#so many people just wear collars that people got cancelled about it a while ago

[seeminglyseph]

I'm like... slowly watching a Chainsaw Man reaction and getting stoned to deal with a liiitttle PTSD episode I had earlier... and realizing that like.

as a person. who is very touch starved and lonely in my own way. while Denji has like "I wanna touch a boob" which is like funny etc etc... if he was not an animated character whose age was easy to forget, because his everyman protagonist placement makes me accidentally age him up to be closer in age to me... anime is bad for me just fuckin' forgetting that people are high school students. I just mentally adjust people to be 'neutral age' instead of their actual age. Especially if they happen to work in an adult industry surrounded by other adults.

I fully like. though. can understand like. 'man... sometimes I'm curious what that kind of sexual interaction is like. I have kinda given up on being seen as sexually appealing... but I kinda crave that intimacy.' and like. a lot of really toxic relationships have been built on that foundation. and exploring it with Denji is really interesting because like. Denji and Makima are.. a relationship dynamic I've seen played out with the Teacher and Student in a lot of series that aren't supernatural adventure shows. "I've given up on being considered attractive but I crave something" and "I know I can manipulate you and can get what I want from you without you realizing it because you have no experience and no confidence" and it's really fascinating. And all of us knew it was bad from the moment it started, but it was like 'yeah but it's like... something. and that's kinda good enough.'

And like. I ain't gonna shame the folks barking, I got my fair share of nasty abusive freaks I would bark at too. My Toxic Fictional Man list is Too Fucking Long. I'm just like. Too Gay for Makima. that's the only reason I'm not right there with you. Also I have like... too many abusive toxic women in my real life, fictional toxic women just don't do it for me. but like genuinely, I get it. I understand. Good for you, I hope you enjoy the good rep for genuinely horrifying Toxic Fictional Mistresses Who Might Walk You On A Leash If You're Good. like I get that want for fictional characters who make you both scared and horny for the subs out there. it's hard to get a good Evil Dominant who isn't just Tsundere or Yandere. The Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss is immaculate and like, congratulations on your full sexual awakening.

But practice safe kink IRL. to bring it maybe back around I guess. it's important to know like. when you can tolerate and survive being alone better than being with someone toxic, and that like. it's one thing to do a sexy roleplay of that stuff, but like there has to be a place where is stops 'cause it can wear down your self worth. Practice safe boundaries in kink. it's important even it maybe it's kinda boring. But it can mean you can do more exciting stuff. You *can* be someone's dog, if you also know you are important and valuable and a person with the right to say no in situations that you don't like. Live your fucking best life with communication, boundaries and safe kink. idk.

[readjthompson]

Well, since my novelette Cancel Toby Chalmers! (copyright me, now) has been sitting around, completed, for nearly 16 months, I’ve decided to share it for free, until it’s later released as part of a Toby Chalmers collection.

Here are the first three chapters.

Chapter 1

Upon being introduced to new acquaintances, Joseph McCarthy Jr., more often than not, issued the disclaimer, “Don’t worry, my dad wasn’t that Joseph McCarthy. He was liberal to the bone, just like me. He even shook Nelson Mandela’s hand once.”

Askance glances this earned him; few recognized his references. Reluctantly meeting the unsettlingly fervent eyes within Joe’s poached egg countenance, people said, “Oh, uh, nice to meetcha,” and other utterances of that ilk.

Those unfortunate enough to remain within range of the man’s self-satisfied aura would then hear him ask, “So, what do you do?” Preempting their every reply, Joe’d strike his most heroic, fists-to-hips pose and intone, “Me, I’m Transylvoria’s Editor-in-Chief.”

“The horror literature fan magazine?” his current chinwag partner asked. “Didn’t one of your writers get busted for diddlin’ kids or some shit?”

“Oh, we fired that guy months ago. No one really liked him anyway.”

“Huh. Well, here’s your pizza. That’ll be twenty bucks even.”

Cool, the delivery guy respects me so much that he doesn’t want a tip, Joe assumed, sliding a Jackson portrait from his wallet. He tucked it into the collar of his visitor’s Italian flag-striped shirt, grabbed the pizza box from his hands, and slammed the door.

“Uncle Jojo’s got lunch!” he shouted toward the living room. “Extra sardines, just how we like it!”

He retrieved a pair of plates from the cupboard and topped each with three slices. His mouth watered; his stomach rumbled anticipatorily. To the glass-and-chrome dining table he carried the pizza, then a couple of sodas in Jordan Peele-faced mugs.

“Shadrach, get in here!” he shouted, seating himself. “Don’t be a cold fish! Don’t eat one, either.” He washed a chomp down with a hearty swig of Pepsi, as his eight-year-old nephew entered the kitchen.

“Nobody calls me by my full name, Uncle Jojo,” the boy said, climbing onto a stool.

“Nobody plus one,” Joe countered.

Prepubertal hypertrichosis had gifted the boy with a fringe of dark facial hair, just like Joe’s. In fact, the two looked so much alike, many folks assumed that Joe had impregnated his single mother sister to spawn the little bastard. Joe was pretty sure he’d pulled out that one time, though.

“Hey, what happened to your TRANSYLVORIA PRIDE shirt? That cool one I gave you, with the rainbow with fangs? You were wearin’ it this morning.”

Ignoring the question, Shadrach selected a pizza slice and conspicuously began to consume it.

“I’m waiting, young man.”

Shadrach shrugged and said, “It got dirty, so I changed into this one.”

“Dirty? You haven’t set a foot outdoors all weekend.”

“I spilled somethin’ on it.” Now Shadrach wouldn’t meet Joe’s gaze.

“Listen, little buddy, I can tell when you’re lying. And while your mama’s in rehab, I’m the one lookin’ after you. There’ll be no lies in this house. Not now, not ever. Again, I’m asking what happened to your TRANSYLVORIA PRIDE shirt?”

“I took it off.”

“But why ever would you do such a silly thing?”

“I don’t like it.”

“But I approved the design personally. Aren’t you proud of Transylvoria? Aren’t you proud of the 2SLGBTQI+ community? They’ve come so far over the years.”

“I’m a straight white boy, Uncle Jojo. When I wear that shirt, people think I wanna kiss dudes. Hal pinched my wiener at school. I didn’t like it.”

“Oh, Shadrach, Shadrach, Shadrach. First of all, what have I told you about calling yourself ‘white’? Caucasians should refer to themselves as ‘racially challenged’ until we’ve destroyed, then atoned for, white supremacy. And if showing solidarity with marginalized groups makes you a target for the ignorant, then be a proud target.”

“But Hal is gay. Why are you calling him ignorant?”

“That’s not…you’ve got a long way to go intellectually, I’m afraid.”

 

Chapter 2

For years, Toby Chalmers had been plagued by a recurrent dream scenario, wherein he wandered the grounds of an institution that incorporated architecture from every school he’d ever attended—pre-, elementary, middle, high, and even the community college he’d dropped out of. Seeking a math class whose location he’d forgotten, aware that an accumulation of absences made a failing grade likely, he encountered classmates from the past, some of whom were now dead in the real world.

Subsequent awakenings had seen his stomach dread-weighted. How will I explain an F to my parents? he’d wondered, until he reclaimed his place in the linear timestream and realized, Oh, that’s right, I live alone now and my school days are long behind me.

His latest slumber, however (described in slang that’ll likely be outdated by the time this book sees print), hit different. Finally, he found himself seated in the long-sought math class, surrounded by middle schoolers he’d once known, along with a few strangers. Four kids shared each table. Across from Toby was a goth chick he’d once had a crush on: a blonde who’d dressed in the same Victorian mourning dress every day and always smelled of mothballs. In the real world, he’d never spoken so much as a syllable to her. As a matter of fact, before alcoholism seized him in the ninth grade, he’d possessed scant social skills, had spent his free moments alone, reading or watching horror.

The blonde had never spoken to him either, but she did now, in his dream. “Don’t you have your homework?” she asked, tapping her finger upon a sheet of solved equations. Their two other tablemates, a snickering pair of future date rapists, had sheets of their own, ready for grading.

“Uh…I think so. Let me check.” Toby’s old, green JanSport backpack—with its logo torn off, just like he remembered—rested on the floor, beside his left foot. Within it, he discovered not the expected books and binders, but a churning mass of grey rodents. Aware of his scrutiny, they stared and hissed.

Unable to stifle his gasp, Toby inflamed the blonde’s curiosity. “What’s the matter?” she asked, peeking under the table. “Oh, wow, you’d better hide those before you get expelled.”

Their other two tablemates had themselves a look and began giggling. “What’re those for, Toby?” they uttered in unison. “Gonna stick ’em up your ass?”

Ignoring their jibes, Toby eye-swept the room, sliding his gaze athwart whiteboard and posters, students and negative space. His focus soon settled upon the leftward storage drawers, wherein slept calculators, pencils, protractors and worksheets.

The teacher had yet to arrive. Indeed, Toby had time to lug his backpack thereabouts and dump its contents into a drawer. Closing it, glad that no one but his tablemates had paid any attention to him, he then returned to his chair.

Next came a time jump. Many months must’ve passed, because the rats had multiplied exponentially, and now poured from all corners of the campus. Students stumbled about, shrieking, with rodents nibbling at their clothes and pawing at their hair, as Toby wandered the premises, untouched. Seeing terror-warped faces, he wondered if he should feel pity, or guilt, or anything at all, really. Instead, he tried to recall the location of his math classroom.

Another time jump restored normalcy to the institution. Unhurriedly, students and teachers made their way toward their day’s lessons. No longer did Toby recognize a single presence around him. Wondering if he’d ever graduate, if he’d ever make his parents proud, he approached a popular, dark-haired girl whose vulpine voluptuousness diminished those surrounding her.

“Excuse me,” Toby said, “but I seem to be lost here.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” the girl answered, “considering you died all those years ago.”

“Died?”

“Sure did. You’re a legend around these parts now. The Rat King, they call you. All those rodents you set loose here…they had to shut this place down for months.”

Only then did Toby glance down at his body, to see that it was composed not of flesh, but of dozens of grey, squeaking rats, all connected at their tails. “Oh,” he just managed to utter, as his dream dissolved around him.

Within far less interesting flesh, he awakened. His lower back ached, as per usual. Rather than lurch right to the bathroom, as his biology demanded, he chose to remain yet recumbent, reflecting on his phantasmagoria while its edges remained solid in his mind.

Finally, my recurrent dream reached a terminus, he thought. Such a bizarre sense of closure. I’ll probably never again return to those surroundings, never again visit all of those lost-to-time faces. The dead and the dead-to-me, friends and enemies, now nonentities. Should I be melancholic or grateful?

After all of these years, a resolution to my math classroom dilemma. Is my subconscious trying to tell me something? Does it sense dark times impending? It’s been quite some time since my fiction landed me in any trouble. What madness now awaits me?

 

Chapter 3

When ejaculating his biography to all those within earshot, Joseph McCarthy Jr. would generally say something along the lines of, “After earning my journalism degree from Cameron University, I spent six years reviewing folk music for The Jingle-Jangle Gazette before they elevated me to editor. That lasted for a few years before I decided to fully embrace my love of horror literature. I’ve now been Editor-in-Chief at not one, but two magazines devoted to it.”

The veracity of that last sentence was a bit iffy, however. True, Joe had held that position at both Draculiterary and Transylvoria, but he left out the fact that Transylvoria was just Draculiterary retitled, with the numbering continued.

Over his head honcho tenure, Joe had fired the magazine’s every straight, cisgender white man and replaced them with minorities who didn’t mind being marketed as such in their bylines. “We’re changing our name to Transylvoria to reflect our new policy of inclusivity,” he’d trumpeted. “For far too long, racially challenged, cisgender, penis-having breeders have limited this magazine’s purview. Our new day starts right now, with this issue!” An adulatory echo chamber of social media randos then washed over him. He’d masturbated for hours, ogling himself in the mirror.

“Aside from Stephen King, no more cisgender, male, racially challenged, straight authors will be reviewed here,” he told each new hire. “They’re a link to a racist time in history that our bright, shiny future will pave over.”

Sure, the old guard had raised a fuss, claiming that they’d developed their writing skills over decades and deserved the same regard as the new jacks. All had been shamed on social media by Joe and his acolytes, until the old guard’s publishers had seen no choice but to take those authors’ books out of print and issue press releases announcing their commitment to inclusivity. Suicides had been celebrated in Transylvoria. “So long, massa!” was the slogan used for each incident.

When some of the now-shunned writers revealed that they truly were bigots, calling black authors “illiterate charity cases” and trans authors “even uglier than their purple prose,” those men were labeled the typical, non-Stephen King, cisgender, straight, racially challenged, male author by much of the media. “They want to enslave us all and force us to write Donald Trump fan fiction!” certain diverse, much reposted authors claimed.

Riding this revolutionary wave, denouncing his own race at every opportunity, Joseph McCarthy Jr. gained more and more influence on horror literature. An early proponent of content warnings, he demanded that every published author spoil their entire plot at the start of each story, so that nobody ever be triggered when reading it. “Entitled monsters,” he’d labeled those who’d failed to comply, just as long as they were cisgender, straight, racially challenged, and male. So, too, had his magazine and he assisted in the efforts to change H.P. Lovecraft’s surname to Hatecraft in his fiction’s every reprint. “Bigots don’t get to decide their legacies, we do!” he’d decreed.

Every cisgender, straight, racially challenged male who spoke out against Joe was labeled a Nazi by the man, then his followers. Even their most innocuous social media posts were twisted into hate speech. Top names in the industry denounced them, receiving glowing Transylvoria reviews in exchange.

I’ve gained so much power over horror lit, Joe often thought, when he had time to himself, so why doesn’t my own nephew bow to my wisdom?

* * *

Contemplating the nominees for Transylvoria’s upcoming Vampclusivity Awards—an online ceremony he’d host, as per usual—Joe strode into his living room. Framed signature sheets from books he would never read lined the walls. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to draw the eye, save for a large 4K television perched on a tobacco-shaded stand, facing an autumn-colored velour sofa that seemed half-alive.

Shadrach had never liked that sofa. “It smells funny,” he’d said, “and the cushions are covered with crusty stains. I think mice might be livin’ in it, too.” Rather than sit upon it as he watched TV, he chose to lay on his belly, on the carpet, propped up on his elbows, resting his chin on his palms, bending his neck in a way that looked excruciatingly painful to Joe. Such was the pose that Joe found him in on this day.

A young African American rhymed and cavorted across the TV screen, instructing a group of enthusiastic peers in the art of The Urkel Dance. Red suspenders kept his pants hefted nearly to his chest. Straps kept his glasses from sliding off of his head.

Infuriated, Joe snatched the remote control from his nephew and powered off the TV. “Family Matters!” he shouted. “You know how I feel about Steve Urkel!”

Pouting, Shadrach climbed to his feet and said, “Steve Urkel’s funny as heck, Uncle Jojo. My mom let me watch him all the time.”

Clenching his fists, Joe responded, “Your mama was a bad influence. That’s why she’s in rehab. I’ve told you time and time again that it’s never okay for a racially challenged person to laugh at a black one.”

“But he’s supposed to be laughed at. That’s why they made him funny.”

“We can only laugh with African Americans when they’re making fun of the racially challenged. We can never, never, never laugh at them. Minstrel shows were supposed to be funny, too, once. How would you feel if I put on blackface make-up right now and started performing ‘Jump Jim Crow’ for you?”

“Uh…what?”

“That’s it, young man, I’ve had enough of your ignorance! If your school isn’t gonna teach you about racial tolerance, then I will!”

 

[seasonsofeverlark]

Worth the Wait

Author: @ameliaodair​ 

Prompt: Modern AU: Peeta and Katniss were on vacation in Argentina. Their days are up now and they’re on their way back to the US, however, a tornado alert gets them stranded in Lima, Peru. It’s Halloween and they were supposed to go trick or treating with Finnick and Annie and now here they are. What they didn’t know, is that in Peru they celebrate something called Día de la Canción Criolla, and they get swept into the joyous atmosphere. Dressing up as the locals, Everlark celebrate Halloween in a different way. [submitted by @evestedic​]

Rating: T

Author’s Note: I tweaked the prompt a little, hope you still like it :)  This is my first time writing for one of these, so I hope I did it right, and I hope I did the prompt justice.  Enjoy :)

I always want to say thanks to my wonderful beta @eiramrelyat​.

____________

Part 1

Katniss tosses her suitcase into the trunk of her car, irritated that her flight was cancelled.  She promised her sister she would be home tomorrow, in time to see her niece and nephews’ costumes for their very first Halloween.  If there was one thing in this world that Katniss despised, it was disappointing her baby sister.

“A tornado?  Seriously, a freaking tornado in Peru!  Just wonderful!”  She mumbles to herself, securing her seatbelt in place.  Before leaving the parking lot she reaches for her phone, browsing for somewhere to stay for a night or two; at least until she can catch the next flight home.  “Great, no service.”  Could anything else go wrong today?  She thinks to herself, tossing her phone back into her purse.

After being stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, only going at a speed of ten miles per hour, she tries to summon the courage to call her sister.  Gripping her hands firmly around the wheel and tapping her fingers nervously, she finally speaks to the car’s navigation system. “Call Prim.” 

“Calling Prim” The car responds.  Prim answers on the second ring, the excitement laced in her voice.

“Oh my gosh Katniss, I am so excited for you to see the twins’ costumes!  Are you in the states yet?  What time is your flight?  Do you have an estimated arrival time?  I can come and get you, or…or—" 

Katniss cringes at her sister’s questions before deciding to interrupt her. “Prim, I um…there was a problem- no, there is a problem.”  Katniss looks out the window, noticing how crowded the streets are, and the people seem to be dressed rather…vivaciously.  ‘I wonder what that’s all about?’ She thinks to herself.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m fine.  It’s just that…my flight…well, it got cancelled.  I mean…not ‘cancelled,’ cancelled, but more like…delayed.  There’s like…a severe tornado warning or something and they’ve grounded all flights until further notice.”

‘Are they…dancing?’ Katniss thinks to herself, seeing a woman be twirled around in an immaculate dress, the dress fanning out to reveal the beautiful colors.

“Seriously?  Katniiisss….”  Prim whines like a toddler, elongating Katniss’s name.

“Give me a break, Prim, you’ll take a zillion pictures, we’ll facetime, and you can dress them up when I get home.  They’re babies, they won’t even know the difference.”

“But I will.” Katniss despises it when Prim does this.  Looking out the window again, Katniss sees a group of small kids dressed up in costumes.

‘How adorable.’  She thinks to herself, smiling.

“Come on Prim…This is totally out of my control.  You know I would be there if I could.  Plus, don’t you have a wonderful husband to keep you busy?”

“Yeah…I do—” Katniss can hear the smile in Prim’s voice and that always makes her happy.  Even after being together for five years, Prim and Rory are still so sickening in love with each other; it would make Katniss sick if she didn’t love her sister so much. “But he’s not you.  No one can replace you, big sister.”

“I know Prim—” Katniss cranes her neck out the open window to see what all the commotion is about.  “Prim, I need to go…there is something…I don’t know what it is, but I’ll call you later.  Take lots of pictures for me!”  She says just before ending the call, not giving Prim the opportunity to make her feel any worse.  As if that is even possible.

A month ago the company Katniss works for asked someone to take an impromptu trip to Argentina, just before the holiday’s no less. To have the opportunity arise to be the mediator in an attempt to merge their company with one of the hotshot rivalry companies nearby, Katniss was the first to volunteer. 

With no life other than her sister and her sister’s family, Katniss had no obligations which left her the perfect candidate to leave the country.  Everyone else had families they didn’t want to leave, not knowing how long it would take to do the negotiations, they did not want to risk being in another country for the holidays.

It had been almost ten years since she lost the love of her life and she had accepted the fact that you only get one of those per lifetime.  She was secretly hoping for better luck in her next one.  He was beautiful and he was perfect, and she thought their love transcended time and space.  So what if they were only teenagers, and so what if she had not seen him in almost ten years.  It did not seem to matter how many times she tried to find love, it just never felt right. 

At seventeen years old, she and her sister became orphans.  Social Services came to her house early one morning and loaded her and Prim into a car, refusing to allow them to say goodbye to anyone.

Katniss no longer cries from the anguish of losing him, but the agony from missing him is still as fresh as that first night.  When she turned eighteen, she could have gone back to Panem, but she was too scared.  What if she went back and he had moved on?  Found someone else to love, got married, and…no, not knowing was better.  Rejection would be worse.   

Katniss hoped this trip would give her some insight as to what she might do with the rest of her life.  She cannot continue to lean on Prim forever; she has her own family now.

Katniss finally makes out what the commotion is ahead of her and a smile forms on her lips when she catches sight of the herds of people dancing in the street, causing her to remember their dance competition.  With him.  “Dammit Katniss, stop it.  Why do you keep thinking about him today?”  She scolds herself before spotting a hotel across the street.  She pulls into a parking space, crossing her fingers they have a vacancy, but by the looks of the massive hoards of people crowding the streets, she is not very confident.

She reaches up to her neck where her collar bone dips in, and with her thumb and forefinger, she pinches the pearl that hangs from her necklace.  From him.  It is the necklace he gave her on her sixteenth birthday.  ‘As long as you wear this necklace, you will know how much I love you. Always.’ 

‘Always.’  It was their ‘thing.’  Some people made promises of forever, but not them.  No, they promised for always.  She remembers his exact words, and for some reason, he feels closer than ever.  Close enough to touch.  Something in the back of her mind says.

Shaking her head to rid her mind of the penetrating thoughts, Katniss decides to make her way into the hotel to see if there is a room available before unloading her suitcase.  She locks the rental car and pushes her way through the crowded streets and into the entrance of The Holiday Inn.

Upon entering the building, Katniss is greeted by a beautiful woman with perfectly golden hair and a smile bright enough to light up the entire building.  She says something in Spanish that Katniss cannot understand, confusion written all over her face.

“Crap, I left my translator in my car” Katniss mumbles under her breath after reaching over and checking her purse.

Realizing that Katniss does not understand her, the woman speaks again, this time in English, laced with a heavy accent.  “Welcome to The Holiday Inn, can I interest you in a room?”

“Oh, you speak English!” Katniss says, more excited than she should be.

“Effie does not allow any of her employees to man the front desk unless they are fluent in English.  We get a lot of tourists.”  Madge says, explaining to her.

“Effie?”  Katniss asks, finding the name strange.  Like she’s one to talk.

“Effie is the boss.  This is her hotel.  She’s more of a designer if you ask me, but she’s famous for dressing people up for the Dia de la Canción Criolla!  She will be knocking on your door within the next hour!”

“Dia day what?”  Katniss asks, not hearing what Madge said due to how fast the words seemed to escape her mouth.

“Dia De La Canción Criolla.  It is a celebration of Criolla music.  There will be dancing, lots of dancing!  And music, yes…beautiful music!  You should come, it’s so much fun!”  Madge tells her with stars in her eyes, as if she is remembering a heartfelt moment.

“Oh, well…I’ll think about it.”  Katniss says timidly, giving Madge a smile.

Katniss is thrilled the hotel has a vacancy and hands Madge her credit card to confirm her room for the night.  While she waits for the transaction to process, she and Madge make small talk.  Madge returns her credit card and ID along with the plastic key card with the numbers ‘12-13’ displayed on the front, as well as a brochure.

“If you take these elevators up to the twelfth floor and make a quick right, room thirteen will be on your left.  Here is a list of amenities as well as numbers if there is anything you need.  And Katniss?”

“Yes?”

“You should come out for the night.  You only live once.”

With a polite smile, Katniss nods her head, turning her back to Madge to retrieve her suitcase from her car.

Nearly half an hour later, she returns to the hotel with her suitcase in tow and steps onto the elevator.  Just as the doors begin to close, she spots a man running, trying to catch the elevator before the doors close.  Katniss presses the button to keep the elevator open, but she is just a moment too late.  With a mind of its own, the doors seal themselves shut, rising her up to the twelfth floor.

‘Why do I keep thinking about him today?  Why does he feel so close to me?  I’m in Peru for Heavensbee’s sake!’  Katniss says smiling to herself, reaching for the pearl again.  ‘Heavensbee’s sake’ was one of ‘their’ inside jokes.  “Perhaps this ‘Dia De La…whatchamacallit is just the thing I need to distract my mind from him.  And who knows what’ll happen.”  She mumbles to herself, entering her hotel room. 

When the door slams shut behind her, she hears the distinct ‘ding’ from the elevator.  ‘Whoever that man was must have made it up.’  She thinks to herself, recalling the flash of blonde hair, with those bouncing blonde waves, just like him.  ‘No, stop it.  He is not here Katniss.  It has been ten years.  Ten years.  You should be over him by now.  So, just…Get over it.’

But she’s not, and she can’t.

Freshly out of the shower, with one towel wrapped around her body and another one on the top of her head, she reaches for the phone and proceeds to call the number Madge had given her.  She needs to do something to distract her mind.  She is going to celebrate Dia De La Canción Criolla like a Peruvian.

“Give me a break Dad.  It’s Halloween, it’s not even really a holiday.  The bakery will survive if I’m gone for another few days.”

“I know kid, I know.  I’m sorry…I just…you know…I miss you.  You’ve been gone for like—”

“Two weeks.  I have been gone for two weeks.  And I will be home in a few more days.  Control over the weather is not a power I have homed in on as of yet.”  Peeta’s dad chuckles at his words but is still disappointed.  “Listen dad, as soon as they open the flights back up, the airline promised to call me, and I’ll be on the first flight back to the states.  Now look, I’ve gotta go, the streets here are insane and I need to find a place to crash for the night.  I’ll let you know when to pick me up.”

“Okay, son.  Oh, and Peet?”

“Yeah, dad?”

“Try to have some fun.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll try.  I’ve gotta go, bye dad.”  Peeta ended the call before giving his father any more fuel to drag the call on longer.

Peeta woke up that morning with an uncanny feeling that something was wrong.  When he got to school that morning and she wasn’t there, that feeling in his stomach intensified.  They talked to each other every day before and after school.  She was his best friend, and he was hers.  They told each other everything, so when he still had not heard from her by dinner that night, he knew deep in his gut something was wrong.  Really wrong.

The next day, Magnolia, one of her sister’s friends, came to him asking if he had heard anything from either of the girls.  For two days now, both girls have been missing from school.  Magnolia did not know it, but she had just confirmed the gut-wrenching fear in the pit of his stomach. 

For days, Peeta hounded the adults to no avail, questioning anyone he could as to her whereabouts.  She would never just up and leave without telling him, at least not without saying goodbye.

After two weeks, Peeta’s father realized that Peeta needed answers, that he would not be able to rest until he knew what happened to her, so using his connections he was able to obtain some information.  Peeta cried in his father’s arms as he told him what happened.  Social services came that morning, came before the sun was even up, and basically kidnapped the girls.  Both of their parents died in a car accident and at sixteen and a half years old, she took over the role of mom and dad to her little sister.  Apparently, someone placed an anonymous call, claiming to be “worried,” about the girls, hence social service ripping them from their lives.

For years, Peeta tried to find her.  But when his father lost his job, they had to relocate to another state.  Peeta did not want to leave if by some chance she came back looking for him, but he was only a kid himself, so he didn’t have a choice. 

At one point, he hired a private investigator, but so far; nothing has come up.  All his friends and family keep insisting he “move on,”  But he just couldn’t, he can’t.  “You don’t just move on from your soulmate, from your one true love” he told them all.  There is no one else, only her.  If I am not with her, then I will just be alone.  One day, he will find her, he is certain of it. 

“I know I’m probably asking the impossible, but would you happen to have a room for one?”  Peeta asks once he reaches the desk, giving the beautiful girl his most charming smile.

“Oh, don’t let the streets fool you, sir.  It’s Día De La Canción Criolla, the Peruvian festival of Music.  And to answer your question, yes, in fact we do.”  The receptionist, Madge, proceeded to tell him with her heavy accent and dazzling smile, staring at the computer screen in front of her, typing away.

A few minutes later, Madge hands him his plastic key card to his room in the penthouse along with a brochure filled with amenities, phone numbers, and information about this “Dia De La Canción Criolla.”

“Since you are already here sir, you should come out tonight and check it out.  Have some fun.”  Have some fun, those were his father’s exact words.

But dancing…especially that kind of dancing brought him back to memories of her.  She was the captain of the dance club in high school and she convinced him to enter a couple’s dance competition with her.  Never able to tell her no, he agreed.  He was never as good as her, but where he lacked, she excelled.  It was like that with everything they did.  They picked up each other’s slack.  When one was weak, the other was strong.  Always.

As he is scribbling his signature on the consent form to bill him at checkout, for just a split microsecond he thinks he sees her.  Heading onto the elevator is a woman with the same shade of hair, in that same over the shoulder braid she would wear, and the same olive complexion.  It had been almost ten years since the last time he saw her face, ten years since the last time his lips touched hers, but he is certain that one-hundred years could go by…no, a thousand years could pass, and he would always know her. Always.

Once his ‘T’s’ are crossed, he politely excuses himself from the receptionist, and runs to the elevator.  He can’t make her face out as the doors slide shut, but he can tell she tried to hold the door for him, but it was too late.  The elevator has a mind of its own and she slipped through his fingers.

“It’s not her, it couldn’t possibly be.”  He tells himself, his head hanging down as he presses the button and waits for the elevator.  He rides up to the twelfth floor and as soon as the doors open, he hears a door slamming from around the corner.  He finds his room, walks into it, and plops down on the bed.

Lying back on the bed, something in Peeta’s pocket begins poking his thigh.  He reaches into his pocket and grips firmly onto the pocket watch that he always keeps with him.  From her.  

At fifteen years old, he began saving his earnings from working at the bakery for eight months in order to buy her that necklace.  When he first saw it hanging in the shop, he knew he just had to have it.  He knew it was made just for her. It had been sitting in his underwear drawer for almost two weeks before he gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday.  His gift brought tears to her eyes because of what it meant.

She wanted to give him something too, but he insisted that it doesn’t work that way.  You do not give a gift to someone because they gave you something.  That was the first time she said those three magical little words.  She told him, “I’m not giving this to you because you gave me this necklace, I’m giving this to you…I want you to have this because I love you.”  It was her father’s, a gift from her mother.  It meant the world to her, so he knew what she was saying before she even said the words.

“Dammit Peeta!  Get a grip.  It isn’t her, I’m in Peru for Heavensbee’s sake!  An entire country away!”  Peeta yells at himself, confused as to why she is on his mind so hard today.

Peeta jumps into the shower, having decided that maybe he will join the festivities, if for nothing else, then to distract his mind from her.  He picks up the brochure and places a call to one of the names Madge had recommended.  If he is going to a Peruvian festival…(or is it a party?), he is going to need something to wear.

 Part 2

“Hi Katniss, my name is Cinna and I’ll be your stylist.”  Katniss lets the man in that Effie had recommended helping her find something to wear for tonight.

“Come in, it’s nice to meet you Cinna, I’m Katniss.”  Katniss sticks her hand out to Cinna, but he ignores it and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.  He then pulls back and circles around her, inspecting her from all angles.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”  Cinna asks after he finishes orbiting her once.

“What gave it away?  My accent? Or the constant look of confusion permanently embedded on my face?”  Cinna chuckles at her, deciding that he is going to like this girl.  She is something special.

“I’ve met everyone who comes through here, and I am certain I would remember a face as radiant as yours,”  Cinna says, noticing the rosy hue filling Katniss’s cheeks.  There is a knock on the door, startling Katniss.  Cinna reaches for the doorknob and opens the door, and three strange-looking people come bouncing in.  Their hair is quite flamboyant, they wear some rather vivid and strange colors, but they look at Cinna as if he were the sun.  But most importantly, they seem truly happy to be here, to help her.

“Katniss, these are my assistants, and they will be helping me in getting you ready for tonight.”

“Okay.  But, you do realize that I’m dressing up for this Dia de la Festival thing and not my wedding, right?”

“Dia de la Canción Criolla.”  Octavia, one of Cinna’s assistants says so fast, Katniss only heard gibberish.

“How do you guys say that so fast?”

‘I wonder if they do this often?’  Katniss thinks to herself when Flavius, another of Cinna’s assistants rolls in this cart filled with the most immaculate, dazzling dresses, shoes, and so many other accessories Katniss would never dream of wearing.

They get right down to business, no dilly-dallying.  Katniss tries on dress after dress for what felt like hours, only to have them settle on the first dress, much to Katniss’s irritation.  Each dress takes all four of them to help her into, which Katniss could not begin to fathom why it was so difficult. 

The dress they decide on is more beautiful than she is able to put into words.  The upper half clings to her form, accentuating each of her womanly curves.  It is a modest dress, for when she looks in the mirror, she feels beautiful, but not provocative.  It shows just enough cleavage, but not too much.  The skirt of the dress is loose and free-flowing, if anyone happens to twirl her around tonight, it will fan out in immaculate precession.

“Oh, Miss Katniss, just you wait till someone spins you around in this baby.”  Katniss looks startled as she scowls at Flavius.

“Wh-what’ll happen?”

“I can’t give away all the secrets, now can I?”  Flavius looks at her conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry Katniss, nothing bad will happen.”  Cinna places a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.  But it isn’t his touch that calms her, but the gentle tone of his voice.  She cannot help but notice that Cinna has this natural air about him, he makes her feel calm just by entering the room.

Once they finish adding the final touches to her dress, they chain her to a chair, (figuratively speaking) and get to work on her hair.

“So, is there a special someone we’re fixing you up for the night?”  Just as Cinna asks the question, Effie walks into the room.

“Oh, hello guys, don’t mind me.  I just wanted to observe the divine Cinna at work!”  Effie pulls up a chair, making sure she isn’t in the way, and watches as their experienced fingers intricately style Katniss’ hair.

Katniss is hypnotized as she watches four sets of hands intricately brush, comb, part, separate, and braid her hair.

Remembering Cinna’s question, Katniss blushes before saying, “Oh no.  There is no one, I just…I just…Well, since I’m already here, I figured I should get the full Peruvian experience.”

“Oh, you have a man back at home, do you?”  Octavia blurts out.

“No.  No, there isn’t anyone.  Well, once…No, never mind.”

“Awe, come on! Tell us!”  Flavius pleads with her.

“PLEEEEASE!!”  All three assistants beg at the same time in a sing-song voice.

Katniss hesitates for a moment, realizing there is no harm in confiding in these complete strangers, she starts.  “Well, there was this one guy, once.  When I was younger.”

“Ooooh, was he handsome?”

“What color were his eyes?”

They each spit out their own questions, curious to the man who once held her heart, forcing the image of his perfect face into the forefront of her mind.

“No, he was not handsome…. He was…he was beautiful.  He had the bluest eyes, bluer than the ocean and the sky mixed together.  And his hair…it was this sandy blonde, with just the right amount of waves, you know…not too curly but definitely not straight.  He was my best friend, my soul mate.  He was everything to me.”

“So, what happened?”  Flavius blurts out.

“You speak of him as if you’re still in love with him,”  Vennia says, giving Katniss a forlorn look.

“I got…I got ripped away from him.  And I haven’t been able to find him since.  But someone as amazing as him, surely he’s married with a few kids by now.”  Katniss omits how she is actually too chicken to even look for him as she hangs her head down, the pain of him with someone else cut like razors.

Effie’s eyes go wide as she recognizes this story, without excusing herself, she gets up and storms out of the room in a dash.

“What was that about?”  Katniss asks inquisitively.

Flavius does a motion with his hands and rolls his eyes.  “Who knows?  That woman is a bit cuckoo.”  However, Katniss notices the knowing look being shared between Cinna and his assistants.

“Perfecto!”  Vennia says once her hair is complete.

“Now, one last thing,”  Octavia says, reaching for the clasp around Katniss’ neck.

Katniss spins around to face Octavia, “Wh-What are you doing?”

“I have a better one for you to wear tonight.”

“No, the necklace does not come off.”  The firm tone in Katniss’s voice tells everyone not to argue.

And they don’t.

 Effie storms back into Peeta’s room- the busy body she is- and pulls up a chair next to Peeta as Portia and her team get him ready for the night.

“Peeta?  Will you tell me about your girl again?  The one from your childhood.”  Peeta raises an eyebrow, making sure to hold his head still as Portia does whatever she is doing to his hair.  He isn’t sure why it is taking so long, but he doesn’t question her.

Peeta’s eyes light up at the thought of his girl.  “Oh Effie, she was…she was perfect.  She was the sun and the moon and the stars, all in one.”  Effie notices the sparkle in Peeta’s eyes as he speaks of the girl.  “She was so beautiful, and her eyes…I’ve never seen the same shade on another human being’s face, silver as the moonlight, intense as the night sky.  Her hair, well back then it was long, nearly to the middle of her back.  But she always wore it in this braid over her shoulder—” Effie’s eyes go wide as she listens to Peeta, realizing he is describing the girl in the next room.

‘Could it be?’  Effie thinks to herself.  “Peeta, I think you should meet your neighbor.  Maybe you could share a dance with her…Spend a night on the town—”

Peeta chuckles before interrupting her.  “That’s okay Effie.  I’m going home as soon as the airlines call me anyway.  I just wanted to experience Dia De La Canción Criolla Peruvian style.”

Effie shrugs her shoulders, getting up to leave as an idea comes to mind.  If her plan is to succeed, she will need help.  “Okay, Peeta.  Your loss.”

Effie waits in her office until she sees Miss Everdeen exit the hotel.  Once she knows Cinna is free, she immediately goes to him and shares her suspicions.

“Cinna, we must, we absolutely must bring those two together!”

“Effie, what are the chances that the true love they lost and speak of just happens to be in the next room?  An entire country away?”  Cinna asks, exasperated by Effie’s infatuation with true love.

“Okay, so maybe I’m wrong…But what would it hurt?”  Cinna thinks about it for a moment, deciding no harm could come of it, he listens to Effie’s plan.

x – x – x

“Thank you for coming with me Portia, I felt a little strange coming out here by myself.”  Peeta gives Portia a smile as they leave the hotel and join the crowded streets.  There are people dancing everywhere, children carousing the streets alongside their parents dressed up in their costumes. 

“Would you like to dance Portia?” Portia scans the area, looking for any sign of Cinna, and then nods her head.  She will dance them closer to where Cinna is with his girl.

“Where did you learn to dance Peeta?  You’re quite good.”  Peeta blushes at Portia’s compliment.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss?  Was that her name?  Your sweetheart back home?”

Peeta nods, just as a handkerchief flies into his face.  He reaches for it, holding it in front of him with a confused look.  “What the—”

“It means there is a lovely lady who wishes to dance with you.”  Portia maneuvers Peeta’s body, turning him around and pushing him toward the woman standing next to Cinna.  The darkness of the night, in addition to the lack of streetlights, prevents Peeta from clearly seeing her face.  All he can make out is the silhouette of her face, yet the moment their fingers brush against each other, he instantly feels that familiarity…he feels at home.

But Peeta would know her anywhere; at least he thinks it is her.  No, no.  His mind is just playing tricks on him.  Either way, he extends his arm to her, and she accepts graciously just as The Marinera begins to play.

It is their dance.  Katniss and Peeta’s dance from high school.  Peeta circles her once, and then again.  She smiles at him flirtatiously, swinging her hips as she sways to the music.  They tease each other back and forth throughout the night.  It is as if they had spent their entire lives perfecting their moves, as if their bodies are meant to be as one.

The familiarity that overtakes them when Peeta places his hands on Katniss’ hips sends shock waves surging through their bodies.  ‘Why does this feel so familiar?  Why does this feel so right?’  Peeta thinks to himself after their second dance.

They dance the night away with each other, oblivious to the identity of their dance partner.  The chemistry surges through Peeta’s body, and he knows she feels it too.  There is something familiar about this woman, but Peeta cannot quite put his finger on it. It isn’t until the light of the moon casts its glow, causing the pendant on her necklace to shimmer in the moonlight, which is when Peeta freezes.

It can’t be, no, this girl just happens to have the same necklace.  But then he sees the tiny inscription of the word “Always” in elegant script at the base of the pearl.  That is when he knows.

It is her.

His Katniss.

  Part 3 

Turning away from the familiar stranger, Katniss hikes her dress up and runs back to the hotel. She rushes onto the elevator and presses the button for the twelfth story. When the doors open to her floor, she takes off in a sprint again, toward her room, then slams the door behind her once she’s inside.

“Get a grip, Katniss, wake up.  It’s not him. You are just dreaming!”  She yells at herself, lightly banging the back of her head against the door.  ‘How does he know my name?’  she asks herself.

Less than a minute later, there is a knock at the door.  “Katniss? Katniss, are you okay?  Please open the door. I know it’s you.  It’s me, Peeta.  I’m sorry if I scared you; it’s just…can you please open the door so that I can see your face?”

Can it be him?  Is it truly him?  So many times, Katniss thought she saw him, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be someone else.  Her heart cannot take another beating.

With her hand on the door handle, Katniss closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable.  Slowly, she opens the door just a crack, peeking through the small space.

“Peeta?  Is it…is it really you?”  She asks, slowly nudging the door open.

They stand there with their eyes locked, staring at each other while time stands still.  A loose strand of hair blows in Katniss’s eyes, interrupting their trance.  It is enough to reel her back into the present, and Peeta extends his arm, stroking Katniss’s cheek.

“Katniss,”  Peeta says, staring longingly into her eyes.  He slowly lowers his hand, pinching the tiny pearl hanging from Katniss’s neck.  “You still…I can’t believe you still have it.”

Katniss glances at his left hand that grasps her pearl, and her heart speeds up at the absence of a ring.  Peeta reaches up and places his hands on either side of Katniss’s face, bringing his face closer to inspect that it is really her.

“I never…I never take it off,”  Katniss says, licking her lips.  “Do you want to…come in?”  Katniss asks him.  

Peeta gives her a nod and walks past her and into the room.  Katniss closes the door behind him, and when she turns around to face Peeta, he pulls her close, slamming his lips onto hers.

The kiss is deep, sensual, and passionate, everything they have craved over the years.  Peeta takes Katniss to the bed in the center of the room, removing his jacket and slinging it behind him.

Katniss allows Peeta to take control.  He lays her back against the sheets, then follows after her until he’s, hovering above her.  “My God, I have missed you.”  His voice reverberates between their connected lips.

There is no denying it. It is her.  The only thing that matters is Katniss.  His Katniss.  Right here, right now, she stands in front of him after all this time.  He cannot take it anymore and closes the short distance between them, slamming his lips against hers. Peeta plunges his tongue deep into her mouth, devouring her. Tasting her.  Reveling in her.

The moment their lips connect, they knew they had finally found each other.  And yes, it was definitely worth the wait.

  5 Years Later

“I can’t believe you are getting married in Peru on Halloween!”  Prim squeals, zipping the back of Katniss’ wedding gown up.

“It’s not Halloween in Peru, Prim. It’s Día de la Canción Criolla.  And it’s when Peeta and I found each other again.”

“I know, sissy. I still can’t believe you guys found each other in Peru of all places!  I mean, I don’t remember a whole lot from…from before, but I remember how happy you guys were when we were kids.  And then I remember how sad you were when we had to leave, and…and I’m just so glad you found him!”  Prim says, turning Katniss around and adding the finishing touches to her hair.

“I’m just glad that you, Rory, and the kids were able to come.  Have you seen Peeta?  Is he okay?”

“No, you are not seeing him until the wedding. No exceptions!”  Prim tells Katniss, pointing a sassy finger in her face.

When Peeta catches sight of Katniss walking down the aisle to marry him, in the captivating dress with pearl accents, his heart stops in his chest at how beautiful she is.  When he finally found her after so many years, he thought he had died and was living in his dreams.

He finally found her, and she was now his to love.  Always.

[more-pokeimagines]

Stone Cold Body [05] - Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, folks, here’s the next chapter, and I really hope you enjoy it. Feedback is always appreciated. :) If you want to be tagged in further parts of the series send me an ask!

Warnings: mentions of executions and violence

Past

Three weeks had passed since King Lewin I. had burned the girl at the stake, and Bede still couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t know why his father hated the sorcerers so much, he didn’t know what they had done to deserve being hunted and killed like animals. But he knew only too well that he wasn’t allowed to ask, so he remained silent and carried on with his life as if he didn’t care about the death of innocent people at all, just like his father.

His sister, on the other hand, made no secret of her consternation. She barely spoke to the king anymore and even tried to convince him to cancel the ball he had announced for her birthday in a few weeks. The end of the story had been a slap in the face and a warning to never disrespect her father like that again.

Bede still got angry when he thought about it. His father had no right to treat Carlina like that, especially since she already spent most of the day in her room, silently mourning the death of a girl she hadn’t known. He wished he knew how to make it easier for her, mostly because it probably hadn’t been the last execution she had to watch but also because he hated to see his cheerful and carefree sister like that. Even though she often told him that she could take care of herself just fine, he still felt the strong urge to protect her from all the evils of the world. To him, she would always be the little girl who had asked him to read her favorite book to her over and over again while she snuggled up to him to keep herself warm. To this day, it was still one of his dearest memories and one of the many reasons why he adored his sister so much.

He was currently on his way to her rooms since she had been absent at dinner, probably because she was still too upset to actually spend time with the king. The queen, a compassionate and gentle woman, had asked her son to look in on Carlina, and he gladly followed her instructions, mostly because he was worried about Carlina too but also because he was tired of hearing about the princess he was supposed to marry anytime soon.

Absent-mindedly, Bede turned around the corner, finally reaching the hallway that led to Carlina’s rooms in the east wing. He knew that he needed to persuade her to leave her quarters, especially if she didn’t want to anger their father even more, but he had no idea how. Carlina was well-behaved and smart, yes, but she could also be incredibly stubborn. It definitely wouldn’t be easy to convince her.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.” A guard had approached him, obstructing his way as he looked at the prince with an almost empty expression. Despite his statement, his voice showed no signs of sympathy. Instead, he sounded almost like the situation amused him. “But the king advised me to not let anyone pass.”

“Excuse me?” Bede asked, the disgruntled expression in his eyes a solemn warning but the guard returned his look without the slightest bit of fear. He knew that he was on the safe side since he only obeyed the king’s orders, and the prince hardly had anything to say anyway.

“May I propose that you talk to the king yourself, Your Highness,” the guard suggested. “Perhaps that will settle the issue.”

Bede frowned. It didn’t happen often that someone dared to disrespect him like that but even the stubbornness of this guard wouldn’t stop him from seeing his sister.

“No,” he said after a few moments of silence, his voice as cold as ice. “Perhaps we could do as I say, or else I will ensure that you suffer the consequences for disobeying your prince. I don’t care what my father said.”

The guard gulped, now clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. “Your Highness, I-”

“Be quiet,” Bede interrupted him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Now, step aside.”

He could literally see how the guard’s thoughts were racing as they stared at each other for a few more seconds. Then, the guard finally stepped aside. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” he said and bowed his head. “I was being presumptuous.”

“Yes,” Bede agreed. “You may leave now.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Bede turned away, raising his hand to knock at the door to Carlina’s room.

It was more than obvious that his sister wasn’t feeling well. Carlina looked absolutely terrible, despite her tarted up appearance. Her face was still tear-stained, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed as she looked at her brother who simply reached out for her and pulled her into a tight hug. She leaned against him, her face buried in the crook of his neck while tears welled up in her eyes again.

“We missed you at dinner,” he mumbled, his hands gently caressing her back to comfort her. The soft and expensive fabric of her dress felt cool beneath his fingertips. “Mother asked me to check in on you. She’s worried.”

“Father told me not to leave my room,” Carlina replied quietly. “He said I should spend my time realizing my mistakes before I bother him with my presence again.”

“I know. There was a guard outside of your room.”

Carlina sniffled. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking. “I don’t understand why he hates the sorcerers so much. They never did anything wrong, did they? And still he keeps hunting them like they’re wild animals! That’s not how a king is supposed to act.”

“I know,” Bede repeated. He didn’t understand his father’s hatred either but he had learned long ago not to question his actions, especially not when it came to his ruthless vendetta against the sorcerers. He could only hope that the killing would stop eventually.

*

Dissatisfied, Bede tugged at the high collar of his new jacket. He hated to wear his navy blue dress uniform but since the occasion called for fancy clothing, there wasn’t much he could do about it. In his opinion, the color looked awful against his pale complexion and it clashed with the color of his eyes while his mother insisted that he looked regal and mature. He, on the other hand, suspected that she only wanted him to look presentable when she introduced him to the princess he was betrothed to since birth, despite the fact that he had zero interest in marrying. But for the sake of Carlina and her birthday, he had decided that it would be best to discuss the issue later on.

His sister looked stunning, dressed in an exquisite rose colored gown which was richly ornamented with precious pearls and gemstones that resembled the jewelry she was wearing. The only thing that was missing was her contagious smile.

When he escorted her to the ballroom, an hour after the guests had arrived, he squeezed her gloved hand, trying to reassure her that nothing bad was going to happen tonight. Initially, she had looked forward to this celebration but Bede knew that she’d rather run and hide in her room after yet another incident with a sorcerer and his inevitable death sentence the evening before.

“Smile,” he whispered when they entered the ginormous ballroom that had always been too richly decorated for his liking. The guests were staring at the siblings as they made their way to the podium in front of huge windows where their parents awaited them.

��His Royal Highness, Prince Bede and Her Royal Highness, Princess Carlina,” a harbinger introduced them, even though there probably was not a single person in the room who didn’t know their names. Carlina was finally smiling again, gracefully waving at her admirers, and even Bede who usually acted restrained and sometimes slightly arrogant whenever he had to be at court, had managed to put on a somewhat believable smile. He hated events like this though. He hated how his mother paraded her children around like they were some kind of precious commodities to preserve the peace between Galar and other kingdoms.

“My beloved children,” the king greeted them when they reached the podium, stretching out his hand to help Carlina getting up the stairs. Bede couldn’t help but notice that she was a good actress. She didn’t even flinch when her father bowed his head to kiss her cheek; the exact same cheek he had slapped just a few weeks ago when his daughter had dared to speak out against him.

With a proud smile, he put his arm around Carlina. “Happy Birthday, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mylord,” she replied politely, just as everyone in the room expected. Then, she turned around to look at the courtiers as her father said, “Surely, my daughter feels honored to spend her birthday with such noble and courteous people.”

Restrained murmurs of approval interrupted him but as soon as he raised his hand, the crowd went silent again. “But this is not the only reason for our celebration today. I am delighted to announce the Prince’s engagement with Princess Amelié of Kalos.”

Bede’s smile faded in the blink of an eye. Even though he had assumed that his parents would make things official today, he didn’t expect to meet his betrothed in front of every aristocrat in the kingdom. Of course it didn’t help that he had no desire to meet her, let alone spend the whole evening with a girl he didn’t know.

A figure moving through the crowd caught his attention and for a moment, he closed his eyes, wishing that the princess would be at least a decent person, but when he opened his eyes again he realized that it wasn’t Princess Amelié who was curtseying in front of his father now. It was a woman, dressed in a simple, yet expensive looking gown. Her long hair was pinned up and decorated with barely noticeable beads and pearls.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted the king, her voice low and husky. “I deeply apologize for interrupting your wonderful celebration but Her Highness, Princess Amelié, will not be able to accompany us today. She fell ill a few days ago but she sends her kindest regards to the King and the Queen and their children. Her Highness particularly regrets that she can not meet her betrothed today but as soon as she feels better she would feel honored to pay her respect to him.”

“Please convey my get-well wishes to Princess Amelié,” Bede replied, knowing very well what his parents and everyone else in the room expected from him. He even managed to put on a smile. “And also assure her I am eagerly awaiting her visit.”

“Your wish is my command, Your Highness,” the woman said.

After that brief encounter, King Lewin lead the dance with his wife, followed by Carlina and Bede who wasn’t too fond of dancing but since it was his sister’s birthday, he couldn’t deny her request and he was more than surprised when he discovered that it was actually a lot of fun to dance with his sister. She was a natural talent, graceful and self-confident as they twirled round the dance floor.

It didn’t take long until a young duke asked the Princess for a dance, and after a few seconds of hesitation Carlina accepted the proposal. She gave her brother an apologetic smile but he stopped her with a wave of his hand and returned to the side of the dance floor.

Princess Amelié’s lady-in-waiting joined company with him just a few minutes later, gracefully curtseying when he greeted her with a nod. “Your Highness,” she said.

“Milady,” was the simple response.

She cleared her throat. “I have to say I am glad that I got the opportunity to be here tonight. It is a wonderful celebration. The princess must be thrilled.”

“She surely is,” Bede replied and darted a glance at his sister who was still twirling round the dance floor with that young duke. They seemed to enjoy themselves but Bede knew that they probably wouldn’t see each other again once this celebration was over. His father would never allow Carlina to marry someone of lower degree than her.

When the lady-in-waiting let out a deep sigh, he turned his attention back to her. She was looking at him with an annoyed expression. “You don’t understand, do you?” she asked. “I am not petite Amelié’s lady-in-waiting.”

“Oh, I realized that,” Bede replied flatly. “I knew it already when you spoke to my father. You know, as chance would have it, I have a bit of knowledge about Kalos and their traditions, and let me tell you, a lady-in-waiting there would never be dressed in a simple gown like yours.”

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise but just a second later, the blank expression was back. “I see. Well, it doesn’t really matter anymore. I got what I wanted.”

“And what would that be, Milady?”

“Talking to you,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I wanted to tell you how much I despise your family. You killed my little sister, you killed countless others and yet, here you are, throwing parties and wasting money, as if my people aren’t suffering because of your ignorance. I won’t let Lewin continue to destroy this country.”

“And what are you going to do about that, Milady?” he asked, the tone of his voice clearly meant to mock her.

“You’ll see, little princeling,” she promised and her lips curled into a sweet smile. “You’ll see.”

Masterlist  / Next chapter

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 2 of promises to keep is here!

[kristanna / 5 part 18th c scotland au / love and angst and kiltstoff in equal measure / rated t / 3k words this chapter]

masterpost

She wanted him to kiss her again, but he didn’t; he just looked at her with those dark eyes, not as sad as they were the day she had met him, but still a mystery to her. She wanted to know what laid in the depths of him, what thoughts and feelings made up the riverbed of his heart, turn over each little pebble of him until she’d memorized him inside and out.

chapter 2: one you can’t keep

“But I told him I’d have him, and lying’s a sin, Uncle,” Anna pleaded.

“Never known you to be the pious type,” her uncle said drily. “Don’t think screeching ‘sweet Jesus’ after tripping over your own skirts counts as praying.” 

She was at least lady enough to flush at the accusation, though when her cousin Callum snickered in the corner she stuck out her tongue at him, canceling out any seeming demureness her rosy cheeks might have granted. 

“And anyway,” Uncle went on, more solemn this time,  “I don’t intend to let you marry the blacksmith’s apprentice when I’ve got a MacKenzie and a Campbell both eager to have your hand.”

“But I don’t even know them.’

“And that’s why they’re still interested in you and not running for the hills, Annie dearest,” Callum teased, and this time the gesture she showed him from a hand held just out of her uncle’s line of sight was rude enough he burst out into laughter.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” sniffed Aunt Nellie, as dour as ever. “He’s not even one of us.”

“He’s lived with us since he was a wee little thing, or is your memory starting to fail?” Anna asked waspishly

“He’s just some Viking barbarian-- if he’s even telling us the truth about where he was born.”

“Vikings aren’t even around anymore, Auntie, I’ll have you--”

Suddenly her sister’s hand was tight around her wrist, eyes flashing with warning, but Anna went on anyway. “And anyway you sound like the bloody English now, calling people barbarians--”

A heavy fist slammed down suddenly onto the rickety wooden table, and they all jumped where they stood, even Callum looking suddenly grim.

“Watch your tongue, lass,” her uncle growled in warning. “You speak too lightly of matters beyond your ken.”

Anna opened her mouth, but Elsa’s fingers only clenched tighter, hard enough that she had to hold back a yelp of pain. She turned, eyes narrowed, but her sister only shook her head, a beseeching look in her eyes. Later, she mouthed.

“But Uncle…” Anna said, still determined to plead her case.

“Enough,” he snapped. “I swore to your father I’d see you and your sister both taken care of, and I’ve done all I can, have I not? I’ve kept you fed and clothed these last three years, and I’ve let your sister keep to her mourning clothes and let you run wild as you like, but the times for such things are past. It's time you started thinking of the good of the rest of the clan and not your own little whims."

"It's not a whim," Anna contested hotly, tears springing to her eyes, "and how would sending me off with some stranger do anyone any good? I know our lands and our people better than anyone, Uncle, and I'd do anything for--"

"Well," he interrupted, looking suddenly exhausted. "Well, lass, this is the best way you can help right now, I'm afraid. The world is changing around us, and we've got to change with it."

Before she could come up with another retort, a knock came at the half-open door, and she looked to see a man wearing a half-familiar tartan. “Lachlan MacLeod, I presume?” he asked, and her uncle nodded.

“Aye.”

Uncle gave Anna one last lingering glance. “Do yourself a favor and stop seeing that lad, Anna. It’ll only make it harder when the time comes for goodbye.”

---

“Kristoff? Are you here? I need to--”

She had seen him working at the forge before, but it was different this time, knowing now that not only could she look, but that soon enough-- if her uncle could be convinced-- she’d be allowed to touch all she liked, and the mere thought of running her hands over the broad muscles in his back she could see straining beneath his sweat-soaked shirt was enough to make her next words die in her throat.

He turned to look at her then, setting his hammer down and swiping his forearm across his face. Rather than mopping up the sweat that beaded there, though, he only succeeded in smudging ash across his forehead. “Here, let me--” Anna said before she could stop herself, tugging out her handkerchief and darting over to him.

For a moment he froze as she crossed over to him, rising up on her toes, but when he realized she still couldn’t reach him he leaned down. It was the work of only a moment to wipe away the black smear that crossed his brow, but her eyes met his as she did so, and suddenly it was difficult to do anything but breathe as he looked at her with such longing in his eyes, burning brighter than even the forge.

“There, now,” she managed to whisper, “much better.”

She wanted him to kiss her again, but he didn’t; he just looked at her with those dark eyes, not as sad as they were the day she had met him, but still a mystery to her. She wanted to know what laid in the depths of him, what thoughts and feelings made up the riverbed of his heart, turn over each little pebble of him until she’d memorized him inside and out. 

She realized suddenly that without quite meaning to she had lowered her hand to his chest, to just above the leather laces that had come loose over his heart. Her fingers trembled as she set them against the hard muscle there, but she flattened her palm all the same and was rewarded with the realization that his heart was thundering just as hard as her own.

“What did you come here to tell me?” he asked her, his voice low. 

“I’m afraid I’ve entirely forgotten,” she whispered, and he did kiss her then, his hands settling on her waist and tugging her flush against him, so close she could feel him gasp against her when she let her tongue flick over his lower lip. He smelled of ash and sweat and highland air, and she felt half-drunk on him as her hands roamed the broad expanse of his chest and the sturdy slope of his shoulders and up into the surprising softness of his golden hair.

“My God,” he groaned against her mouth, “how long ‘til I can take you to wife and spend every hour of the night with you like this?”

Her heart plummeted, and though she pulled back to look at him she didn’t let go. “I’m afraid I remember now why I had to come and speak with you.”

---

Night had fallen an hour ago, draping the hills in a velvet darkness embroidered by ten thousand shining stars, and the air was fresh and clear as the breeze floated past him, lifting the ends of his hair where it fell onto his collar. He leaned his head back as far as it would go, drinking in the majesty of it all, wondering how the greatest beauties the natural world had to offer him could be so vast and wonderful and still pale in comparison to her.

She would tease him for it, he knew, could hear her voice in the back of his mind telling him you’re turning into a poet, aren’t you, you great silly romantic brute of a man, but she would smile all the same and kiss his cheek and he’d know that secretly she liked to hear such things. He’d hardly seen her for the last two weeks, only passing glances and notes exchanged here and there as they dodged her uncle’s wrath, but at last she’d managed to grab hold of his hand long enough to whisper “tonight, at our place on the moor”, and the moment darkness had started to fall he’d climbed the hill where they had whiled away so many happy hours.

He heard a little whistle and turned to see her coming up the rise as fast as she could, skirts hiked up around her knees, and felt a grin spread across his face so broad he knew she wouldn’t miss it even in the darkness. “Your uncle’ll have my head if he finds out I’ve met you out here,” he called, just loud enough to reach her ears as he strode over to her as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

“Well, if he wants to get his hands on you he’ll have to wait his turn,” Anna laughed as she flung herself into his waiting arms. 

Kristoff folded himself around her, resting his cheek against the top of her head as his arms pressed her close to his chest, as if somehow he could shelter her from the rising storm with his own flesh and blood. She sighed contentedly, nestling her face against his shoulder, and something in his chest warmed.

“I’ve brought you a whole world of trouble by claiming you, my Anna,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry for it.”

“No use in worrying over it now. I’ll not have another, whether my uncle wills it or no,” she said, fierce as any warrior, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Aye, and I’ve a feeling he knows it, too. But I hope you know I’m not wanting to marry you just to spite him or for an old promise’s sake.”

“Oh? What would you do it for, then?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. “A hot supper and a warm bed? Something to occupy you on a rainy day?”

“For the love of you, you wretched little minx,” he laughed, tugging gently at a lock of her hair that had come loose, and she let out a surprised little gasp. 

“Oh-- do you mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he asked, feeling surprised himself now. “Why else would I meet you out here, now and as I’ve done ten thousand times before?”

“I….I suppose when you want something dear enough, it can be hard to believe it’s real even when it’s finally yours.”

The warmth in his chest was growing into a full-bodied flame. “That’s how I feel now.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Like nothing else in the world, and I always have, and I expect I always will.”

He leaned back so he could meet her gaze, gently brushing the hair back from her temples where the night breeze had blown it loose from its braid. Her eyes were bluer than any sky or sea he’d ever set eyes upon, and so full of love his knees felt weak beneath him. But he held steady for her, setting one hand carefully under her chin.

“I think I know a way, my love,” he said quietly. “To win your uncle’s approval.”

She reached up and curled her fingers around his wrist, a hopeful smile dawning over that face he’d dreamed of every night since she’d asked him if he still intended to keep his promise. “Then do it. Whatever it is, so long as it keeps us together.”

---

“Anna, come on,” her sister said, worry creeping into her voice. “They’ll be looking for us before long.”

“They won’t notice if we’re only a few minutes late,” Anna countered, peering through the blacksmith’s window for the second time.

“We were a few minutes late ten minutes ago. I thought you were tired of being left out of things.”

“I am, it’s just-- I don’t know, Elsa, I’ve not seen him hardly at all today, and I can’t help but worry.”

Her sister huffed out a sigh. “He’s probably been there for an hour already thinking you’d be early, and now he’s worried about you.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus, do you think he really-- why’d you let me go on looking for so long?” she demanded, already grabbing her sister’s hand and tugging her along in her wake.

“I tried to tell you,” Elsa said, sounding more amused than irritated, “but you were too busy rambling about his hands--”

She wanted to keep teasing back and forth like this; Elsa was so rarely in the mood to talk at all, but the worry was only mounting in her, tightening in her chest until it ached. As they crept down the stone hallway of the castle, even before they slipped through the half-cracked heavy oaken doors to stand at the back of the hall she could hear her uncle’s voice booming over the gathered crowd.

“...and I know I’m not a great man like my brother were, God rest his soul, but I’ve led you well as I could, and I’ll lead you now myself to put those bastards back in their place, and when I lead you home it’ll be to a new Scotland, led by her rightful king once more!”

So it would be war then, after all, like they’d been talking about for years. She had dismissed the thought, had thought her uncle had as well, but now--

A clamor of joy and bloodthirst and pride echoed through the hall then, loud enough she felt it rattling in her bones. She rose up on her toes as she searched frantically for a familiar golden head. He’s too tall for his own good, she thought desperately, why can I not find him--

And then she saw him in the last place she had been looking, never dreaming he’d be there, but by then it was too late to stop him; he was knelt before her uncle, his head bowed as he said his vow, and though she knew the sound of his voice better than her own all she could hear was a roaring in her ears.

---

He had only barely set foot outside of the castle when Anna was there, fury in her eyes and shaking voice as she confronted him.

“How could you do such a damned fool thing?”

“‘Whatever it is’,” he reminded her, “that’s what you told me to do, Anna, whatever it is that keeps us together.”

“And getting yourself killed will somehow do that?”

“Do you think me so weak I cannot survive a little skirmish like this?” he demanded.

“I’ve seen you nurse a rabbit caught in a trap back to health with bits of your own supper,” she said, balling her hands into fists. “How are you going to kill a man, Kristoff?”

“If it means getting home to you--”

“And if he beats you to it,” she went on, fisting her hands in the front of his shirt, “and you’ve gone and died and left me alone, then what am I-- what am I supposed to do without--”

A sob escaped her before she could stop it, and then his arms were around her, pulling her close to his chest. “Hush, my love, don’t cry,” he soothed her, running a broad hand up and down her back.

“A fine thing for you to say now,” she said, still as fiery as ever despite the fat tears rolling down her cheeks and plopping onto his shirt, “now that you’ve gone and told me you’re off to die like some grand bloody hero in a stupid war--”

“I’ll come home to you, I promise,” he said firmly, tightening his embrace. “I’ll always come home to you.”

“You and your promises,” she wept, beating one fist weakly against his chest, but still he didn’t let go. “Now you’ve finally gone and made one you can’t keep.”

“But I can. I’ll be back before the first snows, and that’s when I’ll marry you.”

She leaned back to look at him, her cheeks red and blotchy and lashes stuck together with tears. “I wish you'd do it now before you go. There'll be no living for me, not without you, and I want it to be your name carved on my stone.”

He hesitated. “I’ve no money as yet, and I want to do right by you.”

“I don’t care about money. I’d wander the moors for the rest of my days with you and be content.”

“Aye, and I’d be hating myself for it all the while. You deserve a little house, and a fire in your hearth, and a husband you can be proud of, and if I fight well enough for your uncle...maybe he’ll let me have you. And if not, well, then, at least I’ll have earned a bit of coin fighting, and it’ll be enough for us to start somewhere new.”

“But we could just leave, Kristoff, if we go far enough they won’t bother looking for you after much longer, and-- and we can--”

She trailed off, clenching her eyes shut and burying her face in his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple and let his lips linger there, murmuring as low as he could.

“I’ll come home to you, I swear, with a gold ring so bright you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“I don’t need a ring. I just need you. We can-- we can run away, Kristoff, just gather what you need and meet me tonight on the moor, and we can leave, go all the way to the colonies if we have to--”

Regret swept over him then in a sudden tide, and for a moment he could see it, the future he might have with her in a faraway place with no long-lost princes or vows of loyalty or cries for war, only her and a little house and the peace that hard work and a happy home would bring him. But it was too late; he’d made his vow, and he’d keep it, whether it brought him good or ill.

“Please, please just meet me tonight,” she whispered, her tears finally slowing as she clung to him. “And then we can go.”

He sighed. “Anna…”

“Think about it, at least. For me.”

“For you,” he agreed, pressing one more kiss to her forehead before he let her go.

[shochmonster]

84 Questions

original: https://fuckyeahsurveys.tumblr.com/post/61049002526/84-questions

Put your music player of choice on shuffle and list the first 10 songs Guns of Brixton - The Clash Holiday in Cambodia - Dead Kennedys  Chainsaw - Nick Jonas California - Joni Mitchell Make It Wit Chu - Queens of the Stone Age This Woman’s Work - Kate Bush The Bad Thing - Arctic Monkeys Between the Bars - Eliot Smith Drown - The Smashing Pumpkins Different People - No Doubt

If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? Would you take anyone with you? I’d take @duoloopo to the UK. I’d like to see places other than London.

What is your preferred writing implement? (eg. Blue pen, pencil, green pen)  I use my iPad stylus the most, but I have this heavy mechanical pencil I really like for drawing. 

Favourite month and why? October. I just love the fall vibe. 

Do you have connections to any celebrities (even minor)? List them. I went to undergraduate school with Rebecca Sugar. We used to ride the bus between NYC and DC together on holidays. 

Name 3 items you could pick up from where you are. Can of seltzer, pencil case, stack of bills

What brand logo is closest to you currently? REAL Skateboards

Do you ever play board games or other non-computer games? Got any favourites? I love Small World and Munchkin. 

A musical artist you love that isn’t well known Laura Stevenson and the Cans

A musical artist you love that is well known Red Hot Chili Peppers

What is your desktop background currently? Thomas Barrow on the beach in the Season 4 Christmas Special

Last person you talked to, and through what you talked to them @duomaxwell02 with my face :O 

First colour name you can think of that isn’t in the rainbow White

What timekeeping devices are in the room you are currently in? Two wall clocks, though one is very old and doesn’t wind anymore. I also have a clock @duoloopo ‘s dad made for me. It’s on the piano. 

What kind of headphones do you use? JBL Bluetooth, noise canceling 

What musical artists have you seen perform live? Foo Fighters (3x), Incubus (3x), Red Hot Chili Peppers, Smashing Pumpkins, Beastie Boys, Audioslave, Justin Timberlake, Troy Sivan, Arctic Monkeys, The Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, Queen (but with Roger Daughtry, not Freddy... for obvious reasons.). Probably a whole bunch of others I’m blanking on. 

Does virginity matter to you? Not really. 

What gaming consoles do you or your family own? PS4, PS2, PS1, XBox 360, N64, Gamecube, Wii, NES, SNES, various Gameboys, Nintendo DS, PSP

What pets do you have? What are their names? Two cats, Hemingway and Renji

What’s the best job you’ve ever had? I like freelance art gigs the best. As for ‘normal people jobs’, I once was a sign painter for Whole Foods. That was pretty fun, minus the work drama. 

What’s the worst job you’ve ever had? Food service. 

What magazines do you read, if any? I’ll pick up Time once in a while

Inspiration behind your URL? My classic original URL was LinkWorshiper and had been since AIM first existed. I picked it because Zelda was the first fandom I ever joined. Now I’ve changed all my handles (except on AO3) to reflect my actual name, as my literary agent thinks it’s more professional. 

Inspiration behind your blog title? Mean Girls. I always chuckle imagining Thomas and Jimmy as some Edwardian version of the Plastics. 

Favourite item of clothing? My Downton livery waistcoat. And the stiff bosomed shirt and collars I have to go with it. 

Are you friends with any exes? Nah. By the time I felt comfortable enough to possibly try, I also didn’t care enough to. 

Name at least one book you loved as a child. His Dark Materials (the trilogy by Philip Pullman). I still love them and am jazzed that he’s writing more these days. 

What’s your native language? If that language has distinct regional variations, which variation? (eg. AU English, US English) US English, mostly a northeastern dialect/accent

What email service do you use? Gmail

Is there anything hanging on the walls of the room you are currently in? So much stuff. I have a mood board full of Downtons stuff over my desk, various DA posters and memorabilia, plus some artwork I’ve done, and some of my JC Leyendecker collection. The aforementioned wall clocks, a San Francisco cable car bell, Sailor Moon and a few other little knickknacks, like my hamsa. To name a few lol. 

What’s your favourite number, and why? 212 because it’s Manhattan’s area code and also because it used to be the notation for one of my favorite ships in an old fandom. 

Earliest moment in your life you can remember? Sitting under the table and looking at my grandma, who was wearing a Cruella Deville dress she’d knit herself. Like, it had the actual Disney character on it. Pretty cool to a little guy, I guess!

What did you have for dinner yesterday? Quesadilla 

How often do you brush your teeth? Whenever they feel gross

What’s your favourite candy/chocolate? Lately, I’ve been into Junior Mints. 

Have you had other blogs on Tumblr? Do you have any other blogs currently? This blog used to have my old handle, linkworshiper. I did a small Whole Foods blog when I worked with them, but it never went anywhere. 

If you were suddenly really hungry, what would you choose to eat? Sushi

What fandoms would you consider yourself a part of? Downton Abbey, though lately I’ve been crazy busy and not as active as I once was. Casually still poking at old fandoms like Zelda and Gundam Wing to name a few. 

If you could study anything, what would it be? More art education can’t hurt. Maybe some formal history education. 

Do you use anything on your lips? (eg. Chapstick, gloss, balm, lipstick) Chapstick 

How would you describe your sense of humour? Seinfeld 

What things annoy you more than anything else? Mouth noises

What kind of position are you in at the moment? Sitting

Do you wear much jewellery? Nope

Who is the leader of your country, currently? Any other levels of government with leaders? (State, region, province, county, district, municipality, etc) Three supposedly equal branches of government, currently being run into the ground by a clown 

Last 3 blogs on your dashboard, not including any of your own @halcyondaze @mab1905 @lavender-hued-melancholy

What do you carry your money in? I try to never carry cash, but I carry a small wallet 

Do you enjoy driving? Why or why not? I like it but sometimes it feels like a chore, especially during a commute. @duoloopo thinks I’m a shit driver so she tries to drive whenever she can, which has pluses and minuses. 

Longest drive you have ever been on? Savannah GA to San Francisco, CA in a UHaul

Furthest away from home you have ever been? Germany 

How many times have you moved house? God, I don’t even know. More than ten. 

What is on the floor of the room you’re currently in, not including furniture? Cat toys, unused canvases

How many devices do you own which can access the internet? Phone, computer, iPad, various game consoles 

Is there is anything that is guaranteed to always make you happy? Thomas and Jimmy <3 <3 

Is there anything that always makes you sad? Thinking too hard about being a failure

What programs do you currently have open? I just rebooted, so only Chrome, Spotify and Photoshop

What do you associate the colour red with? This line in the Kate Bush Song Blue Symphony, which goes, ‘I associate love with red, the color of my heart when she’s dead.’ 

Last strong smell you can remember smelling? The Greek food I ordered in for dinner

Last healthy thing you ate? Roasted veggies

Do you drink tea or coffee, and how much per day? I prefer tea, and I drink coffee for energy, though sometimes I think it just makes me crash harder. 

What do you associate the colour blue with? The sky

How long is the closest ruler you can find? 12 inches

What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing? Dark blue

When was the last time you drank water? About a minute ago

How often do you clear your browser history? Rarely

Do you believe nude photos can be artistic, rather than erotic? Yes

Ever written fanfiction for anything? Oh God, yes. You can still find it under Link Worshiper on AO3, though some of my ‘classics’ have been removed since I turned them into original manuscripts 

Last formal event you attended My cousin’s wedding

If you had to move your birthday to another date, which one would you choose and why? Maybe inch my birth year up just by two so that I’d stop being called a damn millennial. At my age, I really just don’t relate to the generation even though technicalities make me a part of it. 

Would you prefer to be at a beach or in the countryside? Beach

Roughly how many people live in your town? 52,000

Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? Leonard Nimoy :D 

Favourite place to shop? Can be a certain store or a place where there are multiple stores I haven’t really gone shopping since the pandemic. Right now, it feels like the only place to buy anything is Amazon XD

Do you have a smartphone? What kind? If you don’t, do you want one? Samsung. It’s not a Galaxy but is a new model and a fraction of the price. 

What is your least favourite colour, and why? I don’t think I dislike any colors honestly. 

How do you spell grey/gray? Grey. I’ve got too many British online associates to ever go back. 

Go to your dashboard and describe the image shown in the radar section (below the “Find blogs” link) It’s Umbrella Academy fanart of Klaus. He’s in black and white with this hands over his eyes and the background is red. It’s very graphic. 

What difference is there between how many followers you have, and the number of blogs you follow? 736

How many posts do you have? 8,859

How many posts have you liked? I can’t find the stat D: 

Do you post mainly reblogs, or your own content? Mainly reblogs but I pepper in my own content when I can. Lately, I haven’t had time to do as much fanart though, and I kind of feel like it’s not worth bothering to post my original stuff. Nobody follows my blog for that. 

Do you track any tags? No. 

What time is it currently? 7:33 PM CMT

Is there anything you should be doing right now? Waking up @duoloopo. TIME TO JUMP ON THE BED. 

tagging, if they feel like it: @abbys-little-whippersnapper​ @bumblebarrow​ @irrationalgame​ @downtoncat​ @mab1905​ @duoloopo​

and everyone who I’ve forgotten

[arcticdementor]

Veteran NRx blogger AntiDem has been beating the drum for his message of escaping the cities while we still can on Gab (basically a right-wing Twitter clone). A small sample:

Stop comparing getting "canceled" by the Twitter mob to the gulag, you fags.

You have a way out. People in the gulag didn't.

Leave the big cities. Move to a small town in a red state. Work a blue collar job or open your own business. Now the Twitter mob has no power over you.

If you don't want to do that because you want a cushy, well-paid office job more than you want freedom, then I have no sympathy for you.

Blue collar bosses don't give a shit about the Twitter mob. If some SJW from Portland calls Gary's Auto Body in Guthrie, Oklahoma to tell them they've got a racist working for them, they'll get told to fuck off and hung up on.

Work for Gary, and you're safe.

Look, I'm not a huge fan of Atlas Shrugged, but there were a few points in it that were really good. One involved Hugh Akston, who works as a cook at a diner, but used to be a university professor before he got canceled for wrongthink. He works his blue collar job because he can't be canceled from it, and still gives out wisdom to those who ask. Unless you're willing to do the same, and insist on staying married to your cubicle job, you're a LARPer.

And on his blog:

And so, dear reader, I challenge you: It is time for you – for us all – to do something. Perhaps you can save the world. If so, I hope you do. But if you can just save the people around you by becoming a contributing member of a sane, stable, shock-resistant, and sustainable community, then you will have done a great service. Here is where I believe you should start.

The first thing you should do is to get out of the big cities, which history shows us are deathtraps in times of disruption. Here, a lot of ignoring of fools will be necessary on your part. First, you’ll have to ignore the leftist press and academia, which is already trying to gaslight the public into thinking that the coronavirus pandemic is a particular problem of the rural south instead of the big coastal cities like New York, a bit of ludicrous wishful thinking that a moment’s glance at actual data disproves. Second, you’ll have to ignore the fools who will try to convince you that big cities are the safest places to be in times of disruption, based largely on some 20th century examples of tyrannical regimes disarming the peasants and then taking the fruits of their labor by force in order to feed the cities. There are a few key fallacies involved in this thinking.

First and perhaps most obvious is the fact that in the United States (as opposed to Cold War-era communist states), the countryside is armed to the teeth and the cities are not. The late 20th and early 21st centuries provide no lack of examples of what happens when a traditional 2nd Generation army sets itself up in a nation’s big cities and tries to impose its rule on an armed and hostile countryside; as you are not fools, I need not tell you what the results of that have been. Second is the fact that the big cities are run by elites who hate you and want you dead, so turning to them for protection is plain suicide. Perhaps in a different era – say, in the East Germany of 1967 – you could have survived by keeping your head low and pretending to go along with the official ruling ideology. But we do not live in that age anymore – your skin is your uniform, and when trouble comes to the diverse big cities you will be targeted mercilessly for wearing it...

There’s a reason why smart elites in functional societies (as opposed to what we have now) have always kept country estates they could retreat to when chaos and disruption reared their heads. Heed their wisdom.

If any of you think I’m directing scorn at the mainstream media for their counterfactual attempts to convince people that the cities are safer than the countryside, I say: on the contrary, I welcome it. The more fools there are who stay in the cities believing that they’ll be protected from the effects of disruption, the better things will be for the non-fools who know better. When trouble comes, we’ll have enough of our own to care for without being saddled with saving big-city fools from the entirely predictable consequences of their own poor decisions. Let them stay where they are. And while I’m giving out counterintuitive thanks, I’d like to offer some to all of the Social Justice Warriors who have worked tirelessly to throw the Dissident Right off of social media, to get them fired from their urban cubicle jobs, and to render them unemployable anywhere except in the rural sections of deep red states. I know that for those who fear being “hurled into the void”, as the Zman puts it, this seems like the worst fate imaginable. But nothing could be further from the truth. What we on the Dissident Right need to do now more than anything else is to disconnect from the corporate and consumerist, to stop spending too much time on the internet, to get out of the diverse, polluted, crime-ridden, disease-prone, and degenerate big cities, and to start making things real in genuine communities full of people like us.

I moved out of the big cities a couple of years ago, and I can tell you from firsthand experience: It’s pretty comfy out here in the void. So come home, white man. Get out of the cities as soon as you can. Take a massive pay cut if you have to. Change careers if you have to. Stock shelves on the night shift at Walmart if you have to. But get yourselves and the people you love out of the cities before it’s too late – if it isn’t already.

(Yes, I understand the desire to stay in the cities. I lived in Silicon Valley for 25 years. I loved it dearly, and I desperately miss the old Valley of the 90s and 00s. But that world is gone, and it’s never coming back; we tread that path but once. And if nothing else, I can’t imagine trying to get through this crisis in my tiny old city apartment instead of my cottage with its yard out back and a hayfield out front.)

Which is all well and good, but I think he has forgotten one thing, and it is the most important thing of all: women.

Women are hypgermous; they marry up, not down. And no woman is going to marry a man who stocks shelves at Walmart on the night shift. Even if you can get a decent blue-collar job at Gary's, she is just going to divorce you eventually, as Nabil ad Dajjal explains:

I don’t know much about factory work but my dad was an HVAC mechanic for most of his working life and as much as I respect him I wouldn’t ever consider doing the same.

Skilled tradesmen like plumbers, carpenters, electricians, HVAC, etc can make solid money even without advanced degrees. In theory, you could support a family on that income. In practice, all that money you earn will go straight to alimony and child support since even a woman who dropped out of college herself will look down on you for doing manual labor and eventually divorce you. A college degree and an office job might pay less but it’s less embarrassing for your wife to tell to her girlfriends and in our family court system that counts for a lot.

Assuming that you can find a loyal wife, there’s another problem in the form of career advancement or the lack thereof. It doesn’t seem like there’s much room to climb the ladder: you can gain seniority within your job but it doesn’t seem like many tradesmen make it into management.

And:

Nobody has told you that, at least not that I’ve seen.

Blue collar guys get laid and most of them get married too. The difficult part for them is in staying married. Obviously divorce isn’t a certainty but you’re taking a substantially increased risk.

Money without social cachet isn’t much of a defense, as between alimony and child support most of that money would go to the ex-wife anyway along with the primary residence and car. Every marriage has ups and downs but with no fault divorce those downs can easily end up destroying your family and wiping you out financially. When accounted for properly, that’s a pretty substantial cost.

Now, AntiDem has pretty much gone full MGTOW after a series of disastrous experiences with women, so I guess he doesn't mind. And, believe me, I totally understand where he's coming from (especially with this, which is exactly what happened to me). But as long as there is a filial duty to reproduce in order to repay the debt to one's ancestors and carry on one's family name and bloodline, as well as a biological imperative to pass on one's genes and avoid becoming an evolutionary failure, on top of the cultural argument for having children ("the future belongs to those that show up"), we have a problem.

What, then, is to be done?

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 045: Superhero Names

Previously on BnHA: Everyone licked their emotional wounds from the sports festival arc. You wouldn’t think a simple sports festival would cause so many emotional wounds, but here we are. All Might hugged some kids. Iida visited his brother in the hospital. Todoroki visited his mom. Ochako’s parents came to cheer her up. Deku ate dinner. Bakugou brushed his teeth.

Today on BnHA: Aizawa wears an infinity scarf. Deku gets mobbed by people on a train. The draft pick totals are announced. The kids pick their superhero aliases. Somehow this ended up being one of my longest recaps ever because I went off on tangents like three separate times, talking about everything from the new volume’s character page to the stuff I think I might have been spoiled for by accident. Like, when I went back to edit this it was like whoa.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 104 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

looks like it’s the start of another new volume (and arc!), so let’s see what extras we’ve got today!

well there’s not much end-of-volume-5 stuff, but I did find this fascinating

honestly, this wrapped up in less than 20 chapters though. to me that’s incredibly fast. either way, I have to hand it to him, because the pacing was just about perfect. nothing dragged out to the point of becoming boring, and we didn’t waste time on anything we didn’t need to see, but we did get to see just about everyone have at least one cool moment. that’s about all you can ask for, really.

and lord, have you ever heard of a final battle in a tournament arc lasting just a single chapter?? I still can’t get over that ending. that just flew in the face of everything I’ve come to anticipate from a Jump manga, and once I realized what was happening it was as much a thrill as it was a shock.

apparently Endeavor was on the back of this volume cover the whole time. hey, Endeavor!! [deep breath] ...FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUU

all right, on to the new volume!

goddamn this series’s cover art is something else

is Iida even wearing his glasses here?? (ETA: nope!) 

he looks so cool and barely like the usual Iida at all

that Stain guy really fucking looks like Small Gia you guys. I apologize in advance if this ends up being something I never stop talking about

and I see Deku’s back in his original costume, but with a couple of upgrades. got what appears to be new gloves, some lines on his jumpsuit that I don’t remember seeing before (ETA: because they’ve changed color), reinforced collar/shoulder protection, and did he always have those big knee guards before? at any rate, it’s a vast improvement on the original look and I approve

what is this

why would Ochako dress up as a giant cancelled sign

and Deku’s Tokoyami hat is both so cute and so disturbing to me. cute because it’s so damn cute look at it, and disturbing because it’s realistic to the point of looking like his actual severed head almost

also are they working at a 7-11 or something. lol

volume title: “Struggling.” I’m feeling it. very relatable

all of the characters are wearing street clothes on the character page!

oh my god Aizawa’s infinity scarfff

SHOUJI WITH ONE OF HIS INFAMOUS PONCHOS

I CAN’T TELL IF DEKU’S ARM IS FUCKED UP FROM THIS ANGLE DAMMIT

DOES HORIKOSHI HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST DRAWING JACKETS/SWEATERS/BUTTON-DOWN SHIRTS THAT ARE A NORMAL LENGTH

BAKUGOU WILL JUST ALWAYS BE WEARING HIS PANTS LIKE A GOOD 3 INCHES BELOW WHERE THEY ACTUALLY SHOULD BE HUH

SHOUTO WITH THE THREE-QUARTER-LENGTH SLEEVED SWEATER. I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY ABOUT THAT. IT LOOKS REALLY GOOD ON HIM THOUGH

AIZAWA’S SCARF DESERVES ANOTHER MENTION EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY MENTIONED IT. BRO LOOKS LIKE LENNY KRAVITZ AND I’M HERE FOR IT

IT’S A CRIME THAT SO MUCH OF JIROU IS HIDDEN BEHIND IIDA’S GIANT FORTY-YEAR-OLD MAN HEAD BECAUSE I LOVE HER FASHION SENSE SO MUCH AND THAT JACKET LOOKS SO FUCKING FINE ON HER WORK IT GURL!!

LAST BUT NOT LEAST ALL MIGHT WITH THAT BLAZER. ALL MIGHT YOU LOOK SO DAMN GOOD, IF YOU WERE A PHASER ON STAR TREK YOU’D BE SET TO STUN MY GOOD MAN

like a fool, I didn’t scroll past the table of contents quickly enough and my eyes glanced over the title “Gran Torino Appears.” and that shit sounds fucking familiar. some part of my brain that picks up on subconscious clues is telling me that this person is All Might’s master. guess we’ll find out probably in the next chapter. or at the end of this one maybe

Deku is on the train to school and people are recognizing him

“wow you’re that crazy kid from the sports festival, right? you were just sooooo crazy you little wackadoodle.”

but actually he seems to be getting praise from them! some guy is giving him a thumbs up

and now he’s surrounded

this might not be so good, actually. these people are fairly harmless, but this could get out of hand pretty quickly. there��s a reason celebrities always have bodyguards around. and we live in a world without supervillains. these kids are just kids, but some of them have already become household names and faces, and we know that at least a couple of them have also attracted some villainous interest as well. they’re safe enough at school with the security there (I know, I know, but they must have learned their lesson after the last time), but outside is a different story

I’ve been meaning to bring this up at some point, and now seems as good a time as any: another thing I’ve been spoiled about is the fact that I’m pretty sure at some point, some or possibly all of the kids from class A move into U.A. dorms. I’ve seen dorms mentioned enough that I’m pretty sure it’s a canon thing (I wasn’t sure at first). so since then I’ve been on the alert for this to come up, and if/when it does, I’m thinking something like this might be the reason why

and since we’re on the subject, here is a brief list of the other (still relatively few) things I’ve been spoiled for/sort of spoiled for:

Aizawa’s ridiculously hot ponytail. also a scar that’s under his right eye, but I’m thinking that he probably got that during his fight with Noumu and I just haven’t seen it yet because he still had bandages on his face during the festival

at some point there is going to be something really angsty involving Bakugou. because I know I’ve had an irrational love for him since the start, but at some point it seems like something’s going to happen with him that causes just about everyone to feel sympathetic toward him lol. I have no clue at all what this thing is going to be though

this Bakugou angst is going to lead to some good BakuDeku shit. I don’t know what shit, but I can’t wait for it. I have a feeling it’s still a looooong ways out, though

(ETA: well we did have an arc where Bakugou got kidnapped, so for a while I was sure this was what all the angst was about. but now that’s done and things have quieted down again, and we still haven’t gotten that BakuDeku goodness, so I’m thinking there must be still more angst on the horizon! which, frankly, good. yes. moooooore bring me more)

there is some guy with wings I think. not sure what his deal is

I keep seeing Shinsou in a mask similar to Deku’s

lastly, I blame the anime for this because they’ve thrown in some filler related to it that no one asked for, but: I’m pretty sure I’ve seen All Might’s master. but I kept throwing my hands up in front of my face or looking away or closing my eyes whenever I realized what was going on lol. but he was writing a letter to someone in episode 13, and I figure it has to be this person. and I saw like a brief silhouette of someone with long dark hair. and I think I’ve seen fanart of this person before. I can’t quite remember the details of it but I feel like this person is probably the aforementioned Gran Torino? the good thing is it seems like I don’t have much longer to wait before I finally find out more about that one.

(ETA: so obviously the person in question with the long hair was Shimura rather than Gran. so I was spoiled but also not spoiled I guess, because even though I’d gleaned Gran’s name from somewhere, I never actually saw him until he made his appearance in the manga.)

anyways, that’s it as far as I can recall!

so Deku’s made it to school now but he’s really tired. probably from all the nearly dying two days ago

someone’s running up behind him in a raincoat, and this bulky frame with its awkward arm motions could really only be one person

yep

never does anything halfway, this guy

Deku says they’ve still got five minutes before the first bell rings, but Iida insists that “the students of U.A. make it a point to arrive ten minutes early!!” wow I really would not have done well in this school

Iida immediately tells Deku he doesn’t need to worry about his brother and he’s sorry if they caused him any concern

the way he says it and the way Deku stares at him and dots afterward makes me think there is indeed cause for concern though. plus, like. you were on the volume cover, Iida

looks like all the kids had strangers coming up to them and congratulating them on their efforts

WOW look how well Aizawa has them trained

EVEN BAKUGOU WOW. Sero and Kouda switched desks, Ochako sprinted twenty feet all the way her seat at the back of the room, and Kaminari fucking teleported into his seat out of nowhere damn

so let’s see if this man has that eye scar now, then!

yes!!!

holy shit, and this is going to be there for the rest of the series. I fucking love attention to detail like this

what is hero informatics class. that sounds like something Deku would excel in. Deku should probably teach the damn class

Kirishima says it’s stuff about “hero law and junk.” oh my god I instantly have so many questions

GASP!!!!!!

GOOD LUCK BEATING MY NICKNAMES FOR ALL OF YOU LOSERS. OH MY GOD I’M SO EXCITED LOL

also, they really let these kids pick out their aliases at age 15? granted, most of them have probably been thinking about this for nearly their entire lives, so it’s not just a spur of the moment thing. but still, that seems awfully risky. I hope they’re allowed to change them later if they wake up one morning cringing over the choice

ohh! but first, pro draft picks!

he says it’s based on who the pros think will be ready to join the workforce after another 2-3 years of experience... so after graduation, basically. or really whenever they turn 18. well that makes sense

he says it’s not a guarantee of anything though; the offers can still be revoked if things don’t pan out

jesus christ

the top four stole the show, but the top two are in their own fucking league

worth nothing that Bakugou managed these numbers even with his personality out there on full display as well

I think a large part of that has to do with the guy that raked in 4,123 draft picks. the fact that Todoroki is that powerful and Bakugou still managed to beat him in the finals. of course, that wasn’t him at full power though, which I expect Bakugou is still salty about and will be for quite some time

only 108 people recognized Momo’s utter flawlessness. that’s everyone else’s loss

and even fewer gave Ochako a chance, but at least she still got 20!

and of course the most notable thing about the entire board is the fact that Deku’s not up there at all, which is fully understandable since his power’s drawback was thrust into the spotlight. I can’t imagine any pro hero agency wants to deal with that. 

well, it’s just like he was thinking back in the last chapter -- he’ll just have to find another way to manage things

poor Aoyama is in a huff about not having gotten any picks either

Momo congratulates Shouto, but he says it’s mostly just his dad’s influence. I really hope he can break away from that eventually. basically his entire life has centered around his dad up till this point, first with him being trained as his successor, and then later when he became obsessed with defying him. I just want him to be able to go after his dreams for his own sake and have pride in himself on his own merits without worrying about his parentage and how that comes into it

Mineta is shaking Deku and telling him, “I told you you scared them,” and no one fucking cares about your opinion on anything Mineta. this isn’t news to anyone

anyhow, Aizawa says that whether they were picked or not, they’ll all get a chance to work with the pros as part of their education

oh thank god, he says the names are only tentative. “but you’ll still want to pick something appropriate.”

now someone else is cutting in and screaming “OR ELSE YOU’LL KNOW TRUE HELL”

oh my god please let this be some poor sap who got saddled with the worst superhero name ever

nope it’s just Midnight

but she says the name might end up being what the world ends up calling them, so they still need to pick carefully

oh, true... if something eventful happened and the media ended up reporting on it, what was previously a “tentative” name might end up becoming a permanent one just like that

then again, IRL celebs change their names all the time and no one usually bats an eye

also Marvel superheroes change their names a fucking lot too. “it’s Iron Patriot now.”

looks like Midnight is here to make sure they don’t fuck it up. Aizawa says he’s no good at that lol. you picked the best fucking name out of anyone, fucking Eraser Head

my gooood I’m so curious and so excited to see what they pick. I haven’t been spoiled for any of this at all, and I’ve barely done any speculating, because I tend to just pick the first thing that pops into my head and stick with it, myself

they only got 15 minutes to do this, but like I said, I can’t imagine a single one of them hasn’t already thought this out. at worst, a few of them might have a little trouble narrowing down like a top 2 or 3

oh my god Aoyama

it’s perfect

omg Midnight is so supportive and nonjudgmental. all she does is tell him it’ll be “easier” if he takes out the “I” and changes “cannot” to “can’t”

but are you really telling me that this twinkly little lad is about to make his debut as “cantstoptwinkling.” because that literally is a tumblr handle

Mina wants to be known as “Alien Queen”

also this finally all but confirms that her quirk is indeed acid. you all have no idea how long that speculation was eating at me

(ETA: pretty sure you do by this point since this is like the 10th time I’ve mentioned it haha)

Tsuyu’s up next! the best nickname I had for her was “frog girl.” she’s chosen to go as Froppy instead which is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life

OH MY GOD MY BOY KIRISHIMA WENT AND PICKED “RED RIOT”, FUCK YEAH WHAT A NAME. APPARENTLY IT’S DERIVATIVE AND HE BASICALLY STOLE IT FROM ANOTHER GUY NAMED CRIMSON RIOT, WHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN RADDER. BUT THEY’RE CALLING IT AN “HOMAGE” SO HOPEFULLY THEY’LL AVOID ANY LEGAL TROUBLE

speaking of people who want to pay homage, Deku has a whole fucking list of All Might tribute names

it’s a toss-up between “All Might Jr.” and “Mighty Boy”, clearly

I’m personally hoping for some kind of Alexander Dumas-related thing, going with the One for All theme, but I doubt we’ll go that route

(ETA: cuz we were saving it for the bad guy, clearly!)

Kirishima really hasn’t thought of a name yet??? dude, lightning is literally the easiest element to make a badass name from. see: Wikipedia’s list of fictional characters with electric or magnetic abilities. just fucking name yourself Zeus or some shit

Jirou tapped him on the shoulder and said “how about Jamming-Yayyy” and I'm pretty sure she was just fucking with him but he actually seems really into it omg

her face I can’t

(ETA: Jirou’s inability to keep from cracking up when Kami overuses his quirk is possibly my favorite running gag in the series)

so now we’ve got Jirou, Shouji, and Sero as Earphone Jack, Tentacole, and Cellophane. all good names, though Jirou really went full literal, there. just went for broke on being as straightforward as possible

though nothing beats “Tailman” for literal

Satou’s sign says “Sweets” hero and his name is Sugarman?? first of all, I LOVE IT, and second, DUDE WHAT THE FUCK. this guy’s really been out here the whole time with some kind of donuts power or something and he somehow passed the entrance exam with it and we still have yet to see it??

AND HOMESTUCK’S CHANGED HER NAME TO PINKY NOW LMAO

Kaminari ended up going with Chargebolt, and for some reason he wrote this longass math equation explaining it, just in case it somehow wasn’t clear

HAGAKURE LITERALLY PICKED THE NAME I’VE BEEN CALLING HER THIS ENTIRE TIME GOD BLESS YOU GIRL

THAT’S ONE OUT OF TWENTY. I’LL TAKE IT

Momo went with “Creati.” I... guess...

OH MY GOD SHOUTO JUST WENT OUT AND HIT A HOME FUCKING RUN

OH MY FUCKING GOD LMAO

BUT ALSO, IT’S ACTUALLY A REALLY PERSONAL DECISION FOR HIM, BECAUSE IT’S HIS FIRST NAME AND NOT HIS LAST, AND THUS REFLECTS HIS DETERMINATION TO CAST OFF ANYTHING RELATED TO HIS FATHER

BUT STILL IT’S LITERALLY JUST HIS FIRST NAME OH MY GOD I LAUGHED SO FUCKING HARD. THERE WERE TEARS

I KNOW WHO TSUKUYOMI IS THANKS TO ITACHI. THANK YOU ITACHI. COOL PICK, TOKOYAMI

FUCK YOU MINETA

MY SOFT ROCK BOY KOUDA IS GOING WITH “ANIMA” AND HE IS DESCRIBING HIMSELF AS A “PETTING HERO” AND I THINK I LOVE HIM

so by my count, that just leaves Iida, Ochako, and my sons

this boy really went and tried to put “murder” in his fucking superhero name

URAVITY

OMG

OCHAKO REALLY WENT AND PUT A FUCKING PUN IN HER NAME

?? Midnight’s saying that the only thing left is Bakugou’s revision? um Deku and Iida are sitting right there??

oh

I should learn to scroll down before I start to fly off the handle like that huh

oh FUCK ME

FUCK. FUCK

okay, so I’ve had a weakness for this very specific type of angst ever since KHR nearly did this to Yamamoto during the Inheritance Arc. in the end he was healed and he made it out okay though. but now, ten years later, Iida’s brother has been sacrificed to the gods of shounen manga angst, and they have finally been appeased. holy shit

so this is going to be a tribute to his brother then I take it

oh!!! his brother asked him to take his name and Iida had started to write it down but then erased it at the last second and put his own first name down, thinking that he wasn’t ready yet :’(

so now it’s just my lads

here goes nothing Deku!

oh my god

based on everyone’s reaction and that remark... lol this fucking guy

lol Kacchan’s face

WHY ARE WE CUTTING AWAY BEFORE I GET TO SEE WHAT BAKUGOU PICKED

oh! someone picked Deku in the draft after all!

All Might’s asking who it is -- OH MY GOD. THAT CHAPTER TITLE FROM BEFORE. DON’T FUCKING TELL ME

based on All Might’s response... yep

and then one last little jokey panel of Bakugou’s revised name “Loud Explosion Murder” lmao. they could be here a while

(ETA: THEY NEVER ACTUALLY REVEALED HIS NAME THOUGH OH MY GOD?? or did they and I somehow missed it? IT’S BEEN 60 FUCKING CHAPTERS. dude what the hell)

BONUS:

oh my god Present Mic is the one who came up with Aizawa’s name. this is probably Mic’s greatest contribution to human society.

young present Mic is adorable and young Aizawa looks like Gaara with messier hair

and today in “Horikoshi explains away plot holes that no one was ever going to care about in the first place”, we have Mina apologizing for mixing up the directors of Alien and Aliens

fucking incredible

[romancenerd]

How Could You ...

Klaus/ Liz

A/N: 2 out of 3 fanfics done this week! I’m so proud of myself and I hope you enjoyed the last one. This fic was inspired by a certain song which I will not say for a particular reason :)  *Answer is at the bottom*    Enjoy!!!

WARNING: This has mentions of cheating in here so if you have personal experience or this subject bother’s you I’d advise you not to read.

Summary: Klaus cancels yet another date to which Liz finds out the dirty truth. Can he fix what’s now broken?

Unhappy Ending

It was a beautiful day in Gedolune. Classes weren’t being held today in due of the nice weather. Students sat in the courtyard enjoying the beautiful weather. Couples cuddled close together by the lake opting for a date.

Everyone was enjoying the weather all but Liz. She stayed inside looking at her magical creature’s textbook reading the same sentence for 15 minutes. Klaus and her were supposed to go out into town today for a date. But only moments ago she received a magic note from him saying he was going to have to cancel due to prefect work. This was the eleventh date he’s canceled in a row.

Liz sat up in bed and closed the book. She gripped the pendant Klaus had given her during her trial to protect her. “Klaus …” She whispered and tears began to fall down her ivory cheeks. At the same time Amelia came into the room with their friend Chloe.

“Liz what’s wrong.” Liz quickly whipped her tears away and shot her a smile.

“Nothing why do you ask.” Liz said trying to sound cheery as normal.

“You expect me to believe that? Your eyes are red and swollen, and your cheeks are stained with tears?” Amelia then took a seat on the bed next to her. “Now talk.”

“Well … Klaus canceled our date again so he could do his work.” She pressed her lips hard together.

“Wait isn’t this the fourth dates he’s canceled?”

“Eleventh … actually.”

Chole who had been looking around came over to her and looked at her. “Are you sure he isn’t cheating you?”

Klaus would never be unfaithful to me, would he?  She continued to cry while Amelia and Chole comforted her.

“Well we don’t have any proof that he’s cheating on her.” Amelia started out when suddenly something inside Liz snapped. She was so sick and tired of everyone treating her like and idiotic child, she was tired of making mistakes. Liz had watched so many people walk out of her life before? What was stopping him now? Maybe he found someone else. Someone prettier, smarter, and better at magic than she was.

“I honestly don’t know what to think anymore.” Liz sighed she realized there was no use sitting around acting all depressed. It was a day off from classes. A day of relaxation.

Liz suddenly stood up and went over to her closet to grab her flats. When she turned to look back at the two her tears were long gone.

“How about we go into town for a little girl’s day then? Klaus is busy and I don’t want to waste a perfect day on what could have been.” Liz said with smile

“I like your way of thinking.” Amelia said and with that the three girls headed to town.

They went to multiple clothing and jewelry stores. They all even found dresses for the upcoming dance taking place next month.

“All this walking around is making me hungry wanna grab a bite to eat?” Amelia suggested to the group

“I couldn’t agree more.” Liz replied with a smile

“The two of you always think of nothing but your stomachs.” Chole said and suddenly they all burst out into laughter. They decided to hit the beautiful French themed café at the end of the block when Amelia stopped in her tracks.

“Amelia what’s the matter?” Liz asked. She didn’t respond but only pointed towards the café in utter disbelief.

Liz followed her finger and her heart dropped in her chest. There she saw Klaus on the outdoor patio of the café sitting next to a beautiful girl with dark brown hair and mesmerizing blue eyes and sharp jaw line. She looked as though she belonged on the cover of a magazine.

While Liz and her friends watched them across the street. Liz could see his arm wrapped around her and he was feeding her a piece of chocolate mousse. She giggled at the gestor and after accepting the dessert and swallowing. She did the same to him.

Klaus had a gentle smile on his face and suddenly the two of them kissed discreetly. That’s all it took for all the sweetness and kindness to drain from her body. Her heart shattered on the spot. Tears overflowed down her cheeks. She collapsed on the ground sobbing.

Amelia turned and knelled down to comfort her best friend in her time of need.

The girl Klaus was with her name was Emma Silverstone. She came to the academy two weeks ago and Klaus had been the one to show her around. She found she adored his personality. Once she gets her mind on something she takes it for hers. And nobody ever says no to her.

“Klaus is so dead! When I get my hands on him so help me god!” Amelia said with a threatening look on her face as she prepared to go punch some sense into him.

“Trust me Amelia you don’t want to go over there.” Chloe said

“Why shouldn’t I, he deserves everything he gets from here on out!”

“Oh, trust me I have better way of doing this.” She smiled wickedly

“How so?”                        

 “Now I have a plan and I want the two of you to play along.”

After the two listened closely to every word and detail Chloe spoke a dark expression appeared on Liz’s face. Klaus was going to pay for crushing her heart, and she was going to make sure of it. She put on her brave face and agreed with everything Chloe said. Right when Liz turned to walk away she could have sworn up and down that Emma looked at her with a nasty look plastered on her face.

Liz woke up the next day and attended her classes as normal and then made her usual run by Klaus’ office. She looked at the door and took a deep breath. She couldn’t screw this up no matter what.

She stood out the door for a few minutes before finding the courage to face her boyfriend. She then lightly tapped her knuckles on the door.

“Come in.” Klaus called, Liz then opened the door and stepped in. She set her bag in the nearby chair. Klaus glanced up briefly from his papers.

“Sorry I couldn’t keep our date yesterday Randy I had a lot to get done.” Klaus said.

She couldn’t believe he was going to sit here and lie to her face. Fine then she thought if he was going to lie then she might as well do the same but only better.

“Oh no its fine I understand how busy you are.” Liz said walking over to his chair. She pulled his chair out from under the desk. She came around in front of him and sat on his lap with both legs on either side of him. She then wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt him tense up.

“Well aren’t you a little bold today?” Klaus said smirking at her trying to hide his shame.

“No, I just missed you.” Liz said then kissed him passionately. Taking Klaus by surprise she noticed his mouth open slightly and used the opportunity to slip her tongue in. Chloe was a genius.

She told Liz to torcher him and make him feel guilty for everything on his own. Teasing him, flirting, and kissing him like no tomorrow to make him realize the mistake he made.

She pulled away and looked into his eyes but in the corner if her eye she noticed a slightly pink stain on his collar.

“What’s this?” She felt Klaus tense up more than he had before. “This looks like lipstick and if it is.” She paused and traced his jawline with her figure. “It’s certainly not my shade of pink.”

“N-no it’s from a potion I made earlier in one of my classes today that’s all.”

“Ah, I see.” Liz giggled she watched as he squirmed slightly under her. “Well do be more cautious next time, I have to go meet up with Amelia. I promised I would help her study for her next test.” She got off Klaus and kissed him deeply again. “Bye.”

With that she collected her bag and left out of the room. Klaus let out a huge sigh of relief that she hadn’t know. He didn’t know what to do if she found out he was seeing Emma as well. Klaus chuckled and shook the thought from his head thinking she never would. But little did he know how wrong he truly was.

As Liz turned the corner down the hall. She was furious. He lied right to her face. She knew imminently that it was lipstick she saw Emma wearing it on campus today. Did she mean nothing to him anymore? A single tear slipped from her eye as she continued to her dorm.

Chloe came to our room later on that night and told us how she saw Emma and Klaus’ rendezvouses while class was still in session before Liz showed up to his office. Chloe had been following Klaus around all day so she could get as much dirt on him as she could.

Amelia and Liz listened to Chloe as she told them about all the things she saw them doing. She told them Emma had him pressed flat against the desk in the library while she aggressively kissed his neck. Then she saw them kissing and cuddling in the courtyard.

“Klaus will pay if it’s the last thing I do.” Chloe spoke. “Liz, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry I ever loved him.” Liz said and she walked over to her bed and buried herself in the safe cocoon of her sheets. Let the pain of heartbreak take over.

The next day after Liz came to his office she leaned down to kiss his neck just as he done to Emma. She then smelled cheap perfume that lingered on his clothes.

“Why do you smell like a grandma?” Liz said commentating on the perfume.

“Oh um … I was helping a student today.” Klaus said a little uncomfortable

“I see.” Liz smiled and pressed a tender kiss to his neck. “Your so kind Klaus that’s one of the things I loved about you.”

Klaus didn’t understand how Liz became so bold overnight but something about the sentence she spoke seemed off to him. But all he could think of were her kisses along his neck.

After she left. The guilt was starting to slowly seep in. He was conflicted in that one moment and Klaus ran his hands across his face and Emma soon came in. Emma draped herself across him and softly spoke in his ear. “You, don’t need a nobody like her. “He took one look at her and knew this wasn’t what he wanted. He got up and stormed out of the office leaving Emma by herself.

When Liz arrived near the prefect’s office Liz heard the sound of glass break followed by shouting. The door opened and Liz hid behind a nearby pillar. Emma then came out with tears streaming down her face. She waited awhile before slowly entering the room.

“What happened here?” Liz asked she saw a broken wine glass on the floor. She walked over to him and ran her hand down his chest noticing the stain from red wine.

“Well I’m not quite sure to be honest.” Klaus said and pushed his hands through his hair.

“Are you okay?” Liz could see the trouble in his eyes. Even if he didn’t love her anymore she still loved him with all her heart.

“No, listen could you go ack to the dorm I have a lot on my mind and I need to sort some things out.”

“Oh of course.” Liz said and looked down. She couldn’t understand what they were arguing about but she didn’t dare ask. She didn’t want Klaus to know she knew that he was cheating so she left it alone.

She turned to leave and suddenly Klaus grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. He grabbed her chin and kissed her gently. Liz had mixed feelings about it. She pulled away and grabbed her bag and left.

She tomorrow she had to end it. Did he not understand he was slowly killing her heart bit by bit? No matter how bad she wanted to keep him she knew he was no longer hers.

Klaus sat in the chair in his room. The fight Emma and he had didn’t not end well. Klaus had called it off. She was furious and said some nasty things about Liz. That set him on edge. Before he could say anything, back Emma threw the wine glass she was drinking from to the floor with all her might causing wine to end up on his shirt.

Klaus knew he was doing the right thing. But hoped with all his heart Liz would never find out.

Finally, the day arrived. Liz could barely manage to get herself out of bed. She slowly but surely walked towards the prefect’s office Chloe and Amelia came up to her.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Amelia said with concern.

“No, but I can’t live my life with him pretending I don’t know. I’m going to do it quickly. In and out.” Liz said then Chloe handed her the envelop, Liz opened it and put her pendant into it along with the letter she poured her heart into.

She couldn’t sleep last night with all the thoughts of Klaus running through her mind. She decided to write them down to help calm her thoughts to help her sleep. What was supposed to be a stress reliver turned into a goodbye note to her lover.

Liz walked up to the door and placed her head on the surface. She had some amazing memorize with Klaus that she would cherish forever.

She knocked on the door for the last time. She heard the man she loved so dearly respond from the other side.

“Come in.”

As soon as Liz walked in she went right over to him and looked in his eyes as tears started to fall. He imminently noticed her pendant was missing. He was the only one to ever notice the smallest of details about her even the changes.

“Liz why aren’t you wearing your pendant? Why are you crying?” He reached out whip her tears away but she stepped away before he could.

“I love you Klaus with all my heart. But seeing you deceive and lie to me breaks my heart. I hope your happier with her then you were with me.” She saw Klaus face take on a look of surprise. He knew that she knew he cheated on her. “This is goodbye.” She kissed him one last time and threw the envelope on his desk and stormed out.

“Liz wait…!” His words were cut off by the door slamming shut.

Even after all that happened she still loved him and she realized no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t forget him in a million years.

Klaus stared at the envelope on his desk he hesitated about opening it. He didn’t know what he would find. But he reached forward and opened it. He pulled everything out. The first thing that captured his eye was the pendant he gave her. He held it in his hand and he grazed his thumb over the design.

He remembered the day he gave this to her. He wanted to protect her with all his heart and he still did. A strange feeling was building in his chest.

He then noticed a neatly folded note and he instantly recognized Liz’s hand writing. It read:

Dear Klaus,

I know. I know everything. Your kisses your affection and love where all beautiful lies. Its over I can’t be with you knowing all of this. I gave you several chances to tell me the truth and you didn’t. I love you Klaus. I love you more than you realized. The moment we meet was the best day of my life and making you happy was all I could think about. If that’s with Emma then I will let you go. Your smile is engraved permanently in my mind along with your touch and taste. I won’t ever love anyone the way I loved you. Please be happy Klaus. I love you.

-Liz Hart

At this point Klaus was in tears. He didn’t mean to hurt Liz. She was the only girl for him. Emma meant nothing to him. If it meant losing Liz forever he was better off about her. He then grabbed his cloak and ran out of the prefect’s office as fast as he could go.

He happened to run into Amelia and Chloe talking while he was on his search for Liz. He ran up to them and watched as their faces turn to disgust.

“Have the two of you seen Liz?”

“You have some nerve…!” Chole snapped

“Look I don’t have time for this!!!”

“You already ripped her heart out Klaus and shattered it I don’t think she wants to see you right now! WHY DON’T YOU RUN BACK TO EMMA AND JUST FORGET ABOUT LIZ!

“NO! DAMMIT!” After he shouted the three of them became silent until Amelia spoke up softly.

“You really hurt her Klaus.”

“I know but after getting that note and seeing the hurt look on her face … I messed up big time and I regret everything. Liz doesn’t deserve this.

“So that means?”

“I left Emma, I love Liz more than I released I made a mistake. If anyone should feel hurt it’s me. Please tell me where she is. I know I don’t deserve her after everything but let me try to be the man she needs me to be for her.”

Chloe and Amelia exchanged brief glances. They could tell how serious Klaus was.

“She’s at the spring in the northern woods.” Chloe said

“Thank you, you won’t regret it.” With those words Klaus took off at a full-on sprint through the woods.

Klaus still loved her and she still loved him. But was it enough to get her back?

 * I’m sorry for the cliff hanger but there’s a good reason for it! So, I want to make 2 endings to this a happy ending and an unhappy ending. I quoted a song 3 times and whoever can figure out the name of the song is and who sings it I will be letting that person pick which ending comes out first. This is a little difficult so you’re going to have to really look I’m not so sure about how this turned out I would appreciate some feedback. Thank you for reading! *

[baka-monarch]

What if I finally wrote my FNAF OC's backstory from middle school after 3-5 years? (I kinda abandoned her after all that time)

Cecile was the top of her class in college, already finding new ways to code and engineer robotics even though school had just started a few months ago. She was several classes ahead of her peers from the college classes she had in high school, classes that even surpassed her older brother.

Cecile and her brother had a loving family, but like most parents, there were still favorites. Originally it had been her brother, since their parents thought that she could never succeed due to her autism. At least, it was him until Cecile started getting contacted by colleges and certificates due to her being smarter than what was average.

It didn't take long for her brother to become jealous.

Recently, in one of her robotics classes, a man by the name of Henery Emily had come to teach their class a few things about his animatronics he had build for Fredbear's Family Diner. When her brother heard about this, he got an...idea. One that was inspired by the disappearances of many children there.

So he git a job for the day shift there. Entertaining children, making pizzas, cleaning....the ball pit. All for one goal.

...

Cecile had known her brother had a job at Fredbear's for a while now and was always asking him questions about the animatronics, the games, everything. It was so...fasinating to her. She just wanted to know how it all worked!

So when he told her that he'd take her backstage and let her study the suits. She called in sick to school, canceled all her plans, and made sure to show up early to Fredbear's to have lunch with him.

As Cecile walked into the diner, she had a huge smile that would be impossible for anyone to erase.

"Heyyy, Cecile, your just in time. I'm about to go on break." Her brother said as he approached.

"Good! I hope I wouldn't get here too late!" She rushed through her words as she bounced on the balls of her feet with excitement.

"Calm down, lil' sis. Let me clock out first, then you nerd the fuck out." He chuckled as he headed to the back to clock out. Cecile excitedly sat at a booth to wait. Well, try to wait. This was just so exciting! Not even the Henery Emily let her class even approach the suit he brought.

"Alright, you ready?" She jumped as her brother's voice surprised her. She had been distracted by her thoughts of Nuts and Bolts. She attempted to respond but just couldn't get the words out so she just nodded vigorously instead. He chuckled again, then pulled a key out of his pocket. "Follow me." He lead her through several hallways and past many party rooms. All the way to the back. "Here it is." He said as he stopped in front of a blank wall.

"Where?" She glanced around. "There's nothing here?"

"Oh, but isn't there?" He inserted the key into a slot in the wall that she hadn't seen before. After he turned it, he pulled on the wall revealing a door that lead to a secret room where there seemed to be several unassembled animatronic parts and one fully built prototype one. She looked into the room with her mouth agape. It was so amazing! "Well?" Her brother jestered in.

"Oooohhhhh, hell yes." Cecile quickly entered the room, her brother pulling the door closed and locking it behind them. "What is this room?" She leaned over the and messed with a few of the mechanisms in curiosity.

"It's one of the safe rooms." He explained. "They're hidden and soundproofed from the rest of the restaurant, with only a few people knowing about them."

"And you have access to them?"

"No, Mr. Afton just forgot to hide the key in his office one day." He pocketed the key casually, knowing it unwise to mention that this was the only key and the disturbing suit he'd found in here the first time...the same one that gave him his idea.

"Awesome." She breathed as the started messing with the plating on the suit laying there. "Hm...interesting..."

"What?"

"This suit. It isn't like the other ones...it has metal plating, and...skin? Wait, no it's synthetic!" She peeled some back. "Amazing..." Even the hair on this one looked real like it was made to look more human.

"What's that?" Her brother asked, pointing over her shoulder at a small, coin-like, chip.

"I don't know, I've never seen technology like this. I can't even tell how someone would put this on..." She mumbled. Those words were almost like a que to her brother as he smirked.

"Well, I do." He maneuvered around the table to be in view of his sister. "And I can show you. How would you like to wear a Fedbear Family Animatronic?" That got his sister's full attention.

"Really? You can let me do that?" Cecile's eyes sparkled at the idea.

"Of course I can, you don't see any of my bosses around do you?" He smiled.

"Show me how to put it on."

...

A few moments later Cecile was encapsulated by the prototype suit. To finish the effect she had even figured out how to turn on the chip, giving the suit the full illusion of being human.

"This is amazing!" She looked at herself. "It's like being in another body! Not only that but the spring locks appear to be more secure on this suit than the other ones!" She exclaimed excitedly.

"Spring locks?" Her brother questioned.

"Yeah, the parts that are cracked back to stop the mechanical parts from harming the person wearing it." She explained. Then looked at her brother. "I... Thought you knew that. If you work here." She wondered aloud.

"Oh, I do know that." He smiled. "I just wondered if you know how... Deadly they can be." His eyes gleamed as a certain unsettling smirk found its way onto his face.

"Yes... The-the failures of them can be fatal." Her brother took a step towards her and she instinctively took one back.

"What's wrong? 'Lil sis?" He got even closer, that sickening smirk growing into a terrifying smile. "Scared?"

"No..." Despite what's he said, she took another step back.

"Ya know if I remember correctly, one of the easiest ways to deactivate the spring locks is by starting with the ones on the neck, right?" He wrapped his hands around the collar of the chest plate making her gasp.

"J-Ja-" As she tried to say his name she ended up cutting herself off as he pulled the spring locks and she screamed. Cecile collapsed to the floor as the mechanisms began to dig painfully into her skin. The pressure was so much more than any pressure she had felt before that she was soon losing consciousness.

As darkness surrounded her vision, she looked up. All she could see was her brother's smiling face.

...

When Cecile came to she was behind the diner in one of the dumpsters. As she looked down all she saw of herself was a bloodied mangle of wires and metal.

Nearby was a toolbox and the coin like chip from before.

It was a good thing she had gone to school for engineering.

[ohmytheon]

since you're excited about Gendry returning and the image of you writing while holding your baby in a wrap is hilarious, can I please have Gendry wearing his baby in a wrap while Arya is out and about and she comes home to find them both asleep on the couch? whenever you have time again is fine :)

Oh my god. This is perfect. Shit, I’ll just make it a continuation of this fic. A fair warning: I put next to no thought in their kid’s name. I just thought up a meaning, looked up some names, and picked one.

Ryder would not sleep. Look, Gendry loved his son – loved him more than he’d ever thought himself capable of loving anything – but the boy would not allow Gendry a moment’s rest. Every time he thought the kid was out for the count, he’d lay him down – and then seconds later, Ryder’s eyes would spring open, he’d kick the blanket off, and let out the loudest wail. It shouldn’t be possible for a baby of a month old to be so loud. It was ungodly.

It didn’t help that it pulled at Gendry’s heart in a way that he’d never thought possible. He’d considered himself hard – had to be considering how he’d grown up alone – and he’d heard children cry before. Growing up in an orphanage did not allow for an easy, soft, quiet childhood. But there was nothing quite like hearing his own son cry. It jerked him away from whatever he was doing. It broke his damn heart.

All Gendry had been trying to do was take a piss for the past hour, but every damn time he laid his son down, Ryder would cry out and Gendry found himself rushing over to him. The last time he’d tripped over his undone pants and nearly sprawled face first on the ground. A little crying wouldn’t hurt Ryder – how many times had he said that when he lived at the orphanage? – and yet somehow it hurt him now that it was his own child.

Weak. Even worse, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Ryder knew it.

And so that was how Gendry found himself pulling the baby wrap out that he’d seen Arya wear so many times before. It was so long and looked so complicated, but he was willing to try anything and Ryder seemed to like it. Must have had to do with being snug up against Arya. That was one thing they could both agree on. First, he had to look up a youtube video on his phone about how to put it on while walking around holding his son with his other hand. Second, once he seemed relatively okay with how it worked, he had to put it on. That meant setting Ryder down, which he didn’t like, so Gendry rushed to finish.

After getting it on (at least he thought it was on right – it was so tight), he picked up his son and soothed him again. It was a quick affair. Once Ryder realized he was being held, he would stop crying and look around inquisitively. Getting him in the baby wrap was another thing altogether. Both father and son squirmed trying to get it to work. Ryder scrunched up his face once fully inside and let out a single cry before Gendry could sooth him and start walking around the house, bouncing his stomach instinctively.

Ryder looked up at him almost curiously, half-confused, as Gendry stared down at him, willing him to close his eyes and fall asleep. He felt utterly ridiculous, like he was a kangaroo, but it was all he could do to calm the kid down.

“C’mon, c’mon, go to sleep,” Gendry mumbled, glancing away every time his son tried to connect eyes with him. If he did that, then he’d wake right up, as if able to sense Gendry’s weakness. The kid was an assassin when it came to his parents’ sleep, utterly merciless.

Ryder’s eyes opened and closed, staying closed more often than not after a while, until finally they stayed closed. His mouth was wide open as he breathed, making cooing noises and grunts as he did in his sleep. Gendry paused in his pacing and let his head fall back so that he could sigh in relief.

Finally, he could pee.

So, wearing his sleeping son in Arya’s baby wrap while taking a piss – that was one thing Gendry could check off the list of things he never thought he’d do but found himself doing anyways. Parenthood was a lot weirder than people gave it credit for. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d forced his mom into this position. He wished she was still alive just so he could apologize to her.

To be honest, he tried not to think about his mom very often in connection with his son. It made him feel…despondent. Lonelier than ever before. Arya’s parents were wonderful grandparents – very doting and helpful in every way and nice, especially considering the not-so perfect circumstances around the pregnancy – but sometimes he missed having someone on his side, parent-wise. Mya was great as an older half-sister and aunt, but she wasn’t his mom.

Just anyone that he could ring up and ask for advice from someone that knew from experience would’ve been nice.

After taking care of a few more things around the house (in all honesty, Arya was terrible about cleaning), Gendry eased himself down on the couch. He could’ve taken Ryder out of the wrap, but he was still sleeping soundly and Gendry hated the idea of disturbing him. There was even a little smile on his face, like he’d won at something. Yeah, won at bossing his dad around and getting what he wanted. Arya never folded so easily.

But Ryder was his son and Gendry really, really loved him.

After finding something on the tv, Gendry settled down and prepared for an hour of just holding his son. Sometimes, that was all it would take to get him to sleep, and sometimes it was the only thing. It was Gendry’s day off from the shop though so he really didn’t mind cuddling with his boy. Arya never questioned on whether or not he was capable of watching after a baby while she attended the classes of her last semester, even though he was a guy, and he didn’t care when the guys at the shop teased him over it.

What was the point? He couldn’t figure out why they would tease him. Gendry wanted to be a good and involved father. So what? Idiots, the lot of them.

Ryder was a good boy and a good baby. Gendry just wished that he’d sleep more often without them having to hold him. It meant that they didn’t get much sleep themselves. They had help, of course, but both of them were admittedly stubborn and tried to do so much themselves.

Luckily Arya only had two more classes so she didn’t have to go to school full-time, but Gendry was working over fifty hours a week to make up for her not working. She’d offered, but he had told her no. He knew she didn’t want to admit it, but she was happy to take the time with their son. Eventually, she would want to go to work, but he wanted her to be able to focus on school. She was graduating after this semester. He didn’t want her to be stretched too thin.

Except this had been a sixty hour work week for him and he was more than exhausted. Ryder had been extra clingy this past week for no reason that they could figure out. All Gendry wanted to do was take a thirty minute nap, but he was afraid to do that while holding a baby. Wasn’t that dangerous? He didn’t want people to label him a bad or lazy parent. That scared him more than he liked to admit.

However, his eyes kept opening and closing just as his son’s had done an hour ago. Gendry snapped them back open, focusing on the television, only for them to drift close again. He was fine. He wasn’t that tired. He could stay awake. He was fine–

“Gendry, Gendry,” a voice called to him, accompanied by a shoulder shake.

Blearily opening his eyes. Gendry found himself face-to-face with a grinning Arya. With one arm still protectively wrapped about their son, he pushed himself up on the couch. “You’re home early. Was class canceled?”

“Uh, no, I just got out,” Arya told him, pointing at the clock.

Gendry would’ve jumped off the couch had he not been holding Ryder. “Shit! I fell asleep!��� He looked to Ryder up to Arya, a harried expression on his face. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to–”

“You’re okay,” Arya interrupted with a laugh as she stood up straight. “He seems happy. Look at that face.”

Indeed, there was that little, content smile on Ryder’s face. He had his arms up and one hand grabbing at the collar of his shirt. Gendry sank down in the couch, relief sweeping over him. He’d been told so many horror stories about parents falling asleep with their children that it had kept him up at night. But everything was okay. He even felt better now that he’d napped. Ryder would wake up to eat soon and everything would be fine.

“You two have a good day?” Arya asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Gendry replied, thinking about that hour Ryder wouldn’t even let him use the restroom.

Arya shot him another grin. “You certainly looked cozy. The snapchat I sent everyone was positively adorable.”

Gendry flopped back on the couch. “Arya–”

“What?” Arya chimed innocently. “Sansa loved it. ‘Most guys wouldn’t nearly be as comfortable taking care of a baby alone,’ according to her. You’re a role model, an inspiration.”

All Gendry could do was blush, but while he was a little embarrassed – Arya loved to take goofy pictures of him on snapchat and it had only gotten worse since Ryder was born – he wasn’t unhappy. It was…nice. Very different and completely unexpected, but nice. He and Arya had never planned on having a family (at least not so soon) and while it had taken a lot of adjusting and hadn’t always been pretty or easy, they were finding their way and making their own path. He suspected it would always be like this – one big guessing game – but they were in it together.

Now, if only they could sleep together at the same time, that would be great.

[parigrin]

He winced as he scrapped his knee against the side of the wall, his heavy drenched clothing squishing wetly against his white feathers. He smelled, he hurt, and he hadn’t eaten since that morning. If he’d eaten at all. He couldn’t quite remember, and it didn’t seem as important when compared to the sheer enormity of everything else that had happened that day. He got up and threw himself back into the task, scrambling to find enough space to press himself through the opening to the sewer drain. He’d seen a raccoon go down one of these before while waiting for a gig that had been canceled without notice and while he was no pesky procyonid, he was certain that If! He! Just! Through! Enough! Back! Into! It! He would somehow manage to get himself out. That or he’d be stuck down in the gutters for an eternity and he’d either go mad and start feeding on rodents to survive or meet some subterranean adolescent abomination with a thirst for pizza and a curious knowledge of ninjutsu. Whichever came first. He fell again, this time on his back and he gasped in pain, suddenly winded. He gave himself a minute to catch his bearings. Still hurt. Still Alive. Still needed to get out. He got up again, this time giving himself running space and hurtled himself up into the air. The pain of impact was immediate, fire breaking across his beak, he tasted blood where his all too sharp teeth had bitten into his tongue and a nearly overpowering crescendo timed with the beating of his own heart crashed over him, but above all that was a feeling of steely determination, because this time, unlike his other tries, he had managed to hook his hands out the opening. If he could just pull himself through, he’d finally be free of the dark and dreary tunnels. He pushed his arms out, wriggling and wreathing like a worm on a hook, scrapping his body this way and that, ripping feathers loose from their roots, breaking the exposed skin underneath those feathers in more places than he could count. He needed to get out. He couldn’t stay down here. The mantra repeated ad nauseum in his head. If there was a word that could accurately encompass exactly what was going through his mind, it escaped him. He felt the racing thrumming burning energy of his emotions coursing through his body, shocking him with the striking intensity of it, whatever “it” even was. He wanted it to stop. But a bigger part of it needed it to continue. He felt something creak dangerously around him and he pushed his face flat against the grown and tasting cloying dirt and gritty asphalt on his tongue, as he twisted his body up, kicking his legs against the walls below to give him some sort of leverage to help him maneuver himself out of his current predicament. It concerned him to know that despite the pain, despite everything else that was going on that he really should take more time to process, he was having more fun than he had in years. It was almost like he was on set again, and by the Late great Adam West did he miss the old show. He grunted as he carelessly scraped a foot against the unforgiving sewer walls. He’d kept in shape and was remarkably spry by most people’s estimation, but at his…mature… age perhaps climbing around in sewers was beneath him. He sighed, breathing deeply and went back to it. Jim knew he’d been in a rut for years; his feelings had been limited to boredom and anger and a desperate desire to free himself from one or the other. What he felt now, as he pushed himself agonizingly forward and rocked his hips to and fro until half of his waist was now successfully protruding from the mouth of the sewer, was none of the above. But though he might be enjoying himself, as much as he wanted to play the role of Darkwing, it just wouldn’t come to him as easily as he felt it should. Whatever emotion, whatever drive he now felt coursing through him was so unconnected with what he typically associated with his “Darkwing Persona” that it might as well have been from an alternate universe for all they had in common. It was angry and buzzing and he wasn’t entirely sure he liked it. Really wasn’t sure at all. But he reasoned, continuing to thrash about like hooked trout, it had still managed to galvanize him into action and that was more than could be said of anything he’d felt for more years than he cared to admit. The exasperation he felt as he tried to free his behind from the great gaping maw it was currently trapped in made him feel more aware, more present, more like the “old” him than he could honestly remember himself being since the realization had finally sunk in that no matter how many petitions his old fans  threw together, there would be no miraculous resurrection from the grave of cancellation for his old show. He flailed against the cement holding him in place before he finally felt himself push forward, and the momentum of his thrusts carried him nearly all the way out. He’d caught his feet on the sides of the opening, but, by pressing his hands against the edges, he managed to finally remove one, then the other entirely. He let out some steadying deep breaths and hoisted himself on top of the curb to catch his breath. After gaining control of his bearings he scanned his surroundings and tried to piece together where he was. It was somewhere alarmingly close to the Beagle’s junkyard, he knew that much from having passed by the place before, but with the night shrouding everything in shadow, the specifics eluded him. He looked up at the cloudy sky above and pondered his new path for a moment, speculations on how often he’d be forced to pull himself out of sewers in the future were first and foremost in his mind, then shook his head. He wouldn’t go back to the way he was living before. He couldn’t, not really, thanks to the doppelganger. He had never really put much stock in the supernatural. His knowledge in its presence had come from the daily updated stream of Scrooge McDuck’s reign of capitalist tyranny as reported by one Roxanne Featherly. With so much evidence piled up. only an absolute fool would doubt its existence, of course. But the familiarity had been merely abstract, like knowing the Moon revolved around the Earth, it was a distant sort of knowledge that everyone knew but also never expected the information to be especially useful in one’s daily life. Now he knew better. It was said in old myths that finding one’s evil twin would lead to the original’s destruction, and after spending a mere day living with the knowledge of that hack’s existence he was inclined to believe the stories were true. How else could the knowledge of the movie’s existence fly under the radar of both his agent and himself for so long? He wondered for a moment if his agent had decided to throw in his luck with a newer model, then shrugged and picked himself off the ground. Thinking about his agent only brought up more negative thoughts, and if he was honest with himself, he wondered if any more negativity would make him explode. He glanced around the empty street and pushed himself off the curb, walking slouched with his hands in his pockets. He felt unnecessarily exposed, even with his face covered in the mask.  Anyone could come by and see him, and, with his luck recognize him and then where would he be? He would like to say he could smooth talk his way out of any trouble but remembering his earlier embarrassment at the hands of the security guard, forced him to admit that acting did not, as much as he might vocally protest otherwise, come as easily to him as he wanted to believe. That was a blunt nail he’d had directors try to hammer into him for years, but it was not something he wanted to be embedded into the wood of his mental image of himself, and he had resisted as long as he was able. He’d tried to swallow his pride and find a new career, of course. He was Jim Starling, he did all his own stunts for his show. Surely talent agents would take note of that and he’d land a job as a stunt double at the very least? The years of bitter memories that told a different story than the one he’d wanted to believe said otherwise. He paused when he heard the telltale swish of a car moving through puddles and felt his heart race. It stopped at a stoplight two lampposts ahead of him and he began rapidly debating with himself over the desire to hide behind something to keep himself from being noticed or to keep walking and pretend there was absolutely nothing notable about the solitary figure of a man wearing a mask under his trademark wide-brimmed tando and sporting a fetching cape knitted into the collar of his double-breasted business suit. Honestly, the fact that he was by himself and strutting about at too dang late in the night not to be up to funny business at this hour o’clock for his evening jogs had made some of his more cautious neighbors tattle on him to the police call attendant more times than he could count. Harriette had once been a fan and had been inspired by Darkwing to join the local law enforcement. Meeting him had been a dream come true apparently, and then after the third time of meeting him at One in the morning when found he’d it difficult to sleep (though he had always insisted he was just doing his part to keep in shape), she had asked him to join a gym so they wouldn’t have to keep meeting as they had. By the fifth time, she had requested a transfer, all previous childhood nostalgia seemingly wiped clean by mere association with him. He’d met enough “biggest fans” who could no longer stand him that he had been desensitized to the phrase long ago. The car continued on its path when the light turned green and he absently hoped the fact that he was near Beagle territory made his appearance similar enough to the local canine crime family that the driver had been conditioned not to call the police at the first sign of a disguised prowler.  He’d always been too optimistic. Whenever he’d shown his face for the part of a stuntman the same words had seemed to follow him. “Too clumsy.” They said. “Not enough finesse.” Others commented. There had been others still who had been less polite in their eternally helpful observations, and he felt their poisoned words flitting around his mind like horseflies biting into sensitive flesh whenever the opportunity prevailed itself. He shook his head like a wet dog attempting to dispel the water from its fur. He was injured and walking alone in the middle of the night with no backup with only vaguest inkling of his whereabouts. Now was not the time to have a midlife crisis, and it would him no good to reflect on the past. He’d wasted enough of his years feeling sorry for himself. Now was a time for action! He felt the urge to pose heroically and, had to temper it with a more realistic edge. He posed broodingly instead. Very dark. So very drama. His stance wilted a little when he remembered the itty bitty little problem with that was that he wasn’t entirely sure what action he should be taking. He was a little new to this “grim and gritty hero on the edge” scene. Obviously, he was going to experience some brain freeze while slurping down the slushy of frozen vengeance. The shows he’d watched before he could no longer follow the tales of capes and cowls without being weighed down by resentment had glossed over some immensely irritating hang-ups to the whole “pretending to be dead so he could catch the evildoer with his metaphorical pants down” ploy. The most obvious, of course, was that he needed to find himself some new threads until he could get his suit dry cleaned. He liked to think he had himself a strong stomach, but he doubted the common citizen of Duckberg could cope with parfum d'eaux usées évaporées with the same determination. A bath to rid himself of the aforementioned scent of sewage wouldn’t be remiss, either. This did, unfortunately, lead to the second most obvious problem: he was, temporarily at least, effectively broke. He sighed as he passed the first light post. With the news of his apparent passing, his bank account and assets would be frozen and without any family, friends, or hastily cobbled together fake identities to inherit his estate his effects would likely be seized in their entirety by the state. Some small part of him said that deliberately making the choice to go both penniless and homeless at the same time was taking this hero schtick a too far, but the thought was silenced by headbutting the second light post hard enough to dent the metal. He was not going to quit this thing until he had successfully ousted his duplicitous doppelganger and earned back the respect of his badly neglected fan. His thoughts turned to the young man he’d known for years without actually having met him truly as he stood considering whether to continue forward or cross the empty street, and he felt his stomach flare with the ache of very real guilt.  Jim had not treated the younger man with the respect he should have meted out towards a true loyalist. Yes, he had been something of an irritation, he’d become very familiar with the weight of the man’s body crushing down on him after the fan had been struck with yet another fainting spell. But the fact dawned on him as he stood there under the green glow of the traffic light that this one fan had continued to come to his signings regardless of his own physical and psychological inhibitions. And that one detail should have told him more about the man than he’d thought to attribute to the pelican in all his years of knowing him.  He decided to cross the street and waited impatiently for the light to turn red. Many fans had claimed to be his biggest fan but most had had only proven willing to come to his signing maybe one or twice before their interest in meeting him had ostensibly dried up into dust. But that singular fan, one Launchpad McQuack, had, for all intents and purposes, kept coming, even if it was just to faint on him yet again. He glanced around. There was no one out and about, not a single car to be seen anywhere, but he’d felt inclined to wait lest some cop trying to fill a quota tried to pull over a dead guy for jaywalking. He had nearly decided to walk across anyway when a single car sped by quick enough to almost clip him. ‘Seriously?’ He huffed in annoyance. ‘Was the universe itself out to get him? He hoped not. He was aware that, with the help of his double’s trickery, he had managed to badly damage his greatest fan’s regard of him, but he hoped with a wildness that worried him, that that sort of devotion his fan had possessed  wasn’t the sort that burned away after a very awkward and embarrassing set of missteps he’d manage to make over the course of a single(how could it be only one?) very bad day. The light overhead turned from green to red and the white pedestrian signal flared into life. A car pulled up, and he laughed at the look of consternation on the driver’s face. He loved it when his misfortunes happened to others, it made him feel less singled out by fate. He began walking across at his own pace, and he’d nearly passed over when the light unexpectedly turned green without warning. The driver, a young canine whose path he now blocked blared his horn, startling Jim from his thoughts. He’d glared at the driver who had then proceeded to quite eloquently flip him the single-fingered salute. Now most days, he would have ignored it and gone about his business. He would have grumbled about the lack of respect he was given, but ultimately he would have done nothing. Today, with the strange sensitivity coursing through his veins, a mood he still had yet to name, he decided that today was not a day for inaction. Once that thought crossed his mind his body had stopped dead, practically of its own accord, and when the driver chose to slam his fist on the horn one more time, he sprang into action, moving forward and propelling himself up, up, and over the hood of the driver’s car and ramming himself through the open window of the vehicle and landing on top of the young man with enough force that his heckler was briefly pushed under the steering wheel. The driver, a young canine with a dark mane of greasy black locks that parted on both sides of his face, had a thing for the punk scene(or was it goth? Maybe Elmo? He found it difficult to differentiate between the fashion trends of the poetically minded, it had something to do with music, and poetry, and public safety ads, but really, they all looked like they shopped at the same stores, it wasn’t his thing, but he could respect the work they put into the aesthetics)and was well tailored if the clothing he wore was any indication. The skull clasp on his purple cloak fit nicely in his hand when his hands shot down to get a better grip on him. The two began a dangerous game of whack-a-mole, with Jim’s fists as the mallet and the dog’s face as a terribly tenacious talpid. He removed the keys from the car to prevent the vehicle from crashing into the light posts. The younger man then proved he possessed a rather strong set of jaws when he’d chosen to latch an impressive set of fangs onto the duck’s knee. The disgraced actor had sworn out a string of obscenities that would have immediately landed him in hot water with the censors and had bopped him in the nose, trying to get the pooch to remove the teeth from their agonizing hold on his sensitive joint. This only succeeded in causing him to sink his teeth deeper into the flesh of his leg. He was seized with the urge to use his own teeth on the tyke to show him what it truly meant to bite someone but managed to resist the temptation. As the older of the two, he would be a more civilized party and biting a young man to assert dominance was pressing the envelope a little too hard, even for him. His mind rapidly tried to think of a solution to his problem but kept coming up blank. What he really needed was a vial of pepper spray. Finding himself fresh out of pepper spray, he attempted to spit in the whelp’s eyes, figuring it could at least provide a decent distraction that would allow him to free himself from the kid’s muzzle. Unfortunately, the operating phrase in that sentence was ‘attempt’ because instead of a neat expel of saliva, his throat began hacking up mucus that bubbled from his mouth and clung to his chin. He tried a couple more times but was met with failure each time. Still, the move eventually did its job because when enough of the gathered spittle had begun dripping from his chin the dog’s eyes widened in horrified disgust and he released his leg with an alarmed “Oh my Go-” he was silenced by the duck’s vindictive kick, and the younger man’s body crumpled before it slid limply under the steering wheel and moved no more. Jim hastily scooted into the passenger’s seat and watched the dark form warily in the off chance that the canine roused from the place his body now lay and began taking deep breaths. He began to shake and shiver, all earlier bravado draining from his features as trepidation began to set in and his heart began to beat faster in what he recognized as the early stages of hysteria. While he could claim that he’d been provoked, it didn’t change the reality that the person he had just attacked was obviously a member of the Beagle Crime Family. He’d seen the boy in the news once or twice. Usually accompanied by similarly dressed littermates. He doubted the Beagles would give a tinker’s curse about at his motivations for attacking one of their own. All they would do was see what he’d done and rightly call a spade a shovel and he’d have the entire lot of them on his tail feathers the moment his actions were discovered. And, to toss an already burnt marshmallow on a stick and thrust it into the fire, he hadn’t even intended to attack the dog in the first place. He was used to intrusive thoughts(he was currently holding out against the impulse to lay all his cards on the table and enact various methods of ridding himself of his predicament terminally in ways both disturbing and physically improbable), but to the best of his knowledge, he had never acted on them. His thoughts had often disturbed him, especially when he’d been in the springtime of his life when his feelings had been more varied, and he hadn’t felt like his brain had been enveloped by an endless fog. The years of anguished apathy had deadened how very unsettling he’d once found them, but he hadn’t thought he’d start to treat them as if they were an innate part of his decision making. The truth that he hadn’t even notice before he was already in motion cast further shadow over the course of events. Now he had to decide what to do next. He groaned and eyed the dog again. The younger man was still lying face down, head twisted at an odd angle, from his placement on the passenger’s side of the car, he couldn’t make out whether the boy was breathing or not, and when he leaned closer he couldn’t tell whether to be relieved or not with the knowledge that the dog still lived. He glanced around suspiciously, searching his peripheral vision for any onlookers. Finding none he sighed and straightened, hand going to the door to open it. The specifics of what he’d done would scarcely matter if he was caught out in the open with the…victim (?) of his latest lapse judgment laying in plain sight for any kibitzer to take notice of his actions. He’d be placed behind bars just as quickly as if the dog’s own crimes had ceased to exist, and Jim had instead put the wraps on the near-mythical upstanding citizen who volunteered at homeless shelters in their spare time and would never have ever considered hurting a fly. When he reached the driver’s side, he made another surreptitious check of his surroundings. Finding them unchanged and just as empty as they’d been when this mess started, he opened the driver’s door and hauled the limp Beagle out by his arm sockets. Part of him felt he should be more concerned that he could brush off his earlier alarm just by focusing on what he needed to do next, while a second argued he was merely compartmentalizing his tasks to better organize his activity to avoid further indiscretion, while a third voice wondered if he was just pretending to give himself the third degree just to feel better about himself as a person. He decided he’d rather not ask himself any further questions after that, choosing to focus instead on the task at hand.

[gukkle]

I Can’t Go On If You’re Not Here

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

Length: 2k

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

masterlist 

You have been in love with Jeongguk since freshmen year of college, but you never had the courage to confront him about your feelings. A new girl pushes you to admit to him finally what you both were waiting for. 

You didn’t choose to be friends with Jeongguk, we just became friends. We met when we were young. He was a new freshmen in college and very active. You were the quiet girl who just wanted her degree in business so you could finally escape from my parents who constantly breathed down your neck. You had friends but none of them compared to Jeongguk. You became friends when the teacher had decided to partner you two up for a project.

“Hey, I’m Jeongguk”.

Those words will forever haunt you to the fact that you can never have him. He will always be the boy that you loved so deeply but could never have. Jeongguk was the light of your life, simple enough. He brought you favorite popcorn when you was feeling down, when you was on your periods,he would become the most patient man on earth.

He never complained when you would talk for hours on hours about the cute guys in your accounting class. He would smile at you and pat you on the head and say,

“You’re too good for them anyways. You’re too smart for them, all they understand is how to crunch numbers. You are both naturally blessed with looks and intelligence”

You would always blush at his compliments. People would call him awkward and silent with no emotion. He would compliment you with the straightest face. People didn’t know how to respond to him because they thought he was making fun of them. It was just that Jeongguk meant every word he said. He wanted you to know that he was honest and truthful.

Jeongguk never realized what you had felt for him. It wasn’t his fault. You never confessed to him because you didn’t think it was worth it. You had some boyfriends here and there, but none of them were serious because you were forever waiting on him. He didn’t know, he just thought you didn’t really love anyone of them. It wasn’t until your senior year of college where you finally gathered up the courage to admit to him what you have been feeling for the past four years.

“Hey, where were you at the party?” Jeongguk slid into the seat besides you in the library, He was decked out in his signature black stussy sweatshirt with some skinny jeans that seemed to make him ten times more attractive. He started to stroke your hair. Jeongguk had a thing with hair. Yours was mid length and dyed a soft light brown, you kept it soft for him. Because he liked it.

“I didn’t go. Jongsuk didn’t want to go so I stayed back with him to help him study” You turned towards him, away from your economics textbooks and placed your head in your hands.

“Ah, always helping the new student. You are just too nice Y/N,” Jeongguk quirked his head and smiled at you. He was just too cute. It was the time in between your classes. You were about to graduate, just one more semester to go and you were finally done with the education system.  

“Nah, I’m not nice. I just felt pity for him because he didn’t know what we did in class”

Jeongguk started to pick at your pens and pencils, “You should have gone to the party. It was so much more exciting but some new incoming freshmen came and crashed it. But the best thing about it is I met someone.”

“You met a girl? Who? It’s been a while.”

You tried to mask the look of surprise on your face. Jeongguk hasn’t dated any girls in a while. He had dated a girl named Wendy a while back ago but he broke up with her because he didn’t think they had fit together. Jeongguk was a true romantic, he loved to hold hands and spend hours reading at a cafe with his girlfriend. That’s what you loved about him, he loved the simple things. He had said Wendy was an amazing girl but he just didn’t think they were good together. When he was dating Wendy, you had to deal with in love Jeongguk, he was gone.

When Jeongguk had a new girlfriend, he would disappear from your life. He would put all his attention and love into the new girl and it would be like you never existed.He wasn’t ignoring you on purpose, he just wanted to spend time with girlfriend. This really hurt you. You felt like you were a throwaway, only needed when he was free of a romantic partner. People knew you guys were best friends, they knew that you guys had perfect chemistry. They didn’t understand why Jeongguk didn’t make a move. Many guys have tried but you wanted to wait for him. You had boyfriends but they never made it to your heart. You dabbled in romance when Jeongguk had a new girlfriend. You felt lonely and wanted some attention, the attention that Jeongguk was not giving you.

Jeongguk had a little smile on his face and he shyly looked down, “She’s a sophomore. She loves to dance and she’s really talented at the violin. I met her at the party and we just hit it off. I think I really like her. I know we just met but I feel like we connect so well.” He had the starry look in his eyes, the kind he gets when he talks about Overwatch and Justin Bieber.

You stopped fiddling with your pen and looked at him, “Wow, I guess it’s time for you to move onto the next girl. What happened to your promise of waiting till you graduated?” You tried to mask the hurt in your voice. Jeongguk had a real chance of falling in love with someone that wasn’t you.

“I was, but man Jennie is a work of art. I never met anyone like her, she brings out sides of me that I never knew existed. We had talked about random things but it was the most interesting conversation I ever had. She’s so beautiful,”Jeongguk swiveled in his chair, his body opposite of what it should have been if he was sitting. He leaned back against the desk, and brushed his hand through his hair. His hair was a startling black color. He never dyed it because he thought that it would make him seem more like a girl.

You knew who Jennie was. She was a transfer student from Gwangju. You guys had some mutual friends, you never formally met her. It was an understatement to say that she was an amazing and one of a kind. Jennie made guy friends after guy friends, she never dated anyone since she had transferred this year. She was an up and coming dancer in our dance team. Hoseok, the dance captain and your closest friend after Jeongguk and Jisoo, had complimented her on her fluidity and techniques.  He had also said that she was pretty but not his type. Hoseok had a specific type, he liked the smart and caring ones. It wasn’t that Jennie wasn’t smart or caring, it was because he thought that Jennie was a little superficial. Apparently Jeongguk didn’t think the same.

“Oh. Good for you” You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was slowly tearing at itself. Why couldn’t Jeongguk look at you and think of you like he did with Jennie? What made you so unappealing to him. You guys have been friends for four years, and never did he once show a sign that he was attractive to you in the point of more than friends. You would flirt with him but he would just smile at you and go back to what he was doing. It wasn’t like you didn’t try. You didn’t know how to approach him with the topic that you wanted to be more than friends.

Jeongguk turned his head towards you, “It isn’t great? I’m taking her out on a date later. I need advice on what to wear. So get out of the library and let’s get back to the apartment and plan what to wear.” It was also quaint that you guys were roommates because you wanted to get out of the dorms and finally get a place of your own but you were too poor to afford it yourself.

You found yourself being dragged out of the library, his hands linked in between yours, with your things haphazardly shoved into your open tote bag and onto the streets. Jeongguk happily took the lead to the short walk to your apartment complex. He seemed to be bouncing on the soles of his feet. His hands still linked with yours. It was normal for you two to hold hands. He had started this habit because you always got lost in crowds when you guys hit Myeongdong for shopping. You felt like he does it now because he liked to torture you with a little sliver of a romantic relationship with him.

“Hurry up, the date starts in an hour”, Jeongguk basically shoved you up the stairs in barely contained excitement and into his room. You didn’t want to help him with his date. In fact you wanted to give him a reason to cancel the date, you. But he would never do that because he didn’t like you. You had to be his friend and just his friend.

He started to pilfer through his closest that was ironically filled with white t shirts.

“I guess I would go with casual but a little dressed up,” you pushed him aside because he was actually hopeless. Your chest hurt every time you touched the clothes hangers that held his clothes. You chose a white button down with a mandarin collar with some jeans. He would look great. This was going to be a long night of you eating ice cream and watching some movies to pass the empty time. Why does Jennie have to exist?

“You are the Sun to my Earth. Thank you so much. This is why I still need my mother and you, of course.” Jeongguk quickly grabbed his clothes and rushed into the conjoining bathroom.

You plop down on his bed. His room wasn’t especially big but it wasn’t small. You had an identical room, with connected bathrooms. You looked up onto the ceiling and saw stars. Jeongguk always love what stars represented. To him, stars represented hope and ambition. He saw them as the push to his success.

Jeongguk slammed the door open, all dressed in his outfit ready for his date, “Is this alright?” as he fixed his collar. He looked so handsome and so Jennie’s.

You motioned for him to come over to the bed and you sat up. He stood right in front of you, still fixing his clothes. You laughed at him, he had skipped a button,

“Aish you dummy, you missed a button, no one it looks weird,” You went in to fix it, your nimble fingers skipped over the soft material. It would be so nice to just push him onto the bed and snuggle. He stared down at you as you slowly fixed his error. You looked up at him, into his starry eyes. He sent you a smile and continued to stare.

The tension in the room began to heat up. Your eyes seem to drill holes in one others. Your fingers stopped it’s administrations. You opened your mouth to say something.  

[westword-stories-blog]

CrossSwords - Chapter Twenty

It was dusk, all the lights within the castle were either off or very dim. Everybody was asleep and all was silent in the castle. But there was one person active who tread through the halls silently, using only the tips of their feet to move. Quietly, they approached a hatch. Opening it and looking down the entrance to the cellars.

Once they were in, they scanned the area and then proceeded. The only sound being made was a light footstep, an occasional take-in of air and soft drops of water somewhere off nearby. Eventually making it through the maze-like labyrinth of a cellar, the person finally made it. Ahead of themselves there laid a multitude of treasures. Bags of Gol, priceless artifacts and weapons and also...

"The head of The Dragon's Flute. Ohaahhaa...Finally..."

Chapter 20: Time of Resistance ( Part Three )

"Thank you very much, Sir." Erie spoke to the man who was leading the carriage, he waved back at her as she was walking back into Farza Town to find the contestants. Many thoughts crossed her mind, who would she find? Would they want to defend the kingdom? Would they have the very same safety? Before she could think up an answer to satisfy her curiosity she ran into one of the contestants: Christopher. The one who was paired with Vincent during the first rounds and lost.

"Ack--Hey! Watch where you're going!..." He stared at Erie for a short while then stepped back. "Aren't you the Knight Commander? What are you doing here?"

"Listen, do you know where the other contestants are? The one's who participated in the tournament?!" She looked him in the eyes and all he could do was stand there slightly frightened. "Uh, why? The tournament is already over and we had the after-party already so what now?"

"The Varksa Kingdom is facing a crisis. We would like your help and hopefully, the rest of the tournament competitors." He looked down in though for a moment before looking off to the side. "Hah. Tough luck. The winner of the tournament left back to Narch not too long ago, the top 5 however are still somewhere here."

"Can you gather them? Please.."

"What's in it for me? Money? My own servant? Or something else?" He spoke quietly while leaning in, his shoulder-length hair obscuring his face slightly while he was leaned in. "What you'll get is the pride of doing the right thing for the Kingdom."

He stared at the woman for a long minute then let out a heavy sigh, looking to the side once more. "Fine. I'll get as many as I can, wait around the Inn until then." He fixed his hair and looked at his hand for a moment, turning to her. "Yeah, I'll get them." Then ran off.

~ ~ ~

A Dark Cave, 3 Days after Stacia Village's fall.

"So...Tell me, how much value do we hold right now?" Kohma's unstable voice spoke. He was in his tent, turned around just as he was done putting his mask on. "Collecting everything since then..We're at 14,000 Gol. That majority is thanks to that ball." Another spoke, looking at the ball which was firmly placed on Kohma's desk.

"That's good..Hest Town from what the scouts have told me..They have a pretty hefty stash of money."

"Oh, and sir..There have also been reports that Knights of the Varska Castle are dispatching to tend to still standing villages. One group of knights went to check on Stacia Village."

"I see...Well, that village is already dead. I suggest killing the knights who have yet to make it to the other villages. Hest Town cannot be heavily guarded this time. That girl actually managed to put a dent in on our available men." Kohma took in a deep breath then slowly exhaled, looking ahead.

"Let's just see how well we do anyways. Come now, let's get ready to attack."

~ ~ ~

Fields of Varska, November 16th 2278, 10:46 PM.

The winds were howling through the night, a group of 13 Knights traveled through the darkness. Nobody spoke, they were all silent. The only thing making noise would be their armors and weapons gently pressing against one another. "General Fyrestone, Sir..Why did we dispatch during the evening?" Asked the knight in the second row, 2nd person. General Fyrestone simply looked over his shoulder then back ahead. The man leading all the knights was known to the Kingdom as General Fyrestone. A man without an ounce of forgiveness. He wears a large, bulky suit of armor made from reinforced iron and chain-mail. His large sword carried by his waist and his wide shield behind his back.

"If we move in the Darkness, less bandits will show up, and we can get there by morning. Which will give us enough time to set up a small defensive position."

"That's..another thing, General, sir. Who are we fighting?" He asked once more. "From the reports I've been given, it seems like a group bent on bringing down the Kingdom. It's been much too long since I've received a report like that.." The General looked to be in thought for a moment.

"Fnn--!!" A whizzing sound struck the ears of all the knights true. One looked around in the dark of night then eventually felt the end of an arrow, lodged into the ground. Fyrestone knew this sound all too well, turning to look at the small hills surrounding them, and as he expected. Dark, inky silhouettes stand there with their arms in the air and holding some sort of object. His immediate thought was that it was a bow, and he had no reason to be wrong. "Shields up, men!!" He said just as all of the silhouettes let free their right hand to let more arrows fly.

The arrows made impact with the ground, metals and flesh. Most of the knights were able to survive the onslaught of countless arrows. Once they recovered they looked at where the arrows were coming from.

Again, they pulled their bow strings back for a second then let go once more, another wave of arrows were coming. "Shields up!! Hurry!" The General gave no time for the knights to run, they all put their shields up and braced for impact. Once again, most of the arrows struck their shields and armors, but some slipped through and hit the necks and napes of some knights.

The General raised his head to look around. Half of the men were lying on the ground with dark sticks pointing out of them. "Damn it." He then felt something coming up behind him, pulling out his sword and turning around, swinging his sword as he did so. "Achk--!!" The cry of a man was heard throughout, a dark liquid substance staining the General's sword. "They're not giving us time! We have to fight back!" He looked up in the air and his eyes widened. "Oh god.."

~ ~ ~

Erie put her cup down, a clanking sound rung throughout the bar. "He's really taking awhile." She said under her breath before sighing. She wasn't actually too sure if she could trust these young people with defending the walls of the Castle. But, if King Rose ordered her to do it, she would.

"Knight Commander, Erie." A voice called to her, she raised her head to look around, eventually catching the sight of Christopher with about 4 other people behind him. One of them was the runner-up, two of them were in the top 10 and the last one behind Christopher was in the top 3. A sudden wave of relief washed over her as she grew a smile. "I'm back, these guys were a pain in the ass to find."

She simply shook her head then stood up. "Good..It isn't a lot, but you guys will do. Come on, let's get back to the castle. We've got to get you guys properly geared up and fed." She stood up from her seat and placed a few gol coins down and exited the place along side the 5 warriors.

"Sorry, even for someone as important as you, we can't lend you the carriage. It's been reserved already, so tough luck." Said an old man who ran the carriage business in Farza Town. "But..This is urgent! The fate of the Kingdom is at stake!"

"Yeah? Well ain't that a sucker." The old man said. Erie needed to return to the castle in time, she wasn't going to take this. She grabbed the old man by the collar and pulled him close until their faces were inches apart. "You will give us this carriage, I will drive it. And these five will ride along."

"B-But what a-about..p-paymen--"

"The payment? I'll pay double for what those people were paying you originally."

The old man stared into the burning eyes of the woman for a long while. "I..I've never had someones reservation cancelled before." He said while turning his head over to the last available horse carriage. "Times are changing." She said simply before tossing him aside, reaching in a small bag she carried around, tossing a bag of gol at him then proceeding to the carriage.

"Get in. We have to get there as fast as we can and speak with the King. We'll get further orders from there!" She exclaimed while the five climbed into the carriage and shut the door. "C'mon!" She whipped the small leather binds, the horses letting out a feisty neigh then beginning to dash off back onto the main dirt road.

Next

"Approximately 20,000 Gol. Just for you."

"It's over..."

"I don't care how bad I am! Let me go!!"

CrossSwords - Chapter 21: Time of Devastation ( Part Four )

1 Night after Hest Town's Attack

"Well..The attack on Hest Town went swimmingly. Heck, those knights we had to deal with on the way? Were those even really knights?! I've seen guards do better at small villages for crying out loud! Anyways..You guys can do whatever you want to that 'General' gu--"

Suddenly interrupted by someone dashing in the tent, carrying a bag around his shoulder. "I'm back..And...I've got it."

Kohma was about ready to kill whoever interrupted him, but clapped his hands together once hearing what he had to say. "Oh? Is that so? Well, we might actually be able to do what they weren't able to. Maybe it's because they thought they were living in a time of peace? How idiotic. No, they're living in the worst time possible..."

[jemacfarlandgo]

Exactly 1 year ago today, on August 18, 2019 Leisa and Beau were supposed to say “I Do” at their dream venue, Castle Hill Inn. Instead, this bride to be spent her intended wedding day in the hospital recovering from brain surgery. When their second date got moved out due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this positive couple didn’t get the change get them down. Instead, they saw the opportunity to lean into love and appreciate every moment they get to spend together. Thank you dearly to Leisa and Beau for sharing their story with us!

“I’ve never been the type to believe in fairytales. Even as a high schooler, I never fully understood drooling over boys or the idea of soulmates. It felt so silly, so much like a waste of time to constantly wonder if he liked me, to imagine myself in a white dress walking down the aisle to a prince charming.

Perhaps, naively, I was far more obsessed with my aspirations. Don’t get me wrong, I was familiar with love, my parents a beautiful, real model of what I dreamed of, the hard work and deep reward of this favored topic of philosophers, poets, writers, and scientists. From their example, I felt like I knew love.

But it wasn’t until I met Beau that I finally understood love. Suddenly, I found myself daydreaming about a home with overgrown hydrangeas and a fireplace mantle dressed in photo frames showcasing those classic “happily ever after” moments of our wedding day. I wondered if I’d wear a veil? Would my dress be simple or intricately embroidered with lace? A silhouette fit or an A line?

With Beau, there were always questions I never had to ask. I never wondered if he would propose, if this was real. Because I knew, it just…was. The way he looked at me, the way he cared for me and made me stronger, happier, better, each and every day. The way he was patient when I was stubborn and a voice of reason when I was illogical. And the way it made me feel to be with him, to be accepted and cherished and chosen, always, as me. With him, I was home.

The night he hid my engagement ring in a pizza box and asked me to be his wife was nothing and everything like a fairytale, all at once. In fact, it was absolutely opposite of what I had imagined, yet everything I wanted, slow dancing with him to Alexa playing Frank Sinatra in my comfiest pajamas — an Ohio State sweatshirt shriveling at the collar from being worn far past its obvious expiration date — and a bare face, clean after my nightly scrubbing of all the day’s makeup residue. I was unpolished, unmanicured, and completely over the moon with child-like excitement to start calling my parents and sister, text our entire families to make the announcement. I remember reaching for my phone and him gently grabbing my hand, insisting on one more dance to internalize, relish the moment. He said, “Once we start calling, it’s everyone’s moment. So let’s just wait, one more song, maybe a glass of champagne? Let’s just be together to keep this moment ours.”

Wedding planning quickly ensued. We chose August 18th at Castle Hill Inn in Newport, RI — the first place Beau and I had ever taken our own romantic getaway. As if from nowhere, my mom began pulling out magazine clippings that she seemed to have saved in her own closet for years and emailing me every picture she found on Pinterest that might possibly align with what I envisioned for bouquets and table settings. My future mother-in-law suggested Kleinfelds and I booked an appointment. I must have tried on 30+ dresses in total before going back to the first. When I opened up the fitting room door, my mom was an adorable mess, tears streaming down her face. Beau’s mom cried, too. But when my sister started crying, I knew I had found the one.

On July 26th, Beau left for his bachelor party in Costa Rica. I had an early appointment with an eye doctor before work, and although I wanted to cancel, I had made a new commitment to myself to stay attune to my health. My mom had recently been diagnosed with cancer and it instantly became clear how I needed to stay up-to-date, to be whole, to be strong, to be there for her. So I kissed Beau goodbye and told him to return in one piece, making him promise that he would come home on Monday exactly as I had left him — no cuts, scrapes, viruses or broken bones. He told me that August 18th was going to be the best day of his life.

What I expected to be an easy appointment turned quickly into an inconceivable nightmare. From the doctor’s office, I was directed to go to the hospital immediately for an emergency CT scan. From there, I was strapped and transported in an ambulance to another hospital for an MRI, my heart shrinking in fear. I just wanted Beau.

The next morning, two people in white lab coats walked into my hospital room and my heart collapsed into the depths of my stomach. Within moments, I was officially diagnosed with a Meningioma brain tumor. We talked for what seemed like forever, me firing questions as swiftly as my mouth could eject the words, all the while my fingers swiping the unending tears flooding my cheeks. After probably the seventh time of receiving the same answers to the same questions, I gathered the courage to finally ask — What about my wedding in two weeks? The neurosurgeon, composed yet soft, promised me he would be as careful as possible and only shave the necessary sections of my skull, but if I didn’t have the neurosurgery immediately to remove the tumor from my brain, I would likely be showing up to my wedding blind.

The instant we hung up the phone, Beau booked the first flight home and my dad immediately jumped into his car and drove 13 hours from Ohio to New York. My sister was taking her bar exam to become a lawyer and my mom was awaiting her own surgery. I was in the hospital for the entire month of August recovering from the drastic procedure (as well as an additional 25 seizures) and spent the whole month of September rehabilitating with therapy, as well as overall healing. I am now blind in my left eye and a small section of the tumor remains in my brain (a certain percentage of the tumor could not be removed, as its elimination would risk additional damage/harm to my nerve and blood vessels), meaning that I will likely spend a great deal of my future monitoring the tumor with the help of my neurosurgeon, neurologist, optical neurologist, and endocrinologist.

To be forced into postponing our wedding and spending our “big day” in the hospital, trying desperately to reignite my short-term memory and regain my strength is not something that I would wish upon any couple. It was heartbreaking. And yet, I felt blessed to be on the road to recovery, reinvigorated with a new gratitude for life, for family, and for love.

As I started to make significant progress and show positive signs of returning to the person I once knew myself to be, Beau and I began to again become excited for our new wedding date: May 10, 2020.

A little over a month ago, our second attempt at a wedding was abruptly halted, this time due to a global pandemic — the profoundly unthinkable place we, as a world, find ourselves to collectively confront. This time, the cancellation was attributed to a reason that was bigger than us — much bigger. An unsettling circumstance of heavy-hearted uncertainty. Subjecting our loved ones and jeopardizing the safety of our families, our vendors, the venue, the world, was so trivial in the grand scheme of things, and associating our special day with that surmount sense of fear was just not an option.

However, I must admit, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t devastated, remembering all that we had been through to finally reach the cusp of our vows. I spent May 10th imagining what Beau and I would have looked like, standing before our entire family in front of the gorgeous Castle Hill arbor, clocking the beginning of the ceremony, the start of cocktail hour, and anticipating the toasts that would have been shared at our reception. I repeatedly imagined the smile I had fantasized, over and over, overcome his face while I walked down the aisle, to him.

Regardless, I still felt thankful. We were healthy and safe and in love. That night, Beau sat with me on our bed and asked me if it would be okay if he started referring to me as his “wife” as opposed to his “bride,” because that better resembled who I was in his heart. How could I not be filled with gratitude?

Of course, Beau and I wanted a wedding and will still be in absolute adoration for the celebration if it comes (prepare for a wild party), but truthfully, at the end of the day, the depth of our love, tested through so many unpredictable, perturbed times, IS the fairytale. My prince is a punk rocker and has stood, anchored by my side through the toughest, scariest, most severely unforeseen moments of my life, again and again, making me feel always like his center, his universe. Sure, I may never get the exact celebratory moment I once dreamed of, but I can state, without a single breath of hesitation, that I am with the man I always dreamed of.

If I’ve learned anything in the past five years, it’s that love — an inexplicable, yet tangible, tender force that when strong enough, truly cannot be smothered. A wedding, in so many ways, feels like a fairytale. But Beau has taught me, unknowingly, purely by example, that real magic lives in our everyday life, in the beauty staring directly at us at all times, often in the crevices of routine normalcy, in plain sight; in the small, conjunctive moments that weave each of these minutes into sequence that, when noticed, make us feel complete. Simple moments like snuggling on the couch or hearing his laugh that make the ordinary extraordinary.

And that, this, us, right here and now, is the realest fairytale I could have ever imagined.

To all of our family and friends, thank you for your patience, understanding, and profound support throughout these challenging times. We love you all so, so much.

To all of the brides who currently feel hurt, sad, even betrayed that their special day was stolen, please know that the celebration will come, but the gift, your personal fairytale, is still right beside you.”

  Leisa and Beau’s engagement photos got postponed due to COVID but the couple did an impromptu photo session in their backyard with a phone on a tripod and the perfect barefoot backyard slow dancing. In case you needed a reminder today, every moment we get to spend with the ones we love is precious. Embrace the moments you get and take every opportunity to show love.

When a brain tumor and a pandemic stood in the way of "I Do" this couple choose to lean into love despite the challenges Exactly 1 year ago today, on August 18, 2019 Leisa and Beau were supposed to say "I Do" at their dream venue, …

[writerinthedarkabyss]

all the 'lets get personal' qs plz?!

 Did you mean this post? If so, well damn alright people, buckle up.

 1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

This changes every week but right now on my phone it says, 1)If I Had A Million by Fink 2)Drive by Oh Wonder 3)In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins 4)Rollercoaster by The Bleachers 5)P.I.M.P by 50 Cent 6)Falling by Opia

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

My Great Grandmother on my mom/s side. I’ve heard so much about her and I always wanted to meet her.

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give meline 17.

It may or may not be my Phonetics textbook. “Fricatives are sounds made with a small opening, allowing the air to escape...”

4: What do you think about most?

In all honesty, lately I’ve been thinking about my decisions and if I’m doing things in a way that’s going to help me in the future or am I just wasting my life and time. 

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

“Depends you got the answer to a good stress relief, or to my anthropology homework?” 

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

Most of the time, I sleep with them on.

7: What’s your strangest talent?

I don’t know if this counts but I can put both legs behind my head without struggling.

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

Girls rule, boys drool. No just kidding.

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Not that I know of, although I’ve written poems and sons about people.

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

A couple of days ago, I think?

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

Nope, just your average, everyday ones. 

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

Uhh, no.

13: What’s your religion?

I’m an Atheist.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Trying to get back inside. No, uhm, probably reading or writing.

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind the camera usually,

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

Oh god, there’s too many and they change all the time. But for right now Fink, The 1975, Bleachers, Blink 182, Oh Wonder.

17: What was the last lie you told?

This Wednesday, I might have told my mom that class was cancelled but I really didn’t want to go to that class.

18: Do you believe in karma?

Yes, I do.

19: What does your URL mean?

I do a lot of my best writing at night, and “writerinthedark” was already taken. Also my header is from one of my ultime favorite and underrated shows called Farscape. It was something said to the one of the main characters in the show and it holds so much meaning. 

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

Uhm, I might be jumping on the bandwagon Noah Centineo. But honestly he’s been my crush long before TATBILB. He was my MCM since The Fosters.

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

Haha nope.

23: How do you vent your anger?

I usually write it out. Either in the form of literal venting or a story/poem.

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

I have a collection of pennies since Canada no longer uses them. I also have about fifteen candles and 150 books, if that counts as a collection? 

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chattingonline?

Video chatting my friends 100%

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

Most days, I like who I am now.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

Nails on a chalkboard and crunching snow are awful. I love the sound of crackling fire and rain. 

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

What if that thing when I was 6 didn’t happen. 

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Yep, ghosts have to be real. Too big of a global phenomenon for them to not exist. The same sot of thing with Aliens. While I don’ believe that they’re little green men. Do you know how big the entire universe is? I find it very difficult to believe that we are the only planet it the entire universe that holds intelligent lifeforms 

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Dothe same with your left arm.

My right arm I‘m touching one of my candles and in my left arm I’m touching my soft body pillow.

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

Black cherry incense stick that I lit earlier.

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

The depths of my mind at three am during a panic attack.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

I’m an East Coast girl.

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

Uhm, I’m drawing a blank right now.

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

To be happy and leave it in better shape than you found it. 

36: Define Art.

Ahh, getting flashbacks to my Philosophy of Art class. To me, art is anything that someone creates with either and emotional or political message behind it. 

37: Do you believe in luck?

Yes

38: What’s the weather like right now?

It’s finally autumn my favorite season which means it’s raining and cool enough for a sweater right now. 

39: What time is it?

It is currently 11:47pm.

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

I don’t drive yet.

41: What was the last book you read?

For pleasure, I reread “Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang in the 1950′s” by Carol Joyce Oates, which is one of my all time favorite books. But the actual last book I read was Chapter 4 of “The Sounds of Language: An Introduction to Phonetics” for my Phonetics class.

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Nope, I hate it. Although my mother ans brother like it a lot. 

43: Do you have any nicknames?

Cat, Katie, kitty, freak, KitKat

44: What was the last film you saw?

If we’re talking at home, than it was “Serenity”. If we’re talking movie theaters than it was “Little Italy”. 

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

I don’t seriously injure myself a lot, I mostly get bruised and little cuts but there was once when I sprained three ligaments in my knee and was on a cane (because I’m a klutz and fell on the crutches they gave me) for three weeks. 

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

No, I don’t think so. 

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

Not that I can think of. 

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

I’m cis and straight.

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

Yep, quite a lot actually. 

50: Do you believe in magic?

Hell yeah. 

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have doneyou wrong?

For the most part no. Life is too short for that shit.

52: What is your astrological sign?

I am the first day of Virgo.

53: Do you save money or spend it?

I try to save it but I usually spend it,

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

Prime example, I just bought my mom and I matching cat pajamas. 

55: Love or lust?

Love.

56: In a relationship?

Actually yeah, two months today.

57: How many relationships have you had?

Okay, if we’re talking “relationships” like “something more than friends” then 6.If we’re talking actual relationships 3.

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

Nope, I have a really short tongue,

59: Where were you yesterday?

Downtown at school, my boyfriends, my house.

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

Yep, there’s quite a few pink items in my room.

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

Yep, it’s a little chilly 

62: What’s your favourite animal?

Kittens :)

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

Use any insecurity that I mention to you in confidence and it will ruin me. 

64: Where is your best friend?

All the way across the country for the next four months. :( She’s visiting her boyfriend but I miss her.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr

I can’t, there’s too many. 

66: What is your heritage?

I am British and Quebecois.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

Watching reruns of “White Collar” with my boyfriend of the couch.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

He has too many.

69: Biggest turn ons?

Back muscles, being engaged and interested in conversations, making me laugh, knowing that I’m someone you want to spend your time with.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as afriend?

I think so. I always try to treat and act towards others the way I’d want to be treated,

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work.There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss hastold you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

I get fired. Puppy is way more important to me.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informedyou that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tellanyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remainingdays? c) Would you be afraid?

I wouldn’t tell anyone right away. Maybe a week before I’d let other know what’s happening so they could have time to process. I would do as many things on my bucket list as I could. But mostly I’d try and spend as much time I have left with the people I love. I would absolutely be afraid. I spent a little while not wanting to live. Now though, now I don’t want to die, I still have so much I want to do. 

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Love, I believe that if you love someone and they love you, trust is already in the equation.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hearit?

2000′s throwbacks are my go to happy songs because they just make me want to move and sing along. 

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

0024

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Trust, honesty, friendship. Being able to make the other person laugh and making them feel and feeling as though you want to spend your time with them.

77: How can I win your heart?

By listening to me and sharing your stupid or deep or random thoughts. Make me feel like I’m important to you and that I make you happy and you’re interested in all parts of my life, not just the good things. 

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

Honestly, I feel the most creative when I am holding on to a powerful emotion. I don’t know about insanity, although I can see why people would think that. You’d let go of your inner critic and self doubt in yourself or your work and just create. 

79: What is the single best decision you have made in yourlife so far?

Staying alive.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

I’m a size 8 in shoes.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

Ya dumb bitch I honestly don’t know. 

82: What is your favourite word?

For some reason all I can think of is pumpernickel. 

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hearthe word; heart.

Soul.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

“Fuck a duck” thanks mom. 

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

Promise by Ben Howard just finished playing.

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

Royal purple and dark blue,

87: What is your current desktop picture?

A picture of my dream book room.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the worldinstantaneously explode, who would it be?

I can only pick one person??

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell thetruth on?

The secret I’ve never said to anyone.

90: Turn offs?

Being unhygienic, talking down to others, arrogance 

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. Theywere good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-powerof your choice! What is that power?

Either telepathy or invisibility. 

92: where are your parents from?

My father is from Quebec and my mother is from England.

 93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past.What will it be?

The thing that still makes me uncomfortable.

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with themusic-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

Wow, I really don’t know.

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You haveto depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

At the moment, I’d pay for another ticket and go to Kelowna with my mom so she can finally go back there,

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

Not that I know of. 

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

Yep, it was not one of my proudest or best moments. 

98: Ever been on a plane?

Once, when I was very little.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, whatwould you say.

I’d quote the Doctor, “Never be cruel, never be cowardly... Remember hate is always foolish, love is always wise. Always try to be nice but never fail to be kind.”