with you, I felt like maybe my heart could move on one day. You invited me to join your family and your traditions, and for the first time in a long time I felt that hope that I'd find love again. And by the next Christmas, I wanted to find that love with you.”

He stops when he’s close enough to see the way the snowflakes catch on her eyelashes, and the way she keeps brushing them out of her hair. 

“I was always afraid to say anything for fear that you’d go running from me, since I’d heard all the stories you’d told me about the men you’d been with. I figured if you kept repeating ‘I’m never dating again’ enough in my presence that I should probably heed that warning.”

Emma chuckles under her breath at that, inching her way closer to him as he does the same to her. 

“Snow told me you’ve waited a long time to find a man to give your heart to. I’m truly hoping if you’d be lost without me that it means I may be the one you’re ready to try again with?”

“I know the engraving was cheesy but it fits too well, and it’s absolutely true. I would be lost without you.” The words come out quietly, and his breath catches in his throat as her fingers find the pirate’s luck necklace she bought him a few years ago. “I know I didn’t make it easy for you to tell me the truth, but I want you to know I feel the same way. What do you say, should we make this official? Kiss again and not have either of us go running for the hills afterward?” She means for it to lighten the mood, but he can’t help but be perfectly honest with his next words. 

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. That’s all I want.”

Her responding smile is bright and she leans forward just as he does. For a moment, all they do is touch their foreheads together, savoring this moment and breathing the other in - this closeness feels different than all the other times in their shared lives. When her fingers link with his, that’s when Killian moves again, angling his head and pressing his lips to hers. 

This time is sweeter, with much more meaning behind it.

“Does this mean you aren’t moving to Portland?”

“Killian. I was never moving to Portland. My skip worked in the housing office at that building and I needed the application as a cover to get to him.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me that when I brought it up?”

“I got defensive! It’s a knee-jerk reaction.”

“You got the ‘jerk’ part right, at least.”

She points a finger at him, a wordless warning that he’s been on the receiving end of multiple times. 

“Let’s go home,” she tells him, smiling as he lifts one of her gloved hands to press his lips against it. 

It’s later when she kisses him goodnight when she tells him she took the job at the station, and he feels like this may be the best Christmas he’s ever had. 

-x-

The next Christmas, the box she unwraps is engraved, and the contents inside of it make her tear up. 

“Where you lead,” he whispers, “will you let me be by your side?”

Her response of ‘yes’ is quickly lost in the way that they kiss, and they inform David and Snow to make it Christmas dinner instead of brunch, just so they have time to get their celebrating out of the way before they tell everyone else.

The End!

[talpup]

Lost Song: 2

Summary: The war between the Dragons and Griffons ended 233 years ago, and both races right along with it.

Or so it was believed. There are three individuals that will soon change that.

Kai is the last of the Dragons and he seeks to take what he sees as his rightful place and rule over all of Oblvi. Meanwhile, Shouta, the last Sphinx, wants nothing more than to do his job; keep the peace and and teach the young Fourth’s to hopefully avoid the mistakes of their ancestors. And Teris, a Foundling who is just trying to understand and survive in this strange new world that is supposedly her own.

All three have their own wants and desires, but Kai’s plans, Teris’ existence, and Shouta's past mean that none of them may get what they want.

***So this fic will have a LOT more world building than my others.  Please feel free to comment or send me an ask if you have any questions.  

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009679/chapters/57812554

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going.  Your friendship means the world to me.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

2.1

“Why are we waiting out in the hall?”  Teris asked, eyeing the closed double doors.

“Because.” Twice snapped.  “I’m sorry Mistress.  Ilca dorms are protected.” The House Elf went on in meek apology.  “One can’t enter unless a member of the resident Ilca or invited in by one.”  Seeing a copy of himself Twice turned and demanded.  “Have you seen Aizawa?  He’s making the Mistress wait.”

The copy escorting Hizashi shook his head in answer and scolded. “Remember what Nedzu said.  No calling the Mistress, Mistress.”

Twice huffed at his copy, waving him away.

As if sucked into a whirlpool, the copy spun around and disappeared.

“Wha--” Hizashi shook his head.  The sight, though astounding, wasn’t the strangest thing he had seen these last two days.  “Teris!” Hizashi rushed to her.

Twice stepped in Hizashi’s way, a warding hand outstretched.  “No touching the Mistress!”

“Hey.” Teris snapped.  “I’m not your Mistress.  And he’s my friend.”

“Weak, unknowing friend.”  Twice snipped, his next words smooth and sweeter.  “The Mistress is too kind.”

Hizashi stepped around the House Elf and hugged Teris in a warm, friendly embrace.  Though they had only met each other a couple days ago they were in this boat together.  Cast adrift in unknown waters. Surrounded by literal monsters, all be it in human form, and told that this was their new home.  Their new life.  An experience like that would make fast friend's of anyone.

Teris stiffened but accepted Hizashi's hug.  She couldn’t say why she felt a protective instinct over Hizashi.  The sense of kinship was easily explained by the upheaval they were both going through.  But her guarded jealousy of him was different.  It wasn’t romantic. More familial.  Only deeper.  More binding.  Hizashi was hers.  And in a sense a part of her.

“How was the person who will be helping you learn?  Did they treat you well?”  If they didn’t I’ll be paying them a visit, she thought.

“Oboro? Yeah!  He seems like a fun guy.  He’s some kind of wind spirit called a Venti though he seemed pretty solid to me.  What about you?”

“Kai was… alright.”

Neither saw Twice’s lip curl at the mention of the Dragon.

Hizashi frowned.  “You don’t sound so sure.  Maybe they’ll let you come with me.  Oboro was really nice.”

“You heard what Yagi and Director Nedzu said about the difference of divisions.  Apparently I’m a beast and need to be taught by one.”

Twice nodded firmly.  “Kind for kind.  Fourth’s learn best from their own.  If no direct species can be found, genus, order, class, phylum, and lastly division kind for kind must be sought.  The closer line of connection.  The better it is for all.  Less chance of death and devastation.”

“Death and devastation!”  Teris balked.

“Too loud.”  A rough, low voice complained.  Shouta fixed tired eyes on Twice.  “Sprite.  Quit scaring my Ilca.”

“I’m not scaring.  Yes I am!  The Mistress must be protected.  You’re late!”

Shouta's eyebrows pulled together.  Mistress?  He mouthed the word, wondering at it.  Too exhausted to contemplate the idiosyncrasies of the clearly insane House Elf, he simply dismissed.  “Go away.”

Damn his class, Shouta thought, rubbing the back of his stress tightened neck.  He loved and would die for his students.  But on days like today, he just wanted to bind them all with his capture weapon, throw them in a dungeon, and forget they existed for a couple of weeks while he caught up on some much needed sleep.

Bakugou and Midoriya especially had been in rare form this afternoon.  It had been as if the two finally found something they agreed upon something.  And that thing had been testing him.  The Basilisk was extra aggressive toward everyone, spitting literal venom at his friends.  And Midoriya…  The Thoth was even more interested in exploring the limits of his own immortality.  As if the kid had read in one of his books that today was some great day to die.

Naturally, Midoriya had ended up at the healers.  Again.  And when Shouta went to check on him at the end of the day he had gotten an earful from Shuzenji. The old Nagual admonishing him to inform Midoriya what she no doubt told the boy every time he ended up in the healers. That just because Fourth’s were immortal didn’t mean they couldn’t die.

Twice spun around to Hizashi, remembering the questions and conversation he had bothered his copy with.  “You...”

There was an audible pop that left Hizashi's ears feeling as if he hadn’t swallowed during an altitude change.  For a moment he thought the House Elf had disappeared.  But quickly realized that wasn’t the case.  Twice had shrunk in size.  He remembered what Oboro had said about true forms and wondered it this was Twice’s.  It was cute.

Before Hizashi could ooh and aah, Twice went on, voice sounding as if he had taken a drag of helium.  “Don’t speak to me unless you have a task or order that falls within my domain.”

“Sorry…” Hizashi’s apology sounded more like a question.

Pitch growing higher, Twice continued to shrink like a deflating balloon, he bowed to Teris.  “Mistress.  If ever you need anything.  Don’t call!  Don’t hesitate to call.”

Shouta’s eyes narrowed.  House Elves cared nothing for the inhabitants of the house.  The only thing that mattered to them was the house itself. The reason they did things such as cook and clean was because it kept the place well ordered and running smoothly.  They weren’t servants.  More like mildly malevolent caretakers of the home that tolerated the residents because things, including homes, went mad when left alone.  So why was Twice offering assistance?

His headache pulsed in his temples.  Shouta grunted and ordered.  “Off with you.”

Twice hissed at the Sphinx, finally disappearing fully with a pop as he shrunk totally in on himself.

Hizashi blinked at the space Twice had been.  “Well that was… interesting.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”  Shouta sighed pushing passed them to get to the door.

He pushed one of the large double doors open and paused.  New Ilca members usually swore something when Binding to an Ilca clan.  From what he understood it was normally along the lines of being loyal to the Ilca clan they were joining and its purpose.

Shouta sighed.  To hell with it.  He was too tired to deal with all that. The two Foundling’s were lucky that he came by the dorm at all.  A part of him had been tempted to leave them out of the secure housing that was, or at least use to be, his private sanctuary.  It wasn’t as if Traverseen Hall didn’t have countless comfortable sitting or meeting rooms for the two to bed down in.  But that would have hardly made for a good first impression.  And, like it or not, these two were to be members of his Ilca.  For the sake of peaceful cohabitation some effort had to be made.

“Welcome. I accept you, or whatever.”  Shouta mumbled stepping in and holding the door for them.

There. It was done.  The Bind was set.  He officially had two members in his Ilca.

“I’m Yamada Hizashi.”  Hizashi held out a hand.

Shouta nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.  All he wanted was to get a few winks of sleep before it was time to go out on patrol.  Just exchange names he drowsily told himself.  Don’t be rude.  For the sake of peaceful cohabitation, just try to be nice.

“Good for you.”  Shouta stifled a yawn.

Teris stepped forward.  “Are we boring you?”

Shouta turned to the woman for the first time.  His sight sharpened his senses enough for his weary mind to register the warm electric feeling that had been buzzing deep within him.  Her.  She was… Beautiful.  No.  Well, yes.  She was beautiful.  But that wasn’t what the tingling feeling was.  Her powers aura.  She was of ancient pedigree.

Suddenly Shouta felt wide awake.  “Not in the least.”  He cleared his throat, noticing Hizashi's hand.  Clasping the blonde’s forearm with a hand, he gave a firm squeeze of greeting.  “Aizawa. Shouta.”  He turned back to Teris.  “And you are?”

“Nova Teris.”  She took one look at Shouta's outstretched hand and pointedly turned away.  The man was rude.  He had already hurt Hizashi's feelings.  She didn’t like him.

Hand falling to his side without a care of her snub, Shouta set down the stack of homework that needed grading.  “I don’t have much stored in the kitchen.  But call for Twice.  He’ll complain about it, but will make you whatever you want.  You two do know how to call for the House Elf, don’t you?”

Hizashi nodded, smiling.  Happy to actually know something.  Oboro had taught him how to do it earlier in the day.  It wasn’t so much the name as the will behind it.

“Twice!” Hizashi called.

“No! Don’t--”

But it was too late.  Twice appeared.

Shouta glared at Hizashi, unsuccessfully stifling a growl.

“What is it?  How may I help you?”  Twice asked.

“Go away.”  Shouta ordered.

Within the confines of the dorms Shouta had claimed as Ilca leader, Twice was forced to obey whether he wanted to or not.  The House Elf disappeared.

“It was a question.  Not a test.  What are you?  One of my students?”

Teris moved between the glaring man and Hizashi.  “And what are you?  An asshole?  It was an easy mistake.  You’d think as a teacher you’d know how to be more clear with your questions.”

Shouta's head tilted.  He took in Teris’ protective stance and smirked. “Pack beast.”

“What did you call me?”

Shouta all but rolled his eyes.  “You hear me.  Are you simply looking to be offended?  You might not know much, but I know for a fact you were told you were a beast.”

Teris glared.

“What?” Shouta huffed.  “I stated a fact.  It’s not like I called you an asshole.”

“Because I wasn’t acting like one.”  Teris retorted.

“That’s debatable.”

Hizashi’s eyes darted between the two.  He hated conflict.  “So!  What are you?”

Shouta turned to the loud blonde.  Why was he so loud?  Maybe it just seemed that way because he was overtired.  His exhaustion returned, making his shoulders sag.  “Sphinx.”

“Can we see your true form?”  Hizashi asked, brightly.

“No. True forms aren’t some parlor trick.”  He heard Teris’ low growl and struggled not to growl in return.

Damn it.  So much for good first impressions and peaceful cohabitation. Shouta opened his mouth to tell the sad looking Hizashi maybe later, but thought better of it.  He wasn’t the best at socializing; and his temper and exhaustion clearly weren’t helping him.  The longer he stayed the worse he would make of this.

“Look. I got patrol in less than an hour.  There’s eight open quarters to chose from.  Pick whichever one you like.  You know how to call Twice if you need him.  Please.  For your sake and mine.  Don’t call the House Elf unless it’s to give an order that has to do with some sort of household chore.  They can be spiteful when offended. Causing inconveniences ranging from too cold or too hot rooms. Blaring light at night.  Damp or torn clothes.  Or worse, clothes washed in a Tongons sty.  And their grudges can last for centuries.”

Hizashi deflated even further at that.  “H—how do you make it up to them?”

“You don’t.”  Shouta said simply.  He made for the door and opened it. “And don’t go destroying my—our place.  It’s the only sanctuary I have.”

2.2

Hari found Kai in their Ilca dorms library.  Seeing various books stacked and open on the nine large tables, the Arepyiai inquired. “Something I can help you search for, Sir?”

“Just looking for adequate material for my pupil to read.”  Kai muttered without looking up for the tome his was skimming.

“The Foundling?”

“Teris. She has a name, Hari.  And seems proud enough to demand its use.” Kai finished, softly.

Though the Dragons last words were meant for himself, Hari’s keen ears heard them.  The Spirit raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t think you would take Nedzu’s assignment so seriously.”

“How so?”

“With as busy as you are, I thought you would pass her instruction on to one of the others.”

Kai snapped the book shut.  “Would you like to instruct the Beast on the way of things?”

There was something almost possessive in Kai’s gold eyes.  Hari found his own gray gaze, lowering.  “I live to serve.”

At the proper response, Kai’s expression eased.  “The Rat would hear about it if I pushed his tiresome task off on someone else.  Nedzu’s already watchful enough.  I’d rather not give him further excuse to stick his nose in my affairs.  Besides, the aura of Teris’ power was... ancient.”  He paused, remembering the tug of hope he had felt for a brief moment.  The split second thought that he wasn’t alone.  That another dragon had been found.  A queen to rule at his side and help see his plans come to fruition.  Kai shook away the memory and put the book in the maybe pile.  “Who knows. Depending on what her species turns out to be, she might be found worthy of becoming a follower.  But that would first require proper instruction.”

Hari nodded.

Dismissing the Arepyiai with a wave, Kai ordered.  “Just be sure to tell the Ilca to be mindful during the day.  Having her around will be a bit of an inconvenience.  But it might be worth it.”

2.3

Shouta landed on the large balcony outside his quarters.  Though there were luscious plants and a soothing fountain, the terrace was more than just some pretty place to sit and look at.  It’s main purpose was as launching post, or in this case a landing pad for large fliers.

Though the place was littered with seating areas and clumping sections of green, there was just enough space for him to land comfortably while in his true form.  He had tried clearing out the space of its fountain and plants.  But Twice’s wrath wasn’t worth the headache, and so he had left it.  So long as he didn’t have to tend to the flora he didn’t really care.  If he were honest, it was nice to look at.  Not that he ever had the time to do so.

The Sphinx stretched out his dabbled grey and black wings and shook out his wavy, black mane relishing these last few moments of being in his true form.  It confounded how everyone else seemed perfectly happy to keep to their human forms.  It made him wonder if no one else felt like they were breathing through a heavy mask.

For Shouta, it felt as if the world was seen through a too small window while in human form.  As if he were touching things through a thick gloved hand.  He wondered if maybe that was part of the reason for Bakugou's constant outbursts.  That, like him, the Basilisk didn’t care for his human form.  Only with Bakugou being younger and of a more volatile species, the Basilisk reacted by taking the dissociative discomfort out on those around him.

It wasn’t that Shouta didn’t appreciated the distinct abilities that came with being in human form; but those abilities could often feel minute when he was forced to spend roughly ninety percent of his day, everyday, in what felt like thick gelatin.

Sighing he returned to his human form, hands opening and closing, missing his claws.  He opened the door and entered, already half asleep.  Mind focused on the single thought of bed he didn’t fully register the warm, sweet scent that greeted him upon entering.  Only that the smell was nice.  Comforting.

The large, hard, cold bed pulled him toward it like a gravitational force.  Uncaring about his clothes, Shouta fell face first into the warm, soft mattress.  Wait.  Warm?  Soft?

The soft, warmth moved and started to rise beneath him.  Shouta's head pulled off the plush pillow.  His hand pushed the warm, soft back down.

“Lights!”

At the same time a female voice cried out.  “Twice!”

This was the second time Teris had banished his foggy, exhaustion and got his blood pumping.  Laying on top of her, Shouta realized that the pillow his face had been buried had been her breasts.  His blood heated, pumping all the harder.  Hand on one of the perfect, soft twin mounds, he squeezed ever so slightly.

Teris’ eyes dart from the Sphinx’s groping hand to his handsome-- No!  Not handsome, face.  “Do you mind?”

The sharp, sternness of her voice pulled Shouta's eyes up from the breast his hand was on.  It really was a beautifully formed tit.  Too bad it was attached to an ill tempered, bothersome woman who shouldn’t be in his bed.

“Not all.”  Shouta’s hand gave another squeeze, this one firmer.  He heard her breath catch.  Felt her nipple harden against his palm.  He smirked, voice dropping an octave.  “Clearly you don’t either.”

“Off! Get off!”  Teris shoved him.

Shouta didn’t budge, arrogantly showing his power over her.  With one last gentle squeeze he knelt up and got out of bed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?  And where’s Twice?  Twice!”

Shouta shook his head.  She would wake up all of Traverseen Hall crying out like a Banshee.  “The House Elf isn’t allow in my quarters while I’m here.”

“You—You’re quarters?”

Shouta's eyes narrowed.  Was it the lighting and his exhaustion?  Or had there be a slight physical sharpening of her features?  “That’s right. Could you not tell this room was taken?”

Hugging the blanket to her chest, Teris looked about the space exasperated. “How, Aizawa?  How was I suppose to tell?  There’s nothing in here but limited furnishings.  Not an ounce of anything personal. It’s not like the door had your name on it.”

She realized with a start that the smell.  The warm and comforting scent should have been a clue.  The other chambers she checked out hadn’t had that distinct, somewhat earthy musk.  Her eyes widened as she realized the scent was purely Aizawa’s and hated herself for having liked it.

Cheeks colored in angry embarrassment, Teris tripped out of bed.  “This is your fault.”

“My fault?  How so?”  Shouta crossed his arms, both annoyed and amused.

“You should've stuck around.”

“Forgive me, Princess.  I have a job to do.  Two in fact.  Babysitting you wasn’t something I signed up for.  I don’t know what it was like before you were found but I’m not here to serve and cater to your whims.”

Teris glared.

Shouta stared.  There it was again.  The barest sharpening of her features that looked almost bird-like.  The world around them faded as his mind worked furiously.  A feeling of awe and foreboding grew deep in his chest.

She was a pack beast.  Had clearly claimed Hizashi as a member of her pack.  Prideful.  Jealousy protective of what she had claimed.  Her power had an ancient aura.  And Twice…  Twice called her Mistress. What had Traverseen Hall originally been before it was a school and home of the area Ilca?  That’s right. Before the Fall of Crowns that saw the end of the Dragon-Griffon War.  Traverseen Hall had been the home of a griffon pride.  Built long before the Dragon-Griffon War for one of the oldest, proudest griffon prides there ever was.

[j-ojoxiii]

Follow Me || Hongjoong (ATEEZ)

Pairing: Mad Hatter! Hongjoong x reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world far different and far darker from your own, you find your light in a man who everyone calls “Mad”.

Notes: Inspired by the song “Follow Me Down” by 3OH!3 //Highly recommend

(Y/N) = Your Name

Total word count: 1,766

             “Where am I?”

             You were lost. Horribly lost in a world you had never seen before. Animals and flowers talked, drinks and food could change your height, dangerous beast in strange places. In other words, this was a nightmare if you had seen any.

             Nothing felt safe. You had met the White Rabbit and he made it feel like one wrong turn could lead to death. The Red Queen was proof that the Rabbit could very well have been correct. You barely escaped her with your head on your shoulders. It was like everything in Wonderland was out to get you.

~

             You were currently on your way to seek solace in the court of the White Queen. You had heard that she had kindness like no other. You wanted to be safe again after days of running. You hadn’t found a way out of Wonderland, so you wanted to be safe with her. Even if you never found a way out.

             “(Y/N)…”

             You whipped your head in every direction after hearing something whisper your name. There was no one around for miles in the dark and tangled forest.

             “(Y/N)...”

             “C-Cheshire, is that you? This isn’t funny…Come out.”

             You had met the Cheshire Cat a few times before and you knew that he was rather playful. He liked to disappear and leave you guessing. But it couldn’t have been him, now, could it? He would have shown up by now—or at least spoken as he seemed to love the sound of his own voice.

             Your name was called a few more times and you realized that it was coming past the tree line. You edged closer, leaving the path to see if there was something. Indeed, there was.

             Many dark shapes moved in the underbrush, eyes glowing in the mist, and odd shapes protruding off of them. They looked like tree roots from first glance, but they looked terrifying closer up. None of them looked to be friendly with how they snapped their jaws and attempted to charge you, menacing growls passing their mouths.

             You knew that you needed to run, but your legs wouldn’t obey. Nothing would. You were going to die.

             A louder, more sudden noise caught your and the monsters’ attention as something seemed to be crashing through the foliage. The shape of whatever it was appeared humanoid and colorful; a stark contrast to everything around it.

             A young man came into view at a rapid speed. He grabbed your arm and yelled a hurried “Follow me” before tugging you along back down the path.

             Together, the two of you ran as fast as you could as the creatures trailed behind with a chorus of wailing to remind you of the threat they posed. You wanted to close your eyes and then wake up from this dream. You wanted to go home and forget the horrors of Wonderland.

~

             Forever seemed to pass before you both came to a stop, finally safe from the creatures that had tried to follow. You were out of the forest and the beasts had given up.

             You collapsed to the ground, your body burning and begging to rest.

             “Are you alright?” Asked the young man with concern in his voice.

             You lifted your eyes to finally take a good look at him. He looked around your age, youthful features that said he couldn’t be much older than early 20’s. He had bright red hair and two-toned eyes, colorful clothes, and a top hat. It was a rather…eclectic look, but it worked for him.

             “You don’t seem injured…” He said as he took it upon himself to inspect you as you were still rendered speechless.

             “What…were those?” You finally croaked out, air still finding its way back into your lungs.

             The man paused and hummed softly to himself, his eyes softening considerably when he looked back up at you. You wondered if he could see through you.    

             “You’re not from around here, are you?”

             You shook your head “no” in response. To him, you were the cutest thing he had ever seen. He found himself wanting to take care of you and to keep you safe. How else would you survive?

             “They were Boojums. Horrid things. You would have disappeared had I not found you.”

             “Thank you, I suppose.”

             He grinned, seeming proud of himself to doing something so heroic.

             “Why, yes. Now, let’s get you to where you’re heading. To which way?”

             He gestured to the split path ahead that would either take you to the White Palace or to somewhere else you had not intended to go.

             “I’m going to the White Queen’s Palace.” You said softly.

             “Ah. Follow me.”

             What comforted you the most in your time in this odd place was his smile. It was so warm and welcoming and, in a way, safe.

~

             From there, he was your travelling companion. At first you were unsure of the young man, but he soon made you rethink that. He was sweeter than sugar and he loved to make you laugh. Sometimes, he’d purposefully make a fool of himself at an impromptu teatime just to see you smile—especially if something had scared you. You liked it best when he sang to you because his voice was enough to calm your nerves. That, and his ears would always tinge with pink when you asked.

             You had learned that he was known as the “Mad Hatter” and that his real name was Hongjoong. You personally liked his real name better and you didn’t know it, but he loved it when you said it. He loved you, really.

             You had also learned that you had gotten off the path at some point and so the two of you had to find a new way to get to the Palace. Some of the route was dangerous, but he was there to lead you through it with a determined “Follow me” before you both hurried forward.

             Arriving at the palace was a happy time. You could finally relax, and everyone greeted you as one of their own. Well, it was happy until it was time for Hongjoong to part ways. He couldn’t stay as the Palace wasn’t a place here he felt like he could belong. Everyone was quiet and he was a chaotic ray of sunshine. Never had you been so sad.

             He spent a while with you, tucked away somewhere quiet so the two of you could say your goodbyes. It was the first time you really saw him frown with sadness. You had seen him worry or upset, but never sad. He didn’t want to leave you, but he did. He left you with a gentle kiss and a “take care, love” before he was gone from your side.

 ~

             It had been weeks since you saw the Hatter. You missed him greatly and you wished for nothing more than to see him again. You had spent countless nights waiting on the balcony of your room, hoping to see him coming down the long path to the Palace. Your worries about the dangers of Wonderland were replaced with worries about him. Was he safe? Did he miss you like you missed him? There was no way to tell.

             Your sleep had been restless, and you often forgot that coming out of your room was an option. The Queen took it upon herself to look after you. She was kind enough to take time out of her day to comfort you. She became a great friend to you. You could tell her anything and she’d do what she could to make it better. You couldn’t thank her enough.

 ~

             Just when you had started to give up on the possibility that you would never see Hongjoong again, you were proven wrong.

             It had been a beautiful day out and you decided that a stroll through the Queen’s garden would do you some good. It was peaceful and serene, much like the rest of the castle, but this was even more so. You often came out here to think and it really helped.

             That peace came to a halt when you reached the veranda. Why?

                                             You saw him.

             Hongjoong stood with his back to you, dressed in his colorful clothing, and tending to the flowers that grew in their hanging pots. He didn’t seem to notice you but when he did, his smile was blinding.          

             “Hello, love.” He said softly, his smile making obvious that he was beyond happy to see you in good health.

             You didn’t say anything. Instead, you ran to him and launched yourself into his awaiting arms. His hug was tight and secure. He spun you once, the both of you laughing as you went. Gosh, you missed his laugh.

             “I missed you.” You finally said into his shoulder.              

             He stroked your hair and pressed little kisses to your hairline. Such little gestures made your heart flutter.

             “I missed you, too, my dearest (Y/N). Far more than you could imagine.”

             The two of you stood in each other’s arms for who knows how long until he pulled away to see you. His eyes held the stars in them, leaving you wishing that you could always look into them. Those two-toned eyes closed before soft lips captured your own. You knew in that moment that he was yours just like you were his.

 ~

             When it came time for him to leave again, he didn’t go alone. You wouldn’t allow it. You had set aside your fears of the world outside the Palace and put your trust in him. You knew he’d protect you and you dreaded to let him go away without you again. He was all for the idea.

             “Are you sure, my dear?” He had asked, his hand holding onto yours. In a way, he feared you would turn back.

             “I’m sure. Wherever you are is where I want to be.” Was your reply.

             The Hatter gave a laugh and laced your fingers with his. His lips pulled back into that beautiful smile of his and his eyes formed into little crescents; happiness in its purest form.

             Hongjoong leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth before the two of you began your journey to who knows where.

             “Follow me.”

//Yet another one of my babies <3 I swear I’m loyal to Seonghwa...But Hongjoong...KHAGSRKVAGWEKJGRAKEVSJGRAL

[anchanted-one]

Eternal War Chapter 34 Disturbing Depths

Read on AO3

Vaylin didn’t sleep well when she was apart from Akahte. It was not the nightmares—Akahte’s shield could hold without her help for months if needed. She simply felt too restless without her Closest to keep her calm. Instead her sleep was restless. Brief spells of dreamless night-night time punctuated by suddenly waking up with a start.

Vaylin tore into the leftovers from lunch—a leg of Southern Mountain Nerf. It was as long as her own arm and maybe three times as thick at its broadest. It was, strictly speaking, not for one person to eat, but rather, large groups. It was wasteful for one person to eat by herself.

But what was the point of being Princess of Zakuul if she couldn’t do stuff like this? She washed it down with a large swig of her honey-sweetened juniper-berry mead. She allowed some to remain in her mouth, soaking her tongue in the fizzy sweet-and-sour liquid.

She burped loudly before answering the comm. “Yes?”

“”High Justice Vaylin, we’ve arrived at Ertruii.”

“Good. I’ll be there in just a minute. Be a dear and begin warming up the guns for me, would you?”

*

“Begin the Bombardment.”

Vaylin barely heard the order given. She was reaching out, just as Akahte had taught her. Through the Force. The planet on her viewport was populated by roughly seventeen million people. Most of that population was spread out into smaller towns and villages, but a good seven million were concentrated in eight major cities. The highest population of the five chosen. Such a pretty world to begin today’s festivities! She could sense all of the lives in these cities, as many brightly shining, beating hearts.

She could sense their emotions too to some extent—many felt nervous, no doubt about the presence of so many of Zakuul’s Warships in their orbit. They tried their best to ignore it, but their fear had built over the past half hour, rumor mills doing their part to fan the sparks until they started to catch flame.

That was when Vaylin had signalled to her Admiral to begin. Now she watched it play out, both through her eyes, and through the Force.

It was a pretty enough spectacle for the eyes—fireballs of different shades of yellow and red and orange began to blossom like a field of Zakuulan daisies. Fire began to spread across the land as grasslands and farms were set ablaze. The Superheated plasma disturbed air currents, splitting clouds into diverging streams that coiled like confused snakes, sunlight refracting through them like some cruel lens used to add color to an already violent spectacle. When a power plant was hit, it went off with a spectacular bang, expelling dirt and soil hundreds of feet into the air.

Shots targeted at areas with active volcanic activities triggered spectacular eruptions, ash and fire and magma being hurled hundreds of kilometers in all directions, artificial wind currents created by the bombardment eagerly spread the indignant fury of the volcanoes, earthquakes triggered by hitting faultlines triggered massive tsunamis. And so the land, air, and oceans of this world—which had been peaceful merely an hour before—rose up in anger against those that dwelled on it.

But the sights were nothing compared to the feels through the Force!

The flowing currents of nervous agitation she had been watching earlier had flared and grown into magnificent maelstroms of fear and panic—the people of this world had realized that the end of the world had come to them whistling a merry tune.

Observing the flood was observing life scampering to live as it attempted to outrun death… it was such an intense thrill! It sent tendrils of pure joy throughout every fiber of her being, the chills running down her spine unlike anything she had felt before!

As her thrill increased in its fevered pitch, she wondered if she couldn’t enhance the storm. In the past, Vaylin had messed with her prey’s emotions—more through instinct than fine control—but she had grown under Akahte’s tutelage. While each individual’s fear was… well, individual, it also interconnected with those around them—each person’s subconscious picking up the emotions of those around them, and being influenced by them. A hive emotion, as it were.

Grinning viciously, Vaylin grabbed a hold of one such… and put the fear of the devil into it. The effect was instantaneous; the fear became a wildfire, people gave in to its merciless grip.

This fire was much more local than the ones elsewhere on this world, but Vaylin focused on it as best she could, savoring the feel of the rawest panic she had ever seen—much as she had savored that mouthful of tea—and allowed that sensation to drown out awareness of everything else around her. It continued to grow worse, more explosive with each passing moment, and then it went off just as Vaylin’s own anticipation reached a crescendo.

Vaylin felt a powerful satisfaction in her belly the likes of which she had never felt before! It was good that she had chosen to use her private observation deck, for her pleasure was evident. She was gasping for breath, utterly drenched in sweat. Her limbs were trembling so hard, her legs felt so much like jelly, that she couldn’t even stand up!

She was panting, giggling wildly, as she gave up trying to stand again. That fire was out, madness having utterly descended on it like a blanket, suddenly dousing the sanity of hundreds of beings. Settling back in her couch, she gazed out hungrily and purred as a world burned.

*

Vaylin sighed contentedly as she lay back in her couch. The smell of soap from her bath lay gently around the room, heightening the sensation that she was in paradise. She took a sip of Chandrillan wine—shit, this stuff was good! One of many luxuries that made their conquest of the Republic feel sweeter—and placed the goblet on the table.

Ohhh yeah , this was the life! When was the last time she had felt so satiated?

Not since that time when Akahte had helped her get her first real sleep in years! And in many ways this felt so much better than even that! That night with Akahte granted her peace… but today had given her a thrill! All of that fear, it had… had… oh sweet Scyva, mother of the gods! Akahte—!

Sitting bolt upright, she accessed her bond with her Dearest One, reached out frantically, hoping to feel her Sith’s unshakable love. She breathed in relief when she did, Akahte’s mind slightly recoiling in surprise at her evident desperation, offering a reassuring embrace.

But Vaylin was troubled. The connection… wasn’t it stronger than this? Had her mind made it look more all-encompassing than it actually was? It had to be… the alternative—the alternative was that the connection was weakening. But Akahte’s love for her was absolute; Vaylin knew with absolute certainty that if the link was weakening, it wasn’t at the Twi’lek’s end, but at her own.

The more she thought about it… Akahte had assured her that she didn’t mind Vaylin turning out destructive; only that she was living by her own will and not reacting to Valkorion. But even so, it pained her on some level, to see Vaylin go this way… and Vaylin was taking this route nonetheless.

Who am I? What is most important to me?

*

Captain Vinn of Vaylin’s personal guard followed her as this time, she chose to go to the bridge to see the bombardment of Voduuran. Neither he nor his fellows had been inside the private observation deck, but on emerging, Vaylin had been so evidently exhilarated that he suspected she had quite enjoyed herself. Her sadism—especially when her pet Sith was absent—was well known throughout Zakuul, though no one ever really talked about, even behind her back. Except for that Khroovan, Caradha. Vinn remembered his shudder at hearing the woman’s words… her open denouncement of Vaylin as a ‘gluttonous Chimaera’.

If Vaylin displayed a similar joy at Voduuran’s destruction as she no doubt felt watching Ertruii, the two dozen or so Zakuulans on board would witness it, and some might even answer the Khroovan’s call—heck, he himself heard the call strongly, for Zakuul, tried to ignore it.

But he needn’t have worried. Something had changed during the trip from Ertruii to Voduuran, and was completely occupying Vaylin’s mind. She watched the bombardment impassively, distracted, answering questions and occasionally asking for reports, but for the most part she just stood and watched.

Almost unheard, she hummed a song under her breath. Vinn had heard this tune before—a variation of a popular children’s song—but one whose pace Vaylin changed to sound very melancholic and wistful. She hummed the melody almost subconsciously when she was disturbed and upset.

Vinn was confused. What had happened these past few hours? What had changed her reaction to a similar stimulus so completely?

*

Arcann was trembling. He was in a state of total shock. The situation on his Capital World had fallen apart so completely, gotten from bad to worse again and again until it finally ended in a powerful show of his Empire’s inability to handle the Outlander’s attacks at the very heart of his Empire!

He was shocked by the Alliance’s daring sabotage mission on the relay station—they truly did know how to pick targets! Thank goodness they had been caught before they could blow it up!

In the aftermath of the attack, he had grown wildly angry and desperate to reassert some semblance of his power. He had ordered his security forces to fire on civilians, hoping that the carnage would kill his enemies.

Vaylin’s Sith had called him in private, berated his use of overkill, reminding him that he would never know if he had caught the perpetrators or not through the destruction. Had reminded him that if they managed a counterattack, his credibility would be even further diminished.

The woman had never criticized his rule like this before, and Arcann knew he had made a huge mistake. But before he could call off the security forces, he received word that the central droid control—Overwatch—had been assaulted, administrator Tayvor Slenn killed.

The Outlander’s people—acting in concert with the Khroovan’s little resistance as it later turned out—had taken the initiative and stopped his rampaging droids. Not only was this another blow to his image of invulnerability, it sent out the message that the Outlander’s people had risked their lives and saved the citizens of Zakuul from their own mad Emperor. In fact, that was exactly what one of the members of the Zakuulan resistance had said in a broadcast.

Arcann had never felt so powerless, not even when he had watched impotently as his twin died from his own wild attack.

Arcann barely heard the report that Vaylin’s ships had returned. He only realized she was near when her shuttle came close to the spire’s docking hatch.

Her nonchalant prance into the throne room ignited his rage again, and for once he didn’t care how unwise it was to explode at his sister.

“ WHERE WERE YOU? ” He thundered, voice echoing impressively across the large hall.

“Blasting five worlds to ash,” she said, appearing amused at his anger. “I made holos, do you want a copy?”

“While you were off, Father used the Outlander’s people conducted a savage attack on our Home.”

Vaylin cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t remember Father being this funny when He was alive.” She pouted.

Arcann was really not in the mood. “ AM I LAUGHING?” He roared.

Vaylin sobered up reluctantly. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh.”

“Our Knights have failed us yet again. A punishment is needed: Decimation.”

Vaylin was shocked. “Come again?”

“The ancient punishment for incompetence. The Knights report to the duelling pits in groups of ten and draw lots. The loser gets beaten to death by his comrades.”

“You’re going to kill off a tenth of our Knights?”

“No, our Knights are going to kill off a tenth of our Knights. The survivors will better understand that failure is no longer an option.”

Vaylin continued to stare at him mutely. “You know my command,” he snapped. “Go!” The look of dumbfounded surprise on her face as she was the one struggling to deal with him for a change… it was so satisfying!

[pyrofleurs]

i turn 23 in a month and had a small crisis about being an adult so i wrote about it

fair warning, this is p corny and questionably written but when i finished it i was like, hey, i feel like i did a pretty good job articulating my feelings, it would be cool if i had some sort of blog platform to post this on, and then i was like oh god i guess i do have a blog and this is it. so, here it is. i’d say its kind of in the same vein as that 2018 year in review rambling essay i wrote back in january lol. enjoy??

I am 22 years old. In exactly one month, I turn 23. The number 23 is a bit of a gross one to me, both because it seems uneven and messy, and because it's the first year in which by age alone, I could not pass for a college student to some rando who happens to look at my driver's license and see that I was born in 1996. At 23, it is undisputable that the numbers show that I am a "true adult", which is terrifying, because it implies to the general public that I am no longer deciding what to do with my life. It implies that I know by now.

Even if I don’t quite see myself as a “real adult” yet (and it seems like most people never really do), I still have to make decisions that will impact my life years down the line, all the way till I'm 30 years older and looking back, and then even more. To me, this is what is so terrifying. I look ahead in my mental map and see tens of hundreds of possibilities, all different ways that my life could pan out. But the longer I wait, the longer I put off any number of big decisions, the harder it can be to attain them. Is that actually true? Honestly, I have no idea. There is no shame in starting late, whenever that may be. But right now, I have the opportunity to start building my life at the "ideal time", according to advice blogs and my parents and my college career center, so I should probably take it.

So, I wrote down three ways my life could potentially pan out in the next 10 years, at least in a career-oriented sense (I’ll spare you most of the details), and these are my observations:

The one thing that is constant in all three scenarios is that I am totally uncertain on how I feel about all of them. Rereading my (pretty ridiculous, if I’m being honest) paragraph-long debriefs on each career path, I say "I could", or "I would", or "I might". I could stay in my current role in a corporate job, but it's not my dream industry. I could work towards making my “passion projects” a full-time job, but I would sacrifice steady pay and healthcare benefits. I could get my masters degree in the industry I want, but I'd go into debt in what most likely will be the middle of an economic downturn.

My biggest fear is that I will be so afraid of any of these potential consequences that I will not commit to any of them. I am afraid I will run out of time.

I oscillate between "I'm only 22, I have plenty of time to figure things out", and "I'm 22, these are the years where I will make decisions that will affect the rest of my life, and I need to act accordingly right now". Am I wasting money by moving out? Am I going to wait too long to make a career change and end up stuck in a job I'm sick of? Am I going to pursue my master's degree and switch careers, giving up a steady job in the process, and graduate in the middle of a recession with massive student loan debt?

Do other 22 year olds think about this the way that I do? Will I look back on my 20s as a 30 year old and realize I wasted what could have been the best years of my life worrying? What about when I'm 40, thinking about my 30s? What about after that?

I'm always looking forward to what I want next, always grasping for accomplishments that are slightly out of reach, and I'm not exaggerating when I say this is what keeps me going. Part of me knows that I have goals I will never reach, but I love imagining the possibility anyways. I like to look ahead at what my life could be if, in a few years, I've met the goals that I've set for myself now.

But—why do I feel unable to start living my life right now? Why do I feel like my ideal life will only "truly" get going once I get a raise, once I get an agent, once I get a book deal, once I get a girlfriend? What am I missing out on, right now?

I suppose what I'm trying to say is this—I have always lived my life this way. I have a problem of looking at the big picture too much, but when I look back on my memories that burn the brightest, they're never of the "big things". Two moments from the past few months that stick in the back of my mind include going to a Capitals playoff game in April, and a Khalid concert in July. Both unplanned. One expensive, and one free. Both of these events I decided to go to the week of. I didn't plan them out at all. They were not included in my "big plan".

I didn't need a raise to enjoy either of these moments. The memories wouldn't have been sweeter knowing I had a book deal, or if I was in a steady relationship. I screamed and cheered, jumped up and down, chanted my favorite player's name in a 6-0 win, and went to bed with a sore throat. I sang along to beautiful music, some songs I barely knew and some I knew by heart. I soaked in the hazy technicolor atmosphere and ate popcorn until the kernels got stuck in my teeth and the salt melted into the sides of my cheeks. If I choose to stay at my current job instead of pursing my dream career, will those moments diminish? If I get my master's, will changing careers stop me from doing all the other things I love to do? 

The answer, to these questions, at least, is no. Sometimes, my indecision hurts, as if I can feel my future slipping away as I painstakingly weigh one option over the other. I study budget spreadsheets and watch TED talks and read blog posts, craving direction as if there is one magical answer to it all, as if studying would help me get a passing grade, as if there was anybody actually administering a "test" to me in the first place. 

I think at some point I just need to admit that I can, in fact, overprepare—or at least overthink. It is detrimental. When I studied in school, for AP exams and college finals, I could tell when I had studied enough. It would be 2am, and my eyes were glazing over. I couldn't take in any more of the information even if I tried. After a certain point, I had done all I could do in the moment. What I really needed was rest. 

So, I think that's what I'll do. On one hand, I do need to be prepared. I don’t want to just wander aimlessly through my 20s, assuming that one day I'll just wake up and have some sort of ideal life I’ve always wanted. I actually need to get there, somehow. I can't be passive. But the best I can do is start moving forward, one day at a time, and accept that this is good enough. I can't skip ahead. I won't get some big flashing sign of validation that shows me that what I've chosen is the best possible path, meticulously selected and pursued out of every single outcome that I've ever calculated in my head. But I truly don't think it has to be. In every one of these timelines, I'll have good days and bad days. I'll have moments of victory and regret. But above all that, knowing that I took action and made deliberate decisions for myself will always be a stronger choice than hanging back and wasting time and feeling safe in my inaction. I'm afraid of change because the thought of failure is much more daunting than the thought of things staying the same. I just assume that future me will have it all figured out.

But, obviously, I am future me. And I am present me, and I am the shared and lived experiences of past me. And I've done pretty well so far, so there's no reason to think that all of a sudden I'll ruin my life just because the decisions I may make in the future are unfamiliar, or scary, or not what I thought they would be when I was 15 or 20 or even 22. 

I think I do a pretty good job of taking care of future me. I have a plan—well, maybe too many plans. But I have ambitions, and goals, and I make time for others and also myself. It's a hard balancing act, as literally anyone would say. There's no reason to think that any one of the paths I've detailed out for myself would stop me from loving myself, my friends, my family, or a partner. It won't stop me from experiencing the moments that make me glow on good days or that drag me through the mud on other days, just to make it out okay on the other side. But above all, if I want to find out what actually happens 10 years from now, whether it’s one of the options I wrote out in detail or something I never could have imagined, I have to make one big decision, and that is to get up and go figure it the fuck out myself.

[paxveraque]

Holiday Harbinger 2019:  Let Old Ghosts Rest

Hi @theuselesspotoo!  I’m your Holiday Harbinger!  I know I am delinquent in my delivery of this harvesting (I am a bad Reaper and for that I am sorry), but I hope that you enjoy!  I had quite a bit of fun with this.  I’ve never had the opportunity to write any Javik before. Thank you @masseffectholidaycheer​ for organizing!

The Normandy unsettles Javik. It is not simply the friction of this unrecognizable time, or even the folly of allowing an artificial intelligence aboard. No, the ship itself thrums with the energy of those that have come before. It floods him with their memories, no matter how often he washes his hands. Their camaraderie. Their sacrifice. Their pain.

It is all too familiar, and yet, nothing is.  

He confines himself to a room that surges with a cacophony of unyielding war drums, surging pride, and trumpets of sour rage. He does not know the krogan who sang this sordid tune, but it is a variation on the only song Javik has ever known.  

Maybe that is why he rarely questions how easy it is to adjust to this cycle. The primitives have evolved and brought with them unfamiliar and unintelligible customs, but his purpose remains the same. He is the Avatar of Vengeance: the anger of a dead race that refused to be silenced. As long as he is fighting, he is home.

The human Commander seems to understand this purpose, and so Javik stays aboard. The rest of the crew give him a wide berth. All but the asari, that is.  

At first, he thinks he might grow to like her. She is dedicated to the cause and a powerful biotic. She understands much about his cycle, and she tries to make him feel comfortable.  

But she asks many questions, and his answers always seem to disappoint her. She talks about his civilization, as if he has ever known anything but war. She asks about his culture, as if he has ever had a chance to appreciate it. She calls him heartless, as if his heart could have been shaped any other way. It is almost as if she wants him to be someone other than he is, even if only for a moment.

It shows how little she understands.  

There is no winning this war. Not for the Protheans. There is only the trumpeting rage, the final overture of a trillion ghosts demanding their tribute be paid in blood.    

To pause, even for a moment, means their extinction.  

*

Thessia.

Liara hoped she woud never live to see another planet burn. Earth was enough. Palaven was two too many. But Thessia—

She promised them they would be safe. She encouraged asari commandos to rescue human colonies, to help Shepard and the war effort. She spread her resources, her intelligence, too thin.  

She left Thessia vulnerable. She let Thessia burn.  

It is all too much to process. The loss. The guilt. She deserves to be chastised, but the Normandy’s crew offers her only pity.  And before she knows it, she is standing before the one person she knows will not offer her sympathy. The one crew member who will not shy away from reprimanding her naivete. Javik will not mince words. He never has.  

She enters his room brimming with barely leashed biotic energy. She has never wanted to pick a fight before, but here she is, directing her rage toward a man she knows to be incapable of empathy. She is mere seconds from throwing the first punch when he speaks. It totally disarms her.

“Despair is the enemy’s greatest weapon. Do not let them wield it, Liara T’Soni.”  

The biotic subfield that surrounds her subsides. He touches her shoulder, and for the briefest, most impossible of moments, she sees beyond the Avatar of Vengeance to Prothean underneath. Not the rage and ruthlessness, not the fury of a dying people, but the pain. The loss.  

She has asked hundreds of questions about his time and his culture, but she has never bothered to wonder about him. How many planets has Javik watched burn? How many friends has he buried? 

Her feet take her away before she processes what she is doing. Javik. Shepard. Garrus. They all carried on as their planets burned. They kept up the fight despite the odds. And so would she.  

*

Something changes after Thessia.  

The crew has warmed to him. They stop by his quarters and offer him food. They invite him to drinks. It is strange, but not unwelcome.

And the asar—Liara, he remembers—stops by more frequently. But the tenor of her questions has changed. No longer does she ask him to recall a Golden Age that he never experienced. Instead, she asks how Prothean armies waged strategic retreats. How they evacuated occupied planets. Whether they ever found a way to reverse indoctrination.  

They talk for hours, and still, her thirst for information is never sated. He teases that she too is exemplary of her cycle. An Avatar of Curiosity if ever he had met one.  

But he knows few others will put his information to better use. The answers to her questions save millions of lives. He admires her drive. He envies her empathy. Both, he eventually realizes, are invaluable skills in winning this war. 

Despite himself, he begins to look forward to her visits. Indeed, when her information brokering keeps her away, he even ventures to visit her. He learns that she enjoys warm soup, and that she sometimes needs to be told to take breaks, to rest, even though there is more to do.

During one lengthy visit, she asks about his family. His service history. She wonders whether he ever held a command. Whether his crew was anything like the Normandy. Whether he considered them friends. He talks about them with affection, but he realizes he can no longer remember their faces. Their smiles. The realization haunts him as they prepare for to return to the Commander’s home planet. 

The ghosts of his past drive his purpose. But what happens when that purpose is extinguished? What happens if they manage to do what the Protheans never could: to put an end to the Reapers? What then? Who would he be? How could he be?

He knows the memory shard could tell him of a time before the Reapers. A time when he may have been shaped differently than he was. But there is so much pain in those memories. So much he would have to revisit.

We have a saying, the Commander tells him. Let old ghosts rest.  

It is chillingly simple, but the wisdom rings true. His ghosts have demanded much of him over the last fifty-thousand years. They have driven his purpose, carried him forth into countless battles. But if it came to pass that this purpose was fulfilled-- perhaps they deserved to rest.  

Perhaps he deserves to no longer be haunted by them.  

*

“Dr. T’Soni.” The wrap at her door startles Liara from her work. The war may be over, but the relief effort has only begun.  

Earth has stabilized in the weeks since Shepard activated the crucible. With the relays back up, Liara has been able to coordinate shipments of dextro rations and emergency supplies to the armies that were stranded. Thessia and Palaven have started to rebuild.  

It will take many years, but it is a start.  

“Javik.” She smiles as he enters, not bothering to wonder at the tinge of relief she feels. He has made himself invaluable in the aftermath of the Reaper War. The supply runs are critical, but fraught with raiders. Thankfully, few are able to withstand the fury of a Prothean on a mission to see a galaxy reborn. Still, he is not invulnerable.  

His gaze fixes on her and she cannot help but note the concern in his voice when he adds, “You have not slept.”  

“There is always more to do. Thessia needs massive mineral shipments.  Palaven is nearly out of medical supplies. Armies across the galaxy need to refuel. There is a lot counting on me being awake.”

“Stubborn asari. You are less than useless to the galaxy if you do not take care of yourself.”  

“Says the Prothean who has jumped on every shuttle off of the Citadel since the moment he got medical clearance.”  

He tilts his head in response, as if to note the bitterness behind her words that she did not intend. “I have missed you too, Liara,” he teases. 

Heat rises to her cheeks. She glances away, pretending to busy herself with more work, in the hopes that he does not catch her flush. “I have been thinking about my next mission,” he continues. 

She takes a breath and glances at the screen to the far right. Another mission? She though perhaps he would stay a little longer this time. Hoped it, even. All the same-- “Well, I have a fuel caravan leaving tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours, and another leaving at twenty-three hundred hours. But they are already well guarded and—”

“Yes,” Javik stops her. “That is why I have been thinking.”  His gaze shifts to the floor, and he shuffles quietly, the very picture of uncertainty. “The Reapers are gone.  The raiders have largely been squashed. The supply caravans no longer need my biotic protection.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “And, if I am honest, I want to know who I am when I am not fighting. I want my legacy to be more than anger and death. I want—"

He looks up from under heavy lids and something flutters in Liara’s chest. 

“I want to stay here for a while. With you. If you will allow it.” 

The fluttering has become savage. “With me?” She hesitates, hoping her voice does not betray her nerves. 

*

He knows he is rambling. What he does not know, is why he has not stopped. Surely Liara would have answered by now if she understood what he was trying to say. “I mean, I know that you wanted to write that book. A Journey with Protheans. And I think there is a story to be told. The Golden Age of Protheans. How we helped this Cycle to victory, and—”

“Yes.” She says, after far too long.

His head lifts ever so slightly.

“Yes?” He lulls over the word as if it were a strange new discovery. And perhaps it is. There is so much promise in that simple sound. A chance at a different life, a different purpose. A chance at--  “Yes... to... the book?”  

She laughs, and the sound is sweeter than any he can remember. “Yes, you may stay. Yes, to the book. Yes, to all of it.” 

“Yes.” He says, this time barely a whisper. Dazed, he takes a seat at her side. Yes to all of it.

And before he has a chance to ask whether she understood the full import of his question, she embraces him. With it comes the flood of her biological imprint: a lilting, evocative melody, unlike any song Javik has ever heard. It is soft, it is fervent, and above all, it is right. Through it, he sees himself through her eyes: a gentler version of himself, one that is free to emerge from the burdens of his ghosts now that he has satisfied their tribute. Full of potential and light and hope. It floods him with a warmth he does not expect, and for the briefest of moments, he believes in the promise behind her yes.

“If you’re staying,” she asks, “will you handle things for me? You are right. I do need to sleep.” 

“Yes.” He answers. “Yes, to the monitors. Yes, to you needing to sleep.” 

Yes to all of it.

[ragnarachael]

you bake me crazy: almost s-peach-less.

Paring: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1,526

Summary: Peter runs into Y/N at Delmar’s and invites her back to the apartment to try out one of May’s newer recipes. Somehow, everything ends up sweeter than expected.

A Note: good morning! this is a sequel to crush city, population: us! you are on part two of three! you can read part one here!

Peter stood in front of a wide selection of eggs. On the list May gave him, she had written: “Eggs, the ones we usually get.”

The only thing was, he forgot what ones they usually get. Nine times out of ten, it’s the regular everyday eggs that anyone would get at the store. Sometimes they were those weird organic eggs that May tried out. Peter thought about texting May what eggs they have in the fridge, but then he’d get more things added to his list, and he wasn’t really wanting to carry more than the four items on the list for his 6 block trip back home.

Peter groaned quietly and tilted his head back before opening the door to the fridge section before grabbing the carton he had been eyeing for the past ten minutes, his left earbud blaring Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen.

Once he noticed the song that had been playing, he started bopping his head slightly, carefully placing the carton of eggs in the small basket he was carrying. Carefully, he closed the door to the small section the eggs were in, taking a breath in before looking down at his basket’s contents.

Cream cheese? Check.

Nutmeg? Check.

Butter? Check.

Eggs? Check.

Peter smiled widely to himself before turning to walk through an aisle to get to the front counter, only to run into someone. He quickly retaliated and protected his basket at all costs as he fell onto the tile of the bodega, the music in his ear changing now to The Black Keys, Howlin’ For You.

“Oh my god, I’m so so so so sorry!” The girl exclaimed. Peter could barely hear her over the bass of the song in his left ear. The girl quickly rushed to stand over his body and Peter didn’t know he had his eyes shut tight until he opened them, seeing the familiar eyes of Y/N.

“Y/N?” He asked, quickly ripping out his left earbud as Y/N smiled widely, holding back a small laugh as his face flushed slightly.

“Hey, Pete,” She said while her smile broke into a full grin as she held her hand out to help Peter up.

Peter was, to say the least, shook.

He carefully took her hand and pulled himself up with a bit of a grunt, his ear buds bouncing against his shirt while he took a deep breath to try and calm himself down.

“H-Hey! It’s been a while since we’ve hung out,” Peter said as casually as he could. He couldn’t help that he was excited to actually be talking to Y/N in person after not doing so after a week.

“A week or so, yeah. You seem pretty Eggcited to see me,” She teased, gesturing to his basket. Peter rolled his eyes fondly, his face heating up even more as they both let out small laughs from her pun.

“I am, considering I haven’t left the apartment in a week. May sent me out to do her dirty work,” Peter explained casually, leaning down to grab his basket and trying to now be as cool and collected as he was before he bumped into Y/N.

“Oooh, that must suck. You poor baby,” Y/N teased once more, pouting before leaning closer to Peter to pinch his cheek. He let out a squeak and gently shoved her hand away.

“Actually, it wouldn’t suck if you were there?” Peter responded somewhat casually again, his cheeks slightly heated from getting pinched. He shifted to carefully lean on the shelf next to them a small smile directed right at Y/N.

“Is that you asking me to come over and hang out?” Y/N asked, eyeing Peter as he started to lean a little too much on the shelf. Peter stood up quickly and nodded.

“Yeah, it is. Y-You don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer is all.. Uh..” Peter trailed off, trying not to start panicking from pushing plans on to her so quickly before holding up the basket.

“M-May’s making carrot cake. I just thought it’d be nice to not suffer alone when the cake ends up sucking..?” Peter said, his voice raising into another octave.

Y/N let out a small giggle at his efforts to try and get her to hang out, but he should have already known she’d say yes.

“Pete, I’d love to hang out, calm down,” She reassured gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. That was supposed to be comforting, but his heart started to race a little more.

“Calm? I’m totally calm, what are you talking about?” Peter sassed back, letting out a playful huff, and flicked his head to the side, mimicking a hair flip. Y/N just laughed again at his reaction and removed her hand from his shoulder to pull her phone out.

“Suure, Peter. You go ahead and pay for the stuff, let me just text my dad and tell him I’m heading over to yours, okay?” Y/N reassured, smiling widely up at him before Peter nodded in return.

“I’ll meet you up near the register then?” Peter offered gently, carefully moving to the opposite side of the aisle so he could head to the front. He heard a small noise of confirmation from Y/N as she started to tap away at her phone.

Peter was grinning like a maniac when he got to the front counter, Mr. Delmar eyeing him suspiciously as Peter placed all the things from his basket onto the counter.

“What’s got you so happy today, Mr. Parker?” Mr. Delmar asked as he took the now empty basket and handed it to one of the workers behind the counter to go and place it back with the others. Peter shrugged and kept grinning, starting to fish out his wallet as Mr. Delmar started to punch the cream cheese on the register.

“Is it because of the pretty girl you ran into?” Mr. Delmar teased, continuing to punch in the items Peter had on the counter. The comment caused Peter’s face to heat up once more and glance down at his shoes before hearing a faint meow from his right.

“Maybe, Mr. Delmar. Maybe,” Peter replied, quickly moving over to the end of the counter where Murph usually lays, reaching his hand out gently to scratch his head.

“Hey, buddy!” Peter cooed gently, hearing another meow come from the cat as he moved his hand from his head down to his fuzzy belly and scratched for a few more moments before getting back to the task at hand.

Mr. Delmar just chuckled and pressed another button on the register.

“Eleven thirty-four is your change.”

Peter happily dug through his wallet and pulled out a twenty that May hadn’t given him, already planning to give her the money she gave him back once he got back home, passing the bill over to Mr. Delmar who bagged all of Peter’s items quickly.

“Here you go, Mr. Delmar. Keep the change?” Peter questioned as he grabbed the bag and started to slowly move back into the aisle Y/N was coming out of, not really giving the man a choice. Peter grinned widely as Y/N directed him to the door as he watched Mr. Delmar place the change into the small jar that was labeled tips that was on the cash registers counter.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Delmar!” Peter and Y/N called as they exited the bodega now, Y/N letting out a giggle as Peter stumbled over his own feet, Mr. Delmar shouting a goodbye back before the two were walking down the streets of New York.

It was quiet between the two as they walked close to each other, occasionally mumbling polite excuses as they passed by other New Yorker’s before Peter spoke up.

“So, uh.. I take it your Dad said yes to hanging out?” He questioned, sliding his hands into his pockets, the bag starting to bounce against his leg before he remembered the eggs and quickly fixed his posture, to Y/N’s amusement.

“Yeah, he said he was chill with it. All he asked for was some cake in return, but knowing May’s cooking? He might be in for a rude awakening,” Y/N joked, causing Peter to let out a faint chuckle with her before he nodded, agreeing completely.

“Maybe on our way back to your place we’ll get a slice of carrot cake and put it on a plate with plastic wrap or something. I’m sure your Dad won’t know the difference. I know I sure wish I did,” Peter said dramatically, Y/N covering her mouth to laugh a bit more as they stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the signal to walk.

“That’s cold, Parker. So cold,” Y/N giggled out, shaking her head fondly as she started to lean against the pole with the opposite sides crosswalk signal.

“What! May’s my Aunt! She knows the teasing is with love!” Peter exclaimed, Y/N laughing even more before she started to watch the countdown for the sidewalk signal to change so they could walk.

[gimmesumsuga]

Sweeter than Sweet (27)

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader + others as the story progresses

Warnings: None to note

Word count: 3.4K

Previous / Next

[*Sam*] You on your way? We’ll miss the set menu if you’re not here soon! xx

Shoving your phone into your back pocket with a groan you then hasten to button up your blouse, mentally kicking yourself for waking up so much later than you’d originally intended to.

You’d gotten in touch with Sam again a couple of days ago and had made plans to meet up for a late lunch and coffee – just like old times – but with your nocturnal schedule managing to tear yourself out of bed any earlier than 4pm hasn’t gone quite as well as expected. You are so, so late, and she’s going to kick your ass.  

As soon as you’re dressed you scurry over to the bed to say goodbye to the lump within the covers, pulling them back far enough to reveal Jimin’s messy mop of hair and sleeping face. He looks perfectly adorable; his little nose scrunching up and his eyes shutting even tighter at your intrusion.

“Jiminie…” you call softly, smiling as you run your fingers through his fringe to push it back from his forehead. “I’m going to meet Sam now.”

“Hmmm, kay,” he murmurs, taking hold of your wrist and pulling it down to the level of his mouth so he can plant sleepy kisses along it. You lean down to kiss him lovingly, your heart fluttering as you do, and when you pull away Jimin manages to open one eyes to look up at you. “Your collar, kitten.” Your hand automatically reaches up to touch your throat, finding it bare.

“I must’ve forgotten to put it back on…” You glance around the bed but can’t seem to see it anywhere.  “Where’d you put it?”

“Try the floor,” Jimin smirks, his eyes now closed again, curling both of his arms around his pillow with a contented sigh and sure enough you find your collar at the end of the bed, lying crumpled where it’d been thrown by Jimin this morning in a fit of passion. You put it on, thankful that he’d noticed its absence; the bite marks on your neck from his last feeding are still too fresh and easily noticed, and trying to explain them to Sam would be an interesting task to say the least.

“See you later,” you whisper, knowing that he’s already fallen back to sleep by the way his every feature has softened and relaxed, his breathing slow and easy. It’s so tempting to crawl back into bed with him, to snuggle up in his arms, but when your phone goes off once again your sense of urgency returns tenfold quickly leaving the bedroom and walking briskly to the entrance hall where your ride should be waiting for you.

They’re not, though, at least so far as you can tell.

You scan the room, huffing impatiently - you definitely will be late now - but when you finally find Yoongi any irritation you might have felt towards him is completely and utterly forgotten. He’s tucked himself away, all curled up at the bottom of the stairs and slumped against the bannister, apparently having fallen asleep as he’d sat waiting for you. You’d never expected him to willingly wake up this early - you know how much Yoongi likes to sleep, after all - but when you’d mentioned needing a ride he’d offered to take you almost eagerly; something that had surprised the others just as much as it had you.

“Yoongi-oppa,” you call in a sing-song voice, squatting in front of him and tilting your head to the side. Even in his sleep Yoongi has a resting bitch face, though it’s not as strong now as when he’s awake, but as far as you’re concerned, he looks nothing but sweet. “Yoongi,” you call again, reaching out and taking one of the hands that’s resting open on his lap, threading your fingers together.

He rouses at your touch, automatically tightening his grip on your hand as he yawns, his eyes opening as he sits up.

“What time is it?” he asks groggily, rubbing his eyes with your conjoined hand as you smile affectionately back at him. “You know what, don’t even tell me.”

“Are you sure you’re ok to drive?” It’s time like these where you could really having learnt to drive yourself before now. You must remind yourself to add it to your to do list - should any of them actually be brave enough to teach you, that is.

“I’ll live.” He stands up with a groan, stretching his arms out and twisting his back but keeping your hand tightly held in his. “C’mon, you’ll be late.”

“You don’t even know what time it is,” you grumble, scowling playfully at his back as you exit the house. It’s a good job you’re running behind, actually; the sun is only just starting to go down.  It’s not strong enough to be lethal by any means, but you know it’ll be irritating Yoongi’s skin during the time he’s exposed to it. That’s probably why he’s put on so many layers, wrapped up in a long-sleeve sweater even though it’s still quite mild for an autumn evening.

“No, but I know you’re always late,” he teases, smirking, and when you ‘humpf’ he presses a consoling kiss to your knuckles in way of apology. You reluctantly part with him to climb into the passenger side of the car and send Sam a quick text in reply, letting her know you’re on your way and apologising in advance. You’re not late quite yet, but in five minutes you will be, and the journey itself will take a good fifteen.

By the time you put your phone back in your pocket Yoongi’s out on the open road and driving a lot more conservatively than you would’ve expected of him, his cocoa coloured eyes glancing regularly in the rear-view mirror when they’re not looking at you.

“Looking forward to seeing your friend?” he asks after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Sam? Yeah, definitely,” you nod, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the prospect, “It’s been too long.” He nods, expression thoughtful as he looks straight ahead.

“She sounds nice, from what’ve you’ve said.”

“She is,” you agree, “Though I’m not sure you’d like her.” He quirks an eyebrow questioningly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “She’s kind of… full on.” Yoongi gives a short, quiet laugh, nodding again.

“You’re probably right then.”

“Saying that, you’ve been living with Hobi what, thirty years, and you haven’t killed him yet.” More laughter from the both of you, Yoongi’s gums appearing as he smiles and reaches over to take your hand from your lap, placing it on the gear-stick underneath his own. The gesture warms you right from your head to your toes, the smile on your face sticking as you watch him fondly.

You would’ve never expected Yoongi to be the affectionate type when you met him - not for a single second - but he’s actually starting to rival Jimin when it comes to little loving touches. So much worry had plagued your mind after the night you’d slept together, and it was with total trepidation that you’d shuffled your way into Yoongi’s bedroom later that evening. You’d been sure that the atmosphere would be different between the two of you, but it was almost like nothing had changed. Yes, there was sexual tension, but then there always had been right from the start, hadn’t there?

The only noticeable difference is that Yoongi doesn’t seem so afraid of touching you anymore, and now he’s started it’s like he can’t stop; curling his arm around you as you play piano next to him, pressing kisses to the side of your forehead when you’re deserving of praise. Somehow it never turns into anything sexual - even though it’s clear it’s on both of your minds - and the only reason you can think that it hasn’t is because you’re still kind of unsure as to where the boundaries lie. Yes, you’ve slept together before and yes, Jimin was happy to share then, but that was under his direct supervision.

You haven’t yet clarified whether or not you’re free to indulge in carnal relations with Yoongi as often as you please, and somehow you get the feeling that Jimin might not be so open to the idea of his hyung getting his hands on you without him there. You need to do something again soon though, because just watching the way Yoongi’s fingers are gliding so smoothly over the leather of the steering wheel is starting to turn you on. He squeezes your hand, bringing your attention back to the here and now.

“Think about something else, gongjunim,” he tells you, tonguing the inside of his cheek distractedly, “I want you too, believe me, but if I pull this car over now you won’t just be late - you won’t be going at all.” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look out of the window to try and think about something other than the lusty pitch of Yoongi’s voice. Him saying that didn’t help whatsoever; if anything he’s made it worse.  When you cross your legs you can feel the wetness there, and every side road you pass you’re imagining him turning down to park up and have his way with you in the backseat of the car.

“God damn it,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi just squeezes your hand again, your suffering mutual, at least.

A couple of minutes pass before he speaks again, giving you both some time to calm down and drag your thoughts out of the gutter.

“Did you decide if you're going to tell her yet?” He's referring to your indecision as to whether you should confess to Sam that you staying with your aunt is a total lie. You feel like she's going to find out sooner or later - Sam has a way of sniffing out the truth in any situation - but trying to explain why you're living in a house as the only woman amongst seven young men is going to a little bit of a challenge.

“I think I'm going to have to,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “Not the whole truth, obviously, but something like it.”

“Just try not to give her too many details,” he warns mildly, letting go of your hand for a moment to turn a corner.

“I won't. I'd never do anything to put you guys at risk.”

“I know,” Yoongi smiles, glancing over at you, affection is his eyes.

The rest of the journey passes pretty uneventfully. Yoongi turns on the radio and raps along quietly to the various hip-hop tracks that he knows, and you're pleasantly surprised to discover how good he is.  He's obviously been blessed musically in more ways than one, and pride swells in your chest as you watch him get lost in the rhythm and rhyme of the words.

“This the place?” he asks as he pulls up outside a little bistro that you and Sam have frequented many a time before. You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say gratefully, pausing as you open the car door to smile back at him. “Hobi said he’d pick me up later.”

“Ok. Have fun.” You've got one foot already on the pavement outside when you hear Yoongi mutter something that sounds like ‘fuck it’ under his breath. It’s uttered right before he grabs onto your upper arm and pulls you back inside the car, straight into his mouth and a frantically delivered kiss. He holds your face in both hands as you sag against him, grabbing onto the front of his sweatshirt as you twist awkwardly in the car’s bucket seats to eagerly kiss him back, and by the time he releases you you're breathless, having to blink a couple of times just to bring yourself back to reality, dumbly staring back at his smiling face.

“Great. Now I'm going to be thinking about that all night,” you groan, sighing as Yoongi's smile gets wider.

“You started it.”

“I started nothing.”

“Please,” he scoffs, turning his face away and running his hands over the steering wheel, flexing his fingers to make his veins pop, knowing what it does to you. God, those hands.

“Ok, leaving now,” you say before you descend into arousal-induced madness entirely, quickly hopping out of the car as he chuckles behind you. “See you later.”

“Later princess.” You shut the car door firmly and then make for the restaurant entrance, knowing instinctively that Yoongi will wait to see you're inside safe before driving away, and it's not until you're stood peering around the restaurant looking for Sam that you notice his big black car finally drive away.

Sam spots you before you spot her, calling your name to get your attention, and when you turn on the spot you see her rising from her seat at a table in the window, waving eagerly in your direction. You wave back, a wide smile breaking out on your face as you swell with happiness on seeing her after what feels like so long.

She pulls you into an embrace the moment she can reach you, squeezing you within an inch of your life.

“Ugh, I've missed you so much!” she crows in your ear, squeezing you again as you rub her back, afraid that she might start blubbering at any moment.

“I've missed you too.” Sam pulls back but holds you at arm’s length, inspecting you as though she's expecting there to be missing limbs or an extra head.

“You look different,” she observes shrewdly, twisting her mouth and frowning slightly as she tries to figure out what it is.

“Honestly? I feel different,” you admit, and you really do. The last time you saw Sam you would’ve felt mortified at her calling attention to the both of you in the middle of her restaurant, squawking and throwing her arms around you the way she did, but now you honestly don't care at all. You're not sure what exactly it is that's changed, but you know Jimin and the others are at the root of it.

“And you've lost weight,” she comments, letting you go so you can sit opposite her at the table. “You're paler too. You are eating properly aren't you?”

“Definitely,” you affirm with a nod, thinking back to the big bowl of beef noodles Jin served up for you last night. “Don't go worrying about me. I'm sure you've got loads of news to catch me up on!”

If there's any sure fire way of distracting Sam it's getting her to talk about herself, and sure enough once she starts she talks almost non-stop all the way through your starter and halfway the main, too. She tells you all the usual stories; the latest office gossip, all about her latest conquests, and then about how her mom and dad are coping with his losing battle with early onset dementia. It’s reassuring that even when your own life has changed so much, Sam remains steady - a much needed constant.

“But what about you? How's it been with your aunt?” She feeds herself another forkful of chicken, finally falling silent, all of her attention fixed on you.

It's now or never, you guess. You're never going to get a better opportunity than this to drop the truth into the conversation, so you may as well take it.

“Actually,” you start slowly, twirling some spaghetti around fork and fixating the task rather than Sam’s eyes, “It isn't her I've been staying with.” You glance up, unsurprised by the confused look that's waiting for you. Taking a deep, bracing breath you continue to explain as your heart races nervously. “Do you remember the guy I met that night at the club?”

“The Asian guy?” Her voice has risen sharply in pitch, her knife and fork abandoned on her plate as she stares at you incredulously. ���The guy that attacked you?!” You cringe, knowing that the people at the table next to yours are starting to stare just as hard as Sam is.

“That wasn't him,” you lie, quieting your voice to try and encourage her to do the same.

“You said you couldn't remember who it was.” She sounds sceptical, suspicious, and you can't say you blame her, though you continue to deny it anyway.

“Just trust me on this, ok? Jimin wouldn't hurt me.” At least there's truth in that, at least; you know Jimin would never let you come to any harm now, whether it be from him or anyone else. He's fiercely protective of you, and you've never felt as safe in your whole life as you do when he's holding you in his arms.

Sam sighs heavily, her eyes darting back and forth between your own as she frowns with worry.

“So if you're living with this Jinim person-"

“Jimin.”

“- ok Jimin, Mr super hot club guy, whatever.” You smother a laugh into your soda; you're really going to have to call him that when you get home. “Then who the hell was that guy I just saw you kissing?” Your cheeks flush scarlet red as your mouth pops open, caught completely by surprise.

You'd had no idea she'd seen that, and the Sam you know would usually delight in questioning you relentlessly if she'd have caught even a whiff of your romantic life being in any way alive. She’s obviously been playing her cards close to her chest, waiting to use that little bit of information to her best advantage. Well played Sam.

“He's… that's Yoongi. He lives with Jimin. They all do, the seven of them, they're friends, living together,” you ramble hastily, tripping over your words as you try to explain in any way that might make sense. She narrows her eyes.

“So are you with that Yoongi guy, or the other one?” The question would make you laugh if you weren’t feeling so flustered; even though it’s not intentional Sam’s managed to hit the nail right on the head, and you’re really not sure what the correct answer is.

“We have a… uh… kind of arrangement?” you answer after a moment, still flushed with embarrassment, picking at a slice of garlic bread as a means of distraction.

“With all of them?!” Her pitch just keeps getting higher, eyebrows threatening to disappear above her hairline as she gawks back at you. “What kind of sick operation are they running?!”

“No, no, it's not like that!” This is quickly starting to get out of hand, Sam clearly leaping to all sorts of outlandish presumptions. God, she probably thinks you're in some sort of cult, or that you're being kept prisoner as some sort of unwilling sex slave.

“Do you have, like, Stockholm syndrome or something?!”

“No!” you groan, frustrated by your own inability to explain in any kind of coherent, convincing way. Sam opens her mouth to start talking again but when she sees you press your palms together in a mock prayer, a pleading look on your face, it closes again. “Just listen for a minute, please?” 

She smiles, embarrassed, her perfect face turning a slight shade of pink as it always does when you call attention to her permanent case of motor-mouth. When she sits back in her chair and picks up her drink, crossing her legs and lifting an eyebrow as she takes a sip, you know you’ve been given the floor.

“It’s just complicated with the three of us. We're only just starting to figure it out, so even I don't know what to tell you right now.” You give her a reassuring smile, shrugging your shoulders. “But I'm happy. Really happy. Jimin is so loving and intense, and Yoongi is the sweetest, softest…” Trailing off, you notice Sam’s smile starting to grow in response to the love-sick look that must be written all over your face.

“He was pretty cute, to be fair,” she admits.

“Which one?” you giggle as you pick up your fork, feeling reassured that the worst bit seems to be over now that Sam’s initial shock has passed.

“Both.” That sweet smile of hers slowly morphs into a dirty smirk that has you bursting into laughter as she winks salaciously, taking a sip from her glass. “So… how far have you gone with them?” she asks as soon as she's swallowed her mouthful, placing her drink back on the table looking nothing but casual.

You almost choke on your mouthful of spaghetti, a blush forming on your cheeks at the bluntness of her question; you should’ve known Sam wouldn't be shy about asking for all the gory details.

“Far enough,” you answer shyly, grinning down at your plate.

“Hey, woman, none of this coy bullshit,” she scolds, waving her fork at you, “You've been getting all my stories for years, so now you're finally getting some it's time to repay the favour.”

“I never actually asked to hear about them…”

“Doesn't matter,” she dismisses with a shake of her head, “You owe me details, so c’mon, cough up.” You smile, sighing exaggeratedly.

“Ok, what do you want to know?” Sam leans forward and places her elbow on the table, leaning her chin on her head and cocking her head, the look on her face is so sincerely thoughtful you'd think she was about to pose one of life's greatest philosophical questions.

“What's double penetration like?”

[curious-minx]

On Bob’s Burger’s Gene learns to be a sweeter Mama’s Boy; The Simpsons rediscovers its heart by showing empathy to a struggling teacher.

Mama’s Boy is possibly one of my favorite Ramones song, at least the one I’m most obsessed with.  A track written sporting writing credits for all three Ramones. This fact really answers the age old riddle fo how many  Ramones  it takesto change a light bulb. There’s no question about it if the Ramones were still alive and kicking they probably would be cameoing in all sorts of animated shows and would be a Wonder Wharf regular. Episode 9, “Mama’ Boy” not only focuses on Gene’s wholesome adoration of his Mama,  but also makes a clear point of demonstrating how the Belcher’s challenge conventional gender norms. If I grew up with a dad like Bob Belcher, a man who is more than willing to get into a tub with me for a spa day I’d probably be a more productive citizen. The episode strongly packs in three whole subplots with Gene and Linda’s weekly “Spa Day” ritual being interrupted by Linda joining a Women’s Business Owner Group, Bob trying to be a substitute for Gene, and then Louise and Tina getting transfixed by a clever Rocky rip-off, Ham & Egger. The boys want a seaweed eucalyptus infused face mask and the girls want to brawl, a sweet and subtle commentary that is done with that effortless Bob’s Burgers charm. 

The main conflict between Gene and Linda is fraught with family psychology. Linda emboldening her only son’s clinginess with her gentle form of favoritism that threatens to mutate’s Gene’s cute Mama Boy into an emotional manipulative, controlling and abusive Mama’s Boy. This is one of the rare instances where Gene is essentially the antagonistic force of the episode, a role often bestowed upon every other Belcher but rarely reliable supporting player Gene. Gene’s antics are more than just his usual little stinker business and at moments threatens to veer off into Norman Bates territory when he fears that he’s losing his mom to the Business World. Thankfully, Gene is a thoughtful and lovable boy that experiences flashes of introspection, experiences self-realization and catches himself from going off the deep-end. The episode ends with Gene and Linda still enjoying a slightly inappropriate, but ultimately sweet relationship where boundaries are starting to further establish themselves, but I do worry for whomever ends up with Gene as a partner later in life. 

Ah! My favorite high school based musical, Sunday School Musical

The episode’s subplot with Louise and Tina is a great writing lesson, a clean how-to on writing a quality parody. The whole subplot is basically mapping elements of Rocky and making them slightly cheaper and sillier Ham & Egger versions. The subplot touches upon a very specific experience of childhood when you stumble upon a lesser, knock-off movie on cable before seeing the original version, therefore making the cheaper version the definitive version in your naive mind. The subplot also serves as a fun contrast/reversal with Gene’s arc, two daughters being more interested in rough housing and watching junky TV, whereas the son is clinging onto a more traditionally feminine activity. The show hasn’t been this progressive since its explorations with Tina and her explorations of a healthy sense of sexuality. The reason why these issues work so well on Bob’s Burgers is because the writer’s never draw attention to them or try to pat themselves on the back like other lesser sitcoms tend to do, and because after 11 seasons audiences have been given a lot of opportunities to bond and appreciate each and every Belcher. Every single Belcher is capable of delivering a solid episode and whenever I pick up on whether or not an episode is going to focus on a specific character or character relationship on Bob’s Burgers I am more or less satisfied with the direction the writers and actors make with this beloved TV family. 

4.5 Spools of Yarn as thick punchable yarn out of 5 thick and punchable slabs of meat. 

/////

News update in the Bob’s Burgers world: The Belcher family is officially losing its Fox TV status and gaining FX personhood. This ultimately changes both a little and a lot, the biggest impact of the change is that Bob’s Burgers will be removed from adult swim syndication. Bob’s Burgers is ultimately in the clear for however much longer the series wishes to stay on air. This change in syndication is mainly worrisome for the state of adult swim, which will at this point go completely under due to financial straits or assimilate itself into the HBO Max roster. The adult swim brand is still fairly strong one and as long as they have Rick and Morty to cling onto they will still have a cash cow to sustain them. If adult swim collapses we will be losing one of the last bastions for weird and creative TV programming and will be left with nothing but a sea of Disney detritus. 

/////

 Search result for a stock image of a “Sad Teacher” 

Speaking of Disney Detritus, it’s time for another peek back into the Simpsons brood with its 9th episode, “Sorry Not Sorry.” The episode for the most part is the most conventional episode of an exhaustingly highly conceptual season. The quality of the episode is probably due to the fact that the episode isn’t written by another one of the safe old white Harvard guys the series is doomed to forever employ, but instead, this above average episode is written by an  Ivy League woman and  1996 Subrina the Teenage Witch creator Nell Scovell. Go figure, the Simpsons enormously benefits from diverting from the usual white male voice that dominates the massive bulk of Simpsons screenwriting credits. The main reason I got back into watching the Simpsons in the first place was when I saw that slightly problematic Twitter rising start Megan Amram had written a couple of episodes for its 30th season. For me, this indicated the exact type of tone shifting the Simpsons needed to course correct itself from its perennial slump. Both of Amram’s episodes are fantastic, especially “Bart versus Itchy and Scratchy.”

The typical writer for the Simpsons 

This gender disparity in the Simpsons verse led my curiosity over to the Simpsons writer’s wikipedia page. Wikipedia lists 133 writers in total, I was able to tally up 18 different women who have at least one written episode credit to their name. Out of those thirteen women one of them is Conan O’Brien’s sister and Bart Simpson herself Nancy Cartwright. The numbers probably become even more grotesque when looking at anything else that diverts from the White Ivy League Educated paradigm that the Simpsons has firmly established in its endless run. So whenever a show as creaky and conservative, at least in terms of writing room staff, diverts from the white male paradigm I find that the typical Simpsons episode has a noticeable more pep in its step, the show for a brief moment feels more vital, and for me the reason is because of a wider perspective a woman writer can offer in a male dominated workplace. This episode’s title alone is a piece of modern mainstream feminism sloganeering that Lisa explicitly touches upon in the episode, and unlike Bob’s Burgers the Simpsons is the sort of show where it makes more sense for a character to explicitly call out problematic world views. This type of empathy and inner growth only tends to happen in the show whenever Lisa takes over the focus of an episode and it’s that quality of heart that is missing from the large swathe of modern Simpsons where forcing jokes for the sakes of jokes always takes precedent over having any heart or reflection. 

“The Simpsons, a feminist masterpiece” - Matt Groening’s accountant 

Ms. Hoover has always been one of my favorite characters, she’s got a great sense of style and her nihilistic world view and bottomless loathing of her job is especially relatable. Looking at Ms. Hoover’s Simpsons’ fandom Wiki I found disappointing tidbits such as she’s one of the only two characters in 2007 Simpsons Game besides Lunch Lady Doris given zero lines of dialogue. The series writers’ also thought it would be funny in season 25 to have Bart hook up with her in episodes set in the future. In the show’s 32 seasons very little time and space has been dedicated to Ms. Hoover so it was satisfying to get a substantial glimpse into this teacher’s life especially since she’s the only original teacher left filling in the void left by the late great Ms. Crabapple. Hard to imagine anyone having a more hellish year in Covid times than the Ms. Hoovers of the world the women relegated to teaching jobs, because society for too long has deemed a woman’s place is not in a major network animated sitcom writer’s room but silently suffering in the classroom with the rest of America’s ungrateful brats. All of our essential workers should be delivered a deluxe orthopedic vibrating chair from a pawn shop and I won’t accept anything less! 

In order to properly review this episodes I try my best to watch through them at least twice and I found that this episode in particular really holds up on a second viewing not only because its central plot is solid but also because the episode is full of little silent visual gags that make the show feel like a labor of love rather than another episode off of the factory line. 

A real solid PASSING GRADE episode! 

[wellhalesbells]

6 and 8 please! 😊

yesss, i adore you!!! 

6. what books have you read in the last month?

considering i’m using this to combat boredom, i’ll answer as if you’re asking a 31-day month from right now, rather than just listing january.  :)

dec 15-31

iceman #8, by sina grace.  why did this get cancelled??  we just don’t know.

nightwing, vol. 3, by tim seeley.  meh.  these are going downhill fast for me.  (psst, he can’t really write women in this series apparently??)

the rose society, by marie lu.  i am finishing this effing series this year, okay, i am.  and the boys had better be gay together!

noumenon, by marina j. lostetter.  one of the arcs i picked up from comic con last year!  i actually loved it a lot, but space, science and psychology are a hodgepodge of my favorite things so… makes sense.

the couple next door, by shari lapena.  it was… hella quick?  i finished it in the car in two days between taking driving turns.  and i liked the ultimate villain but otherwise it was just kinda… there (and did not focus on the couple next door, like, at all so… what?).

dirk gently’s holistic detective agency, by douglas adams.  it was no hitchhiker’s guide that’s for sure but it had some epically great lines like: “i suspect that your problem,” he said, “is that you have too many paper clips up your nose.”

uprooted, by naomi novik.  OH MY GOD, I LOVED THIS ONE.  fantasy’s kind of hard for me and i really have to space that shit out as i cannot do a lot back to back because i get bogged down with all the different elements.  but, holy shit, this was amazing fantasy; i could read eight of these in a row.  the dragon is just sitting there going ‘oh no thank you,’ to every potential adventure, because fuck it, i’m immortal and what’re you gonna do, man?  i control the narrative ‘cause i’m gonna outlive ya, you bozo, and i’ll just tell everyone i was heroic as balls after you die your horrible death so go do that.  so agnieszka is given more to do than basically any heroine ever because the guy who knows all the stuff is like: ‘i’ll be in the library with tea today, please keep the screams of the nearest village to a dull roar.’  (the dragon is my hero, okay.)  and is trying to learn magic from this pomp and prissy wizard before she eventually comes up with, ‘you know what, it works if i just sing the happy birthday song or forget half the word and make up my own, so, shove it.’  then she goes off, makes the universe significantly better and gets some dick.  it’s marvelous.

the wicked + the divine: christmas annual, by kieron gillen.  i could just have more inanna and baal for the rest of eternity and it wouldn’t be enough.

wonder woman, vol. 2, by greg rucka.  greg is moving in the right direction.  i liked this one better than volume one.

jan 1-16

endurance, by zaya feli.  this series is steadily improving too.  it’s not epic or anything but good.  i hope the final book is a nice finish ‘cause i’m gonna chomp it up soon.

everything leads to you, by nina lacour.  SO I’M STALKING NINA LACOUR NOW.  i love her writing.  and this book was so good, so weirdly nostalgic in a way and warm and kind and loving and free and insightful!  LOVE IT.

behind closed doors, by b.a. paris.  gah, i’ve had this book forever.  got it free as an arc and then never read it because i am an asshole.  it was super well done (and the finish was so satisfying) but goooooosh is it hard for me to read that much helplessness and hopelessness or any book that relies on the reality that men will automatically be believed over women.  it’s realistic, absolutely, but that’s not the kind of realism i want in my fiction ‘cause, uh, not so relaxing, that.

this was not the plan, by cristina alger.  this was so much cuter and sweeter than i expected it would be!  i wish the ending had been more solid ‘cause then it would’ve been a total fave.  but caleb was absolutely adorable and charlie being torn between wanting to protect caleb from what kids/adults might say and do in regards to him wearing tutus and dresses and all the pink the world has on offer and wanting to embrace every single bit of that because that’s his amazing kid read very real to me.  zadie and moose were great side characters too.

john dies at the end, by david wong.  meh.  i mean, there were definitely parts that made me laugh out loud but it’s such a lowbrow (boy’s) humor book: meaning boobs and dick and fart jokes all over the place.

spider-man/deadpool #25, by robbie thompson.  HEY, HI, I MISS JOE KELLY.  like, sobbingly miss that guy.  he wanted the boys together possibly more than i do.  robbie thompson’s arc kinda blows.  (and seeing as marvel print went on a diversity-killing cancelling spree, not seeing any reason why i should continue supporting this.)

iceman #9, by sina grace.  judah better be fine and that’s all i’m gonna effin’ say about that.

the disciples, by steve niles.  SPACE ZOMBIES.

limbo, by dan watters.  DUDE, HOW GREAT WAS THIS??  neon, voodoo, 80s vibe, noir amnesiac detective, femme fatale singer who’s actually a goddess of the underworld, a sidekick who communicates with the gods by making them mixtapes, dia de los muertos, a marachi band of assassins who use music to murder, and on and on and on.  i wish it had ended differently but it gave me so much awesomeness first that i don’t even care.

ufology, by james tynion iv.  i wanted so much more aliens!

the friendship ruse, by georgia tell.  the amount of obliviousness was totally unbelievable but give me a second book and i’ll read the shit out of it (especially since so much was unanswered at the end of book one, come on!)

8. what is the first book you remember reading yourself?

i’m not sure which came first, either harry potter and the chamber of secrets or the picture of dorian gray.  two of the most different books in existence, ahahha.

book meme.

[inyournightmares97]

MY REACTION

In which Choi Youngjae finds out that the cold, sexy popular girls aren’t always what they seem. 

Warnings:Strong language, angst

Word Count: 4.9k+

Every single cell in my body reacts,

From my head to my toes,

everything reacts

“Your posture is wrong,” Jieun said coldly. “How long are you going to dance with your legs? I told you, swing your hips. Your hips are up here, for your information! You look like a grandmother, what’s even sexy about you?”

The other girl stiffened but kept her mouth shut. Jieun was one of the best dancers around. She could curse at the other girls and they would all take it silently, because they needed her. The university’s annual cultural festival was coming up. Dance performances were a huge part of it, and it was a fact that Jieun’s team always went home with the prize.  Not to mention her performance attracted all the male attention.

“Sorry, unnie-“

“Let’s do it again, from the top. Watch my hips. It’s not sexy if you’re stiff as hell.”

Jieun played the music and stood at the front of the dance studio, facing the mirror. She could feel the eyes of the other girls on her, watching as she re-did the dance move perfectly. They had chosen AOA’s Miniskirt to cover for the performance. It was one of the sexiest choreographies of the year and most of the male students were already anticipating watching their female classmates dance to it. Jieun pushed her long hair out of her face coolly and then went back over to the speaker.

“I’m playing it from the beginning, one last time. Forget all the other motions, let’s focus on hip movement, that’s the highlight of the whole song,” Jieun ordered firmly. She knew the girls would obey. They didn’t want to embarrass themselves by messing up such a sexy dance in front of the whole university. “Then we’ll call it a day. Last one, girls.”

All the girls looked relieved. Jieun led them through the last song coolly. She could tell that the other girls were staring at her in envy; she knew that she looked unbelievably sexy when she danced. Jieun had been an idol trainee at an entertainment company in high school. She’d quit training, for reasons that many speculated about but nobody knew. There was a rumour that she’d gotten kicked out of the company for sleeping with a male trainee. There was another which said she’d beaten up another girl in school.

None of the rumors dared claim she was kicked out because she lacked talent.

“Are you coming to the party later today?” one of the girls asked Jieun once practice was over. They were all grabbing water and wiping off sweat with their towels. She sounded excited. “It’s at Jackson Wang’s house; you know him, that guy who keeps winning all the athletic champion-“

“I know Jackson Wang.”

“Right. Of course. So are you going?” she asked eagerly. “His parties are usually awesome, and there’s usually a lot of hot guys there. He’s friends with almost all the guys on the football team. Do you know that guy called Jaebum? He’s so sexy, I swear it’s like he-“

Jieun cut her off. She was tired of the girl’s rambling. “I’ll think about it,” she replied simply. Then she picked up her bag and headed out, so that she wouldn’t have to talk to her anymore. Jieun knew about Jackson Wang’s parties. They were wild, in every sense of the word. She had been to a couple of them before. Jieun wasn’t certain if she wanted to get drunk so close to the dance performance. Then again, maybe she just needed a break. There would be plenty of alcohol, and plenty of hot guys. What more did one need?

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

I know that the sweeter it is, the more dangerous

The more dangerous it is, the sweeter

But I didn’t want to lose you

“Whoaaa! Score!” Bambam whisper-yelled as he ran into the living room where the older boys were playing and failing at a game of beer pong. He grabbed Jackson’s arm and tugged excitedly; his cheeks were drunkenly flushed. “Hyung, you’ll never believe it, but about half of the girls from the dance club just walked into the party!”

Jackson grinned. “Sweet! I invited them earlier.”

“How do I look? Is my hair okay?” Bambam demanded, smoothing down his hair that was slightly sticking up in the front. He was bouncing on his feet nervously. Youngjae chuckled and turned Bambam so he could press down the offending hair. Poor Bambam had been trying to score with a girl from the dance club since forever.

“There. You look great,” Youngjae reassured him.

“Thanks, hyung! Waah, I feel good today!” Bambam pumped his fist in the air. “In fact, I’m feeling so good, I think I’m going to over and talk to Jieun-sunbaenim.”

Jinyoung, standing nearby, scoffed into his drink. “Don’t be stupid. Kang Jieun? Go for one of the freshman, Bambam, they’re more your level. You’ll humiliate yourself if you try to hit on Jieun. You didn’t hear how she turned down Suho-sunbaenim? The Student Body President?”

Bambam pouted. “Maybe she likes younger guys.”

“Yes, Bambam. One of the sexiest women in college prefers hormonal, freshman frat boys to the handsome Student Body President who has top international companies battling to recruit him once he graduates,” Jinyoung replied. He turned to Youngjae and nudged him. “Yah, will you please say something? This idiot is going to make us all look bad.”

“Jinyoung-hyung is kind of right,” Youngjae admitted. He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Jieun was extremely talented and attractive, but she also had a certain coldness about her that made her unapproachable. “In high school, she dated our Class President for over a year. He ended up going to Seoul University, he was that smart.”  

“I forgot that Youngjae-hyung went to high school with Kang Jieun,” Bambam mused. He grinned. “Is it true she used to be an idol trainee? With one of the big companies?”

Youngjae blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

“Why did she quit?”

“I don’t know. It not like we were close or anything,” Youngjae muttered. That was an understatement. Youngjae had been an extremely quiet and invisible person in high school and Jieun had been among the most popular girls. He had probably spoken to her a total of three or four times throughout high school. ‘She was popular back then, too. Although she was kind of different.”

“Different, how?” Bambam asked curiously.

Youngjae shrugged. “She was… nicer, I guess? Everyone liked her. This one time she got a modelling job, and she bought chocolates for the whole class with some of the money she earned. She seems colder now. I don’t know why she quit being an idol trainee. There were way too many contrasting rumours.”

Jinyoung smiled and nudged him. “You seem to remember a lot about her. Is there something you're not letting on?”

Youngjae flushed and laughed nervously. “What are you saying? She was just really popular. Don’t you remember the popular kids from your high school? Everyone does!”

Bambam pouted. “I think it’s a pity, hyung. If I had gone to high school with Kang Jieun-sunbaenim then I definitely would have used that as an excuse to talk to her in college. She might have remembered you, you could have actually gotten close to her! What a waste of an opportunity.”

“Yah. Weren’t you going to go hit on the dance club girls?”

Bambam’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s right! Okay, wish me luck, I’m going over to those freshman girls there. Phew.” He smoothed down his hair again and took a deep breath, before squaring his shoulders and walking off. Jinyoung and Youngjae watched him leave, amused. He was probably going to embarrass himself but they decided to leave him be.

“Yah, we’re out of plastic cups!” Jackson called out loudly, as the guys finished their round of beer pong. “Can someone get some more? I’m going to decimate you, Mark Tuan, just wait and see. We just need new cups.”

Youngjae volunteered to get them. He pushed his way through the crowded living room, past sweaty bodies dancing wildly to the loud music, and reached the kitchen. It was relatively empty in here. Most of the food was set out in the living room, anyway. Youngjae reached up to open a few cupboards. He could have sworn that there were extra stacks of plastic cups here. He’d bought them himself and put them in Jackson’s kitchen earlier. He was rummaging through Jackson’s boxes of muesli and protein bars, when he heard footsteps.

“Uh, excuse me?” a soft female voice asked.

Youngjae jumped, knocking over a few boxes of muesli. They fell to the floor and he turned around quickly, hurrying to pick them up as he looked at the figure standing in the doorway. It was Kang Jieun. His eyes widened at the sight of her. Jieun was standing quietly in the doorway, leaning slightly against the frame.

“Uh-sorry- hi-“ Youngjae mumbled, nervously. He wondered why he was turning to complete mush in front of her, the way he used to in high school. Youngjae had gotten a lot more confident and relaxed since he started college, but the sight of Jieun made him feel like the invisible class nerd again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Jieun said calmly, reaching down to help pick up a box and setting it on the counter. As she moved closer to him, Youngjae could smell fruity shampoo and a faint whiff of alcohol coming off her. His cheeks burned as he stared at her dark hair brushing her shoulders.  

“Uh-thanks-“

“I was just wondering if you knew where the bathroom was?” she asked, once they had picked up all the boxes. “It’s my first time in this apartment and I can’t seem to find it…”

“Oh. Uh, it’s down there, to the left. It’s in a corner so you wouldn’t notice it at first,” Youngjae explained, trying to cool down his beating heart. Stop it! She’s literally just asking you for directions, what are you so excited about? As Youngjae looked at her more closely, he noticed that her eyes were slightly unfocused. She was drunk.

“Thanks,” Jieun mumbled. She stumbled slightly as she walked out of the kitchen. Youngjae reached out to help her, but Jieun had already caught herself on the doorframe and managed to make her way out unsteadily. Youngjae stared after her for a few seconds, before shaking himself out of it.

Plastic cups, he reminded himself, hitting himself lightly on the side of the head. Jackson wants plastic cups. Find them, you idiot. Youngjae hurried to put the boxes of muesli back into the cupboard, silently wondering how Jackson could eat so much of it, as he hunted for the plastic cups again. He finally found a large stack tucked into a corner and pulled them out triumphantly. He was unwrapping the plastic wrapper around them, when someone entered the kitchen again.

“Um… sorry,” Jieun said as she leaned against the doorway again. One hand was clutching it tightly to keep herself upright. Youngjae nearly dropped the stack of cups, but managed to catch it again quickly. “Is there maybe another bathroom? There’s a couple having sex in that one and they’ve locked the door. I don’t think they’re coming out anytime soon.”

Youngjae made a face. “Jackson’s going to kill them. Uh… there’s actually just one bathroom in this apartment.”  

Jieun closed her eyes and leaned her head against the doorframe lightly. “Great,” she mumbled.

Youngjae cleared his throat as he looked at her nervously. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she seemed to be having trouble standing upright. He fumbled with the plastic cups in his hands. “But, um… if you really need to go… I live just down the hall, you could use the one in my apartment.”

Jieun opened her eyes to look at him slowly. “Really? It’s not a problem?”

“Of course not. I’ll come unlock my apartment for you.” he clutched the plastic cups tightly in his hands as he slowly walked out of the kitchen, gesturing for Jieun to follow him. She did, but she ended up tripping over her own two feet and clutching onto the wall to support herself again. “Are you okay?” Youngjae wondered, eyes widening as she straightened up slowly.

“Fine,” Jieun mumbled. “My legs turn to jelly when I get drunk. I’m fine.”

Youngjae nodded, but paused as they reached the crowd of people in the living room. Was she going to be able to weave through all these people when she could barely walk? He turned and looked at her doubtfully. “Uh- if you need help walking through here…”

Jieun silently grabbed hold of Youngjae’s shoulder to support herself as he pushed through the crowd of dancing people. He was extremely aware of her touch. Her slender fingers were gripping onto his shoulder and when someone pushed her, Jieun’s other hand came up and grabbed Youngjae’s t-shirt. By the time they had made it to the front door of the apartment, his face was flushed red. Jieun slowly let go of him.

“Are you okay?” Youngjae asked once they stepped out into the hallway. It was surprisingly cooler out here and much emptier. The smell of sweat and alcohol and the loud music was gone. He turned to look at her face, checking if she was fine.

Jieun nodded. “I’m not as drunk as I look,” she reassured him calmly. It was true. Her speech wasn’t even remotely slurred and her eyes seemed fine. “I only drank a little, but it just goes straight to my legs somehow. My brain is fine, but my body just loses balance.”

“Surprising for a dancer,” Youngjae said quietly, as he led the way down the empty hallway. Jieun followed him slowly, one hand against the wall to balance her shaky footsteps. Part of Youngjae wished she would grab onto him again, but he knew it was a too much to hope for.

“You're Choi Youngjae, right?” Jieun asked suddenly.

Youngjae whirled around, eyes wide. She knew him? “Uh-“

“Why do you look so surprised? We went to high school together,” Jieun replied. She pushed her hair out of her face lightly, looking down at her own shaky steps to balance herself. “We were even in the same class. You played piano once during the school play.”

Youngjae’s heartbeat was thudding. “Yeah, I just… didn’t think you would remember. I was kind of invisible back then. We didn’t really hang out with the same crowd.”

Jieun smiled bitterly. “Some crowd. Half of them stopped talking to me once I quit being a trainee. They probably just hung around because they thought I would be famous one day. Must have been a disappointment to them; they wasted all their time with me.” She turned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you would at least come say hi, since we joined the same university.”

Youngjae cleared his throat. “I… I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“Hmm. People must think I’m a real bitch, huh?” she mumbled.

“What? No, not at all-“

“It’s fine. Forget it.”

Youngjae found himself feeling flustered as they reached his apartment door and he fumbled with his keys to unlock it. He had never even thought of approaching Jieun because he was confident she wouldn’t care about him. Yet, somehow, there was something in her eyes that looked almost hurt. He fumbled with the lock a few times before finally managing to open the door. He grabbed for the light switch and clicked it on.

“Uh- come on inside…”

Jieun followed him quietly. His apartment was slightly messy, and Youngjae flushed as he quickly pointed her towards the bathroom. “It’s right through there.”

“Thanks,” Jieun mumbled.

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“Youngjae-ssi! Can you get us some extra paper from the storeroom?”

Youngjae bit his lip as he hurried down the school corridor to fetch whatever they needed from the storeroom. Their class was preparing for the school festival and he was often stuck doing mundane tasks like these. It was a result of his lack of any particular talent, as well as his inability to say no to people.

He reached the storeroom, but noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. There was smooching noises coming from inside and Youngjae’s ears turned red as he heard a female voice let out a slight whimper. Was a couple making out inside? What had he just walked into? He took a step back.

“Oppa- oppa, stop. I told you, we need to talk,” the girl whispered faintly. Youngjae's eyes widened. There was no mistaking that voice, it was Kang Jieun. She sounded a little strained and there was more smooching sounds. “Oppa, please.”

“We can talk later,” the male voice whispered. There was no mistaking that either; it was the Class President and Jieun’s boyfriend. Jieun and Min-jun had been dating for over a year; everyone knew about them. It was hardly a secret, they were one of the most popular couples in school. “I haven’t seen you in so long, you’re always practicing at your company-“

“I know,” Jieun mumbled. “But I need to talk to you about this.”

Min-jun sounded slightly annoyed. “Okay, hurry up then. The teacher’s going to start looking for us soon.”

Jieun took a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know how to tell you this,” she whispered quietly. “But the company’s been putting a lot of pressure on me lately. This one freshman girl told my trainer that I’m dating someone from school. They want me to break up with you. The trainer says I won’t be considered for the debut team unless I end my relationship.” Her voice was cracking. “Oppa, I don’t know what to do, it’s been driving me insane-“

Min-jun was silent for a moment. “You must have known this was going to happen.”

“I didn’t think it would happen so soon,” Jieun admitted. “I thought I could hide it from them for a bit longer. Oppa, if we manage to convince people we’ve broken up and stay away from each other for a couple of weeks then maybe we can start seeing each other again-“

“Forget it,” Min-jun said with a dry chuckle. “Let’s just take this as a sign and stop it here. I need to start focusing on my college entrance  exams too, so it’s for the best.”

Jieun sounded unsure. “Exams… but those are months away. You want to take a break for that long?”

“No, I’m saying let’s end it here.”

“End…” she trailed off. “But until when?”

Min-jun laughed. “Yah, are you stupid? End as in, end. We would have broken up after graduation anyway. It’s not like we would have lasted. I’m going to Seoul University and you’re either going to debut as an idol or model or whatever you want. It wasn’t as if this was serious, we were just fooling around.”

“Fooling around?” Jieun repeated.

“Don’t tell me you thought we would last beyond high school!” Min-jun exclaimed.

“I did,” she said firmly. “We’ve been dating for a whole year-“

“So, what? It was fun, I like you. But there was never any future here, Jieun. It’s not my fault. You’re the one that wants to debut as an idol, expose your body on tv for horny men to lust after. Things like that are only cool in high school, Jieun-ah. People at Seoul University will laugh at me if I tell them my girlfriend is an air-headed idol that uses her sex appeal to get famous.”

Jieun sounded angry. “I thought you supported my career choices.”

“I do. You’re talented.”

“Then how dare you-“

“At least develop some self-awareness, Jieun,” Min-jun said sharply. “Half the guys here might want to sleep with you. But find me a single one that would be willing to introduce you to their mothers. You did this to yourself, don’t blame me.”

There was a long silence.

“Sorry, Jieun-ah. Good luck with your career.”

There was a noise from inside the storeroom and Youngjae froze. He quickly ducked around the corner and hid himself as the door opened and Min-jun walked out. His footsteps disappeared down the corridor and faded away. Youngjae came out from behind his hiding place and paused in front of the storeroom door.

He could hear quiet sobs from inside. Youngjae peeked in through the gap in the door and spotted Jieun sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest and hair covering her face as she sobbed silently. He stared at her for a few minutes, fingers frozen on the door handle, before silently deciding to walk away. It was none of his business.

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My entire body reacts, it reacts first,

When I see you, when I hear your voice.

It keeps reacting, it reacts again

I really don’t want to, but what do I do?

I can’t control myself.

Jieun splashed water on her face in the bathroom sink and looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were slightly red from the alcohol, but she looked fine otherwise. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She hated thinking about high school. Why did this Youngjae person have to show up in front of her today? He was only bringing up unpleasant memories.

Youngjae seemed to have changed too, though. Jieun remembered him as a quiet, shy guy that sat in the back of class and somehow got taken advantage of by all the other boys. He’d really hit the jackpot in college. He was friends with people like Jackson Wang and Im Jaebum. Not to mention, Youngjae seemed to have attained some sort of late puberty and become surprisingly more handsome after high school.  

Jieun shook her head and wiped her face dry before stepping out of the bathroom. The cold water had sobered her up a little and she felt confident enough to walk home.

She found Youngjae sitting in the living room. He was cross-legged on the couch, making kissy faces at a tiny little white dog that was yapping at his feet. It was adorable and Jieun couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of it. She approached the couch quietly and the little dog broke out of Youngjae’s grip to come over and sniff at Jieun’s feet suspiciously.

“Ah-sorry-“ Youngjae apologized.

“It’s fine, he’s adorable,” Jieun replied, reaching down to pick up the dog in her arms. Deciding that she was still a little unsteady on her feet, she quickly sat down on the couch and placed the sniffing dog on her lap. “What’s his name?”

“Coco,” Youngjae replied. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You like dogs?”

“To be honest, only the small ones. Big ones scare me,” she admitted with a shrug. Jieun smiled as Coco pushed his nose into her hand. “So it’s a little presumptuous of me to claim to be a dog lover. This guy’s cute, though.”

Youngjae nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked nervous and he bit his lip. “Actually, I want to say something to you. Earlier… when you were saying that I didn’t come and greet you once we started college? I wanted to apologize for that. I honestly didn’t mean to offend you. I realize now that it was kind of rude of me not to greet a classmate.”

Jieun smiled bitterly as she patted the top of Coco’s head. “What are you apologizing for? It’s not as if I bothered to come up and talk to you.” she shook her head. “That’s not true. I probably avoided you on purpose. High school is just bad memories, I wanted a new start. I wanted to hang around with people who knew nothing about me.”

“Ah… well, it’s not as if I knew much about you to begin with.”

Jieun sighed and turned to look at him. There was something about Youngjae that instantly made her feel comfortable, like he was trustworthy. Youngjae seemed like the kind of guy who couldn’t hurt a fly. People like him made Jieun feel ashamed of her own selfishness.

“Well, as long as we’re being honest,” she said quietly, “I guess I should thank you for not spreading rumours about me. In high school, and in college. I’m sure a lot of people would have been interested in hearing about how Min-jun and I broke up.”

Youngjae blinked. “What?”

“You were the one listening outside the storeroom the day he dumped me, right? I saw you. You paced around outside for a bit while I was crying, and then you left.” Jieun sighed and stroked Coco softly. “Waah, it’s still humiliating no matter how much I think about it. Thanks for not telling anyone.”

“It’s not…” Youngjae flushed and cleared his throat. “It was none of my business.”

“If only everyone thought like you.”

There was a brief silence and the only sound was Coco yapping happily as he tried to climb further up Jieun’s chest. Youngjae sat frozen in his seat, fists clenched and palms sweaty. He turned and looked at Jieun firmly, a burst of confidence coming over him. “I don’t think you should have felt humiliated, though. Min-jun was the one who was wrong.”

Jieun laughed harshly. “He wasn’t wrong. He was an asshole, sure, but he wasn’t wrong.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because,” she replied with a sharp glance towards Youngjae. “I’ve yet to find a guy to prove Min-jun wrong. Did you know that there’s a video of me performing Sunmi’s 24 Hours circulating among the freshmen frat boys? I’m told some of them use it to masturbate.” She laughed and shook her head. “And you know the worst part? I don’t even care anymore. I’ve gone beyond the point of shame. They can do whatever the hell they want.”

Youngjae was silent.

“I’m worse than you thought, aren’t I?” Jieun asked with a dry chuckle. She slowly set Coco down on the floor and stood up. “Anyway, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll head out now.”

“If they’re using it to masturbate, then they’re sick,” Youngjae replied firmly. “I don’t see how it reflects on you in any way. I don’t think your problem is how other people see you. I think your problem is how you see yourself.”

Jieun turned and glared at him. “And how do I see myself?”

“The same way guys like Min-jun see you,” Youngjae replied quietly. He stood up and stepped closer to her. Jieun’s eyes were sharp, but there was something that wavered in them as he moved nearer. “But I don’t think you should. I think you should see yourself the way I saw you,” he said quietly.

“And how did you see me?”

“I saw that you were willing to risk your career to be with him. I saw that you loved him a lot, and that no matter how much attention you got, you were always faithful to him. You weren’t as cold and bitter back then. Even now, I think it’s a front.” He took a deep breath. “Because when people are accusing you of something, it’s sometimes easier to give in and accept what they’re saying than take the efforts to prove them wrong.”

Jieun looked up at him silently. She could see Youngjae’s lips trembling. He was clearly nervous, he wasn’t used to speaking to people this way. Even now, there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes as he wondered if he’d gone too far, crossed some sort of line. Jieun stepped closer to him and slid her hands up his chest slowly. Youngjae shuddered as one of her hands slid to the back of his neck, fingers grasping gently at his hair. His heartbeat was thudding.

“You say all that,” Jieun whispered softly. Her other hand fisted in his shirt near his collar. “But you’re just as physically attracted to me as any other frat boy here. I can feel your heartbeat thudding.”

Youngjae closed his eyes. “I never said you weren’t attractive.”

“Then?”

“You are attractive and sexy. But I think there’s more to you inside than you let yourself show. You’re nervous too. You’re not as cold as you look. My words are affecting you.”

Jieun moved closer until she could feel his nervous breath against her skin. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck consistently and she looked up at him. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

“I-I’m sure.”

“Are you willing to risk it?” she asked again. “You might regret this.”

“I won’t.”

To prove it, he leaned forward and kissed her first. Jieun’s lips were soft and warm, and she let out a soft gasp as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. Youngjae felt his head spinning. Part of him couldn’t believe this was happening, but he forced himself to stay calm. He kissed her softly, gently. Jieun felt her heartbeat thud. She had never been kissed that way before. I’m going to love you, his lips told her soundlessly. There was something pure about his embrace that made her feel warm inside.

“What if I change my mind tomorrow?” Jieun asked quietly, as she pulled away. Youngjae’s lips were pressing against her jawline softly, leaving butterfly kisses that made her skin tingle. “What if I leave in the morning and never look at you again?”

Youngjae looked down at her softly.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’m going to believe that you won’t.”

But, I still had a small belief that you will love me,

So even when I gave you my all,

It didn’t feel like a waste.

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[leo-sexpirence]

http://sexpirence.blogspot.com/2019/05/birthday-im-not-in-town-and-tomorrow-is.html?m=1 BIRTHDAY

I'm not in town and tomorrow is hope's birthday,I thought to myself while trying to get ready for my day so I came up with a plan to make time so I'll be back in time to wish her happy birthday and spend the whole day with her.

I was on my way to the airport when her call came in,

Her:hello.

Me: hey my chocomilo,how are you doing?

Her: honeypie,I'm sad.

Me: come on love,what's the issue this time?

Her: is it not my birthday,my birthday that would come anytime you're not in town to celebrate it with me and I don't want anybody else but my king.

Me: come on B,you know I can't forget that day. It's engraved in my heart and as for me being there,you know I'm always with you in spirit.

Her: I know but I still want you in flesh and I need you to give me that drug only you have.

Me: which drug this time?

Her:don't be like that with me, you know only you know how to communicate with my body and gives it what it needs. Please just disappear from there to here,I need you.(and the call ended)

I followed the last flight going my way and I got to town at about 8pm then made some arrangements before calling her again.

Her:papi.

Me: boo boo kitty,hope you're free now and for the rest of the night?

Her:yes papi but why?

Me: I sent something for you to elomaz hotels,please go get it now.

Her: hmm...OK,I would. Lemme dress up.(ends the call)

Thirty minutes later,she arrived at the hotel and was told by the receptionist to go on to room 17 to get it there. When she opened the room door to the suite,before her were rose petals of white and red colors on the floor leading to the bedroom where she met a neatly dressed bed with white bed sheet and red roses structured to say "happy birthday". I came out out of my hiding and she was both shocked,dumbfounded,amazed and happy to see me that she stood still for some seconds before running towards me with a big hug.

Her:my baby.

Me: my hope.

Her: this your surprise pre birthday arrangement eh,you just blew my mind away. Just too romantic.

Me: well...,thank god it worked cos that was the plan although this is just the beginning.

Her: really,so what else does my man have in store for me?

Me: just take off your clothes,let's go bath.

Her: OK dear,hold on.

We both pulled our clothes and followed the rose to the bathroom to meet a bath tub filled with water and roses with candles on the side. I held her hand to help her get in before climbing in myself, laid down in the tub then she followed but her head was on my chest and her legs in between mine as she thanked me for putting up this romantic evening in preparation for her birthday. She held my dick in one hand while the other hand run through my chest and she began stroking my dick as she spoke "thank you for everything my love but the only way this night becomes excellent is if you fuck me like crazy today" and I replied "at your service my love my lady". She gave me a hand job as we kissed while bathing in the tub and I let out a little moan in her mouth every now and then when the pleasure got high. As she stroked and rubbed my dick from the base to the tip,I got closer to cumming so she continued with a varying speed and hand position when she felt like it till I got to that point and let out a loud moan as I cummed on her hands which she washed off then kissed my deeply before we got out of the tub.

I dried her body before drying mine then we were headed for dinner in the dark spot where I hid the table. She was surprised to see her favorite dish,a bottle of champagne,two glasses and a dim candle on the table. I brought out her seat,ushered her to sit before getting to sit down while we ate and talked about many things till it was 00:01am on her birthday. I sang her a birthday song and wished her happy birthday and happy life ahead and it made her feel a bit emotional then I came close to plant a kiss on her head and lips. Immediately,she threw her arms round me,didn't let go off the kiss and stood up with me so we started kissing intensely as we stepped backwards to the bed. When we feel on the bed with her on top,she whispered to me saying "it's my turn to please you" then she began sucking my nipples and biting it a little so I let out a soft moan. She stroked my dick as she continued sucking my nipples, when it got to fullness, she got on her knees and began sucking the head and juggling the balls and that sent a sexual wave like an electric current coursing through my veins. I threw my head back and moan as she kept sucking the head and occasionally let it go down her throat to the base till she chokes and then brings it out. She continued stroking, sucking and choking for a while before coming to whisper to me "I want you to come in my mouth today" then went back to business but this time sucking got sweeter. It didn't take long anymore then I mumbled in between moans,"I'm cumming" and seconds later I shot my sperm in her mouth thread by thread and she swallowed it all after licking the last drop off the tip.

I held her by the hand and made her sit on my thighs with her legs wide open then I went straight for her dripping pussy to finger her as I whispered in her ear "you did good" and all she could do was moan. I fingered her with my index finger as I sucked that erogenous stop on her neck where it meets her shoulder and she threw her head back and moan while caressed my neck. I bent my head to suck on one nipple as she rub and pinch the other one while I stimulate her clit and g spot with my thumb and index finger respectively. It wasn't long before squirt started to gush out of her pussy so I focused more on the clit to force it out and in seconds,the floor was wet with squirt.

I laid her on her back and opened her legs like I was about to carry out a delivery process then attacked her swollen clit with my tongue. I flicked her clit in all directions and she'd jerk anytime my tongue touched the tip so I circled the hood and her moan increased while she brought her hand to massage my head and hold it on the spot she got more pleasure. As I drove my fingers into her wetness she gasp,arched her back upwards then "ffffuuck" was all she said before falling back to enjoy the moment. Leaving no leaf unturned, I fingered her pussy with different styles and variation that she loved it and kept saying all kind of shit that had no meaning to me. I continued fingering her till I felt her thighs tremble followed by her body and voice and she exploded her cum on my fingers and I watched it roll down my palm. I licked one finger,gave her the other which she sucked then I began writing birthday notes on her inner thighs with my lips and she squirmed anything my lips touched her skin. I continued planting kisses on her waistline from left to right then up her tummy to her navel while I flicked and sucked as she held my head on the spot. I continued up her tummy in a zigzag manner and I could tell every touch my lips made on his skin had a deeper effect from the previous one by the way she moaned,moved and breathe heavily. I kissed under both boobs before going to the cleavage then up her neck till her ear where I whispered "you taste amazing". I laced kisses from the back of her ears and down her neck to her shoulders where I sucked for a bit then across her cleavage till her boobs were I circled with kisses till the nipple then began to suck on it. I sucked and bit slightly on the nipples and her moan continued increasing as she mumbled some shit in between moans and my dick was crying to fuck her crazy but I had to wait. I sucked her nipples till she experienced another legs shaking orgasm and was breathing like a sprinter who just finished 100m so I gave her a little time to rest.

When she was done resting, I flipped her over on her tummy then started stringing kisses from the spot where her hair ends on her neck down her spine,ass crack and cheeks and her reactions were mild cos she was just coming out of an orgasm. I tongued her ass hole a bit then before spanking the cheeks and I could tell she liked it. I fingered her ass hole for a bit while she moaned like crazy then I planted kisses from her left back thighs down to the back knee where I sucked for a bit then continued kissing down her calf to her ankle and sole. I sucked the toes on the leg from the smallest to the biggest then from the biggest of the right leg to the smallest. I stringed kisses from the heel through the calf to the back knee where I sucked for a bit then up the thigh till the butt cheeks where I plastered with kisses all round before positioning her in the doggy style then gave her head from behind. Immediately my tongue touched her pussy lips,she started shaking and I knew another orgasm was on the way so I started tongue fucking her while in that position and she cummed in my mouth but I continued tongue fucking her till I was satisfied though she had another orgasm. As she knelt on the bed with her head bent down and my hand on her hair, I knelt behind her and spanked her ass cheeks a couple of times and she groaned for pleasure. I fingered her ass hole again for a bit then stroked my dick before putting it in her pussy from that position and as it entered slowly, she gasp in between moans and mumbling till I was total in. As I gave it her from behind, I spanked her ass cheeks and she'd increase the speed with which her ass hit my hip for a thrust in,we continued spanking, whining, grinding and going harder or faster as she wanted it for a long while and seconds after she cummed the second time, I shot my sperm thread by thread into her. My dick grew flacid and fell out then we both fell on the bed and cuddled as we spoke.

Her: thank you so much for this body breaking sex filled with countless orgasms.

Me: we have some more to go,I just want you to rest a little.

Her: OK then, I'll be waiting.

About 30 minutes later,I drew closer to her and used my finger to stimulate her clit while sucking her nipples and although she was asleep, the impulses unconsciously made her open up till she woke up moaning. I increased the speed I used in rubbing her clit while slightly biting her nipples as she threw her hand over my neck and continued moaning. "Oh how her moans drove me crazy" I said to myself as I licked her ear,we kissed and she refused to let go in her bid to reduce her moaning. It was not until I shoved three fingers inside her and she gasp deeply that she let go off my lips but I continued fingering her with different styles and speed while varying the numbers of my finger in her. Most time it'll look like she went comatose only to be resuscitated by and imminent body shaking orgasm. I fingered her, tongue fucked her, sucked and licked her erogenous spot till she cummed so much that she begged me to hold for a little rest so I did and 30 mins later we were back at it. We kissed, I sucked her nipples,navel,clit and entire pussy as we started again till she was dripping wet before I give it to her the missionary way. Due to her wet highly sensitive pussy, as I rammed my dick in,she dug her fingers into my back and let out a pleasure cry while I moaned. As I continue thrusting in and out but slowly increasing my speed,just some seconds in,she wrapped me tight with her legs and squeezed me between her arm then I felt a surge of vibration run through my body. It was when she started cumming that I knew the vibrations was from her so when she was done I changed the style to cowgirl. As she rode on me dick all happy,whining,bouncing and grinding, anytime I start stimulating her clit she just lost concentration and freeze up while moaning like crazy till I stopped. I occasionally spank her or played with her nipples as she rode but when it comes to her overly sensitive clit,she'd rather stay and enjoy herself and that gave her two eyes rolling and toes curling orgasm before we decided to change the style.

She stood on the close to the bed and then leaned forward to rest her hands on the bed while I stood behind her in wait for penetration. I used my leg to open hers a bit,fingered her pussy from behind and spanked her ass cheeks then she stood on her toes as she moaned and groaned for pleasure. I fingered her for a while longer as I occasionally spanked her until her legs started trembling from another orgasm and when she was done cumming,I supported her tummy with one hand then use the other to put my dick in her. With me hip hitting her ass cheeks and her moaning like crazy I gave it to her from behind in a steadily increasing speed and different variations that made her call my name as she moaned. We continued in this position for a while before I decided to take it hired a notch by raising her legs while her hands were rested on the as I fucked her. As I raised her legs, I got deeper and faster and she moaned louder and we were at it for a while till she started shaking...

[impala-dreamer]

To The End of Time

SPN FanFic

~Dean picks up the pieces after a devastating accident~

Dean x Reader, Sam

2,600 Words

Warnings: Angst. Death. Blood. Implied Sexual Activity. Mostly just Dean Angst.

A/N: This is my entry for @butiaintgonnaloveem Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge! My song prompt was Meatloaf’s ‘Paradise By The Dashboard Light’. I went in a totally different direction than I had originally planned, I hope you like it... 

For the first two days he did nothing. Bruised and concussed, Dean sat on a stool in the garage staring at the wreckage.

Sam checked on him every few hours. He brought him food at mealtimes and cold beers now and then that sat at his feet untouched. He didn’t bother him; Dean was grieving. Sam had seen it before, but this time it was worse. He didn’t speak, refused to look up when Sam entered the room. Gone was the brave front, the placations that so often peppered the elder Winchester’s vocabulary. He wasn’t fine, so he didn’t say it. Sam kept a watchful eye, but he left Dean alone to do what he had to do.

On the evening of the second day, Dean got up; he legs protested with the sudden movement and his muscles twitched, reminding him with each step of the trauma. He ignored the pain and set to work, silently walking around his Baby, deciding where best to start. His hands passed over the hood, dipping into the fresh dents; his fingers catching on the mangled metal that stuck out at odd angles.

Her eyes sparkled as she turned to him, a beautiful smile tugging on her pink lips. Moonlight reflected off of the lake, the beams glistening on the still water. They were parked, taking a moment to relax in between apocalypses, their easy conversation illuminated by the stars.

Dean stretched out across the hood, his back against the windshield, his arms behind his head. “We should do this more often,” he remarked, taking a deep breath of the fresh air.

Y/N nodded in reply as she hugged her chest, a slight shiver passing through her as the cool air nipped at her skin. “It’s beautiful.”

“You cold, Baby?” He asked, sitting up.

“Maybe a little. I’m fine.” She answered with a smile.

Dean unbuttoned his flannel and pulled it off, tossing it over her shoulders and rubbing a hand down her arm. Y/N sighed and shoved her arms into the sleeves, letting his carryover warmth ease her chill.

“Why are you so good to me Dean?”

He laughed and licked his lips as he pulled her close, “You just bring out the best in me Y/N.”

Y/N settled against him, his arm slung over her shoulder, her head resting against his chest. “Will you love me forever?” she whispered.

He replied like every other time, with a smile and a kiss to her forehead, “Let me sleep on it.” It was an old exchange, words they said often; one of the little, secret things they shared. Another way to say ‘I love you’.

Dean moved on to the passenger door. He wrenched it open, cutting his hand on the broken shards of glass where the window had been. He watched as his blood dripped down, disappearing against the black paint.

Y/N laughed, tossing her head back against the hood as Dean pressed her up against the door. His fingers looped in the waistband of her jeans, tugging her hips up towards his as he kissed her perfect lips. Her hands gripped his neck, keeping him locked to her as their tongues danced together. In his mind there was nothing sweeter than her kiss, no taste he craved more than her lips.

His hands traveled up underneath her cotton tee, fingertips circling her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers pulling tightly at his neck as he revved her engine. His lips fell to the base of her neck, sucking hard against the spot he knew would seal the deal. Sure, he could wait until they were back at the motel, safely tucked away in bed with the door locked; but he didn’t want to wait. He wanted her every second of the day, dreaming of her touch during the long hours of sunlight until they were alone and he could wrap his arms around her. The job was done, the adrenaline surged through them both; there was no reason to wait.

Y/N pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him back, grinning when she saw the hungry look in his eyes. Without looking away, she opened the car door and slipped into the front seat, laying back and shimmying out of her pants. Dean watched, growing ever harder as she kicked away her jeans and lifted her arms to beckon him down to her.

They lay together, tangled and cramped on the long bench seat, their breath fogging the windows as they rolled in the dark. Sweat covered their bodies, making them stick to the hot leather; their passionate cries filled the emptiness.

“Will you love me forever?” she asked, leaving a heavy kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Dean’s hands pushed through her hair, pulling her down to cover his bare chest. He wanted her close, next to his heart. It’s where she belonged. “Let me sleep on it.”

Sam watched from the doorway as his brother took apart the Impala piece by piece, laying out each mangled part carefully nearby. How many times had he done this task? Lovingly restoring each detail until it seemed like nothing had happened.

He walked towards Dean, making sure his boots fell loudly against the hard floor so as not to startle his brother. Sam stood next to the workbench and handed Dean a beer. For the first time in days, Dean accepted the drink, turning it in his hand, his eyes full of pain as he looked down at the white and red label.

“You want to talk about it?” Sam asked carefully. Just seeing Dean out of his chair was a victory; he didn’t want to push him.

“No.” Dean croaked, his voice hoarse from lack of use; his lips dry and cracked. “Not yet.” He put the beer down without opening it and picked up a rag, turning back to the car.

“Dean, it might help you to talk about it,” Sam pressed, even though he knew it would do no good.

A pathetic laugh issued from Dean’s lips, “And when has talking about anything ever helped either of us?” He moved to the car, bending down to climb into the front seat.

“Dean…”

“I said no.”

Sam walked away, leaving his brother alone as he began clearing the broken glass from the dashboard. He scooped the shards into a pile, carefully covering them with a rag and dumping them into a bucket. Pile after pile he cleared away, the scabs on his knuckles opening anew as he worked slowly, not caring about his wounds or the sting as dirt entered each cut.

Wind whipped through the open windows, filling the car and roaring in their ears. Y/N kicked off her shoes and scooted over in the seat, laying her head in Dean’s lap so she could hang her naked toes out of the window. She laughed as the wind tickled her skin, and Dean lay his hand on her stomach, loving the closeness. It was so easy with her, so calm and gentle; even the bad days seemed brighter with her there, and Dean found himself dreaming of something more. Maybe Sammy was right, maybe they could leave this life behind one day; say goodbye to the horrors and seek out a better way.

He could get a job in a garage or maybe even build his own business. Y/N could stay home and raise their kids. They’d have three, he imagined; two girls and a boy if he was being picky. After a long day he could come home and find them playing in the front yard, blowing bubbles or jumping rope; whatever it was that kids did nowadays. On the weekends they could go on long drives to nowhere, just enjoying their free time. He’d teach his kids to ride bikes and build forts, not fight monsters. The next generation of Winchesters would be different, normal, happy.

Y/N’s fingers closed around Dean’s hand and she pulled it up to her lips. She kissed him sweetly, her lips brushing gently across his skin as the dashboard light fell over her closed eyes, giving her an angelic glow. It was such a tiny gesture, an intimate little thing, just to let him know she was thinking about him. Dean smiled, his heart soaring with love and ideas. Yeah, he thought, maybe it was possible.

“Dean?” Her voice broke through his thoughts, pulling his attention down to her. She looked up at him with wide eyes, a teasing smile on her lips. “Will you love me forever?”

“Let me sleep on it,” he laughed and clutched her hand tighter.

Dean rang out the sponge until it was merely damp, leaving behind a stream of red in the sink. He returned to the Impala, gingerly wiping down the seats, soaking up the dried blood that caked the leather. With each pass he felt his chest tighten. A vice was clamped around his heart, threatening to choke it, to stop its beating forever. He could not stop the tears from falling as he washed away the garnet mess; he was washing her away. The last traces of Y/N cleared away with a dirty tan sponge.

His head fell to the seat as he broke down, a loud cry pushing up from his gut. He beat his fist against the leather; his fingers clawed at it, wanting to rip it away. Dean screamed as he tore at the upholstery, his hands working together in his rage to destroy the place where she had lay.  

 The road was slick, oil mixing with the rain, making the Impala shimmy over the blacktop.

Dean clutched the wheel, his foot easy on the gas as he navigated through the downpour. The windshield was flooded and even with the wipers on full speed, it was hard to see the lines on the ground.

Y/N turned in her seat, swiveling towards Dean as she spoke. Her voice calmed him, settling his nerves as they made their way home after an easy hunt.

As he drove through the intersection he peeked over at her, smiling as she laughed at her own joke. He hadn’t even heard her words, the pounding rain on the hood blocking out most of her conversation, but the look on her face was enough for him. He loved her laugh, loved seeing her happy, loved the look in her eyes when she looked at him. It was all love, he realized then. It was all love, and it was all her.

Headlights filled the car, bright beams pointed at them, haloing Y/N in blinding yellow light. Her body was thrown forward as the truck hit them; connecting with the right side of the Impala and shoving them across the highway.

Dean’s head hit his window and his eyes closed, his hands sliding off of the wheel as the darkness took him.

The roof was caved in; the shining black metal contorted by the rocks where the car had landed, upside down in the ravine. Dean opened his eyes, pain pulling him from unconsciousness. He blinked furiously as the world came back into view and he screamed her name, calling for Y/N in a panic. Her answer came slowly; her voice barely a whisper next to him. She lay, broken and twisted on the overturned ceiling, blood flowing freely from her chest and mouth.

Dean’s hands flew over her body, afraid to touch her, afraid he’d hurt her more. He listened to the low gurgling in her lungs as she struggled to breathe; there was nothing he could do. He lay beside her and lifted her head in his hands, cradling her to his chest as she wheezed. His tears fell on her cheek, mixing with her blood. He wiped them away with shaking fingers as he spoke to her softly, swearing to get help, promising to fix her.

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and he stopped his frantic words, looking down into her fading eyes. She gasped, taking in as much air as she could. “Will you love me forever?” she asked, her eyes fluttering closed, a tiny smile pulling at her lips.

Dean kissed her; one final kiss before she left him. He felt her go, felt her breath stop; felt the warmth escape her skin, leaving her cold and limp in his arms. He watched through tear soaked lashes as his love, his hopes, his dreams, his Y/N faded away.

He shook, his body convulsing with pain and anguish while he rocked her lifeless form in his arms. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead and wiped his tears from her cheek once more as he whispered, “I will love you to the end of time.”

Dean worked without rest. He tore apart his beloved Baby and pieced her back together inch by inch; smoothing out her metal and replacing what could not be saved. He stitched the leather by hand, he oiled the dash. He peeled away the ruined carpet with his bare hands and laid new, taking his time making sure everything was perfect.

He stopped only when he couldn't see straight any longer, falling asleep for short clips in the backseat. He gave in to his brother's nagging and his stomach’s growls and ate when food appeared, but he never really stopped. Not until the paint gleamed again; not until every memory was back in place.

When he was satisfied, Dean pulled her out of the garage. He drove slowly down the hidden tunnel and out into the starless night. He pressed his foot to the floor, opening her up and listening to the engine roar. It filled his ears and blocked out the sound of the choked sobs that shook his chest. He clawed at his eyes, wiping away the tears that pooled in the corners and took a deep breath to settle himself. He dropped his hand to the seat next to him, empty now where Y/N used to sit. Light was shining from the dashboard, and he dreamed of her face, imagining her carefree smile once more.

“Turn this junk off,” Dean said, reaching for the radio.

Y/N swatted his hand away, shaking her head, “No! You cannot change this song! It's a classic!”

“It's horrible!” Dean protested, covering his ear as Meatloaf blared through the speakers.

Y/N pouted dramatically. “It's my favorite. And you love it too, so just shut up.” She laughed and leaned towards him as she began to sing along. It was loud and off key, but Dean loved it, rolling his eyes teasingly as she serenaded him.

“Will you never leave me? Will you make me happy for the rest of my life?” Y/N clutched a hand to her chest as she sang, acting out the words with theatrical flare. Dean watched from the corner of his eye as he drove on, pretending to hate the song.

“Will you take me away and will you make me your wife? I gotta know right now, before we go any further…” She turned back to Dean, crawling over the seat towards him, “Do you love me? Will you love me forever?”

He stayed silent, still teasing her by not joining in. Y/N lay a hand on his thigh, squeezing just enough to grab his attention. He smirked and turned his head slowly to face her, winking as he sang along, “Let me sleep on it…”

Forevers: @1-800-misha @27bmm @amanda-teaches @arryn-nyxx @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @ayeeitsemry @bea789 @because-imma-lady-assface @babypieandwhiskey @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britt-spn @buckysmetallicstump @bulletscrossbowpie @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @chumi-la-chula @cici0507 @clairese1980 @collectivekiera @cosmicpeanuthologram @createdbybadappreciation @cyrilconnelly @dannnyphantomm @dancingalone21 @deadinside-muser @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @demonangelimpala @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @evyiione​ @faithfulpanicmoon @feelmyroarrrr​ @flowermisha​ @freaksforthewin​ @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @gemini75eeyore @ghostkitty1103 @hamartiamacguffin @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @inmysparetime0 @jpadjackles @jotink78 @kristaparadowski @kas-not-cas @katrodriguez99 @lavendellove @love-kittykat21 @luciisthebest @maddieburcham1 @mamaredd123 @mogaruke @megansescape @mija-novella @milkymilky-cocopuff @mogaruke @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-life-is-here-soo @myfand0msandm0re @mysteriouslyme81 @naadestiel @notesfromalabprincess @notnaturalanahi @obi-wan-my-only-ho @pain-of-artifice @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @riddikulus-obsessions @riversong-sam @sam-winchesters-long-locks @sandlee44 @sarahgrace-1989 @scxrchy @smoothdogsgirl @spectaculicious @spontaneousam @summer-binging-spn @superbasementflower @supernaturallymarvellous @supernaturalyobessed @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @thecynicalnerd @the-latina-trickster @therewillbeblood @tom-is-in-my-tardis @typicalweirdbookworm @thegreatficmaster @vine-colored-assbutt @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @winchestersmut @wvnchxstxr @xxthevampirediariesexpertxx @yearoftheweasley @youtubehelpsmesurvive @yvngkinggchristyy

The Dean’s List:  @anokhi07 @assbutt-fan @bringmesomepie56 @deangirl-withanimpala @delessapeace-blog @ellexirmalfoy @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @leather-moccasin-hero @msdooos @mskitty416 @ruprecht0420 @soullessbabee  @tmccarney @torn-and-frayed @twoboys-and-afallenangel @vesperlady04  

[ciaclouddearding-blog]

Tainted love the dark side of internet dating

Tainted Love: The Worst Couples in Comic Book History Email us at or call 0207 782 4368.  She belongs to North American ethnicity and is just 15 years old.  The new album featured their first new songs together in almost twenty years.  But if you are wanting something much more meaningful, a connection, be upfront.  Rodrigo is one of the talented girls in Hollywood.  You wouldn't go out expecting to meet someone looking like you've made no effort whatsoever would you? If you and your potential love interest live hours away, agree to meet in the middle.

Plenty of Fish is revealed as the most dangerous dating app in Britain It's your dating experience and you should be allowed to do it the way you want.  And the new statistics also do not include the murders Britain has seen which are linked to dating apps, given that all police forces did not respond, or the different ways in which forces record crimes.  Possibly even a Prince Harming.  Online dating isn't a mortgage application like some other sites make it out to be.  He even used a picture of Bollywood star Saif Ali Khan to help lure women in.

Free dating sites without I learned the hard way that not everyone you meet online is who they say they are.  A video was recorded specially for Soft Cell's video album featuring band members as a cricketer meeting Marc Almond in a toga on what seems to be.  I was still getting messages a year after we first met, so I had to change my number.  Both people should be eager about meeting and not be bothered about the travel.  He then returned to Nemeth, who had since passed out due to drinking excessive amounts of alcohol, and began mutilating her body.  Not only is it totally out of character for She-Hulk to hook up with a villain, but not sleeping with the client is probably the first thing they teach you at law school! Australian Chart Book, St Ives, N.  Select single in the field Format.

Tainted Love: The Worst Couples in Comic Book History No one is spared, but there is also the sweeter side of desire, even love, here.  It was later included as a bonus track on international editions of the band's following album,.  Needless to say, I never heard from Liz again.  First tactic, try to agree on a location close to where you live.  In data covering the years of 2011 to 2016, a stunning 545 reported crimes were probed by cops in the area.  In the course of just over a hundred pages, Anne Serre takes on one of the mainstays of Victorian literature: the eroticized tabula rasa of the young governess who hovers, slim-waisted and beholden, somewhere between the world of her wards and that of her employer.  Whichever, it seems immaterial from where I'm standing.

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'I'm used to playing different people, but with my consent' Rosales claims that Crescentini had punched him at least once before he stabbed him.  Double take: Sam Allingham for.  The accompanying music video featured cast members , and.  All our members have signed up exclusively to use our free service so we are unique.  It was via a chat room, so there were no in-depth questionnaires to complete, no swiping left or right depending on whether I liked what I saw - appearance wise.  Here, four readers share their online horror stories.

The Dark Side of On She fell in love with Antony Ray, striking up a 14-month relationship before his lies and deceit began to unravel.  I think I even tried to call out to her but got no reply.  Lopez is currently on the charge of first degree murder.  That means any premium service we offer are in addition to the normal free service.  If geographically it is impossible to meet right away have a skype chat and this way you can still confirm that the person is who they say they are.  We spent hours discussing why this person fled when it was time to finally meet.

Plenty of Fish is revealed as the most dangerous dating app in Britain I soon realised that first, I would have to start a relationship,.  In my fear I backed away from him and ran into the loo.  Roy Harper seems to change names as often as his mood Speedy, Arsenal, Red Arrow, take your pick! Photos which do not, are rejected.  In 1997 the track was used as the inspiration and hook for an advert for directed by which uses a hospital heart monitor to recreate the 'bink bink' sound as the badly injured patient and surgeons sing the song.  But please be warned that you can also experience such encounters on platforms that are not necessarily for dating.  Incredibly, this plan actually worked until the Justice League figured out her evil plan and locked her up in Arkham.

'I'm used to playing different people, but with my consent' Technology has improved our lives a 100 fold but it does not mean it is clean sailing from here on out.  If you find yourself forcing or holding on tightly, that's a sign to let go.  I mean, if someone is interested in this fake me and tried to get in contact with her, he wouldn't realise this person doesn't exist.  Almond later admitted that the album was recorded and mixed under the influence of.  Several murders have also been linked to dating apps in Britain in recent years, but data concerning them has been withheld by police forces who have either not participated in our investigation, or who store data differently to other forces.  I thought I was a good communicator online.