#such things that i felt at a hotel at the province that i still remember very vividly

[thelivingsin]

There may not be snow where I live.

But I will always remember the way these cold embraces made me feel. The cool breeze that wraps me like a gift and warms my whole body, if not including my head. The way the air of low temperature condenses on the pane that barricades the balcony from the bedroom will never not make me feel at ease, at home. The mist that once prevented us to experience the joy of being a child in an amusement park still somehow gave me serenity—a feeling I would always feel when it rains. Yet this rainfall is different. It is weak yet showering, the sky's sadness falling on every strand of my hair like soft, comforting hands patting my head as praise.

And when Sol bids his temporary farewell—when it is Luna's turn to shine—the night gets even colder, and I am filled with more comfort. The crickets that surround me help in creating a safer space for myself, and the familiar songs from a distant party bring me enough delight. The city lights below me, the most beautiful sight of my life, tell me that there are other people who exist, some left to be forgotten, some as broken as me. The blinking lights from the Ferris wheel remind me of a better tomorrow, a hope that we can play at the park the next day, and the feeling of being a child once more. The people screaming on the rollercoaster reminding me that I have to let all my emotions out, somehow, someway, someday.

There may not be snow where I live, but the coldness of night and day will always speak loud of my frozen cold heart. Ironically, twenty-three degrees will warm it enough to shatter on its own to fragments, and after that, once more, its pieces emerge and shelter my broken heart only to prevent further pain.

There may not be snow where I live, but that isn't the case, and that isn't what makes life sad. It's that I will never get to experience the same thing the first time in life again.

[maikissed]

and the day after that, and day after that

jude bellingham x reader a bit angsty, a little bit of drama and a lot of monologue, i like drama

You took a minute to wonder when has it started, really, what pivotal moment changed the perspective, the trajectory of new feelings, harsh and alerting, making you nervous and full of doubt that whatever follows, would bring anything good of it. Because you noticed, it was hard to pinpoint the moment when, but you did. It was there, in the softness of his eyes when he looked at you, payed attention to your words and actions, the gentle smile displayed on his lips, slightly curved on the side in a adoring kind of way. The way he touched you when he meant to, on your shoulder, your neck or your arm. Touches sometimes unnecessary but present, warm and lingering. Or brief, but still there. Filled with something different from those in the past. Innocent, yet intentional. You felt, knew, it was different.

Maybe it was somewhere around the time when he was coming back from Dortmund for vacation, so full of pride and joy, fuelled by many successes of his and his team. The world started to hear about him and he was floating in praise. It kept changing him, not exactly in a negative way, but it kept his head higher. He knew his worth, simply the rest of them started to learn it now. That gave him a peck of confidence, you noticed him grow in this. And it’s been remarkable, to watch him develop in every way so much.

When he was about to take a plane to England, every time he made sure to give you notice about his comeback, searching for your arms to be the first that embrace him on his welcome party. Parties in a meaning of a little friend gathering. Sometimes real parties, when you all were feeling like it. You were noticing the attention back then, different, prominent. You started calling him your boy, still slightly oblivious of his intentions, or you’ve simply turned a blind eye on everything around you, wanting to accompany him on this journey and not cause a fuss about something that maybe is not there for a fact. You kept being a good friend.

And you kept your cool, rolling with all of it just fine. It’s been fine, but everything skyrocketed when his career went on a higher range path as he joined Real Madrid in last July. Now, that was some boost to Jude’s ego. And it’s been astonishing that every time he came back now, he was presenting a different, much developed persona. A man, as you noticed with a flutter of your heart. Man with responsibility, worked up discipline, well-groomed talent and a radiant self-confidence that you knew not many women can say no to. But you were not a woman for his choice, you were too old for him. From the moment when you’d been kids, strutting down the province to buy some ice cream in a corner shop. You as a young guardian, since your little brother and his jumpy friend with big dark eyes and funny ears were too young to pay the cashier the right amount of money for your sweetmeats.

Now, it’s been a joyful night and at the end of it you found yourself standing in front of him leaned back on the huge sofa in your hotel room. You’ve been laughing non stop for the last two hours and you didn’t even remember exactly how both of you ended up in your suite, leaving your friends behind. You breathed in a huff, slightly exhausted by your alcoholic trance, smile still visible on your face. You leaned back on the edge of a little table in the middle of the room and you spotted him doing the exact thing that made you unbelievably anxious lately. He kept watching you, intensively, so passionately you felt all parts of your body as if exposed to him. Like you were a painting, the sight of which he’d rather die than part with. He’s been close to you all night. You could feel him sneaking in. There was a reason he came after you here, wasn’t there?

“Jude” you breathed, nervous, not very much ready for this conversation.

He hummed in question, playing with the soft brink of the armrest of the sofa with his fingers.

“Stop looking at me like that” you stated a longer moment after.

There was a inquiry in his expression after your words. He anticipated you elaborate.

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re seeing me different than you’ve used to”

You kept your cool. Good.

“What do you mean, y/n?” he murmured, and his face now did not appear unaware of the course of this conversation. Like he was prepared.

“I am not…” it was hard to fight the bile that started to form in your throat.

It was not that hard. The rejection. You’ve done this before. But it was not just some guy. He was your friend. Childhood companion.

“…I can’t be what you want me to be”

He went rigid, his eyes turned hard, lips stiff. He incited you to continue.

“It can’t happen” you voiced it out surely. Your eyes still not leaving his. You had to be resolved and purposeful.

His jaw clicked as he looked down at his hand as if looking for composure. Swiftly he brought his eyes back to your face.

“It’s done already” he stated in a firm voice and you shook a little in horror.

Whatever he meant?

“I’m not playing anything, y/n. It’s done already and I don’t really have the intention to fight it.”  

“What do you mean by done?” you went pale.

Amongst many things that Jude were, he was definitely a man of devotion, conviction and determination. You were shaking in your limbs at the magnitude of these words. These were serious ones.

He laughed lightly at your question. He knew you were playing dumb for your safety.

“I know what I want” he started quietly “And I aim to have it” a dangerous spark in his eyes.

Was this his go? To rile you up?

“What exactly do you want?” you stared to banter.

“You”

He said it so effortlessly but his voice hardened slightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous” there was a snort leaving your mouth as you tried to turn away for his fiery gaze.

You went for a glass of wine you poured yourself earlier, in a need of something that’ll make this easier for you. Many questions appearing in your head of how to save this situation without it shattering everything you’ve had between you.

“You don’t find me enough, then?” he asked from the distance.

At least the distance was safe.

It was your turn to laugh. You almost threw your head back.

“I am too old for you, Jude” you argued, now fire appearing in your eyes as well because all of this was not so definite on your side.

How have you been perceiving him? The answer to this question was far more complicated than his “I know what I want” statement. Because you did not know. All you knew is that the last thing you wanted is for the world to shatter at your feet because you did something as repellent as throwing yourself at such younger boy.

“I don’t give two fucks about…”

“But I do!” you turned sharply to face his way “What about my saying in this?!”

“Voice it out then, fully” he tempted.

Bigger, his eyes turned even bigger. You prayed for your legs to not lead you closer to him.

“It’s wrong, it’s weird. What would your mother have to say about this, the public?!” you hissed, scolding him almost.

He did not liked to be scolded. By anyone, except his mother. Well, not many would like to get into Denise’s black book.

“Oh, please, my mom adores you” he scoffed trying to make you sound unreasonable.

“As a family friend!” an obvious statement “And it would look dreadfully wrong, for a five years older woman to groom a boy such as yourself!” you snapped.

He frowned at the term you named him in such sentence. You definitely wounded him by it, choosing to strike with a necessary impudence.

“To groom?” laughter enveloped his features.

He was not to give up on this. It mildly made you want to come up to him and shake him.

“Yes, that’s a word for it”

“It’s an exaggeration”

“Are you in love with me, Jude?!” that was definitely a question you yearned to hear an answer to. Looking for advantage.

He blinked, swallowing sharply. And your knees went weak because you knew that look on his gentle face. Softer, boyish, fond. The fire died in his eyes for a moment, leaving room for waving devotion. Like an ocean in the darkness.

“Yes” he breathed.

Fuck.

“Do you even know what that means?!” you could slap him in the face as well, probably would be more subtle.

“For fuck’s sake, y/n” he moved forwards on the settee, clasping his hands together.

“It’s a lot Jude, and you’re not in love” were you trying to put feelings and thoughts of your choosing in his head right now? Most likely. “It is not a time or place for a boyish infatuation” you fumed.

He stood up abruptly and you shook in your place.

“Do you want me to prove you it’s far from being a boyish infatuation?” a step forward, putting you into action to take a step back. “Your reaction says a lot about that” he stated noticing you fighting the intention to circle the table.

Breathe in, breath out.

“If it’s lust, it means little and dies quickly” you breathed, your chest falling and raising faster. You were raging, with… something.

“If it was just lust, I would’ve snapped years ago” he burked rolling his shoulders back.

You snorted.

“I am not trying to force anything on you” he took another step your way.

You stood still. Hold your ground, you kept saying to yourself.

“And the last thing I want is for us to fell apart” just few feet away from each other now, you looking up at him “But you’re putting a hell lot of work for this denial, because you’re looking at me different than you’ve used to as well.”

A sharp intake of breath. You realised it was yours. From this proximity he could hear. And you weren’t looking at him, focusing your absent gaze on his chest, searching for composure. Suddenly his fingers appeared under your chin, tilting your head up delicately. You gave in, exhausted, almost.

“Sweet dreams, we’ll see each other tomorrow” he smiled with reassurance in his eyes, honest and with gentleness “And the day after that, and day after that” his thumb grazed your under chin when he whispered these words to you.

You narrowed your eyes trying to get an answer to the true meaning of this promise. But he left your room before your smart mouth could work proper again.

[haravath0t]

A Christmas Wish - Day 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Filipino!Reader

Warnings: fluff, an immense word count, a talk with the mom??

Hello, everyone! Finally, we have Day 1 of A Christmas Wish! I’m so happy I found a way to extend the Christmas Spirit well into the year through this request! We are uncovering a huge tradition that means a lot to me and my family as Filipinos! Many of the Filipino community are Christian/Catholic, so this particular tradition will be based on the Christian Christmas tradition for the sake of the plot and its personal meaning! I hope this is something that can be understood between author to reader! I promise, the religious aspect of this particular tradition will not be as emphasized as other parts of the culture that I will introduce! Happy readings my lovelies, and to all my Filipino readers, pasensya kung mali ng English translation ko. Ang hirap naman talaga mg translate eh 😅😅😅 huhuuuu

(italics indicate flashbacks! english translations are provided and the pictures of the foods are attached in the bottom!) 

You opened your eyes excitedly, a big smile forming on your face as you remembered a particular memory from yesterday that really made you so happy: 

You, Steve, and your family had finished putting your luggage in the trunk of the van, squeezing themselves in either of the two vans. The driver was now hours in on the road, the chaos had died down as your cousins who decided to join yours and Steve’s van were asleep. The city was long gone, as the buildings had now become hills and green fields, passing by small little towns and provinces. The once crowded and traffic highways turned into a wide empty road. 

Contrary to your cousins who fell back asleep, you were wide awake, not only from the jet lag, but also from your excitement. You were sitting in the middle of the back row of the van, earphones plugged in your ears, listening to the familiar tracks of OPM (Original Pinoy Music) and 70s/80s hits that you were familiar with from your karaoke nights with your parents. Steve was seated on the window (something you recommended him to do), looking as the green grass and hills passed by. Steve couldn’t help but smile, this was something that was so new to him, but it was something you saw as a reminder that you were actually back with your family, back in your roots, back home. It was simple. That’s what he liked most. 

“What do you think so far? We’re still a bit far from the hotel and their house, but we’re about more than halfway home,” you ask softly. Steve’s eyes left the window as he instead looks at your lovely sparkling eyes. He couldn’t help the smile that forms on his face as he easily recognizes the excitement on your face. “I already love it, doll. I really do. I can’t wait to have you and your family show us around.” He says softly yet with sincerity. You smiled excitedly and took an earbud out of your ear, kissing his cheek before you put the earbud in his ear, making him laugh. “Y/N, doll, what are you doing?” He asks softly as his eyebrows furrow. You giggle as you scroll through your list of songs that you had downloaded on your phone. “Oh, I figured… well.. If you want, we can listen to this playlist? We can try napping?” You offer, the excited smile turning in a shy one, tints of pink being apparent on your cheeks. Steve’s smile only grew as he kissed your forehead. “Yeah, I’d love that, sugar. What’s the type of music in this one?” He asks softly, securing the earbud into his ear further. “It has some Filipino music and some 70s and 80s songs that my parents love… I listened to them all the time growing up,” you reply with a smile, choosing the song “I Think I’m Falling in Love” by The Boyfriends, smiling as the familiar opening notes are being played into yours and Steve’s ear. Steve’s eyebrows raise in surprise when the music plays but smiles as he lets the tune settle into his ears. Steve subconsciously wraps his arm protectively around your body, “C’mon honey, get comfy, yeah?” You did not think twice as you lean against him, resting your head against the crook of his neck, a big smile on your face reappearing as his familiar scent fills your nostrils. A deep chuckle is felt underneath your body. “Feelin’ better?” He asks softly, resting his cheek against your head. “Mhm, much better.” You sigh happily, closing your eyes as you feel his fingers comb your hair. You smile as you drift off to sleep, hearing the lyrics “I think I’m falling in love, something’s telling me so”.

“You do realize wherever you’re goin’ I’m goin’ right?” He asks with a smile, as he swallows a piece of pandesal. “This is so good by the way,” he adds before you speak up. “I know, but this thing takes place at 4 AM in the Cathedral, Steve! That’s early! “Okay, but we go to different time zones for missions, sweetheart. This is not new, we’ll be fine, you know me,” he responds, chuckling, “besides, we can sleep in after everything.” “Fair point,” you giggle, finishing your milk and throwing the plastic cup away. You kiss Steve’s head and hug him from behind. “Well… I can’t thank you enough, honey. You are doing so much already. Thank you. My family likes you already, I’m sure” A comforting hand rubs your forearm up and down before a soft pair of lips meets the back of your hand. “I’d be very happy if your family does. Their opinion of us matters to me too.” “How’d you even know about us going to mass today?” “Your Tita Joy mentioned it actually last night over dinner, asked if we both were going to Simbang...Simbang Gabi?” Your heart leapt at the sound of Steve saying something in Tagalog, a giggle erupting from your lips. “Goodness, Steve, you’re so adorable. Come on, we gotta get ready if we’re going to the Cathedral by jeepney.” You say, kissing his head before you get your clothes from your suitcase to head to the bathroom. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, playfully saluting you before he follows suit. 

Steve was quite happy he tagged along with you, for the town was wonderfully decorated with parols (Christmas lanterns) and a nativity scene in front of the Cathedral. Not only that, he loved seeing you focused throughout the service, watching as you were alongside your family and practicing your tradition. It was truly something beautiful to see in his eyes. 

Now, you and your family and Steve were outside of the Cathedral alongside other churchgoers, the town now starting to busy itself as the dawn arrives. There were now many food stalls outside, serving coffee and tea as well as wonderful foods to pair with the Christmas season. These included, bibingka, puto (rice cakes), suman, pandesal, and so much more. “Teka lang, Nanay, kukuha ako lang pagkain para sa atin lahat,” (hold on, mom, I’m just going to get some food for all of us) you say to your mom, her nodding in response. “Oh sige, anak. Sama mo ng Tatay mo! May pera s’ya!” (Alright, take your father with you! He has money!) She responds as you disappear in the crowd to get your guys’ share of good food. Steve only smiles at the interaction, watching as you go ahead with your father to one of the food stalls. “She’s like a kid, isn’t she?” Your mom says to Steve causing him to jump a little and only nod in response. “Yes, ma’am.” She playfully groans and waves her hand to him dismissively. “Oh, please you’re gonna call me ma’am? No, Tita will do for now,” She chuckles, making Steve relax in relief, not realizing his body had been tense. “Oh, Okay Tita.” She smiles and gives Steve a thumbs up and a nod of approval, which makes Steve smile. “You know, Steve, this whole Simbang Gabi thing is something she always has done since she was a girl. She loved it very much.” Steve smiles at this, imagining a younger you holding your parents’ hands as you make your way in the church. “It makes sense why she was up earlier than me during the Christmas season. I always wake up for a morning jog. I normally hear or see her out and about back home.” Your mom only chuckles, watching you and your father order some bibingka first. 

“Did she tell you what her motivation was as a kid?” She asks, seeing Steve shake his head. “No, I haven’t.” “Ahh, well, there’s this funny folk belief here, you see. If you attend all 9 masses, then you can make a wish and your wish will come true if that’s what God wills it to be.” Your mother explains, smiling when Steve has an “aha” moment and nods in understanding. “I think that’s beautiful,” he says, hands fumbling within the pockets of his jeans, eyes making contact with yours. He smiles even more when you show your beautiful smile before you go back to ordering from the stalls. “You really love my daughter, don’t you Steven?” She asls, looking up at the taller man. “With all of my heart, Tita,” he responds firmly and surely, which eases your mom. 

“That’s good to hear. I love the certainty. She deserves that much you know. She’s been through a lot. And… I can see the way you two look at each other. It makes me happy,” She says, sighing in content. “We’re glad to be able to have you celebrate with us. Goodness, I cannot even thank you enough for letting us fly over with you two.” “It’s not a problem, Tita,” He starts. “Family is important to Y/N, and I hope you know that she talks about you guys constantly. I can’t blame her, you all are very kind and lovely to me. It’s been a wish for her to come here for the holidays.” “Her wish, huh?” Your mom smiles. “Yes, Tita.” “What about you? You’re joining us in these, so do you have a wish?” Your mother presses on, burning through Steve’s eyes with her eye contact. Steve however, was blushing for different reasons. “I do, Tita. It’s ambitious, so let’s see.” “Well don’t be shy, tell me!” Your mom squeals excitedly, motioning to Steve to whisper it into her ear. And so he does, your mom is smiling bigger and bigger and bigger as she hears. 

“Oh, susmaryosep! (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!) That’s a nice wish, very ambitious, I like it! I’m sure it will come true. I’m sure.” Your mom exclaims clapping her hands together in pure excitement.  “You...you think so?” Steve asks shyly, seeking for reassurance. “It’s a tough one, Tita. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression “a man out of time” being used on me. It’s a very tough thing to do, you know, to adjust to current events and current society.” He comments, scratching the back of his head. “And you are doing good, Steve. You’re an honest hardworking guy. I promise. I think when the time is right, you’ll get what you wish for.” “Well let’s see, Tita, let’s see.”

FOODS MENTIONED BELOW!!!

Pandesal (bread rolls)

Puto (rice cakes) 

Bibingka

Suman

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A Christmas Wish Taglist: @faithtrustandrobbiekay​

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[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - I - Cleaning Up

'Hospital gowns,' Russia decides, 'are not comfortable.'

'America's lap was warm and comfortable though.'

The sun had begun to set, and the surroundings begin to grow dark. America had grown quiet, and Russia assumes he's asleep. But as the car grows dark, Russia notices something a little strange. A light blue glow surrounds him. It's faint. Very faint. He hadn't even noticed it until the sky was full of stars. Russia tries to ignore the fear building in his chest at the appearance of the moon. The glow is gentle, calming, and it makes his skin feel tingly and warm, as warm as it could feel.

'What is that? It looks like America's magic. But America's asleep.'

Russia raises his arm as high as he could, only a few centimeters, and drops it. No one looks. He tries again, and Texas spins around, with an anxious look he tries to hide lighting up his face.

Russia meets his eyes, and Texas relaxes. Then Texas scans over him with a strange look.

"What in tarnation? New Mex, look at Russia," Texas says, grabbing New Mexico by the shoulder.

"What?" New Mexico asks, turning around in her seat.

"Oh," New Mexico mutters, "Dad's magic?"

"I don't know. Could you turn Dixie off of mute?" Texas says, announcing the question to the front seat.

"Sure thing TexMex," Arizona replies.

"Don't call me that," Texas mutters.

"Hey, Dix. I got a question," Texas announces.

There is a short pause before anyone received an answer.

"Does it got something to do with them weird dogs in the trees?"

"No, it's about- wait, DOGS?!"

"Yeah. Listen, y'all shouldn't look, they ain't right."

Texas begins looking around, but Finland moves to block the window. Texas scowls but returns his gaze to Russia. His face softens seeing his father.

"Can Dad use his magic when he's sleepin'?" Texas asks, his eyes focused on Russia's arm.

"Wait, what do mean?" Canada's voice filters through the phone.

"Him and Russia are glowin'. Kinda. It just looks like Dad's using some healing magic or something," Texas explains.

"Dad still has magic to use?" Massachusetts asks.

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' it's cuz Dad is finally getting some sleep," New Mexico comments.

"He's sleeping?" Dixie asks incredulously.

"He's been sleeping for the past several hours. Why?" Finland responds, sounding confused.

"Dad just doesn't sleep much," Kansas explains.

Finland hums but doesn't say anything else.

"Well, that's good. Really good," Canada says, "he'll probably be feeling better as soon as he wakes up."

"What do you mean? How much does his healing magic help? I know countries heal faster than humans, and states," Finland adds as an afterthought, "but he was stabbed."

"He's stubborn," Dixie says, "he won't be able to lift anything, but he'll probably be up and moving around once he wakes up."

"He'll totally call the shower once we stop and get settled in," Arizona says with a laugh.

Dixie chuckles.

"Y'all think he'll insist that he's the once to clean up Russia too?" Texas asks.

Russia feels his mind freeze and embarrassment halts his thoughts.

'I... what?!? Clean...? Like a CHILD?!'

He feels the remains of his pride shrivel and closes his eyes. He can't force himself to meet anyone's eyes. If he could manage, he would have covered his face. He had already felt so flustered needing help with the bathroom, and now.

'This is so much worse.'

But he knew he couldn't really decline, as he couldn't speak. And he tried to slow down his heart rate.

'America doesn't know,' he thinks, trying to defend the sliver of dignity he could keep, 'he doesn't have to know.'

"What? What's going on?" America slurs with sleep.

'Oh no.'

"Oh! Hi Dad," Texas says with a nervous undertone, "how're you feeling?"

"Hey, Tiktac. I'm okay. How're you doing? You sound a little off."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm just... nervous. Ya know, waiting to get attacked an all."

"Waiting to get attacked?!" New York shrieks.

"Yeah. It's what happened when we drove through the early morning when we first went through the mountains," Massachusetts explains, his voice sounds muffled through the speakers.

"Colorado!" New York yells.

"On a side note," Arizona loudly interjects, "Dad, how is your back feeling?"

"It's feeling a lot better. Still kinda hurts, but I'll manage."

"Yay! Could you get yourself all washed up?"

"Of course."

"And-"

'Please don't say anything.'

"Could you get Russia washed up too? The rest of us don't feel comfortable doing it. You know, with him being your boyfriend and all."

"I... probably. I wouldn't be able to carry him in there, but if you guys could get him into the bathroom, I can take it from there."

'Oh no.'

Russia knows that he hadn't been cleaned. Not really. He also remembers how Louisiana had New Mexico check for new infections where the IV was just a few hours ago.

'Was that even really a hospital?'

Thinking about it, he concludes that maybe it was, but the people there had other plans. And no training, if California was to be believed.

"Well, can all of you calm your t***s?"New Jersey asks.

"Well, I don't have those, soo," Kansas replies with a smirk.

"Shut the f*** up." New Jersey snaps.

"Anyway, we're about to pull up to the hotel, but whatever the f*** is following us is still pretty close," Massachusetts remarks.

"Sippi and I will go out and protect all y'all while y'all are goin' inside," Alabama volunteers.

"Y'all are NOT goin' by yourselves," Dixie says.

"I'm goin' with 'em," Texas says.

"Me too," New Mexico volunteers.

The car fills with the calls of other states and a few provinces who agreed to go armed to walk the rest of the group inside.

Finland picks Russia up easily, and Russia just feels happy that he's still wrapped up in blankets. The states who weren't watching the shadows were throwing suitcases out of the backs of cars and trucks as fast as they could.

Someone tosses Texas his hat, who hoots wildly with a grin.

"H*** YEAH!" Texas cheers.

Tennessee elbows him harshly, and Texas calms down slightly. Russia internally chuckles.

"You need to get cleaned up," Finland mutters. But her tone is less angered than Russia would expect.

America hobbles into the hotel room's bathroom, and the water tuns on. Finland stands by the door while Kansas, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas settle into one of the beds and the pull-out couch.

Then America pokes his face out of the door.

"You can bring him in here," America says.

Russia closes his eyes in embarrassment.

"Just put him in. We aren't keeping the hospital gown anyway." America says.

Russia sees Finland shrug and he's put into the tub with his back leaned against the side and is blasted with water. He flinches, expecting it to be freezing. He sits there for a moment, his eyes scrunched shut, until his mind registers that the water was warm.

He relaxes slightly.

"Hey, you didn't expect me to blast you with cold water, right?" America asks with a chuckle.

Russia can't meet his eyes.

America sighs, then props Russia up a little further and unties the knot of the gown on the back of his neck.

"Hey, I get it. I honestly kept checking it cuz every time I looked, it looked like it would be freezing and I didn't wanna risk you getting cold," America says, gently removing the gown.

Russia feels exposed and very embarrassed. America seems to ignore the awkwardness of the situation that drowns Russia's rational thinking.

'The only time I wanted you to see me like this is when I could take your clothes off.'

These thoughts did NOT help his already flustered mental state.

America gets back to his feet and grabs some things off the counter.

Russia still couldn't believe that America had to wash him like a small child. He feels mortified but finds a silver lining in the fact that America was the only one doing this.

"Okay," America starts gently, "I'm gonna start at your legs and go up, okay?"

Russia tries his best to nod, and America takes the affirmation as permission to start.

Most of the sensation in his legs is still numb, but America is still gentle. Gently washing out whatever had been ignored for the nurses, though the more Russia thinks about it, the more he doubts that any of those nurses were nurses at all.

He remembered how California had ranted on the car ride through the group call, loud enough to wake him up, about how she had to fix the butchered surgery with New York, and how America only survived because he was a country with how botched it was. How the 'surgical team' left two scalpels and a pair of scissors in the crooked sutures. How nothing was lined up or healing correctly. How Louisiana was the only thing that kept back any infection.

How they had fixed it. How it was a huge emergency and how New York and California had to hurriedly research and redo surgery in secret due to their, not unfounded, suspicions.

How the only reason they stayed was for Russia because they weren't sure if they could move him. How they rushed out so fast because they had wanted to leave for almost a week.

He couldn't help but feel touched that they stayed for him, but his stomach churned at how badly it had gone for America.

'No one in that building had any medical training.'

The realization hits him like a brick to the chest.

Seething fury. The thoughts have him wishing he could move, if only to strangle the 'doctor's who did that and caused more suffering to both America and his children. He takes a deep breath and tries to return his focus to America.

'I can't lash out. Not now. Not at America.'

America had made it up to his chest. Russia hadn't even realized he had been lifted up or that the backs of his legs or lower back had been attended to.

'That might be for the best.'

He knows, had it been possible, his face would have turned beet red.

America gets to his hands and holds them before rinsing them off.

Russia notices how the smell that had clung to him since the dead animals incident began to actually fade. The air was clearing.

"Okay Ruski," America mutters, "you gotta close your eyes, okay?"

Russia complies.

Russia finds himself relaxing, as much as he could, as America tenderly rubs away the grim from his face. It seems to take a few tries to get the dried slime off his cheek.

Gentle, caloused hands begin scrubbing out his hair.

"It's been so long since I've seen your hair actually white," America says with an audible smile. Russia smiles back as well he can.

Russia tries to pay all his attention to the gentle actions. He feels so fuzzy. So loved. So cared for.

America dumps some water over his face, and he holds his breath.

He basks in the affection. Sure, this is still a situation that mortified him to no end, because of his lack of autonomy, but decides, since he can't do anything to stop it, to try to ignore it as best he could.

Eventually, he's dried off and clothed, his hair fluffed up by the towel.

America giggles and kisses him on the forehead.

"Your hair looks so cute," America says between muffled laughter.

Finland carries him out and dumps him onto the bed. America closed the bathroom door behind them and cleans himself off before stumbling back out. With New Mexico and Kansas' help, America makes it onto the bed.

America crawls across it and cuddles into Russia's side. Kansas laughs and helps adjust the blankets to be lying on top of them. America wraps himself up tightly and begins stroking Russia's clothes with an arm poking out of the bundle he had buried himself in.

'He's adorable.'

America shifts around and pulls Russia to his chest. America buries his face into Russia's hair. America breaths in and sighs. He nuzzles Russia's hair.

"It's nice, you know? You smell nice again," America mumbles into his hair. Russia feels a little flustered, but content.

"Y'all are sweet," Texas coos. Russia feels his heart swell at the implied approval. America hums, and falls asleep against Russia.

"I'll keep watch," Finland volunteers. She sits in the uncomfortable hotel chair, facing the hotel door. Russia drifts off, feeling warm and loved.

~

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Table of Contents

[gerrystamour]

the bittersweet between my teeth, Chapter 5

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup​

PLEASE HEED THE FOLLOWING CONTENT WARNINGS:

Minor Character Death

Mortal Injury

Violence

Severe Blood Loss and Burns*

Torture (Explicit, but show accurate)

Sad Cliffhanger

*A quick not about the author’s knowledge re: blood loss, burns, etc: I really don’t know a lot, and ya girl got the squeams real bad trying to research that shit so I took extreme artistic license with it.

Chapter Five [Previous Chapter][First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev crouched next to Juno in the sewers, just below the grate Rita had helped identify as having the least amount of security near it, while simultaneously being close enough to the vault they intended to hit.

They had met at Nureyev’s new,much less reputable, hotel that morning to go over the plan again; wait until the change in security rotations, loop the camera feeds for twenty minutes, hit the vault and get out. Even if an alarm got tripped, they would have a solid five minutes to get back out before anyone would be able to find them. It was straightforward and easy, the closest thing to a guarantee Nureyev had ever worked with.

Nureyev had arranged to have the room for two nights, just long enough to complete the job and meet with one of his contacts to have the weapons disposed of. He wouldn’t need the room any longer than that, and again, the job was in-and-out, like stealing candy from a baby.

Juno, however, was not impressed.

“We’re not stealing candy, Nureyev!” Juno had snapped back at the hotel, pushing Nureyev back with his hand on his chest. Nureyev had pouted a bit, the kiss he had been angling for rebuffed completely. “And our mark isn’t a baby.  We’re stealing weapons from the mayor and a Piranha-faced goon!”

“Semantics, dear,” Nureyev had replied, smoothing his palms down the front of Juno’s turtleneck. “Believe me when I say we’ll be back here by dinner, time enough to celebrate a heist well-done, and then we’re off to the Cerberus Province to have the weapons destroyed.”

Nureyev had kissed him soundly at that, swallowing Juno’s indignant squawk and sighing when Juno opened for him and relaxed into the embrace. Then the beautiful detective made an annoyed sound and pulled away.

“Now you’re just asking for disaster to happen, Nureyev,” Juno grumbled, pushing away to grab his coat. “It’s arrogant. I don’t like it.”

“My goodness, my dear detective, I do love your commitment to complaining, but perhaps we could use some optimism?” Nureyev said with a fond smile and Juno sneered a bit.

“Sorry, Nureyev, I’ve got two settings and they’re both Insufferable Pessimist,” Juno deadpanned and Nureyev had laughed.

Now that they were there, however, Nureyev found himself hesitating.

The sewers were incredibly dry, all things considered, though Juno said it would likely not be the case when they left. There was some sort of timed system which would periodically fill and drain the sewers to keep the local rodents from settling in. It was something that annoyed Juno, but had very little to do with potentially having to wade out of the sewers chest deep in raw sewage.

“Rich idiots think they’re too good for rabbits,” Juno had grumbled after explaining, and if Nureyev thought there was no way to be even more in love with him, he had been wrong. Juno Steel took moral offense with the wealthy regardless of what they did, even if it was something as simple as keeping oversized, territorial rodents from dwelling in their waste.

“Glass,” Juno murmured, snapping Nureyev out of his thoughts. “What are we waiting for?”

“Apologies, dear,” Nureyev said with a shaky chuckle, checking his knives again and then quickly redoing the braid in his hair. Then he adjusted his glasses and looked at Juno. “Remember the plan?”

“Kinda,” Juno sighed, and Nureyev almost choked.

They had just gone over the plan as they walked, after going over the plan in the hotel room, and before that they had gone over it the day prior. They had come up with the plan together, and Juno only kinda knew it?

“Juno,” he scolded, calculating if he should risk this leg of the job alone, or back out entirely and return when Juno was better prepared.

“I’m joking, Glass,” Juno said with a laugh. “You always this tense before a job?”

“Only when I stand to lose more than I’m willing to,” Nureyev answered honestly, and Juno bit the inside of his cheek, clearly embarrassed by the sincerity. Hitting a button on his comms to loop the security feeds, Nureyev nodded.  “Let’s go then.”

“I’ve got your back,” Juno agreed, waiting for Nureyev to climb up ahead of him.

Objectively, Nureyev knew that Juno was capable, and since half of the plan was comprised of Juno’s ideas, there was no reason to doubt that the detective was more than equipped to be there. But now that Nureyev was faced with the reality of Juno going into a situation that could end in his death, he found himself distracted with his anxiety.

Their way into the vault from there was simple as Nureyev checked each door on their way in, looking for any traps but there hadn’t been any. That was concerning to him, but he didn’t mention it to Juno. Doing so would only distract the detective, and he couldn’t have that. Nureyev glanced back at the private eye while he checked a doorway for traps, taking in the way he hung close to him, his eye scanning the hall while glancing at his own comms to double-check that the feeds were looping properly.

Nureyev couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered on the detective either, especially considering the fit of his black pants and black turtleneck. The thigh-holster for his blaster and black gloves were also something of a distraction if Nureyev let his gaze stray, so he kept his focus on moving forward.

“The vault should be just through here,” Nureyev whispered as he checked the next door for traps. Once he confirmed the door to be free of any sort of danger from that side, he carefully opened it and stepped inside.

The vault was a decently sized room with several shelves of various valuable items. Checking his watch, Nureyev hummed. “We’ve made excellent time, Juno!” he began as he turned to look at the detective. “So let’s grab the— Juno. Dear. Where, might I ask, is your glove?”

Juno jumped and looked sheepishly down at the bare hand holding his blaster. “The glove felt wrong on the trigger,” he explained briefly and Nureyev couldn’t help the eye-roll, or the sigh.

“You need to wear both of the gloves, Juno,” he scolded and Juno just shook his head.

“I’m not putting the glove back on,” he said resolutely. “I’ll only touch my blaster, okay?”

Nureyev huffed, annoyed by the sudden stubbornness over something silly. “We don’t have time to argue this. Let’s grab the weapons and go.”

Juno pointed out the cases and Nureyev was still surprised at how small they apparently were. Juno had told Nureyev just how compact the tyrannical leadership over Brahma had made their Guardian Angel System, but he hadn’t quite believed it until he saw it. They hardly needed two bags to carry them out, but they shared the load nonetheless.

Nureyev checked his watch again and decided that there was plenty of time for him to window shop. There were several shelves of blasters, knives, and jewellery to choose from, and Nureyev happily let his eyes— and sticky fingers— travel over the knives and one of the blasters.

Blasters were never Nureyev’s thing, but for the lady huffing impatiently behind him, however… 

It was certainly prettier than the blaster sitting in Juno’s holster, he reasoned as he took it off the shelf and slipped it into his bag.

“Glass, c’mon. Let’s go,” Juno snapped, shifting uncomfortably as he waited.

Nureyev merely made a tutting noise as he continued to peruse the shelves of jewellery, pausing at a tray of bracelets. “Yes, yes, dear. In a moment,” he replied dismissively, absently waving at Juno over his shoulder.

“We don’t have time for this, Glass.

Nureyev smirked over his shoulder at the detective, allowing him to see him pocket a bracelet and it’s matching necklace. Juno let out an affronted noise and spluttered a bit.

“You do realize I could still arrest you, right?” Juno threatened. At that, Nureyev hummed thoughtfully before grinning toothily at the detective.

“Have I told you how much I love it when you get all morally outraged like that?” he asked with an eyebrow raised, his voice barely more than a purr. “It does a lot for me.”

Juno sucked in a shaky breath, nostrils flaring as he bit the inside of his cheek. Shaking his head sharply, he returned to glaring.

“Glass, this is not the time for that,” he said, though he sounded slightly breathless. When Nureyev’s watch chirped a five-minute warning, Juno turned to reach for the door, snapping, “Seriously, Glass, let’s go!”

Nureyev realized a moment too late that Juno’s hand was still bare, and no longer holding his blaster. Still, just as Juno grabbed the doorknob, Nureyev hissed, “Juno, wait—”

Juno gasped the moment his hand touched it, wrenching his hand back just as the lights turned red around them and alarms began to blare.

“Juno,” Nureyev scolded, but the detective was pointedly keeping his back to Nureyev as he inspected something on his palm.

“So…” Juno began slowly, obviously trying to keep his tone light. “I probably need a tetanus shot, and… we’re kinda… in trouble?”

Nureyev pinched the bridge of his nose just below his glasses, and let out a low sound. “Oh, are we?”

“Hey!” Juno said as he turned to glare. “Don’t act like this is only my fault.”

Nureyev scoffed at that and turned back to the trays of bracelets to grab something he had been eyeing before Juno’s blunder. “Who was it that went and opened the boobytrapped door with his bare hand, Juno dear?” he asked sourly, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulders. “It certainly was not me.”

When he turned to face Juno, the detective was a glorious vision of indignance and bratty petulance. If Nureyev wasn’t so annoyed with him, he would have kissed the detective.

“It was supposed to be in-and-out, Glass!” Juno groaned. “None of this browsing! If you were planning to go shopping, you should’ve maybe told me?”

Nureyev only stared at him for a moment, making a sceptical noise in the back of his throat. “Juno,” he said flatly. “I am a thief.”

“Yeah, I know that Glass, but I figured—”

“And I told you to let me handle all the doors—”

“How was I supposed to know—”

“No, enough,” Nureyev said with a huff. “I’ll win this argument later—”

“What?! You’ll win— ?”

“ —and we need to get out of here, and fast,” he finished, checking the door one last time before opening it and hurrying into the hall, Juno following closely behind him.

As they hurried through the halls, they began to hear snatches of conversation from approaching thugs, shouting orders to find the intruders. The goons were getting closer, and Nureyev and Juno were running out of time.

“We’re not gonna make it, Glass,” Juno hissed, and Nureyev had nothing to say to that.

“Boss wants him taken straight to her!”

Juno cursed. “The goddamn Piranha!”

Nureyev glanced back at Juno and his heart stopped at the naked fear on his face. They couldn’t both make it out, and both of them getting caught was not an option. When it came down to choosing between the two of them, Nureyev knew what he should do.

When trouble arises, he disappears. That had been his way for as long as he could remember, and it had kept him alive.

He knew what he should do.

Nureyev grabbed Juno’s wrist and pulled him into a small alcove, swinging his bag off of his back and pushing it into Juno’s hands. “Take it,” he said firmly. “And give me your comms.”

Juno looked up at him, confused and absolutely beautiful, and Nureyev’s heart ached. “Nur— ?”

“Hush, love, give me your comms,” Nureyev insisted again, and Juno handed it over almost robotically. Nureyev smiled winningly at Juno as he punched in a set of coordinates. “This is my friend. He’ll help destroy the weapons—”

Juno made a sound, something that fell somewhere between a sceptical laugh and a sob. “N— Glass, don’t be stupid!” he hissed, and when Nureyev looked at him, he saw real anger in his expression. “She’ll kill you!”

“You don’t know that, love,” Nureyev replied with a shake of his head, pushing the comms back into his hands. Nureyev had very little confidence in his odds, but he wouldn’t tell Juno that. “I stand a better chance of talking my way out than you do.”

Juno shook his head and hissed, “I don’t like this, Glass. We can figure something else out, something that doesn’t involve playing right into that sociopath’s hands—”

“I’ll be fine, my love,” Nureyev said, pressing his fingers gently over Juno’s lips. “I’ll meet you at the hotel before you know it.”

Juno stared at him, his visible eye glassy with unshed tears, and when Nureyev moved to turn away, Juno grabbed the straps of the holster for his knives. There was a storm of emotions on the detective’s face, and Nureyev felt swept away by it; completely bowled over and left stranded out at sea.

Juno Steel was so handsome, and Peter Nureyev couldn’t remember how to breathe in the face of that.

“You better,” Juno finally said in a low voice before he pulled Nureyev down to capture his lips in something desperate and needy. Nureyev sighed and immediately deepened the kiss, opening for Juno’s tongue and cradling his face with one hand.

“Wait here for a few minutes, then get to the sewers,” Nureyev whispered quickly as he pulled away. “If I’m not back at the hotel by tomorrow morning, call my friend. Do not wait for me.”

Nureyev did not wait for Juno to respond before he left the alcove and darted back down the hall in the direction they had come. 

There was a knife ready in his hand when he turned the next corner, and it found a home briefly in the side of a thug’s throat. Pulling it back out, he dodged the spray of blood and the meaty paw of another large thug, opening that one’s inner thigh with an efficient and deep slice of the knife in Nureyev’s other hand.

Thug number three was still barrelling forward and had not registered the veritable lake of blood that Nureyev had just formed in the hall and slipped, practically slitting his own throat as Nureyev slashed his blade through the air. There was a fourth goon coming at him, and Nureyev laughed at his approach, flipping the blade in his hand and throwing it.

The knife sunk home in the thug’s throat and he stumbled, choking wetly and stupidly reaching up to pull the blade out. Nureyev was hopeful for a moment that perhaps he could flee, catch up to Juno and they could run together.

Something hit the side of his head hard enough for his vision to white-out. He managed to stay standing, but he was thrown against the wall and dropped his other knife. When his vision returned, he saw that the hit had come from a baton in the hands of a thug who had arrived on the scene from behind him. There were two other men in the hall as well, and all three converged on him.

Nureyev was able to dodge the first few hits, but pinned as he was against the wall, one finally landed against his ribs and he lost his feet. Winded, he fell to his knees and through sheer luck, his hand found the blade he dropped. Nureyev slashed blindly, still gasping for breath, and he took a steel-toed boot to the stomach for his efforts.

He wheezed as he finished falling to the ground, and distantly he heard the sound of crackling electricity before every nerve in his body lit up in agony. Nureyev wasn’t even sure how long he’d been convulsing on the ground before he was able to register that there was some sort of pronged baton pressed into his side sending a vicious current through him. 

Just as he was about to black out, the thug backed off and Nureyev immediately gagged, bringing up the meager breakfast he had eaten that morning. He felt like his entire body was on fire, every single cell vibrating and crackling, and his lungs burned as he sucked in air desperately. Nureyev could smell something burning, and after a few dazed moments he realized it was his own skin where the prongs had been held.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nureyev began, his voice hoarse as he tried to push himself up from the floor. “That was certainly exhilarating—”

The thug sneered cruelly and caught Nureyev with the baton again.

He blacked out that time, and when he came to, he was being dragged into a room somewhere in the vault and shackled to a chair. 

Nureyev squinted around the room, realizing his glasses were missing, which didn’t surprise him too much. He didn’t miss when Piranha entered the room, however, and smiled blandly at her.

“Ah, the lady in charge!” he greeted, his tone sickeningly sweet. “Perhaps we can come to an understanding? Criminal to criminal?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like that, huh?” she said as she dismissed the goons. Piranha pulled out her comms then, hitting several buttons. “But I’m under strict orders to deal with you how I see fit.”

Nureyev felt his stomach drop, but kept the placid smile on his face. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to anger your boss—”

“You don’t seem to get it, Pretty Boy, do you?” The Piranha said, give him a wide, cruel smile. Pulling another chair closer to Nureyev, she spun it and sat on it backwards. “I get paid whether you make it outta here alive or not, see. But I get paid double by both employers if you don’t.”

Nureyev dropped his smile. “Mr O’Flaherty—”

“ — Ain’t too impressed with betrayal, Glass,” she interrupted with a knowing sneer.

Nureyev kept his expression schooled to one of slight confusion. “I haven’t the faintest—”

“You’ve got guts, Pretty Boy, I’ll give you that,” she laughed. “O’Flaherty knows about your little fling with the P.I., see?”

Nureyev rolled his eyes, even as dread settled into his gut like ice. “What, getting my breakfast every morning from a licensed establishment is a fling, now?”

“You call this breakfast?” she asked, her voice absolutely delighted as she turned her comms toward Nureyev.

The ice in his gut turned sharp as he watched a slightly distorted video of him and Juno making out in the doorway of his hotel room. From the angle and the distortion, it was obvious that the camera had been set up in the peep-hole in the guestroom door across the hall.

“I’d say this looks more like a midnight snack! Oh, you should see my favourite part,” she said with a grin as she turned the comms back to herself to hit some more buttons. “About two and a half hours later…”

Nureyev knew what he would see before she even showed him, knew it would show Juno leaving his hotel room, dishevelled and very clearly illustrating what they had been doing in that room. What he didn’t expect was the way Juno smiled when he leaned back against the door, a smile that Nureyev had yet to be graced with by the lady himself. The Piranha paused the video on that frame and let out a mock-dreamy sigh.

“Look at that. How romantic. Just makes a girl wanna puke,” she cooed. “I’ll say, you must have very impressive stamina if all you did was play tonsil-hockey and bump pelvises, Pretty Boy.”

Nureyev schooled his features into something cockier, smirking wide and said, “I am quite an adept lover, I’ve been told.”

Piranha hummed, shutting off her comms and standing back up. “I’m sure. But we know your little toy is here, see? He tripped the alarms with his DNA.”

Nureyev barely resisted the urge to glare at her as she walked away, grinding his teeth.

She stopped at a table nearby, picking up the knives he had used earlier in the hallway and testing their balance. “O’Flaherty was shocked to see the lady P.I. with you, see?” she said with a laugh. “My people had seen you out with the pretty one.”

Nureyev twitched at her words, ready to snarl something in defense of his love, but beat back that urge. Showing her anything would give her an advantage, and he was lucky she hadn’t been looking at him when she said it at all.

“I can see it, though, goin’ for the matching set ‘n all— well, I mean…” she began, and looked over her shoulder with a knowing smile as she trailed off. “They were a matching set until I had my little playdate with the meddling P.I.”

Nureyev couldn’t keep his neutral expression, despite his years of training, and Piranha grinned. He couldn’t compartmentalize Juno Steel, and that was dangerous.

“But you didn’t actually score the set, did you? You aimed high and had to settle, huh?” she hummed, and Nureyev had to take a deep breath to keep from snapping. “The P.I. cleans up nice, though, even with the work I did—”

“Is there going to be a point to any of this?” Nureyev interrupted, internally cursing himself.

She moved so quickly, Nureyev almost didn’t see the knife in time and barely dodged it, earning himself a slash across his cheek that pulled a hiss from him but nothing more.

“Don’t interrupt me, Glass,” she growled, and Nureyev laughed. Piranha raised a lip in a sneer as she pulled out her blaster and pressed it directly between his eyes, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m not seeing the joke, Pretty Boy,” she snarled and Nureyev just smirked.

“Oh, but I do,” he said, giving her a once-over and hissing when she pressed the blaster against his forehead so hard he had to tilt his head back.

“Should put a bolt through your empty skull right now,” she growled, and Nureyev rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, we’re both professionals here,” he said condescendingly. “Well, I am at least. Regardless, if you wanted me dead that quickly, I would have been killed out in the hall.”

“Shootin’ you like this would still accomplish my goals,” she said with a shrug.

“Those being?” he questioned.

The Piranha moved her blaster, pressing it beneath Nureyev’s chin and forcing him to look up at the ceiling. “The meddling P.I. didn’t stay outta things like he was told to, so he needs to be taught a lesson, see?” she explained. “O’Flaherty won’t let me kill him, or his brother, but I need to send a message somehow.”

“He’s not here anymore,” Nureyev said, desperately hoping for that to be true.

The Piranha cackled at that. “Then I’ll scatter your dismembered corpse all over his little cafe during the breakfast rush,” she said slowly, and Nureyev didn’t doubt for a moment that she was being completely serious with that threat. “But I’m thinkin’ he never left, and he’ll be coming through that door any moment, Glass. He’s predictably noble like that.”

“You would settle for killing me and letting him find my body?” Nureyev asked sceptically, because in the end that just didn’t seem like Piranha’s style.

“If I have to. But for now, I’m gonna have fun while I wait for our little lady, see?” she said, taking the tip of the blade and dragging it along the sharp line of his jaw and grinning at the blood the began to drip for the gash. Nureyev refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Then I’m gonna gut you while he watches.”

When Nureyev didn’t respond to the taunt, nor the wound she just opened on his face, she just grinned. “Let’s hope your P.I. doesn’t keep you waitin’ too long.”

Nureyev only hoped that Juno had listened and wouldn’t return for him.

- - - - - Juno’s POV - - - - -

Juno wasn’t sure how long he sat in that alcove, waiting for the sounds to subside. His thoughts were going a million miles a minute, trying to process what he had heard and line it up with what he was expected to do.

He knew the right thing to do was leave, go back to the hotel, and contact Nureyev’s “friend”. But every time Juno thought about leaving, he would just hear the crackle of electricity and the awful noise Nureyev made.

Shaking his head, Juno got ready to leave the alcove. He would trust Nureyev to figure out how to escape; if anyone could manage it, Nureyev could.

Juno almost made it back to the sewer grate, the trek slow-going as he had to assess the blindspots of the security cameras in real-time. Just before he reached the grate, he heard voices approaching in a hurry, and he had to quickly duck into another alcove. It was full of crates, which he used for cover to wait out the voices, holding his breath.

As the group passed, their radios crackled. “Keep an eye out for the detective.” It was the Piranha, and she knew Juno was there. Just below her voice, Juno could hear the quiet sounds of someone’s pained gasping and he knew it was Nureyev. “He’s still here somewhere.”

Just before the radio cut, he heard the beginnings of a stifled groan and felt his insides turn to lead as he realized several things all at once. One, the Piranha knew he and Nureyev were working together. Two, she was waiting for Juno. Three, she would torture Nureyev either until Juno showed up or she got bored and put a laser bolt through his head. Lastly, he knew that if he left, he would put Benten and Rita in immediate danger.

He knew the “right” thing to do. 

They both knew the risks when they went into the job, and he knew if the roles were reversed, he would want Nureyev to get out and finish it. Juno could pick Benten and Rita up, maybe even Mick, and take them with him to dispose of the weapons. They could hide out in the Cerberus Province, or lay low in Olympus Mons for a while after, and come back when the heat had died down a bit.

Nureyev knew the risk. Nureyev told him to leave. Juno knew what he had to do.

Taking his blaster out of its holster at his thigh, Juno began sneaking back through the halls, away from the sewer grate.

Turning a corner, he found himself standing amongst four bodies and a lot of blood. Juno knew it was Nureyev’s handiwork and couldn’t help the little flutter of admiration at his skill, even if it was alarming.  There was a substantial trail of bloody footprints and the mark of something large being dragged leading away from the scene. He carefully followed the tracks, staying out of the view of the cameras and keeping his ears peeled for any patrolling goons.

Juno finally arrived at an open doorway, and inside he could hear Nureyev talking. Relief flooded Juno as he carefully walked up, making sure not to make any sound to alert the Piranha to his presence.

As he stepped up to the open door, he peeked around the doorjamb in time to watch the Piranha pistol-whip Nureyev with her blaster. The hit seemed to catch him by surprise and he was thrown in his chair, leaning over the arm of it while the Piranha laughed. Juno’s gut clenched when Nureyev didn’t immediately sit back up, and it took everything in him to not jump in, blaster firing when she grabbed a fistful of Nureyev’s hair and hauled him back up.

There were several conflicting emotions roiling in Juno’s gut with the way Nureyev looked up at the Piranha. He was looking up at her, eyes sharp and bright, wearing the most dangerous smile Juno had ever seen on a person, his sharp fox’s teeth coated in blood.

Juno was mostly frustrated that Nureyev would taunt her with his grin like that so brazenly, but he couldn’t deny just how good Nureyev looked in his own element.

But Juno couldn’t ignore all of the open wounds on Nureyev’s cheeks, jaw, arms and chest. Not to mention the horrible burn on his stomach, likely from whatever was used to electrocute him.

The Piranha was losing her patience, that was obvious by the way she paced in front of Nureyev. “Lose the grin, Pretty Boy,” she snapped, and Nureyev snorted.

“People often smile at clowns,” Nureyev replied sweetly, and was rewarded with another hit, this one throwing Nureyev hard enough that his chair tipped over with a loud crash. Juno nearly rushed in, but when he looked down at the thief, he was looking right at him, shaking his head subtly.

Juno wasn’t sure what that meant, or what Nureyev was trying to say. Did he want Juno to wait? Or perhaps leave? Since Juno refused to do the latter, he buckled down to do the former.

The Piranha grabbed Nureyev by his hair again, as well as the arm of the chair, and dragged him back up with a loud screech of the chair’s legs against the tiles.

“You got quite the mouth on you, Glass,” she snarled, twisting the fist she had in his hair harder and shaking his head roughly.

When she released him, Nureyev made a humming noise while he obviously moved his tongue around in his mouth. He made a face after a bit and turned his head to the side to spit out a thick glob of blood and two teeth; a sharp incisor and an even sharper canine.

“Yes, I’ve been told it’s part of my charm,” Nureyev said eventually, somehow still managing to sound bored. Then he smirked. “I’m also quite talented in other respects as well.”

The Piranha sneered and lifted her blaster to Nureyev’s face.

It was set to a lethal charge, and her finger was poised on the trigger. “This is losing its appeal quickly,” she growled. “Maybe your little lady should find your corpse instead.”

Everything in Juno screamed, his heart stuttering to a halt with the muzzle of the Piranha’s blaster pressed viciously against Nureyev’s forehead. It forced him to crane his head back, leaving him with no way to even try to dodge it should she move to pull the trigger.

Juno couldn’t stay out of it.

Lifting his blaster, he shot a bolt to stun, the blast hitting her in the shoulder with enough force to knock her own blaster out of her hand. The Piranha didn’t go down, however, and without hesitation she ducked behind Nureyev and lifted one of Nureyev’s own knives to his throat.

Juno froze as she pressed the knife against Nureyev’s throat until a new trail of blood trickled down his neck. Nureyev hissed a bit and leaned back to ease some of the pressure.

“See, what’d I tell you, Glass?” she said with a loud laugh. “The former deadeye, here to save the thief. It’s like a fairytale.”

“I told you to leave,” Nureyev said sternly to Juno, ignoring the Piranha entirely.

“Yeah, well, you can thank me later,” Juno quipped, annoyed that Nureyev would scold him for saving his life. Then he turned his attention to the Piranha. “How the hell are you still standing, Piranha?

“Got me a nice vest here, see? Blaster-proof,” she replied and Juno could only see her eye around Nureyev’s head. “You’re gonna have to pack something a lot fatter than that bad boy for even a lethal charge to get through, P.I.”

Juno glared at that, the hand holding his blaster shaking a bit with his anger.

“Now, how ‘bout you lower that blaster and we talk like proper adults,” the Piranha said after a few moments.

When Juno didn’t immediately follow her request, she pulled up on the blade at Nureyev’s throat, forcing him to scramble up in his seat so he could tilt his head and throat to save himself from having his throat slit. Nureyev was standing as much as his shackled ankles and wrists would allow him, and the trail of blood down his throat ran a bit thicker.

“C’mon, P.I. He ain’t gonna be able to hold this position for too long,” the Piranha taunted, but Nureyev was shaking his head at him again, the movement subtle and only perceptible to Juno because he was watching the thief so closely.

Juno was torn. There was nothing to stop her from giving Nureyev a close shave if he dropped his blaster, but she was too protected where she currently crouched behind Nureyev. Juno may have attempted that shot when he had both eyes, but even with all his practice he didn’t quite trust his abilities. But she also had to have known that unless she had some form of back-up, she couldn’t kill Nureyev just yet or Juno would put her down.

Lowering his blaster, Juno barely restrained his sigh of relief when the Piranha allowed Nureyev to sit back down.

“I told you to leave, Juno,” Nureyev repeated, his voice strained with pain.

“Yeah, Glass, and you also said you could talk your way out of this,” Juno snapped.

“It doesn’t matter what—”

“Don’t, Glass. It does matter,” Juno interrupted. ‘You matter,’ was what he wanted to say, but he refused to give that sort of ammunition to the Piranha. “And what, I leave her and she tortures you until her goons pick me up and drag me back anyway? Or grab my brother? Rita?”

The Piranha laughed and leaned out around Nureyev to meet Juno’s eye. She was still too hidden behind Nureyev’s head, and Juno wouldn’t shoot until he was absolutely sure he wouldn’t hit Nureyev, too.

“The P.I. gets it, Pretty Boy. You ain’t got many friends, huh? That’s smart in our line of work,” she said. “We only have ourselves to look out for, so no one can have somethin’ sticky like leverage on us.”

Juno tried his best to ignore the Piranha, and just looked at Nureyev, meeting his gaze and searching for something. Instructions? Faith? A magic button they could press and return to that quiet moment in the hotel room two nights ago, just before Benten called and broke the spell between them?

Nureyev glanced down at the blaster hanging at Juno’s side lightning fast before glancing at the Piranha. Juno raised his eyebrow subtly and quietly switched his blaster to lethal charges.

“Are you payin’ attention, P.I.?” the Piranha barked at him, and Nureyev hissed in pain when she carved another jagged line across his chest.

“Cut it out, I’m paying attention!” Juno shouted, ready to yell again when she moved to carve yet another line into him.

She stopped, and he could tell by what he could see of her ugly face that she was grinning behind Nureyev’s head. Juno was shaking with rage and couldn’t do anything about it until she moved further into view. Her hand hung lazily over his shoulder now, the knife no longer cutting him, but still too close to his throat and chest for Juno’s comfort.

“Too bad stupid little private eyes don’t think like we do, huh Glass?” she said with mock concern. “They make all these messy little connections everywhere they go; keep family around, make friends. Did you know the little lady has a friend he’s known his whole life, Glass?”

Mention of Mick chilled Juno’s blood, but he didn’t let it distract him. He was watching for an opening and he would not miss it, his trigger finger ready.

The Piranha shifted around behind Nureyev, her face in full view as she made eye-contact with Juno, grinning broadly with her countless unsettlingly sharp teeth. His moment was coming, he just had to wait until she looked away so he could lift his blaster.

“And look at you, risking it all for a thief who wouldn’t even do the same for you,” she said, her voice full of mocking admiration.

“Juno, that’s not—” Nureyev began, but cried out when the Piranha carved another line on his chest, though this one crossed vertically through the other gashes.

“Shut it, Glass,” she snarled into his ear before smirking at Juno. “He’s using you, P.I. You can’t be stupid enough to think he actually cared about you, eh? Your own fiance dumped you, didn’t he?”

Juno felt like he was in free-fall, his stomach in his throat and his heart pounding in his ears. “What?” he hissed through his teeth and she laughed.

“I had you followed for months, P.I. A girl learns things, especially when her marks are so, so messy,” the Piranha bragged. “Remind me again how long he put up with you?”

He chanced a glance at Nureyev, and his gaze was waiting for him; steady, strong, supportive. Meeting the Piranha’s eyes again, Juno glared.

“Fuck you,” he bit out, and the Piranha laughed and pulled the knife up tight against Nureyev’s throat again. Nureyev scrambled to stand as much as he could to avoid having anything vital cut.

“Say it, Cyclops! So the whole class can hear,” she said around a maniacal laugh. “C’mon, P.I., I ditched most of my research on you when I got bored of you.”

“Fine! Fine,” Juno started, anger boiling in his gut as she didn’t take the knife away from Nureyev’s throat. “We were engaged for three years. Happy?”

The Piranha hummed and shook her head, dragging the blade slowly across Nureyev’s skin. “That didn’t answer the question, P.I.,” she replied, her tone almost sing-song.

“We knew each other from the police academy,” Juno finally said, feeling gutted by the forced confession. Saying it out loud in front of Nureyev felt like he was being dragged over hot coals. When she didn’t remove the knife, Juno shouted, “I gave you your answer, now knock it off!”

The Piranha eased off with the knife and Nureyev settled in the chair, panting a bit. Juno looked at his face again, and Nureyev was still meeting his gaze, steady and open, though there was a sadness there now. The pity smarted, but Juno figured they could hash that out later when they got out of there.

“So, give or take ten years?” she clarified with a low whistle. “See what I was saying about all those messy connections Glass? The little lady here has so many people just out there with all of his dirty little secrets!”

Juno looked back at the Piranha and fingered the trigger of his blaster, just waiting for her to look away from him. He just needed her to look away so he could lift his blaster before she could lift the knife.

“But you and I, Glass? We’re smarter than that. We don’t get close like that,” she said, looking at Nureyev from the corner of her eyes. “We’re smart enough to deal with people. Those messy connections. Ain’t we?”

The shift in her gaze was slight, but it would have to be enough. It was only a matter of time before she got bored of toying with them and finally finished her work. But Juno also knew it was a race to aim and shoot before she caught him and painted the walls with Nureyev’s blood.

It was risky— scratch that, it was stupid and dangerous. It was beyond reckless, and it wasn’t even a shot he would have been confident of when he had both of his eyes with her so close to Nureyev’s head.

When Juno looked at Nureyev again, however, Nureyev’s eyes were waiting for him. They were so open, so trusting and bright, and Juno felt a surge of confidence go through him. If they wanted to get out of there alive, he had to dispatch the Piranha, and Nureyev believed in him. Juno got him into that mess with his bonehead move in the vault, yet Nureyev still had faith in him.

The next handful of seconds played out in slow motion for Juno.

He lifted his arm as he looked back at the Piranha, aiming as her eyes flicked back to Juno. Nureyev let out a hiss, arching and straining away from the Piranha as Juno took aim, exposing more of her head and getting out of Juno’s way. She cackled as Juno pulled the trigger, not even moving her hand with the knife near Nureyev’s throat.

The charge hit her right between the eyes and Nureyev let out a small sound, flinching and slumping forward as the Piranha was knocked back, the knife in her hand clattering to the floor next to her where she fell.

Both of them were breathing hard in the sudden quiet, and Nureyev chuckled weakly, flinching with a small, pained sound.

“Fantastic shot, my love,” Nureyev said, and his smile was all wrong, shaky and missing two teeth as it was, but Juno would take it.

Juno hurried forward, making quick work of the shackles binding Nureyev to the chair. The thief hissed in pain as his wrists and ankles were released and blood rushed to his deadened fingertips and toes.

“Juno, you have to go without me—”

Juno doesn’t even think about it before he’s kissing Nureyev, silencing his protests with a desperate sound of his own. When he pulled back, Nureyev was smiling sadly, his mouth red and wet.

“Shut up, we’re getting you out of here,” Juno all but growled, stopping to pick Nureyev’s knife up off the ground where it lay by the Piranha’s hand. There was another knife on the ground under the chair, and Juno scooped it up as well.

“I’ll slow you down, Juno—” Nureyev began to argue, sounding breathless. When Juno looked at him as he came back around the chair, it was obvious he was in a great deal of pain. 

Nureyev needed medical attention, and fast.

“I’m not leaving you behind, Glass, so drop it,” Juno snapped, grabbing Nureyev’s hands and hauling him out of the chair. Slinging Nureyev’s arm around his shoulders, Juno held him tightly around his waist.

In his other hand, he held his blaster, still set to kill.

They took their escape slowly, Nureyev limping along beside him, stumbling and breathing wetly. They were almost to the grate again when Nureyev stumbled, Juno barely catching him before he fell into view of the security cameras.

“Juno,” Nureyev said, his voice weak and shaky. When Juno looked at Nureyev again, he noticed how pale and clammy his face appeared, and he knew in his gut that something was very wrong. The thief smiled at him gently, teeth and lips bright red, and he added, “Leave me.”

Juno grit his teeth, ignoring the feeling and definitely ignoring Nureyev’s command. “Shut up, Glass.”

With some difficulty, they slipped through the grate. There was water in the sewers, about a foot deep and getting deeper, which wasn’t great given how many open wounds Nureyev had all over his body now.

Nureyev’s knees gave out suddenly, and he almost fell into the water before Juno caught him.

“Whoa, Glass, watch… it…” Juno trailed off, finally noticing just how wet and warm the arm he’d used to support Nureyev was, as well as that whole side of his torso. Touching the cloth of his turtleneck with his bare hand, he pulled it back to find it covered in blood.

“Nureyev, what… ?” Juno began weakly, before frantically searching Nureyev’s body.

None of the injuries he knew of should have caused that much blood loss. They were all just deep cuts, but nothing terribly bad. The worst injury Juno had clocked, other than the potential head injury and the knocked out teeth, was the electrical burn on his gut. 

Juno didn’t find the wound so much as his finger nearly pressed into it as he felt along Nureyev’s ribs; it was a hole, situated perfectly between two ribs, and Juno could feel each heartbeat pump more blood out of it. His thoughts whirled around, trying to place when it could have happened and he nearly crumpled when he realized; Nureyev’s gasp, just before Juno shot the Piranha, her maniacal laughter, the two knives on the floor.

It was a deep, nasty wound that had been bleeding untreated for far too long. Nureyev would need treatment immediately.

“N-no,” he whispered, cursing himself. “Nureyev, I’m s-so sorry, I’m going to fix this, okay? I’m sorry—”

“Hush, my love. She got me just before you pulled the trigger,” he managed to say. “I didn’t know she had another knife. You couldn’t have known.”

“W-we can fix this,” Juno insisted again, looking around. He needed to wrap the wound, but there was nowhere for Nureyev to sit or lay down with the water rising as it was. “We have to get back up to the street.”

“I won’t make it—”

“Shut up,” Juno snapped, furious now. “We’re getting out here, both of us, and I’m fixing this.”

Juno hauled Nureyev with him through the sewers. When Nureyev’s stumbling got worse with the rising water levels, Juno managed to sling Nureyev over his shoulders.

“Oh, you’re so strong, Juno,” Nureyev said weakly, aiming for flirty, but it was weak and he sounded barely conscious.

When they finally reached the entrance to the sewers, Nureyev became too heavy to carry any further, and Juno was calling Rita on his comms before he'd even finished putting Nureyev down. Juno rolled the thief onto his uninjured side, and Nureyev’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious, but his eyes managed to open again and meet Juno’s gaze as Rita answered.

“Heyya, Boss, what’s going—”

“Rita! I need you to pick Nu— me and Glass up at the sewer entrance you found for us!” he shouted, even though he knew he didn’t have to. Pulling his shirt off, he used one of Nureyev’s knives to cut it into strips. “We need to get Glass to a hospital—”

Nureyev coughed, shaking his head and wincing when Juno sat him up and began wrapping the strips of his shirt around the thief’s ribs.

“Love, I’m no— I can’t go to a hospital, just go without me,” Nureyev tried again, dropping his head onto Juno’s shoulder with a groan when Juno pulled the makeshift bandages tight.

“No! I’m not leaving you down here—” Juno began, but cut himself off with a sob.

“I’m not going to make it, my love,” Nureyev said, his head lolling back as Juno lowered him onto the ground again. Rita made a distressed noise, and Juno could hear Benten in the background asking something.

“Shut up!” Juno snapped, tears in his eyes as he rested one hand on Nureyev’s hip and used the other to cradle his cheek. “You're not dying, goddamn it. And even if you are, I’m not letting it happen in the fucking sewers!”

Rita sputtered, panic gripping her voice as she cried, “Die?! Who’s dyin’?! Is Mista Glass—”

Juno could hear Benten demanding the comms from Rita, and then suddenly he’s on the line. “Juno? Is that you? What the hell is going on?”

Hearing Benten’s voice broke the tight control Juno had managed to keep over himself. Everything came crashing down around Juno as his tears welled up and began to fall, and he didn’t know what to do. He had messed up so badly this time, with the vault, and then stalling on taking his shot, and not bothering to look for worse injuries. It was one thing to risk himself, but Nureyev?

Nureyev’s fingers tangled with Juno’s where they rested on his hip. Giving Juno a weak squeeze, and an even weaker smile, Nureyev struggled to suck in a breath. His breathing sounded wet and rattling, and his hand felt cold through the glove he wore.

“Juno!” Benten shouted, shaking Juno from his thoughts.

Leaning forward, Juno pressed his forehead to Nureyev’s and sobbed, “Ben, please.”

“We’re on our way, Juno,” Benten said without hesitation. 

Juno sobbed again and added, “It’s Rex, he’s— it’s bad, Ben. I fucked up so badly.”

Benten shushed him gently. “We’ll figure things out, you just hang tight and stay on the line,” he said sternly.

“Okay,” Juno gasped, putting his comms down a short distance away, and he could hear Benten kicking people out of the cafe.

Holding back another sob, Juno moved to cradle Nureyev’s face in both of his hands, watching him closely. “Help is coming, Nureyev. Just hold on,” he begged quietly, quiet enough that his comms wouldn’t pick up his voice, tears running down his face. Nureyev was trying to stay awake, but his eyelids were fluttering quite a bit, and his breathing was slowing down.

“Nureyev, talk to me, you have to stay awake,” he whispered, hating how broken his voice sounded between them.

“N-not sure I… can, my love,” Nureyev said slowly with a wet chuckle, his eyes rolling back.

“Nureyev, no! Stay awake!” Juno begged, slapping his cheek a bit until he opened his eyes.

Meeting Juno’s eye hazily, Nureyev smiled a little bit and reached up to rest his hand on Juno’s where it cradled his face. “Ha-have to say, g-going out… in the arms of a b-beautiful lady is a n-nice surprise,” he said in a whisper, and Juno bit his cheek against another loud sob.

“Stop kidding around, Nureyev,” he pleaded, on the edge of hysterics. He pressed his lips to Nureyev’s, who tried to return the kiss, but was too weak. Releasing a desperate, mournful sound, Juno said, “You can’t die, Nureyev.”

“W-we all die someday, dear detective. I’m only h-happy I got to know you b-before I did,” Nureyev said with a sigh. “Juno Steel, you were the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“No, that’s not good enough for me. It’s not enough!” Juno bit out, pressing a hard kiss to Nureyev’s lips as he sobbed. He didn’t care how childish he sounded, didn’t care that he couldn’t just demand that someone not die because he loved him and wasn’t done yet.

And just like that, Juno knew with perfect clarity and without even a bit of doubt that he was in love with Peter Nureyev. Even though he’d only known him for a very short time, he knew.  It was different from any other time he claimed he was in love, even with Diamond. The only other times he could say even compared were his love for Benten, Rita, and Mick. Nureyev was important, and Juno wasn’t sure what sort of life he could have if Nureyev wasn’t in it.

Even if the thief couldn’t stay, Juno needed him somewhere in the universe to make it all worth it.

But if Juno had to live in a galaxy without Peter Nureyev in it, he knew he couldn’t let him leave it without knowing.

Juno kissed Nureyev again, sobbing as the thief weakly responded. “Nureyev,” he whispered, their mouths still pressed together. “Nureyev, please hold on. I-I… I need you, I-I-I can’t— I love you, Nureyev.”

The thief sucked in a sharp breath at that, trying to open his eyes properly, and his mouth began to move, seemingly trying to speak. But Juno kissed him again, trying to get him to conserve some of his energy.

“I-I-I know it’s ridiculous, and we just met, but it’s true, Nureyev, just,” Juno paused to sob again, “Just hold on a bit longer, for me, please. I know how selfish that is to ask, and I know— I just got you, I can’t lose you.”

Nureyev nodded just a little bit, but Juno pulled back just in time to watch the thief lose consciousness.

“Nureyev! Wake up!” he shouted, slapping Nureyev’s face a few times, and his eyes did reopen, though they were unfocused.

“… Juno,” Benten’s voice came through the comms, reminding him very suddenly that he and Nureyev were not quite so alone. “We’re almost there, just hang tight and keep Rex awake if you can.”

Juno nodded, even though he knew Benten couldn’t see him. There was a lot Juno would have to deal with, especially if his brother had been paying enough attention to have overheard Nureyev’s name, but that was something for him to handle much later.

The next few times Nureyev drifted off again, Juno was successful in bringing him around until Nureyev finally stopped responding, his breathing ragged and his eyes rolling back.

Juno held his breath as he pressed his fingers to Nureyev’s throat, feeling his thready pulse. Shaking, Juno pressed his ear to Nureyev’s chest to listen to his heartbeat.

“I love you,” Juno whispered through his tears, and he could hear the sound of a car door slam just outside the entrance to the sewers. Sobbing again, Juno repeats, “I love you, Nureyev.”

[Previous Chapter][Next Chapter]

[purplesurveys]

1047

What’s the most historic thing that has happened in your lifetime? I can think of a few things. There’s 9/11 though I was barely conscious then, Osama Bin Laden’s death, the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, 2011 Japan earthquake, and the H1N1 and Covid pandemics. In my country, there were typhoons Ondoy and Yolanda, the Manila hostage crisis, and the Hello Garci election corruption scandal. Out of these, though, I’d say the heaviest ones to bear have been 9/11 and Covid.

What happens in your country regularly that people in most countries would find strange or bizarre?

We use a spoon and fork to eat and only really fancy shmancy restaurants give you a knife and a fork. Many eat with their hands as well, though this is way more common in provinces.

Everyone is late to everything and punctuality isn’t a thing, which is a big culture pet peeve of mine and I still like arriving early/on time anywhere.

This applies to Asia in general lmao, but shoes typically aren’t allowed or at least frowned upon if they go beyond the main entrance of houses.

We start Christmas as early as September, and we end it by the last week of January

When families get together, aunts/uncles will usually greet their nieces/nephews by asking if they already have a boy/girlfriend and/or telling them that they got fat. Horror relatives will greet you with both.

People generally like to keep to themselves, so striking a friendly conversation with strangers even if you have the pure, genuine intention to be simply friendly will just lead them to think you’re being a creep lol

What has been blown way out of proportion? The effects of video games and the question of it increasing violence among kids. Sure there’ve been gruesome accounts and no one’s invalidating those, but the overwhelmingly vast amount of people who play video games end up okay. I had so many killing binges on GTA but to this day I can’t even look at a real gun without shuddering, lol. When was a time you acted nonchalant but were going crazy inside? This is me every morning at work. 9 AM-11 AM is always the busiest period and it’s a lot of shit happening at the same time and a lot of morning deadlines to meet, but unlike college I can’t exactly call for a timeout whenever I want and have panic attacks anymore.

What’s about to get much better? I hope my fucking life is next in line. I’m tired of being tired of being tired.

What are some clever examples of misdirection you’ve seen? Probably all the times WWE would mislead viewers on a rumored return or debut of a big name by saying they’re in another city, implying that there’s no way they’d be appearing on a WWE show. This happened with Ronda Rousey and it was so fucking exciting when she finally showed up, haha.

What’s your funniest story involving a car? I don’t know, really...I don’t try to be funny when I’m on the wheel lol. Probably the time I let Angela use my car on campus, and when she needed to make a u-turn she ended up doing an awkward 90º turn and had an SUV nearly crash towards us. She had only driven a handful of times at that point so she was a little clumsy, but neither of us had any idea she’d fuck up a simple u-turn as badly as she ended up doing lmao.

What would be the click-bait titles of some popular movies? I can think of more clickbait posters than titles, but I can’t seem to remember what those films are called right now.

If you built a themed hotel, what would the theme be and what would the rooms look like? Themed hotels generally make me cringe. The most theme-y place we ever stayed at was the lodge in Sagada and it was really just more homey than anything. I’m not into themes when it comes to hotels as I find it a little cheap lol and I’ve always preferred a straightforward experience in the places I stay at for vacations.

What scientific discovery would change the course of humanity overnight if it was discovered? A way to live forever. < This is a good one. Also, maybe a huge asteroid or meteor bound to hit the planet that will make widespread extinction a certainty? I can’t even begin to imagine the panic that will rise from something like that.

Do you think that humans will ever be able to live together in harmony? I doubt it. It sounds difficult especially when you realize we’re 7 billion in total.

What would your perfect bar look like? As long as there aren’t any annoying younger college kids, who are almost always the loudest crowd and not in a good way, I’m okay with any kind of bar.

What’s the scariest non-horror movie? Some shots in 2001: A Space Odyssey are freaky as fuck. There were several scenes that included sudden HAL shots, and I did not enjoy those. How the fuck Kubrick managed to make a computer scary is beyond me. I’ve also always skipped the vortex scene with the creepy face shots after seeing it once.

What’s the most amazing true story you’ve heard? This is a really vague question... a few months ago I watched this video diary of parents who had a child born at like 25 weeks. Just way too early, basically. And they recorded the kid’s weekly progress, how she kept fighting, and her journey of being transported from one machine to another while she still needed them. It was beautiful to see her get bigger and plumper with each week that passed and it was just such a feel-good story to watch. I was so relieved when they showed footage of her as a normal, healthy toddler by the end of the clip.

What’s the grossest food that you just can’t get enough of? I know balut is pretty unpopular in the Western part of the world, but I’ll gladly eat a dozen of them in one sitting. In general Asian street food is usually considered gross - pig intestines, chicken intestines, chicken feet, pig ears, etc., but all are normal in the culture I was raised in.

What brand are you most loyal to? It’s annoying and I can’t help it, but Apple.

What’s the most awkward thing that happens to you on a regular basis? I try not to make it regular, but sometimes a mistake on my end will slip through in an email I’m sending and I have to send another email correcting myself and apologizing for the oversight. One of my least favorite parts about work.

If you had to disappear and start a whole new life, what would you want your new life to look like? I’m not wishing for much. I just wish it was easier to remove any trace of me on social media sites and have it be as if I never existed because I think that would make it easier for me to move on from...well, you know what. I still have trouble verbalizing it and I don’t feel like mentioning it tonight.

But idk, I like staying connected to my family and friends, so idk if I can ever achieve that. And that said, I think I’m bound to always keep seeing her around.

What movie or book do you know the most quotes from? I memorize a pathetic amount of dialogue from Love Actually, Twilight, Titanic, and The Proposal.  What was one of the most interesting concerts you’ve been to? I guess Coldplay? They gave assigned lightsticks for each section and the crowd looked amazing when the production crew activated the lights for certain songs. I still have some of the clips because I posted them on Snapchat, so I’m really glad I did that; otherwise I would’ve lost the videos forever.

Where are you not welcome anymore? I’ve felt pretty unwelcome around her. How she could do a 180 and just not be interested in having anything to do with me is really soul-crushing.

What do you think could be done to improve the media? Fact fucking check, please. Also keeping sources balanced, avoiding clickbait headlines, being more objective than neutral, and don’t fucking sensationalize. How timely that this landed on a journalism graduate, hahaha.

What’s the most recent show you’ve binge watched? Start Up but I haven’t continued in the last two weeks :/ I think it’s because I know I’m nearing the finale and I subconsciously just don’t want to run out of Start Up episodes to watch lol but yeah, I still have four episodes left and I have no clue when I’ll watch it again.

What’s a common experience for many people that you’ve never experienced? Being close with their mom and considering them as their rock.

What are some misconceptions about your hobby? I don’t know enough about embroidery to know misconceptions about it.

What did you Google last? 2001: A Space Odyssey because I needed to be sure of the scenes I planned on citing in the question above that made me mention the movie.

What’s the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? Not being able to find a restaurant to eat at. The backstory is a little complicated but it’s the same fight that led my younger brother to slap me across the face, and what subsequently led me to stop speaking to him.

If money and practicality weren’t a problem, what would be the most interesting way to get around town? Probably a tank.

What’s the longest rabbit hole you’ve been down? It’s always the ones on Wikipedia lol. I find weird and interesting articles on there all the time; there’s always something new to read.

What odd smell do you really enjoy? The rain, though sometimes it can be too overpowering when the humidity has been high. I like it for the most part, though.

What fashion trend makes you cringe or laugh every time you see it? Streetwear is so fucking dull to me. I never saw the appeal.

What’s your best story of you or someone else trying to be sneaky and failing miserably? Hahahaha this happened just a few weeks ago actually. My parents and I were headed out to have some ramen, and I opened the car door to hop onto the backseat. They didn’t prepare beforehand and they left the Christmas gift I asked for - a corkboard - in the backseat, so I was able to see the whole thing, unwrapped and with price tag and all. Their mortified faces knowing that their secret’s been blown were hilarious. They had no choice but to just give it up, and the corkboard has been on my wall since.

If you had a HUD that showed three stats about any person you looked at, what three stats would you want it to show? I guess the stability of our relationship, their general mood for the day, and erm how badly they need a hug because I’m always willing to give some.

What’s the best way you or someone you know has gotten out of a ticket / trouble with the law? My mom fake-cries her way out and it’s always been hilarious to see a grown ass woman do it and pull it off every time.

Tear gas makes people cry and laughing gas makes people giggle, what other kinds of gases do you wish existed? I don’t really want to manipulate people’s action in this way, so pass.

[nadineeb]

Hey, it’s Nadine and this is my first blog!

Welcome my dear readers to my first blog post! I want to extend my arms to all of you for reading this blog and the future ones. I’m delighted that I found this platform on the internet which makes me give a stand and voice on things that matters to me and the people around me. All the blogs that I will post here at Tumblr are only my thoughts and opinions. If we don’t have the same stand regarding a matter, feel free to exit. I believe that we all have the right to express ourselves with utmost freedom we can have. I hope we all vibe together. -XOXO, Nads <3

Allow me to introduce myself to the blogging world!

I’m Bernadine Bayangos, a teen from a small town in Isabela, Philippines.

A LOT of people I met outside Region 2 and in the upper part of Luzon, they always tell me “Where is that place?” or sometimes, “Isa - what?? I haven’t heard of it before! It really is a place huh?”. Hearing these things I don’t know how to react to be honest.

Most of the time I try to explain where it is but sometimes, I just shrugged them off because some of the people especially those I met who came from well-known cities offend me. They ask me if we got a mall here or just the random, common sense questions.

Let me tell you, yes, we’ve got malls here where we get our stuff from our day to day living. I felt so lucky that we still have to shop at the farmers’ market. It’s available and open anytime of the day. We can find cheap-priced things and foods that are essential to our daily lives. Some grocery store-bought vegetables cost a fortune unlike in the farmers’ markets.

Well as for clothes, I usually go to Manila every month but since it’s locked down, I order online. The Internet + my love for clothes really make a huge difference especially now that we’re locked down in our areas and can’t travel that far.

I grew up with my family and some extended relatives which are way older than me - my grandparents. I learn my instincts from them - self-defense, way of life, how to be smart, and most importantly, my virtues. That’s also explains why I’m a bit talkative.

I want my Tumblr to be my avenue to express things to others which I cannot do since face to face chatting with your dear friends is not really advisable at this moment.

One of my favorite things to do back then and now, is to read books. I can remember when I was like 6 to 12 years old, when we go to Manila, I could never go back here in the province without the 4 big bags of books and school supplies that I bought from a famous bookstore. Thinking of it now, I quite made my dad go broke. Yikes!

Feeding my love for learning, I’m always a girl that is curious about a lot of things. If I’m not satisfied, I will surely ask about it. Though now, that I’ve grown so much, I refrain myself from asking now that I can solve issues that affects me.

I also love travelling! When I’m somewhere near the ocean or the mountains, I feel that I’m at peace. Not much of a city girl, that I’m tired of being it since then. My favorite place to visit here in the Ph is Cagayan de Oro and its nearby towns. The Dahilayan Adventure Park which has the longest zipline in Asia. You can also visit the Del Monte pineapple plantations and see acres of pineapples while eating a medium-rare steak at their restaurant. If you’re also fond of adventures in line with having to see the beauty of nature, I highly suggest to visit this place!

The people, they are heartwarmingly hospitable. In the hotel we stayed, Limketkai Luxe hotel, the accommodation was amazing. Also, I love to stay there every time because when mom and dad leave me for meetings, there’s a backdoor and an overpass which leads to the entrance of the shopping mall. How I miss!

Cagayan de Oro also holds a special place in my heart because as what I’ve said earlier, I’m fond of reading books whether it is online or a hard copy one. I’ve read the Montefalco Series on Wattpad by Jonaxx, the author, I’ve fallen in love with the place immediately. I feel like one of the main characters whenever I go to CDO.

When I travel I always tend to adapt to the cultures of the place I’m going. It’s a sign of respect to the. Being able to mix in with the crowd is a great advantage for me in the future especially that after I finish my studies, I want to go abroad to master my skills. That’s why I’m always day-dreaming at things that may be going on for the next few years of my life.

After 10 years, I will be 26 by then, I suppose I’m with my family in Australia by then. I’m working as a business associate while studying law at one of the prestigious schools in Victoria.  From then, I can continue to work at the Parliament of Australia in Melbourne. I may still be single by that time, busy building my career, and play with my cats at home after a stressful day.

This is me at the Parliament.

Let’s talk about the 2019 Corona Virus disease that had struck our world last months. I can say that it’s getting a lot worse that I had imagined. I know that our scientists have done great work in finding solutions to this. Money isn’t everything once you’ve get a hit by this virus. I myself can prove that.

I have this auntie who is a doctor and she’s very successful in her field. She even had one of the biggest shares at a hospital but then things got out of hand, she had the disease. There’s nothing she can do except to lie down her bed, get better, fight for it so that once she gets better, she can continue curing her patients.

My grandfather’s cousin, a former senator of the Philippines, also died from this virus. I’m proud to think that he had served our country well, but I’m devastated that he had to die this way, I didn’t even saw his last moments nor his dead body. He is immediately cremated and left the hospital bill with millions of pesos.

This shows that even the strongest person, the most kind, the rich, the nobody – can’t get away if we all are not taking care of our own health. We should love our body more! Think about ourselves more!

Before this pandemic, I did not have this realizations yet. I realized that more than taking care of our body, we should express to our loved ones how we care and love them dearly. We never know when death comes our way. Yes, we do know that we can’t escape it but the thing is, we know that it’ll happen and we can’t accept the fact the God will take them soon. I think that’s the problem, we, people, tend to just shrug it off and don’t make the best out of someone that we love because they will stay, what we can’t accept is that they will stay but not forever. That is why we have regrets.

(one of my best times before this outbreak)

Indeed, life is short as they say. If you’re dealing with your what ifs’ I recommend you don’t. Just make it happen. If you don’t, you’ll spend your life thinking about that `what if’s’ it’ll only make your life nonsense. So for me, I’d rather do it. If it fails, stand up again, fix yourself, and go on. Instead of letting yourself not doing it because of what might happen on the way. Your happiness depends on you. Choose it. Don’t wait for the things  to happen right before your eyes. Act on it and make it happen.

My first blog is a bit long now and I’m getting emotional, I’ll have to say goodbye for now. I’ll see you on my next one. Ciao!

[la-luna-es-hermosa]

Ang Halimaw - Kabanata Isa. Mahiwagang Gubat

Translation: The Monster - Chapter One. Enchanted Forest

※ Main Masterlist ※  Ang Halimaw Masterlist ※ Time Traveller!AU || Immortal!AU || War!AU || Filipino Mythology!AU ※ Series || Genre: Smut || Angst || Adventure || Romance || Horror ※ Pairing: Kim Jongin x OC (Paula) ※ Summary: Paula, an eighteen-year-old Filipino-American girl goes back to her province after her grandmother’s death. She will go on an adventure as she tries to find the village her late grandma grew up in. In a twist of events, she never knew that she will see her grandma’s lover and fall madly in love with him. Will he save her in his peculiar world? ※ Warning: Age Gap, Dub Con, (Technically) Incest, Swearing ※ Word Count: 1930 ※ Note: I was inspired by Miss Peregrine’s Home of The Peculiar Children and I Love You Since 1892 for this one. I can’t even sleep while writing chapter four and three on this story. - I was scared shitless. 

Grandma’s stories exploring the forbidden forest always amaze Paula. I wish I could go on an adventure of my life in a place like that. Paula never really had the chance to get out of her house most of the time since she came from an immigrant family and they aren’t living in a Filipino community. People often bullied her and her sister because they live in this white majority gated community. That often left Paula in her own world. In a world where magic, time travel existed. 

She always talked about her friend Lucille and how she fell in love with the same man Lucille treasured. The love of her life. Paula listened to her attentively. She is always curious about Lucille, the woman the Jongin fell in love with. When her grandma died at the age of 100, she left her with a box. It had a framed picture of Lucille and the said Jongin in the mansion, she was wearing a white gown and he was wearing a suit and tie. They really looked like a married couple, which they were. She wished her grandma had someone else. - That’s how she got here in the first place. That is why she walked and explored it. She wants to see it.

Grandma was the one who adopted Lucille’s son with Jongin. Her uncle Delfin. “I still remember vivid memories of running with Delfin as we got out of Chalamaria. Delfin was very small at that time.” Stella told Paula.

Ah… The polluted air of Manila. It has been a while since I saw Manila. I live in the US now. Manila is a big place, yet I don’t remember it being like this. - Maybe it’s jet lag that’s making her think that way. She held tightly on my luggage. Waiting for a taxi to get me to the bus station. Her parents refused to come with her. When the taxi arrived, it was a long ride from the airport to the hotel. She opened her phone and listened to music. Ah… She always loved the music of the 50s.

When she arrived at the bus station, she doesn’t where she’s going. She got inside the bus. She opened her phone and listened to music again. She grabbed her wallet and she smiled as she was holding her grandma’s wedding picture. She can see the woman’s smile on the picture. The bus ride was longer than the taxi. Yet it gave her rest. When she sees the lush agricultural area of her country.

When the excruciatingly long bus ride was over, she immediately had a sigh of relief as she held her small luggage with her backpack. “Where is the town of Chalamaria?” She asked the people around the nearby town. “Ask the elders. Haven’t heard that name since.” The college student said. She walked more into the town. She asked more people around. People around the nearby village always told her that the enchanted forest was a dangerous place that no one should go to. - Let alone a young and untested eighteen-year-old. She couldn't care less. She just wants this Jongin to fill in the cracks in their beautiful love story. She has so many questions unanswered by my grandmother. Anxiety started rushing in her veins. Then, only one woman came in to answer her.

“Hello?” She asked an elderly woman. The woman seemed to not hear her and continued on stirring her ube halaya. - A Filipino jam made out of purple yam, milk, and sugar. The smell is very familiar as her grandma used to make it for her. The thing definitely smelled like sweet childhood memories.

“Hello?!” She said it one more time, louder. “Yes, darling?” The woman replied. “Do you know where Chalamaria is?” She asked the lady. The woman smiled bitterly, it looked like a bad memory went to her. “Yes. According to legends, Chalamaria is a town that existed 70 years ago. It was burnt by the Japanese. Everything was gone except the ruins of the big mansion. It’s filled with monsters. Nobody wants to ever go there.” She didn’t care. Those aren’t real. - She assured herself. 

The old woman continued speaking. “Women are not allowed to enter that area.” She said to Paula. “Why?” Paula was beyond curious about why she’d say that or the fact Chalamaria doesn’t exist on google maps at all. Any map she sees, no results. Sometimes she feels her grandma is lying to her. But, there is a historical text of the said town.

“I’d still go.” She said to the elder. The elder was shocked to hear what she said. "What is she thinking?" The old woman mumbled and went back to stirring her halaya. “Young people these days…” “I never saw someone as determined as her. Well, maybe this will be the last time I will see her.”

"Why?" She asked the woman. She was stopped in her tracks. "If you're a virgin, it's a bigger warning. Virgin young girls never make it alive. We even call it the virgin paradise. Because of the virgins that never leave.” The old lady continued. When she heard of that, Paula’s heart raced even more. Knowing her grandma survived Chalamaria, she can as well. Her grandma was the only virgin who did not die on the island.

“Minseok knew that Lucille doesn’t love him.” Grandma always said. She feels pity for my grandfather, but at the same time, I feel sad for my grandma who never met her lover again. It was a pity for grandma to know they were never destined to each other.

“Before I met Junmyeon, I met a man named Kim Jongin. He was handsome, he’s a Korean man living in our country during the Japanese occupation. I was with Lucille. She fell in love with him the first sight.” The story was as old as time as I would say. She always held onto her memories. Many say Jongin is dead, but she never believed it. It still can't wrap around her head why a stupid man like Jongin would leave her grandma.

“He was incredibly handsome. Even as old as I am, I still vividly remember his beautifully sculpted form, his kissable lips, golden complexion, his irresistible charm, everything about him. He’s probably dead by now. I never went back to the forest where I found him… old age as well as he never wanted me to go back.” She always tells her. Gosh, she can be an erotica writer just by the way she describes him. It's such a pity I never got to meet this man. - Paula thought.

As Lucille died, and in accordance with Stella’s wishes, she told Paula to go back to the mansion and wear the wedding dress while doing so. - Well, that's why Paula is walking in the forest in a white 40's wedding dress while wearing her grandma's pearl necklace. Given by Jongin to Stella. She truly looked like her grandma. She was just as beautiful as the former was. "The wedding dress was the dress Stella wore before letting him go. It was the dress." That was from her grandma’s words.

Her grandma never had enough time to tell her the whole story. Why did Jongin also give her things if Lucille was his true love? Why is grandma thinking of him like that if they’re only friends? There are many burning questions in Paula’s head. The story has so many holes. So many unanswered questions she wants answers. And what better way to hear that than hearing it from the man himself.

Then, that's why she packed her bags and decided over a three day Journey. Rain or shine, she walked through it all. She was always reminded by Grandma's warnings. "Do not take a picture of the house." She is literally going on a journey to nowhere. This place is closed by the government. Nobody knew of this place's existence.

As she started walking, she saw something. A ruined sign with rust and termite. “Welcome to Chalamaria.” She read the sign as she touched each letter. A faint smile appeared in her face. She furrowed her brows and opened the rusted golden gate. The town is filled with ruins. - Oh, so that’s Chalamaria, an early 1900s luxury town. - She thought to herself. She walked passed all the mansions and she saw a graffiti that said “BURN THE RICH” the graffiti seems old. 

I want to see if this Jongin is still alive. I can feel he still is even if I never met him. It’s not a jump of blood because I am not related to him. Then, while walking in the vast and beautiful landscapes, I saw something. Is this it? Is this his house? I saw the house was rotten, it looked like ruins. It has aged through time, so I took a picture of the house, admiring the beauty it has.

Even if it was old. She did that, disregarding her grandma's advice. She was curious. She looked closer at it and saw an old skeleton wearing a suit and slacks with blood like the one in the old photo her grandma told her to treasure. Is this the Jongin? She knew he'd be dead but not in this horrific way. Jongin died 80 years ago. The day Lucille got married to him. Looking at the skull, the man was hit with a missile or a bomb of some sort.

Suddenly the clouds started pushing back, like a rewind at a super-fast rate. It felt like someone was pressing the switch multiple times over and over again. The skull wearing a suit just magically disappeared. She looked at her watch and it started suddenly pushing back time. She started looking at the surroundings "What the fuck is going on?" She asked herself as the skies suddenly go back and the house almost started repairing itself. Maybe this is why her grandma always told her not to get a picture of that house. She saw her phone not being able to open.

It looked like a flipbook right in front of her eyes. She never thought she'd ever see something as beautiful as this one ever in her lifetime. She can't believe that the stories her grandmother told is true. The story that got her grandma labeled as crazy from the day she went back to the village as she started telling everyone. Everyone believed Jongin wasn't real, in fact, he is. Right here and there.

Maybe this is why no one wants to go to the enchanted forest. - She thought to herself as she slowly walked. Holding firm to her backpack, she suddenly felt something was off as she saw a gated mansion. Her grandma told many great stories about this mansion. Her adventures with Lucille. She looked at her phone about that mansion. It was supposed to be rotten, filled with leaves and it was supposed to be old. - But the mansion in front of her looked new. It looked exactly like in the pictures but new.

She decided to open the golden gate and give it a knock. “Is there anyone here?” She asked nicely. Then suddenly, someone opened the door. She was shocked to see him. A man wearing a tailored suit, looking at his Rolex. He had a beautiful golden tan complexion. He has very soft and kissable lips, beautiful almond eyes. Is he Jongin or this is a fucking joke? He's supposed to be dead by now. What the hell? - She thought to herself.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

on the sixth day of kinkmas, my lover did to me:

[ g a g s ]

>>DOYOUNG

>>warning/s: blindfold, light bondage, quick fellatio, cheating, dirty talking, vulgar language, uhh implied creampie??? and breeding kink bc idk its growing on me im probably having existential crisis

a/n: rj gets carried away pt 2 ft doyoung

-

Kim Doyoung was a powerful man; the CEO of his own company at the age of 26, had multi-million franchises across the globe. He had everything; a mansion on an acre land he owned, vacation houses in each province of the country, the latest models of sportscars parked in his garage, a beautiful wife of 5 years—you would include “loving,” but that was only used for publicity.

When Doyoung had married his wife, he had no say in the matter. It was pre-arranged by their families, a contract made by their grandfathers. He didn’t care at first, it’s not like he was in a former relationship or even wanted one. For the first few months after their wedding, they did try to work things out; actually try to fall in love with one another, but in the end, as he had come to find out, she was only in it for the sake of making her family happy.

They had sex, plenty of it. All vanilla and boring—Doyoung wanted more, but she wouldn’t even let him hold her wrists down for a few goddamn seconds. The sex stopped when he found out about her lover: a high school sweetheart she was forced to leave because she had to marry him. And since that day, they’ve established that their relationship was purely just a piece of paper, that their status of husband and wife is nothing but a title to the public and their families.

You only came to the picture when Doyoung had made a surprise visit to one of his hotels in Busan. He parked his matte black Audi s8 beside a white Jeep Wrangler.

He steps out of his car to stretch his limbs and hears squeaking from behind him. As he turns, he sees you through the rolled down window of the Jeep; panting and sweaty, hair disheveled.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize you were riding someone—and from the look of disdain and annoyance on your face, it wasn’t going to knock your socks off. You notice him and he doesn’t move a muscle, unashamed of being caught watching you. You didn’t even care that he had seen you because the man beneath you was coming—quite loudly and finished with a smile on his face and a scowl on yours.

When you look back up to the man that had been watching you, he was gone. You almost felt embarrassed, only because he had to watch such a pathetic excuse for sex.

“You didn’t have to walk me to the elevator.” You quipped, clicking your heels against the polished floors.

“If I didn’t have to go to this emergency meeting, I’d walk you all the way up to your room.”

You spare him a sarcastic smile, “If it really was an emergency, you would have just dropped me off.” You turn the corner to where the elevators were and found the man from earlier. He has his hands in his pockets and gaze to the floor.

“Can I see you later tonight?”

“Nope.” You snapped, “Beauty rest for the wedding.”

The elevator doors open after a ‘ding’ and you briskly walk inside after the man.

“How about after—”

“I’m driving back to Seoul next morning. I’d rather not.” You swipe your keycard on the sensor and press your floor number.

The man you were with frowns, “Oh, well, then I guess I’ll see you at the wedding.”

You forced a smile at him before the elevator doors close and once they do, you groan, rolling your eyes until they land to the male who had witnessed everything. “Sorry you just had to watch the worst free live porn ever.”

He smirks, shrugging “I can’t say I’ve seen worse. I was wondering why a Seoul city girl like you would be with a Busan boy like him, he must be your partner for this wedding you’ve mentioned.”

“Oh, you know how it goes, single bridesmaids and groomsmen, yada yada, getting lucky and all that—well, he did. I did not, I definitely did not.” You’re reminded of the ache between your legs that you had to deal with back in your suite.

The elevator dings again and it opens to the lobby; no one gets in and you raise a brow at the man. “Aren’t you gonna get off?”

He looks at you, contemplatively.

The doors close and the elevator starts making its way up to bring you to your floor.

“I work for this hotel. I think it’s only right I escort a customer to their floor, especially after such a traumatic encounter that happened within the building, and make sure you have everything you need.”

“To say you work for this hotel is an understatement, Mr. Kim.” You laugh, finally recognizing his face under proper lighting.

“So you know who I am.”

“That handsome face of yours has been on the news a few times, so yes, I do know you.” You hum, warily eyeing him, “Your wife and I went to the same high school. She’s my junior.”

Doyoung scoffs, “Then you must know her lover, they were high school sweethearts.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “I-I do… I’m sorry.”

“My wife and I have come to terms that we’re only binded by a marriage contract. We’re just waiting for the right time to file for divorce. There’s no need to appologize.” The elevator doors open and he places a finger against the button to keep it that way, politely smiling at you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay, Miss…”

You say your name and begin to step out of the lift.

He repeats your name with a slight purr. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

Everything began there; and six months later you don’t regret the encounter. You can still remember how you came undone once from his fingers, another with his mouth, and three consecutive orgasms with his cock. Even though you were completely spent, sensitive and overstimulated, you wanted more.

Doyoung gave you more and more every time you meet. You didn’t need an exchange of words to know what your bodies wanted; he wants complete control while you wanted to be used.

“I don’t understand how the men before me let you go to waste. They’re idiots.” He grumbles, taking off his wristwatch.

You chuckled, the little vibrations from your throat stimulating his cock as you sucked it. He had called you over to his house in Anyang when he found out you had a meeting nearby; that had been cancelled due clashing schedules so here you were, on your knees before him.

“They didn’t let me go. I let them go. They’re idiots for not knowing how to pleasure me even though it’s the simple concept of ‘give and take,’ hmph.” You quietly say after pulling away from his shaft, pumping it with both your hands. “What about your wife? Didn’t she find pleasure in this?”

“I guess it’s different if you’re in love with someone else.” Doyoung tosses the accessory aside as if it didn’t cost a hundred thousand dollars and starts working on untying his tie. “Also, can you stop calling her my wife?”

“She still is, though, until you file for divorce and until then, I’m still technically your mistress.” You push his cock closer to his stomach and lean forward to kiss his balls. “I thought you two had the papers already?”

“Our parents want a grandchild—and while both our grandfathers are still alive, they’re more than eager to hold their great grandchildren before they die.” He groans and you don’t know if it’s because of his dilemma or your mouth playfully nipping at his testes. “And of course they had to mention that when we were about to announce our divorce.”

You kiss his cock one more time before rising to your feet, “I’d offer you help, but I don’t know how aside from letting you use my body as a stress reliever.”

“It’s enough, trust me.” He smiles, tipping your chin with his finger and kissing your forehead, “Open your mouth.”

You look at him incredulously at his request, hesitantly parting your lips.

He jams his rolled up necktie in your mouth, holding you steady by your nape. The sweet smile on his face was now replaced with the expression of what you can only describe as the face of a predator, which meant you were his prey. “Enough talking. Do what you do best, sweetheart, and be a good slut for me.”

He pushes you over the bed and pulls your tight shirt up your body, leaving it around your eyes and kept your arms by your head. You feel him palm your breasts for a moment before the strapless bra you wore came off.

There was a soft sigh before you felt his mouth closing on your left nipple while fingers tweaked the other. You arch yourself towards him when it ended so quickly, his mouth leaving your skin with a pop before you feel him working to get your pants off.

After your slacks came off with your panties, you lay there; waiting with a necktie in your mouth and a shirt above your eyes. You knew what he was doing. He was standing there by the bed, shedding the remainder of his clothing and watching you; daring you to do something he wouldn’t like so he could punish you for it. But tonight you wanted to be rewarded.

He probably hoped you’d grow impatient and shrug your shirt completely off, but instead he watched you spread your legs apart and invited him to stare at your pussy, pink and sopping with anticipation.

You feel a lone finger quickly trail from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a gasp muffled by your gag and your hips lifting upwards to chase the contact.

“If I had you like this everyday, with that tight pussy of yours just waiting to be pounded by my cock, I’d be a father in no time.” He scoffs and you hear an appreciative hum that tells you he brought his finger to his lips.

The mattress by your feet dips down and you feel his hands run along your inner thighs, teasing you as he avoids contact where you wanted it the most.

You whine through your gag but he seems to ignore it, moving your legs so they would be draped over his thighs.

“I’ve always been one to use protection, but I remember the first time we met. You were just begging to be fucked by me, crying about not caring if I had a condom on or not.” His weight shifts on the bed again and then you feel the tip of his member pushing into you. You’re moaning through his necktie, jaw already aching at being jammed open for so long. “I came twice in you that day and you know what, sweetheart?”

He starts to thrust all of a sudden, pounding into you so quickly that your walls struggle to adjust to his girth and are rubbed raw. You feel his fingers digging into your hipbone with a bruising grip as he surges himself into you repeatedly. “It. felt. so. fucking. good.”

You cry as loud as you can through your gag, wanting to move your own hips to meet his thrusts.

“I’ve never thought about kids, [Y/N]. Have you?” He hisses, switching the angle of how his cock enters you and causing you to moan again. With your lack of response, he shakes your hips against him, “Answer me.”

You vehemently shake your head, tempted to take your shirt off so you could look at him, but you kept them overhead and held your forearms. He resumes his actions, letting go of your hips to fondle your chest.

“God, I love your pussy, sweetheart. Always so tight, no matter how much I fuck you. So fucking delicious—always so wet when I see it, always eager to take my cock. Your pussy is just perfect for my cock, don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

You’re breathing heavily through your nose now, almost choking on your saliva when you tried to breathe through your mouth. You shake your head.

“No?”

You mumbled back something, but obviously it was obstructed by the makeshift gag. You do your best to swallow the saliva that’s accumulated in your mouth despite the necktie and repeat yourself. “Yours.”

“Mine?” Doyoung repeats, and in your head you can see the confused expression he tends to make, “Are you trying to say this pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod, writhing under his hold and finally able to meet his thrusts with your own fervent movements.

“Really? This pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod once more and he stills, length halfway inside of you. His hands are no longer on your boobs, but resting back on your hips. Before you can complain about his inactivity, he drives himself back into you with a force strong enough to send your body further up the bed. It’s creaking this time with the headboard hitting the wall and creating the softest thud.

Doyoung brings his thumb over your clit, rubbing furious circles upon it, relentlessly, until you’re crying out loud and struggling.

Unable to keep still, you try to remove your shirt but he catches you, pushing your arms back down above your head.

“If this pussy is mine, sweetheart, I would want nothing more than fill it up with my cum. Is that okay with you?”

You shake your head in agreement.

He groans, continuously thrusting. “And if I get you pregnant, sweetheart? What will you do, huh? Will you keep it?”

You don’t know how but you were able to scream out a discernible and resounding “Yes!”

Without ceasing his movements, he tears your shirt off from your face and limbs, and your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. When you finally focus on him; with his eyes lustfully glaring down at you, jaw strained, and his entire body tense as he brings you closer to your climax, he asks through gritted teeth, “Do you want me to get you pregnant, [Y/N]?”

He fishes his necktie out of your mouth, disposing the damp thing on the floor, and cluthes your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

You break off the kiss, placing your hands on his hot skin, “I want you to fuck me until I do.”

Doyoung growls, rolling your bodies until you were on top. “Then go get it for yourself, sweetheart. Chase that chance to have my children.”

Like a maniac, you ride him; gyrating your hips, clenching around him. The beautiful sound of his moans is music to your ears and merely fuels you to move faster. You reach your climax first, throwing your head backwards and jerking erratically above him; which triggers his own, ejaculating deep within you.

Your lower abdomen feels hot as you calm down from your high, still gently moving your hips despite being sensitive to ride his orgasm out, each sporadic squirt of his seed making you flinch.

With his cock still seated comfortably inside of you, you feel yourself fall backwards, making him sit up and guide you gently down the bed and lay between his legs.

“Aren’t you on birth control?” He asks, voice completely raspy and out of breath.

“No.” You confessed, “They make my boobs too sensitive. I just take ‘morning after’ pills after we fuck.”

“Do you plan to take them tomorrow?”

“Do you really want kids?”

He shrugs and you snort, “Doyoung, will you even take responsibility if I get pregnant?”

“Of course I will! What do you take me for?” He exclaims, obviously offended. He smooths his hands over your thighs, “I just don’t have experiences with kids to know how I’ll fare with them. But I do know I’d like an heir to my company.”

You gesture for him to help you sit up, both of you wincing when he does as your bodies are still connected. “I’ll take the pill, only because it feels wrong to try and make a baby when your parents want you to have one with your wife.”

“Again, can you stop calling her that? She doesn’t even call me her husband anymore. Also, I never said they wanted me to have a kid with her. Technically, they never specified who the mother of their grandkids can be—they’re only assuming her because they don’t know what’s really going on between us.”

“So no pill?”

“It’s up to you, really.” He chuckles, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Is that why you’re still hard?” You lick your lips at how his dick is throbbing inside of you.

“I’m telling you,” Doyoung sniggers into your ear, “There’s just something about your pussy that makes me want to fill it up.”

[wave-wannabe]

Changes 6—The Metamorphosis of Two Women

Chapter 6 Lili Is Translate into Wannabe

On the fifth day after the operation, I was discharged from hospital.

Flying Brother is very busy. He will take me home that day. Before returning home, we indulged in his hotel once. There was still a little pain in the stump, but there was no more convulsive and intolerable pain like the past. Instead, every touch would be directly fed back to my waist, and I felt like a cloud drifting through the mist. The stump is shorter and the quality of sexual life is better...

When I got home, my life was as monotonous as before. I missed my Flying Brother all the time except serving my online store. So, in the off-season of finding a commodity, I took the train to Z city, at neighboring province.

When I got off the train, Flying Brother took me to a hotel. The front of the hotel looked small and the lobby was not very upscale. But when I entered the room, I saw a bright light. It was like a presidential suite. After Flying Brother left, a waiter brought lunch soon. I was very surprised, so I asked the waiter. Only then did I know that Flying Brother owns one third of the stake in this hotel. Everyone called him General Xu.

After dinner, Flying Brother came. I jumped on it, followed by a long wet kiss. After some sexual intercourse, we hugged together satisfactorily and told each other our thoughts. Passion was unbearable. I kissed his tender lips, his strong chest, his flat stomach, his seductive lower body. His chicken is standing up again...

"Wait a minute, if you don't mind, I want you to do something for me." Flying Brother said.

"What's the matter?"

"You know, I like women whose legs have been amputated. I want to tie up your right leg and have sex with you, okay?" Flying Brother asked tentatively.

"Flying Brother, I'd like to do that for you." I answered simply.

He found a rope, let me curl up my right leg and tie it up. I see that his chicken is straighter. In the process that followed, we made a new leap!

We gasped for breath, and Flying Brother whispered to me, "Thank you! You gave me the feeling of having sex with women who amputated their legs. It was really good.

"Flying Brother, after this operation, I found that I liked the stump. It's like my new sexual organ. It always brings me sexual fantasies. I even think amputation may not be bad for me. I don't know why I feel that way.

"Many amputees feel the same way as you. In theory, that's because the lower part of the human body contains nerves and tissues. The sensation of nerve endings is the most sensitive. Amputation makes the nerves on the stump become nerve endings and closer to your nerve trunk. The shorter conduction time brings you a more direct and pleasant feeling.

This night, I talked a lot with Flying Brother. I know from Flying Brother that besides Devotee, there are people in the world called Pretender and Wannabe, Pretenders do pretend to be disabled to get pleasure. Wannabes thinks that a healthy body is a mistake, and they seek to turn themselves into disabled people.

After Flying Brother left, I thought about it alone for a long time. I remember the feeling after the second operation that I had not only adapted to amputation, but also felt vaguely that I really enjoyed it. How would I feel if I had to amputate my limbs again? Would I volunteer to amputate more my limbs? It suddenly struck me that I understood Wannabe, because after amputation I got a lot of things I didn't have before. If possible, I think I'd like to amputate again or more.

[mitcheemarns]

Mo struggling on the team without Jake vs Jake thriving in the Hurricanes (go where u want with it )

i think this got kinda long. but ugh this was quite fun. ill be posting it on ao3. click the keep reading for the fic :)) thanks for the prompt!

Morgan knows that Jake is leaving before the media do. After the past two seasons, with the reactions that he’s seen from everyone, he knows Jake doesn’t have much time left. So of course the last game Jake, and the rest of the Leafs, plays is one that goes south. Because, of course. It just wouldn’t suit the hockey gods if people weren’t criticising Jake Gardiner. 

He’s had time to prepare himself—a good four months, really. 

Over the summer, he doesn’t think about Jake. He doesn’t think about what’s happening down in Minnesota, in Minneapolis. 

They’ve known each other for six years, been together half that time. Even then, back when they met and he was nineteen, he’s never felt this distant and far away from Jake. They’ve been together for three years now, two years and change if you want to get specific, but Morgan’s never been to Minneapolis. Jake has never been to Vancouver. 

Jake has never met Maggie. He’s never met any of his family nor his friends. He hasn’t seen the coasts of BC outside the hotel perimeter. He hasn’t explored the city, the province, in all its unbidden beauty—the looming stature of the redwoods and majestic pines, the smell of fresh wild flowers blooming in the summer, the refreshing downpour following a wave of humidity, the green, green, greenness of nature. 

And Morgan has never met Jake’s mom. Hasn’t been able to push further into the Gardiners’ family dynamic further than during the Gardiner Classic. He hasn’t seen Jake’s childhood home, where there was bound to be posters of hockey players plastered on every corner of the walls. He wants to know the spots in Minneapolis that make Jake smile from nostalgia, that bittersweet feeling, find new spots to make their own. 

Even though they’ve done that in Toronto, made a home for themselves, Morgan wants more. He wants more than he deserves to have. 

So, maybe that’s why Jake had to leave. Morgan knew, has known for four months, and he still isn’t ready. 

His heart doesn’t sink when he reads the news on September 6th, because Jake’s told him. But it hurts. It hurts because Morgan can’t keep him. 

Training camp starts and there’s a hole somewhere in his chest. Being back in Toronto without Jake is… difficult. There’s the loneliness that creeps through the silence, no matter how much Jake manages to text or call him. It feels wrong to be alone in their condo, sitting at their breakfast counter and staring into the living room where the stupid stuffed puma is still thrown somewhere in the corner from the time Jake cleaned the living room. Morgan’s done an entire run through of the place, but he couldn’t stand to move the things Jake last touched.

“Keep him,” Jake had said over facetime when Morgan asked about the puma, that familiar crooked smile on his face. 

“Psh, yeah, like I’d let you take Uma,” Morgan had retorted back, trying to keep a semblance of normality. But he remembers, his insides had been twisting, heart panging. He wanted to reach through the screen and pull Jake to the other side, back to Toronto, where he belongs. 

Eventually, Morgan gets used to living by himself. He gets by on takeout from outrageously priced restaurants that fit his diet plan, tries to find a meal delivery service that would fit him, and cleans up after himself. It isn’t like he’s hopeless at living alone, he knows the basics and he’s mature enough. He’s twenty-five. He’s twenty-five… 

But even if Morgan’s able to manage the practical parts of living alone, he hasn’t been able to keep his mental side ticking. He wants so bad to lie next to Jake, sapping up the warmth that radiates from his body. He misses being able to complain without abandon to Jake, who would only smile indulgently and shut him up with a kiss. 

Sometimes, he wonders if Jake is doing okay, if he’s doing better now that he’s away from Morgan and Toronto. Honestly, Morgan’s just lying to himself. He knows that Jake is doing better, seeing how much better Carolina treats him. His season is going great, scoring goals and assisting left and right, barely making any defensive mistakes. 

“I miss you,” Morgan would say, averting his gaze. 

“Me too,” Jake would reply back, staring earnestly with those baby blues. 

Then Morgan would wonder if he was lying, if they had truly ran out of luck in their relationship. 

“Got that Leafs and Canes game circled. December twenty-third, right before Christmas,” Jake would mention. 

And Morgan would smile. Because it’s still Jake that he loves. It’s still Jake that loves him.

[mind-writing0]

~Chapter 7~

Hello, dears!! If you’re new to this story and want to start at the beginning, click here to read the prologue!!

In the Singer house's tiny driveway, at exactly nine AM, was the sleekest black limousine anyone had ever seen.

The neighbors were gawking at it, at a respectable distance, but it still made Virgil feel awkward. He never liked being in the spotlight.

We get to ride in that?" Valerie asked the guard as he opened the door for them. The guard nodded and smiled politely, and Virgil giddily crawled into the car.

"Well, I guess we'll say goodbyes at the airport," Virgil's mom said, getting into the car as well. 

The interior was even bigger than the exterior, with large comfortable seats in a rectangle and refreshments in the middle. There was champagne in a bucket of ice, but Virgil was underage, so he didn't drink. He was sure no one would be rude to him about it if he did, but he was wary of the paparazzi. His mom did help herself, and Virgil tried not to cringe. Valerie was too busy staring out the window and excitedly waving at the neighbors. Virgil kept his head down and tried to pretend he was someone else, doing anything else. 

"Hey, Ali!" Valerie rolled down the window, waving frantically to Alister. "Where's Dan?"

"He said he didn't feel good today." Alister glanced over at his family's house, frowning a little. "He's been kinda weird lately. Oh, well. Goodbye! Hope you become royalty, Virgil!"

Virgil looked at him briefly and nodded, but Alister looked too much like his brother for his eyes to linger. The car drove off, leaving the general public behind.

When they got to the airport, there was an even bigger crowd. They all cheered when Virgil and his family got out of the car. Almost the whole town was gathered, and there was a platform put at the end of a long walkway, almost like a stage.

"This way, Sir Virgil. Your province would like to hear a word before you go." The guard who opened the door for him said.

"A—a word?" Virgil asked, and the word alone was followed by an almost audible gulp. If anyone in the Selection or the country was not ready for the publicity, it was Virgil. The Selection, unfortunately, was all about someone in the background getting suddenly judged by the public. He would just have to get used to that.

"Just something small, like how you intend to win for your province." The guard replied, smiling politely. For once, Virgil wished all of these smiles were real.

I don't intend to win, Virgil thought, but he nodded and stepped onto the platform. His sister and mother stayed on the ground, but Valerie seemed like she wanted to join him. Virgil immediately wished he could trade places with her. If she was a bit older, and Prince Roman was straight, this would be a perfect opportunity for her. Virgil, on the other hand, felt such a wrong rush of anxiety in his stomach, as if someone was going to tell him to step down. Someone would tell him that he couldn't possibly be one of the beloved Selected. And he would gladly let someone take his place, especially Alister.

"Hello, everyone." Virgil squeaked into the microphone. The crowd cheered, and it made him smile nervously. "I'm so excited to be picked for this Selection. I promise that I will try as hard as I can to win for this province!" The crowd cheered again, ad Virgil said a small "thank you" into the mic, grateful that was over so soon. He awkwardly placed the mic in its holder and waved at the excited crowd. Scanning over the familiar faces, his heart still skipped in a bittersweet way when he saw Dan. Dan with his arm wrapped around another guy who's name Virgil couldn't remember. The pair smiled at each other and talked as if they were on a date.

Virgil tried not to let the sight affect his expression, as he was sure he was being filmed, but he still felt a frown tugging at his lips. He felt a lump in his throat, and his eyes watered. He covered it all with a smile, so hopefully, it would be interpreted as happiness. He stepped off the stage and started in the direction of the airport doors. 

"Virgil!" A familiar voice, an endearing voice, now sounded pained. Dan was trying to get through the crowd to him.

Virgil felt a pang in his heart, and he stood for only a moment, glaring at Dan. "Come on guys." He muttered to his family. "Once we get inside, we can say goodbye in private." 

A guard opened the door for him, something he would have to get used to, and they went inside. Virgil stood by the boarding room alone, as he was the only one from his province leaving. 

"I know you don't want to do this," Valerie enveloped him in a hug, and Virgil rested his head on top of hers. "but please promise you'll try to win. This isn't just for me, but for you. Please try. I love you." 

"Okay," Virgil decided as a half-truth, "I'll try. I love you, too." He turned to his mom, who gave him an awkward hug. They didn't hug much. 

"Have fun, and, if he kicks you out, steal as much as you can." 

Virgil grinned at that completely awful advice. It would be the last time in a while that he heard the little anecdotes of idiocy, and he wondered for the last time what kind of things she went through in life to come up with such things. "Thanks, Mom. I... love you. Bye." 

Virgil held onto his one small bag and waved one last time as he boarded. He'd never been on a plane before, so this would probably be another terrifying new experience. He was told that the plane would make one stop, to pick up some passengers from three of the other provinces, and then they would be off to the palace. 

He sat in a plushy cream-colored seat, awkwardly finding out to recline. He was offered movies, which he hadn't seen often, but Virgil decided he'd rather enjoy the view. It was utterly incredible as they took off, all of the people and land became tiny. It all breezed by in a blur, and Virgil couldn't help but press his face against the window like a little kid. Before he knew it, he was dozing off.  

"Oh my god." Two voices woke him up. One sounded annoyed, on the edge of snobby, while one sounded amused. 

Virgil looked up to see a guy with striking blue eyes and brown skin. Lance, he remembered. He could really only remember a few names picked before his own, as afterward, he was in an emotional daze.

"Hey," he smiled, "I'm Lance McClain. You're Virgil, right? I didn't mean to wake you up, you did look funny cause you were drooling. But you looked cute too." He looked startled for a second. "No homo. Wait. No, I mean yes homo. I'm gonna have to get used to that." He laughed nervously. "What did you mark on the form for the sexuality part? I said bi, but I'm not sure if that's gonna look good. I mean, I did get picked, but—" Lance looked as though he came upon a sudden realization, and he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry, I'm a talker."

"Yeah, you are." The voice from earlier replied, still frustrated. The pair up front turned towards the direction in which it came from to see a blonde boy in shades reclining his seat back. "Do you mind? I need to get some sleep, so I don't look as worn down as a Five."

Virgil recognized him as Bill... something. He was a Two who seemed incredibly snobby, and he looked back at Lance with a look that said -can you believe this guy? Lance laughed, "I know. I really hope this whole competition thing isn't too rough. I mean, I like the prince and I want to win, but I don't want to, like, put hair remover in people's shampoo, you know?" 

Virgil nodded, " I don't wanna fight either. I think I'm just gonna eat all I can until I get kicked out. Then I'll fill a bag with breadsticks as I'm leaving." 

Lance chuckled again, "Oh my gosh, that does sound like a good plan. But you know who I think is gonna prank us? Mr. Beauty Sleep over there." 

Virgil nodded and gazed wearily at the sleeping young man. He definitely seemed like someone to be cautious of. Virgil held out his hand. "Truce? You know, so we don't have to worry about competing against each other?"

Lance high-fived him as if that made a binding contract. They talked about home. Lance was a Four—Fours being the shop owners and factory workers—and he worked at his family's restaurant. Apparently, the restaurant was one of the last ones that made traditional Cuban food. After America had steadily become the kingdom of Ailea, Cuba had followed soon after. Virgil told Lance all of the strange tales of singing for rich people, and Lance almost interacted some of the strange customers he'd seen. Virgil had never really had a friend before, but he guessed that this is what it would be like. 

They ate plane food for dinner, and even though he had heard that plane food was awful, Virgil thought it was amazing. He was right in choosing food for his motivation. 

Soon after they finally arrived in Angeles. Guards and airport staff alike helped them in the process of getting scanned through every process. Apparently, people with firearms were a big problem near the palace. 

Another limousine met them to drive them to the palace. Lance and Virgil still chatted, some of Virgil's awkwardness seeping into the conversation. Bill had brought along one of those tiny odd music boxes the Twos and Threes carried. one with a split white wire that went into his ears. He listened to it while looking out the window. 

They finally pulled up to the palace twenty minutes later. Its white walls almost glittered in the moonlight, and the air around it suggested something magical. Virgil shook his head. He couldn't let the palace entrance and change him into something he's not.

The rest of the evening was a blur. There were several other young men they saw on the way, but everyone was so tired no one took anything in. They all had rooms in one hall, like a hotel, but the rooms were huge. Each room came with three maids to help their contestants in any way they could.

Virgil's maids were all polite, pretty women. They tried to help him get ready for bed, but Virgil felt uncomfortable with the help in such meager tasks. He awkwardly thanked them and dismissed them, getting ready for bed on his own. One of the maids, a girl about his age with short brown hair, said that she had to keep watch outside for rebels.

Rebels, Virgil thought, and it made his stomach plummet. It seemed just as he thought, a perfect paradise with dark secrets around every corner. Of course, the people of this place would ignore them. 

Virgil could ask in the morning. He could interrogate and take all the food, then leave without a trace. Yes, Virgil thought, an empty kind of happiness in his heart. Then he could leave and come back to... what? A disappointed family, a country that rejected him, and an ex-boyfriend who was already with someone else. 

Virgil rolled over, trying to sleep on the giant cloud-like bed. His fatigue and intense anxiety eventually faded into a half-sleep. 

Half an hour later, his eyes shot open and he ripped the covers off of himself.

He had to get out of here.

Next Masterlist Previous

[navk]

An open letter to 27

Someone told me recently that the older you get the more time appears to move faster because you’ve lived more and experienced more of the world. I’m not sure about how true this explanation really is, but experiences now certainly tend to carry more weight compared to when I was younger.

Every year that passes carries with it events and experiences that, I hope, contribute to who I am and my sense of where I am in my life and the world. However, it becomes increasingly difficult (at least to me) in a time where everything seems to be moving at such a rapid pace. It’s hard to pinpoint any one position when the world around me shifts so quickly.

Personally, 2018 has been a mad blur of experiences that have left me any series of words, including but not limited to: overwhelmed, winded, exhausted. Somewhere in between, I’ve also been inspired and captivated by the natural beauty that exists around all of us.

I took some time this year to travel and do things I normally wouldn’t do. I’ve visited about ten different cities across four American states and two Canadian provinces. All for pleasure. I’ve camped out in my car, stayed in expensive tourist hotels, shady Airbnbs, and ate in questionable establishments with the hopes that my overly sensitive stomach would make it to the next service stop.

I’ve seen (and scaled) the glory of the Rocky Mountains, their obscenely clear springs and rivers, and almost got carried by the rapids and down a waterfall.

2018 has been, by all accounts, a year of growth and growing pains. But isn’t every year like this? Perhaps, but perhaps more so for me because I’ve carried one question with me throughout these last twelve months: how do I strike a balance in my life? Financial balance, emotional balance, work-life balance. Balance between family and friends and passions and obligations. At first, it seemed simple enough to approach the matter by compartmentalizing different aspects of my life, dividing everything by time. Soon as the months progressed, all of this proved to be much more difficult.

Perhaps, I thought to myself, it boils down to a matter of where I am in my life. Two degrees, two jobs, I’ve saved, invested, built a decent stock portfolio. I bought a brand new car in 2017 (and very shortly felt a different sort of pain that I had not entirely signed up for). I thought to myself that I had most of my life figured out, that what was left would be sorted out by going through the motions.

I remember seeing a tweet by a famous philosopher named Drake some time ago that went something like “anything can be overcome with three sleeps.” Sorry Drake, I’ve had almost 365 sleeps and I still haven’t figured it out.

This is not a list denoting what I’ve done or haven’t done as much as it is a letter to myself admitting that I have some work left to do. And while one of my greatest traits (according to others, not me) has been the ability to be vulnerable, I’ve found myself sharing less and less over the course of this year. I’ve nearly completely shuddered myself from social media. Platforms through which I had routinely shared my writing and my thoughts on current world events went dark, and I allowed no remorse to seep through as I continued to live “in the real world.”

I told myself that I was gathering experiences and in turn gathering myself. I wrote less, but always thought about writing more. I devoted time into a business I registered with friends that we eventually dissolved even before we launched the product, because we soon realized that the idea had too many holes and was too time sensitive.

I finally landed a part time gig in my profession, finally I had put a foot through the door. But even then it wasn’t, and still isn’t, ideal. So I kept applying and finally, three years after graduating I had landed an interview at my desired organization. That dream, too, quickly ended. I broke down at the realization that 5 years of university and 3 years of chasing this opportunity had culminated to a flat out rejection.

Fast forward a few months: I’m still here, still kicking it. I’ve surrounded myself with the most brilliant and the most terrific group of people anyone could ever be blessed with. Still, sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.

Is it still inherently wrong to not be wholly satisfied with what one has if the constant belief that “there is always room for improvement” exists? I don’t think I’m unhappy so much as I think that there is still an abundance of potential that I still haven’t found myself living up to. And I don’t think I’m the only one who actually feels this way.

I have always expected to stumble, prepared for the bruises and discomfort required to grow into different and elevated forms of myself (imagine your favourite Akira Toriyama character screaming in unjust anger and pain for something like 18 episodes just to reach a more powerful form to fight off a strange and powerful space lizard). Through this half-thought out example (and a sprinkle of nostalgic humour), we can see that becoming a better version of ourselves can often mean toiling through tremendous hardships. That we must also keep finding ways to become increasingly better in order to overcome any and all other challenges that life brings our way.

But the thing is, despite all of this, despite all the pressures and uncertainties that we find ourselves in, life goes on. The world keeps on turning. And tomorrow is a new day. And in a few more sleeps, it will be a new year. And our stories, hopefully, will continue in new ways. Some of it will be exciting, some of it will be challenging, some of it will test and perhaps even break us. But none of it will be fore naught.

Now into the tail end of my twenties, it took me a whole year to come to this one realization. That I had been running for so long that I forgot how to walk. And that to walk, sometimes we need to learn how to crawl.

(TL;DR: We’re all Goku, and life is Frieza because it keeps coming back to get us no matter what).

[halogensleep]

a warzone could be the happiest place on earth (if i was there with you)

Charlotte looked to the overhead cabin for a moment to gather herself, her thoughts, her last bit of patience. The other passengers had started to disembark with grumbles and agitated, inconvenienced tsks. Charlotte refused to remove her seatbelt, still. The human sales-jingle sat beside her began to nudge her fingers towards the buckled clasp in an attempt to gain some progress.

Charlotte slapped her hand away.

“Rebecca I am not getting off of this fucking plane,” Charlotte dropped her voice to a severe whisper.

Becky lifted her chin. “Oh believe me, yes you are!” She nodded emphatically.

“I’m not,” Charlotte protested with a petulant shake of the head. “Nope, I’m not doing this.”

“We’re going to get up and go to the hotel for the night,” Becky insisted softly, as if she were reassuring and placating a child throwing a tantrum. “The bus drops us off, it picks us up in the afternoon, and Bob’s your uncle, we’re off to Tel Aviv!” It was said with the most upbeat, cheery voice possible.

The human sales-jingle tried to unbuckle the seatbelt again. Charlotte slapped her hand away a little harder this time.

“Please don’t do this,” her wife warned, already anticipating the meltdown.

“Cyprus is forty minutes west. This plane is either taking us there, or I’m going to sit here until a charter jet is on the runway ready for us.” Charlotte forcefully tempered her voice into a strange, deceivingly calm tone. “I’ll sit here on the tarmac all day, please try me. I am fresh out of fucks, Becky.”

“Do not do this.” Becky pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is really not the time or place to make a scene—”

“Oh, so now I’m making a scene!” Charlotte lost it, her head bobbing sarcastically. “Don’t worry, Charlotte. I’ll book a secret getaway, it will be like we’re on an episode of The Bachelor!” She parroted Becky’s words from a few, short weeks ago. “Good one, Becky! Look at us now, stuck here!” She pointed to the dusty, mountainous terrain beyond the window where civil unrest and war was brewing.

“Listen to me,” Becky lowered her voice to a tight, Irish whisper. “If you don’t march your arse off of this bloody plane I promise that you will never, ever, for as long as you live, see my rose again—”

“You know what I see right now?” Charlotte snapped and fidgeted deeper into the aisle seat. “Our lives, flashing before my eyes. You promised me relaxing! And this?” Her pointer finger gestured towards everything and nothing. “This ain’t it, chief.”

“Well maybe if you stopped being so dramatic then we could start relaxing!” The Man challenged and thumped herself backwards into her seat, embarrassed and glaring. “People are staring. We’re now that couple. The couple people stare at. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“Becky we just made an emergency landing in the middle of Beirut!” Crescent-shaped marks were left either side of her nose from the pinching. “The plane had to corkscrew the landing so we didn’t get targeted by anti-aircraft fire!”

“That was a precautionary measure!” Becky snapped back.

“We are two women travelling alone who just so happen to be very western, very gay, and very famous, and you just want us to waltz off this plane into the nexus of the middle-eastern conflict. That’s what you’re asking me to do right now?” Charlotte clarified quite seriously. “Do you have a pre-made target that you want to stick on our backs or should we stop off at the gift shop to get some red paint?”

The aisles of the plane started to thin and empty out as the passengers dispersed into the arrival gate. It left them in an awkward predicament. The few other people onboard—namely, the air hostesses—beamed perfect lipstick smiles and gestured towards the aircraft exit, encouraging them to disembark, becoming more uncomfortable by the second as the couple in Row 42 continued their argument.

“I have been to places like this before and it’s not as scary as you think it is. We’re in the city, the touristy bit. And so long as we don’t go looking for trouble then trouble won’t come looking for us,” Becky urged and stood up from the seat, growing more flustered by the second. “Now, can you please move?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Charlotte furrowed into a look of disbelief. “Name one place you’ve been too that is nearly as dangerous as Lebanon. Please, I’ll wait.” She raised her hands and shrugged.

“I am literally from Dublin,” Becky glowered.

“Don’t do that. You don’t get to bring up The Troubles right now. It’s not the same thing—”

“Agadir, Lahore, Karachi, Mombai, Belfast, I can reel them off quicker than you can ask where they are.” She wasn’t lying. “Oh, and the United States of America! I’ve been there a fair few times too. Now, can we get off the plane yet?” Becky cocked a look.

“Right,” Charlotte sighed and closed her eyes, remembering suddenly. “You were an air hostess - got it.”

“That word is offensive and outdated, we prefer the term cabin crew,” Becky nibbled with irritation.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t realise it was a racial epithet.”

“Right that is it!” Her wife burst and climbed across her lap, a knee jamming and rattling the small dinner tray as she clambered over and spilled into the aisle. “I am going to go and get in line for customs and you can come and join me when you’re finished with your temper tantrum!” Becky straightened her jacket and stormed down the galley.

…

To her surprise, the airport was modern, was metropolitan, was clean and lingering with the smell of expensive perfume from the designer duty-free stores that were dotted along the route towards customs and baggage.

When the pilot announced that the aircraft was being diverted to Beirut Rafic-Hariri Airport, Charlotte had imagined cratered buildings; taliban militants; gunfire whizzing overhead; a wartorn village with goats roaming free; children in dusty mismatching flip-flops that she would have to bribe to send SOS messages to the American embassy.

She glanced around the light airy airport terminal in disbelief as businessmen in sharp suits dodged around her. This… was not what she had in mind.

The relief was mind blowing.

The film reel of her worst case scenario was collated from movies and news coverage she had seen concerning the situation in the middle-east, or rather, places that were definitely not Beirut if the advertisements for their Gucci and Prada stores were anything to go by, Helmand Province and the Gaza Strip were certainly lacking in that department after all. Charlotte sighed and slunked through the arrivals terminal in search of her wife, well aware that she may have possibly, slightly, potentially, overreacted to the crisis.

She found Becky on a bench. She was eating something that smelled delicious, people watching, content with her solitude. Charlotte cleared her throat and stood straighter.

“Hi,” she said, nonchalantly.

“Try again,” Becky didn’t skip a beat, her tone slightly testy.

“Becky—”

“Again.” Becky insisted. “You know where this needs to start.”

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of the sacred sisterhood of the cabin crew!” Charlotte slumped and sat down beside her.

“And?” The brown eyes landed on her with a weight of expectancy.

“I’m sorry I made a scene.” Charlotte folded her arms. “Can I have a bite of your food now?”

“Not on your life.”

“A little one?” Charlotte sniffed the burrito-looking wrap with lamb spilling out of the end. “Smells good.”

“It’s a shawarma. Ah ah!” Becky hogged it away from her reaching hand. “You refused to get off the plane and made a huge scene less than six hours into our vacation. No shawarma for you.”

“Well since you’re so in love with Lebanon already we should probably go through customs and get the rest of our twenty-four hours here started.” Charlotte snatched her hand back to her lap and pouted slightly.

The food did smell very good after all.

…

“This is a bad idea.” Charlotte began to sweat.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Look!” She hissed and pointed at a large, bold fonted arabic sign that had been courteously translated into English. The crowd shuffled forward toward the border security officers waiting to stamp passports. Charlotte dropped her voice to a hiss, “I have been arrested before, Becky! I can’t enter the Lebanese Republic!”

“And that is why you’re going to smile, and you’re going to breathe, and when he asks if you have a criminal record, you’re definitely not going to mention you were arrested ten years ago—”

“She says, as if it wasn’t my fault!” Charlotte interrupted, displeased by the accusing tone.

“I know,” Becky hushed and patted her arm. “You’re right, it wasn’t your fault but I don’t think they will care about the semantics so let’s just leave it out, alright? You are clean as whistle, never even gone over the speed-limit as far as he’s concerned. Are we clear?”

Charlotte felt tiny beads of sweat form and drip along her brow as a border security agent waved them over. The pair of them walked slowly to the man staring at them from behind the glass. Charlotte fiddled with the strings on the hoodie and pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, looking guiltier by the moment.

“How long will you be staying in Lebanon?” He took both of their passports.

“Flight DA322,” Charlotte blurted. “We diverted here, for the night. So hopefully not very long.” There was a small, uncomfortable laugh.

“Mhm.” He hmph’d and stamped their passports, glancing at them both. “Go,” he waved them through.

“Wait, that’s it?” Charlotte tilted her head slightly. “No further questions? You’re not going to ask if I have a criminal record?”

“What?” He raised an accusing brow. “Do you have a criminal record?”

“Well… define criminal?”

“No! She’s just… she’s just being silly, sir.” Becky waved her hand dismissively and grabbed Charlotte’s wrist. “She drinks a lot, not to mention the amount of Ambien she took on that flight back there! It’s a wonder she’s still on her feet...” She smiled and tugged Charlotte by the hand through the small gate. “Come on love, I’ve told you before about mixing your sleeping pills… we better find you somewhere to lie down before you say anymore very untrue not accurate things…”

Becky sighed once they were out of earshot, her entire body relaxing into a state of annoyed relief. She blinked a few times and sucked her lips between her teeth, nodding her head, trying her hardest not to be furious because this was no doubt the one vacation they would get this year. They walked through the airport towards the baggage claim while a pensive silence loomed between them.

“Charlotte, I love you, but if you get yourself thrown into a foreign jail I am fucking denying that we’re married,” Becky lowered her voice to a threatening whisper. “I am not going down for you.”

“Considering we’re in a country where homosexuality is illegal go ahead and does both a favour and stick with that plan anyway!” Charlotte hissed quietly in her ear.

…

“Oh, you’re both married!” The hotel receptionist noticed their wedding rings with a smile.

“Yes,” Charlotte forced a tight smile too and drummed her nails on the marble counter, determined to leave it at that.

“Where are your husbands?” The receptionist made pleasant talk and clicked her keyboard in search of an available room.

“Back in the States.” Charlotte wasn’t technically lying, she did have two ex-husbands after all, and for all intents and purposes, she was more than happy for Becky to borrow one of them for the next ten minutes until this ordeal was over. “We’re here on business.” The lie deepened.

“You’re here on business?” The receptionist looked up with a slightly befuddled expression. “But you’ve only asked for one room? Normally when we get people here for business they book ahead, like their own privacy, that sort of thing.” She glanced between them both.

Becky sighed and blinked rapidly. “Reduced expenditures,” she explained casually with a wave of her hand. “Our boss is a bit of a cheapskate so I’m stuck with this one for the night.”

“What is it you both do?” The receptionist blinked, her smile unwavering, the questions refusing to end.

Charlotte began to feel like maybe she was growing suspicious.

“We’re Avon representatives.” She thought on her feet.

Becky hid her mouth behind a magazine and whispered beneath her breath, “That was what you came up with?” She gave Charlotte a look. “Avon representatives?” There was a mocking nod.

“She’s my trainee.” Charlotte beamed a bright smile and stuck to the story.

…

“Would you look at the view!” Becky gasped and stuck her hands on her hips. “Oh, I could live here. I could honestly live here!” She shook her head in awestruck disbelief.

“This is where you want to live, Becky? The middle of Beirut?” It was said pointedly. Charlotte raised an exasperated eyebrow and visibly deflated with relief now the door was closed and they were in private. “I can’t with you.” She stuck out her hand and shook her head.

“Oh somebody is just grumpy because they haven’t eaten yet!” Becky pished and drew back the curtains for a better view of the city.

Charlotte opened her mouth to protest but then her stomach grumbled, she knitted her lips together and rolled her eyes at the betrayal of her gut. Truth be told, she was absolutely starving. There was a room-service menu sat on the desk and so she picked it up and gave it the once over, desperate for a reason not to answer her wife’s abundant chirpiness.

Becky turned around, her eyes widening at the menu in hand.

“We are not ordering room service, Charlotte!” Becky snapped with abject horror in her eyes. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Have you lost your mind?”

“I know,” Charlotte relented and was thankful for a bit of common ground. “I’m nervous too but this hotel is rated five stars on TripAdvisor and it was the nicest one I could find on the Marriott app. The kitchen has to be up to code—”

“You’re unbelievable.” Becky closed her eyes.

“Honey, I have Immodium in my purse we will be fine—”

“I’m not saying no to room service because I’m worried about the kitchen! I’m saying no to room service because we are clearly going out tonight for dinner!” Becky opened her eyes and pointed to the city landscape outside. “Don’t you want to enjoy our vacation?”

“This was not the vacation I signed up for!” Charlotte’s eyes widened defensively.

“Well I am the wife you signed up for and I am telling you to change your outfit because we’re going out for dinner tonight!”

“God I hate you,” Charlotte half complained.

“Well why don’t you just go ahead and file a complaint with HR when we get back to Avon headquarters!” Becky nodded emphatically and stormed to the bathroom.

Charlotte turned her head and followed Becky with her eyes. “We could save water if we showered together—”

“Don’t even try your luck.” Becky put an immediate halt to it.

…

Beirut, as it turned out, was a clash of cosmopolitan and Ottoman architecture. It was vibrant, it was friendly, it was teeming with heat and the loud chatter of tourists and locals colliding together the closer they got to the harbour. The food was also ridiculously good. So much so that Charlotte went for a starter, main, and dessert too. An aperitif between each course to boot. Becky just stared at her the entire time with a ‘told you so’ type smirk while the top button of her high waisted slacks was let out.

“Here’s to us,” Becky raised a glass of champagne when the meal was cleared. “All things said and done, I’d say this is a great start to our vacation.” She looked towards the glimmering evening sea beyond the terrace.

“We’ve been to worse places, sure,” Charlotte managed a small concession as she clinked her wife’s glass. “You know,” she stopped and swallowed, unsure of how to say it without Becky gloating at the change of disposition. “If we have time tomorrow maybe we could go and see those rocks the cab driver mentioned?”

“Raouche? You want to visit Raouche tomorrow morning before the bus comes?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, she changes her tune quickly.”

“If you’re going to be like that…” Charlotte leaned back in her chair and glanced to the water, then to the bustling kitchen, at everything and anything other than her wife.

“I’m just playing.” Becky reached over and put her hand over Charlotte’s knuckles, her beaming white teeth on show with the emphaticness of her smile. “We can go see the rocks tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Breakfast too?” Charlotte lifted a brow.

“Pushing it but sure, why not?”

“Well alright,” Charlotte sighed and played with Becky’s thumb. “Do you want to go back to the hotel and commit a private liberty crime with me as judged by the Lebanese Republic?” She lifted a playful eyebrow.

“Well when you put it like that…”

…

Hans Zimmer - You’re So Cool - Song To Set The Scene

Outside, the cicadas hummed on the wind of the evening air, and the breeze drifted the curtains and kept the room cool and airy. Charlotte leaned back against the headboard of one of the twin beds in the room and rubbed her sleepy head, unsure she had the energy to kick off her trousers now the food was beginning to settle.

The buzzing of the bathroom light and fan whirred, along with the occasional thump of Becky’s footsteps as the Irish woman brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. Charlotte sighed into the peacefulness of it and fiddled with her phone. The bathroom door unlocked and creaked open. Charlotte peered up, her eyes widening at the sight.

The black lingerie was nearly see through, it clung to Becky’s soft muscular frame in all the best ways possible. Her long taut legs were clad with the thin fabric of dark suspenders, her breasts cradled in the flimsy material of a bralet that was trying its hardest to contain her tan cleavage, her bright ginger hair was coiffed and falling behind each shoulder blade. Becky just stood there and smiled, well aware that she was the type of meal her wife would always be hungry for no matter how well satiated her appetite.

“Well hello to you too,” Charlotte licked her lips nervously.

“Avon calling,” Becky whispered and strolled over. “You want to push these beds together so I have more room to show you our Summer collection?” She danced a hand up and over her suspender belt. “So many new products to show you, so little time.”

“Oh god.” Charlotte’s eyes widened.

“Oh yeah,” Becky nodded with a mischievous smirk. “We’re doing this.”

Charlotte damn near flew off the sheets to wrestle the beds together.

“The greatest wife, the best wife ever, so weird, so perfect,” she mumbled to herself and wiped her sweating brow as the beds were pressed against one another. “You never realise just how in the mood you are for weird roleplay sex until it creeps up on you out of nowhere.” She nodded seriously.

She could tell Becky was trying to stifle laughter, which only somehow made the whole affair more perfect. Charlotte watched her saunter over, her jaw nearly dropping at the sight of it, teeth sitting on the edges of one another with excitement as two dainty hands slipped over each shoulder and pushed her backwards onto the double bed they had fashioned.

“Do you like my lipstick?” Becky whispered and crawled on top of her until she was sat on Charlotte’s hips. “Does the shade suite me?” She puckered up and kissed her cheek.

“What’s the colour called?” Charlotte choked out the words and played along as her wife’s fingers awoke goosebumps along her biceps.

Becky stopped and smirked again. “It’s called Frustrated Wife.” The laughter was forcefully withheld behind her tight lips and she raised a suggestive eyebrow. “We also have a sister shade called Criminal Lesbian Activity...” Becky slipped a hand down Charlotte’s belly towards her pant zipper. “I’m just dying to show it to you, Mrs Flair.”

“Those seem like really off brand names for Avon shades?” Charlotte’s eyebrows did the thing.

“Shut up.”

“It’s just Frustrated Wife and Criminal Lesbian Activity don’t really seem like names for Avon colours you know? Maybe if we were doing an Urban Decay roleplay—”

“I said shut up,” Becky leaned forward and dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. “You’re ruining this.” She nibbled her earlobe. “You’re ruining it so bad.” A little giggle broke.

“Well alright.” Charlotte conceded as her pants were pulled off her hips. “So… how long have you been working for Avon? Are you… unionised?” She tried her hardest to get back into it.

“Mrs Flair!” Becky shot up with a playful gasp, her eyes widening a bit. “I have no idea how to respond to that piss-poor attempt at dirty talk and so I’m going to pretend it was a filthy euphemism!” She sing-songed slightly, burying herself forward until they were giggling nose to nose.

“Thank you for saving me,” Charlotte whispered and tucked her hands around the back of her wife’s thighs, sighing in relief. She adjusted Becky a bit and pulled her closer until they were tangled and warm, giggling slightly into the heat of each other like two happy idiots.

“Always,” Becky pecked her neck and slung her arms around the back of her shoulders. “You could never really ruin it if you tried.”

“So, given all of your expertise and many years of training,” Charlotte cleared her throat and felt her lips tug into a blushing smirk. “What kind of makeup do you think I should wear?” She leaned forward with an expectant stare.

Becky sighed and smiled. She grabbed Charlotte’s chin softly, her brown eyes glimmering with playfulness as she appraised the woman stuck between her finger and thumb. Finally, she let go of Charlotte’s chin and traced her finger down the slope of her nose, satisfied.

“Confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can wear.” Becky pushed a rope of blonde hair behind Charlotte’s ear. “And you have tons of it, baby, so I think you should wear that and nothing else.” Her hand slipped around Charlotte’s spine towards the bra strap.

“Well aren’t you smooth.”

“They teach it at Avon school, it’s all part of the sales pitch.”

“You must really sell a lot of lipstick.”

“I don’t get many returns or complaints, you’re quite correct.”

To Charlotte, the woman in her lap was insane. But the slackened smile, the way her eyes grew bigger when she met her eyes, the mischievous wriggle of her lips, the everything, just made her smile back.

Still smiling, she twisted their positions and put the troublemaker on her spine where she belonged. It was one of her favourite things to do truth be told, whether it be professional and violent or… not so professional or violent. The first time they slept together she had expected it would crumble mountains, make the earth stop on its axis, but it was nothing like that. It was imperfect, silly even, and just like that it became the favourite most looked forward to part of her day.

“Nothing gets me going like when you’re in a stupid mood,” Charlotte chuckled as she kissed and nibbled.

“Does this make your top five?” Becky asked seriously.

“Oh, my top two for sure.” Charlotte nodded enthusiastically and slipped one of her black bra straps over the creamy ball of her shoulder. “Maybe even number one, the night’s still young.” She nibbled her collarbone.

“Number one, huh?” Becky raised a surprised brow. “I thought the Paris Situation was your favourite? You know I hate it when you go on tour without me...” She pouted slightly and played with the long blonde hair that framed Charlotte’s face. “Though, creative problems mean creative solutions.”

“We could have just had phone sex.” Charlotte whined. “You didn’t need to put a voodoo doll that looked like you in my luggage with a note to finger it every night.”

“Mmm, but I did though.” Becky smirked, utterly pleased with herself.

“You did,” Charlotte agreed and rolled her eyes, seeing the funny side. “You wanna let me get in these panties yet or are you planning on laying here all night giving me the memoriam reel of our sex life? Because I want you to scream my name so loud tonight the police throw us in jail and Stonewall have to campaign for our release… it would be a hell of a vacation story.” Charlotte lifted a serious brow.

“Proceed.” Becky lifted a leg and popped one of the tiny clasps on her suspenders.

It was the strangest, nerdiest sense of arousal. One moment they were joking around and the next Becky’s slender leg was in the air with that barely-there lingerie popping open like a scene from the Moulin Rouge. Her wife would always be capable of doing that to her, Charlotte had long since given up the belief she even had the modicum of will power necessary to deny it — war zone or no war zone.

Charlotte dove forward and didn’t spare the lingerie, her hands tugging and making a meal of it as she sucked and nibbled the underside of her wife’s taut jaw. It earned little throttled gasps, pleased noises, happy moans, small giggles, everything and nothing. When slender nimble fingers creeped around and felt along the dips of her back muscles she knew the kind of mood her wife was in, the type where she wanted to be thrown around and made sore with unhinged arousal. Charlotte was more than happy to oblige.

“Shit!” Becky gasped, and not in a good way.

The twin beds parted like the red sea and their bodies made an instant cracking thud against the marble floor. Luckily, Becky’s body broke the fall and so Charlotte was relatively unscathed. The same couldn’t be said for the troublemaker.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Becky managed quite calmly and raised her sidebent knuckles. “Well I think I went and dislocated some of my fingers, that’s all we need!” She rolled her eyes at the mild inconvenience.

Charlotte nearly vomited.

“You think!? You think!?!?” Charlotte chided with wide eyes and couldn’t snatch her stare away from the injury. “Your middle finger is on the wrong way round, Becky! We need to go to the hospital!!” She pointed, horrified.

“Well there’s no need to be a drama queen about it,” Becky said quietly.

“We’re going to the emergency room.”

“For a few dislocated fingers?” Becky raised and incredulous brow. “You do know the emergency room is for emergencies only, right?” Becky pushed out her mangled hand. “Just give them a hard tug and I’ll be right as rain. I can’t promise I’ll be able to finger you tonight but I’ll give it a good go—”

“Your fingers look like fucking Crunchy Cheetos. If you think you’re ever putting them inside me again...” She hid her face away so she wouldn’t have to look at them. “I don’t know if we’re ever going to have sex again.” Charlotte swallowed hard.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Becky clambered up with a roll of her eyes as if Charlotte was being entirely unreasonable. She breezed straight past her and walked out of the room. “I’m going to reset and splint my fingers in the bathroom and when I come out you better be ready to kiss me where it counts. First day of our holiday and you’ve got your knickers in a twist over a few twisted fingers, shame of my bloody life!” She pointed one of her mangled fingers accusingly, albeit the finger was bent sideways and so it pointed off towards the drawers.

…

“I’m fine,” Becky slurred the attempt at trying to sound decisive as her wife shouldered her towards the plane they were now running slightly late for.

“You woke up crying three times. I had to wander the streets of Beirut at four this morning to find a pharmacy willing to sell me painkillers using traveller’s cheques. You are not fine. We are not fine. This is not fine.” Charlotte reminded, glancing at the bruised splinted fingers that were now straight and swollen.

“Traveller’s cheques.” Becky giggled to herself under her breath. “You’re such an old lady.”

“Well now you’re just being rude,” Charlotte couldn’t help but smirk.

“You still love me?”

“More than the air I breathe,” Charlotte didn’t skip a beat as the short troublemaker hopped and clutched at her arm.

“All things said and done I think this might be the best trip of my life so far,” Becky hmph’d tiredly and pressed her sleepy face against Charlotte’s arm as the line for the flight slowly came to a stop. “Here, with you, right now.”

“Relax,” Charlotte smirked and shook her head.

“I could be in a warzone and still have the best time so long as I was with my wife.”

“Becky—”

“I know, don’t spoil it.”

“Well alright,” Charlotte blinked and craned down to kiss the troublemaker’s temple. “Thank you for never letting me be annoyed for too long.” They shuffled forward towards the plane doors.

“You try so hard,” Becky pouted and patted her belly.

“You work me like a pro.” Charlotte eyeballed her seriously.

“Well, the Avon sales training is very thorough.”

“Excuse me?” Charlotte blushed and feigned ignorance.

Becky peered up at her mischievously. “You heard me,” she whispered, glancing away with a knowing smirk.

[purplesurveys]

1055

surveys by lets-make-surveys

1 - Surveys aside, do you use Tumblr for any other reason? Not anymore. I used to have a main blog, but it’s been years since I opened it; this is it (excuse the bad word in the URL lol, I thought it made me look like an edgy teen) but as I got older I used it less and less frequently until I no longer remember the password to log back in. These days I stay on Tumblr precisely because no one really uses it anymore, so it’s the perfect spot to hide this blog in.

2 - Do you have a lot of social media accounts? Do you update them all regularly? Depends on what you mean by a lot; I have all the basic ones - Twitter, IG, Facebook, YouTube, hell I still even have my Snapchat alive lol but I haven’t used it in like three years. I use YouTube the most but I don’t update it per se, like I just use it to watch videos. Facebook I’ve used a lot less often since the breakup, but I’ve shared a handful of posts since September. I’m probably on Twitter the most, but even then my usage hasn’t been the same.

3 - Does it bother you when your socks don’t match? What about your underwear? I don’t care for either situation, especially for underwear. Why would I care about something no one is ever going to see and even think about?

4 - How many times a year do you go on vacation? Do you tend to go to the same places each time? My family plans at least two trips, at least in non-Covid circumstances. We will sometimes repeat provinces but we never repeat hotels or sites, and we seldom repeat cities. The only places I remember visiting more than once are Baguio, Tagaytay, Albay, Subic, and Baler.

5 - How many times did it take you to pass your driving test? Just one. I could not afford to fuck it up; I was at the LTO for 8 hours and was not willing to go through that shitty long wait, so I absolutely had to pass that exam and do my best with the shitty car I had to work with.

6 - When you’re in trouble, do your parents ever “middle name” you? Nah they never used my whole name. My mom’s trademark is to add an -ah sound to my name when I’ve done something wrong though, as in Robina lol. That’s a sign I should know I shouldn’t have done what I did, whatever it is.

7 - Which family member do you look like the most? Which one do you resemble the most in terms of personality? People are always shocked to hear my mom is actually my mom and not my sister, because 1) we look very much alike, and 2) she looks young for her age. As for my personality, I’d say I’m a perfect split of my mom and dad. I exhibit an equal amount of traits they both have and I can’t tell which one I act like more.

8 - Have you ever been arrested? Never.

9 - Do you prefer Apple or Android? Apple. Would rather pay more than be stuck with an interface, camera, and emojis that I personally don’t like.

10 - Does getting sweaty or dirty bother you at all? If so, has it ever put you off doing exercise? I don’t sweat a lot, so I really do hate it when I feel beads of sweat on my temples or when the back of my shirt starts to feel damp. It doesn’t have anything to do with my feelings about exercising; I don’t like working out, period.

11 - Have you ever broken a bone? What were the circumstances that led to this happening? Never happened, hope it never happens.

12 - If you could change one thing about your appearance, what would it be? I wish I didn’t get the hairy gene so that I didn’t have to shave too much; my hair to be a little livelier and bouncier; and my front teeth to be straighter.

13 - When was the last time your computer crashed or froze? is this something that happens often? It must’ve been around a month ago. It just got too busy, so it froze for a few seconds. My laptop’s a trooper and doesn’t crash/freeze a lot.

14 - Do you ever have problems with your sleep? It’s mid-sleep I’ve been having issues with; I get nightmares almost every night. I don’t have a problem falling asleep as I’m able to do so pretty quickly.

15 - What was the last thing you ate for breakfast? Is this a normal breakfast meal for you? Angel sent over a small box of chocolate chip cookies as a Christmas gift so I’ve been enjoying that :) I’m currently having it with warm coffee. My normal breakfast is no breakfast, so this is a treat for me. Before this I also had to eat my leftover Chapaghetti that I couldn’t finish last night.

16 -  Have you ever thought about how you want to spend your retirement? That has not come to mind a lot, actually. I think more about death than I do my retirement...but this question tells me I should probably take a few steps back. I’d simply love to live in comfort with the person I end up growing old with. For now, that’s all I see myself wanting.

17 - When was the last time you got a new tattoo or piercing? Do you have any plans to get either in the future? A little less than 22 years ago; my mom had my ears pierced when I was a few months old. Haven’t gotten any new ones, nor tattoos, since. I’d love to have a couple of tattoos. Some of my ideas are two pawprints for each of my dogs, a plate of nachos, and lyrics that are personally meaningful.

18 - How would you describe your personality? Oof, what a loaded question. Hmm, I guess I’d generally label myself as hardened until I get close with someone? I’ve always kept a wall up and as friendly and extroverted as I can be, I don’t enjoy letting just anyone in. I value my personal and private space, and it’s important that I don’t lose it. 

From another angle, I also like to keep doing nice things for other people, even at the expense of my own happiness and comfort. I have to keep making people happy to keep me pleased with myself and the world. Maybe it’s rooted in the fact that I’m the eldest daughter in an Asian family? Idrk, but all I know is that I’ve never had a problem putting other people first.

19 - Have you ever heard of “hygge”? is this something you enjoy or participate in at all? I have no idea what this is and I’ve never come across this word before.

20 - What colour was the last vehicle you travelled in? Does this vehicle belong to you or someone else? White. It’s the car that was given to me for college, but when all is said and done it’s not mine.

21 - Would you describe yourself as healthy? Why or why not? In some senses yes, in other senses no. I don’t exercise or actively watch my diet, and I certainly eat too much junk; so proactively speaking, I’m not super healthy. But generally, my gene pool has been pretty fortunate with health. Other than heart conditions that run in certain branches of the family, we’re relatively a healthy bunch.

22 - Would you describe yourself as messy or organised? Is this something you would like to change? It’s a balance of both. I’m very organized at work so I allow myself to let go in my personal space, like my closet and car. I do clean up from time to time and I still like my space to be neat, but I’m not as neurotic as I normally would be with my workspace.

23 - Do you miss anything about being a teenager? If you are a teenager, what’s your favourite thing about it? The innocence. It was a period of being ideal, being a dreamer, being as romantic about life as I wanted to be. It was also a period where you were allowed to make mistakes, because fucking up when you’re younger lets you off the hook. These are the biggest things I miss, but I don’t really find myself pining for my teenage days. I still like where I am, even if things are realistically a little duller in adulthood.

24 - Are you patriotic at all? Why/why not? No. It’s hard to be when your country is shit.

25 - Have you ever had to wear a white lab coat before? Was this in school or for a job? Yeah we had lab coats in Lab class in high school, but they were green. We also needed safety goggles, and if I remember correctly if we had neither of these things we had to sit outside and skip out on the session.

26 - Would you ever want to do the same career(s) as your parents? I can see myself going down somewhere in the secretarial path like my mom as I’m good at organizing things and keeping internal affairs in order, but I don’t know if I would find it fulfilling. But in general, I wouldn’t want to be in the hotel and restaurant industry. I don’t have any attachments to it and I’ve always felt like I belonged in media and communications.

27 - Do you believe in aliens? Is there a reason why (or why not)? Yes. For the most part, it’s more comforting to think and believe that we’re not the only beings around.

28 - Which animated film would you most like to live in? Does it have to be a film? I’d love to be in the Fairly OddParents universe and have fairy godparents of my own.

29 - When was the last time you got into an argument? Have you made up with that person yet? Gab. I don’t know. She’s ignoring me.

30 - What are you going to do now this survey is over? Take another one.

--

1 - Have you ever had your computer or e-mail hacked? Did anything bad happen as a result? No but I had bad viruses on all of my Windows laptops before. The worst virus I got involved my laptop typing out some long-ass Vietnamese paragraphs for me at the most random times. It was like a horror movie lmao. Every time I Googled the text I never got any leads from it, so I never knew what it meant or what the virus was. 

2 - Do you prefer the company of people or animals? I don’t really have a preference when it comes to these two because their companionships are individually different. I like that animals can be playful and sweet; but I also like cracking jokes and having meaningful conversations with people.

3 - Are you a religious person? Were you raised in that faith or did you discover it a later date in life? I was born and raised Catholic, and still legally am. I never saw the appeal of the idea of being saved or of reading the Bible or anything that has to do with Christianity; and the idea of praying was weird to me even from childhood. A lot of Christians/Catholics I know are hypocrites anyway, and to me that says a lot about their mindset when it comes to religion.

4 - When was the last time you went to the beach? What did you do there? August 2019. My friends and I had a day trip to Nasugbu so we could have some fun before the semester started; we mostly swam and caught up with one another. August is a low season so we literally had the beach, the pool, and the poolside bar to ourselves.

5 - With all the COVID restrictions in place, would you feel happy/comfortable travelling abroad right now? Why/why not? I’d be happy, but not comfortable because of the swab test I would have to take hahaha. The selfish part of me is itching to go to other places already. I know my parents would put a million roadblocks to keep me from getting on a plane though, so me traveling is purely theoretical.

6 - How would you describe your dress sense? I like wearing flattering pieces but nothing too flashy or bright. I get items that are currently in style and make sure they match with the rest of my wardrobe, but at the end of the day I still like to blend in with the crowd and avoid neon colors, flashy labels, or whatever it is that would make me stand out.

7 - Do you wait until the sales start before you buy non-essential items? I never really pay attention to sales. It’s led to some pleasant surprises, like the other day when I was looking for a gift for my aunt. There was an H&M purse that caught my eye and it was so pretty, but way above my budget. I decided to get it anyway because that aunt throws amazing Christmas parties over the years and gives us lots of money, so I thought it could would be my way of giving back (especially since her company got hit hard by Covid). Once I got to the cashier the register showed it was like 60% off, even though there were no stickers on it and there was zero promotion anywhere in the store.

8 - What kind of milk do you prefer to drink (if you drink it at all)? I don’t drink milk, but I’m able to consume it in other dishes. I haven’t tried any types other than whole milk.

9 - Do you prefer blonde hair or brunette hair on your preferred sex? I don’t have preferences when it comes to hair color. We’re not really conditioned to consider this factor, since Filipinos have black hair.

10 - Would you be embarrassed to own the same clothing as one of your parents? No. I borrow stuff from my mom all the time. My sister also borrows some of my dad’s t-shirts, at least the ones that can fit her.

11 - When was the last time you wore some kind of fancy dress? Like...a gown? I’m not too sure. It must’ve been Alena’s debut three years ago since that’s the last fancy party I went to.

12 - Do you enjoy dressing up (ie. in suits or smart clothing)? When was the last time you did so? I like dressing up and making myself look cute, but dressing up formally not so much.

13 - What’s worse - being overdressed or underdressed? Personally, underdressed. I’d rather look too prepared than looking as if I didn’t care to look decent for whatever event I’m headed to.

14 - What do you think would be the worst thing about being stuck in solitary confinement? Not having any options or activities to do.

15 -  Have you ever owned an unusual or exotic pet? Would you want to? Nope. I would not want to have one. Unusual pet is just a euphemism for animals that shouldn’t be pets.

16 - How old were you when you learned to tie your shoelaces? I was 5 and had to learn it for a test in kindergarten.

17 - Do you enjoy decorating for the holidays? Sure, it makes me feel festive :)

18 - Would you rather go into a restaurant or just go via the drive-through? These days it’s more wise to use the drive-thru, but to be frank I’ve missed dining in. I would opt for the restaurant but make sure to follow safety protocols in the area.

19 - Do you like having your teeth cleaned at the dentist? I’ve actually always found trips to the dentist soothing, even as a kid. The only time I ever really freaked out was when I went last year to have a tooth removed and I was told that I needed an anaesthesia shot on my gums; even then, I didn’t even feel anything when it finally happened.

20 - Have you ever had a gun drawn on you before? Maybe? My cousins and friends and I doodled on each other a lot as kids.

21 - When was the last time you went to a petting zoo? I’ve never been to one and idk if I can go to one.

22 - Do you bite your nails? Could you physically bite your toenails if you stretched enough? Sometimes I’ll gnaw at my nails and then scrape them off. I’ve found it more satisfying than biting them all the way off. I could definitely bite my toenails, but I choose not to.

23 - How old were you when you first started using Tumblr? Have you had the same blog all that time? It wasssssss 2010, so I was 11 at the time. Nah, I deactivated that blog only after a year of using it and then I shifted to a wrestling blog.

24 - Are you a fan of practical jokes? If I’m watching celebrities pull it on another celebrities, yeah. Most of the time I get anxious that the recipient would react negatively, so I don’t watch a lot of pranks.

25 - How many years older and younger than you would you consider dating? Is this a concrete thing or would you make an exception for the right person? It will still depend on the latter condition, of course; but theoretically I would like to keep seeing people my exact age. No more and no less than the year 1998. Growing up with relatives in such close age to me makes me feel like I’d be dating an older cousin if it was someone a year older, and my sister if it was someone a year younger.

26 - Who did you vote for in the last US elections? If you’re not in the US, who would you have voted for? I don’t live in the US; I would have voted for Biden.

27 - Are you a fan of reddit? What are some of your favourite subreddits? Sure. I don’t visit it as much as I used to, but I still go on there when I’m bored and in need of entertaining or educational content. r/AskReddit is a classic fave of mine, but I also go on r/interestingasfuck, r/todayilearned, r/mildlyinteresting, r/dataisbeautiful, r/SquaredCircle, and r/goodmythicalmorning. Sometimes I’ll visit the r/AmItheAsshole sub as well to have some fun lol.

28 - Have you ever watched those YouTube videos of people popping their own spots or zits? Do you find them gross or fascinating? Not those, but I’ve looked up earwax extractions and blackhead removals before.

29 - What’s a food you hated as a kid but love now? How about vice versa? Chicken curry is probably my best example because I’m obsessed with all kinds of curry now, whether it’s Indian butter chicken, Thai green curry, or Japanese curry. I didn’t understand the complex flavors as a kid, but I’m got to appreciate more and more as I got older.

30 - Do you prefer socks, shoes or going bare foot? Idk, I feel like all these choices are useful and convenient in their own different situations? I’m barefoot when I’m at home but put on socks when it’s chilly, and I wear shoes when I’m outdoors.

[prorevenge]

Entitled aunt unknowingly ended her own financial support.

Warning: long post. This actually happened at Christmas last year but the effects are now being felt full force.

My older sister, let’s call her Ria, and our mom have always had a very difficult relationship ever since I could remember. Ria has always been headstrong and not afraid to ask questions. My mom was a very traditional devout Christian who put family above everything first. Bit of a background - my mom was the second eldest of 9 children and moved from the Philippines to the US. She grew up dirt poor in a small province and experienced first-hand the hardship that comes with taking care of a big family. She was the first of her family to graduate college and has always valued education as a means to get out of poverty. She has paid for 4 of her siblings to go to college (only 2 actually completed and went on to find jobs) and has also paid for several of her sibling’s children to go to good schools in the Philippines.

Ria had more exposure to the extended family than I did (she was born in the Philippines, I was born in US - 7 years apart). As she got older, she was very outspoken about how she did not agree with my mom financially supporting some of her family because Ria felt as though they were abusing my mom’s generosity, especially since mom was frugal with our expenditures here in the US.

When Ria was in her last year of high school, she had a bad falling out with my mom and moved out. They did not speak for 5 years (although my dad & I kept in touch with Ria). In that time, Ria worked full-time and paid her way thru college without any help from my parents at all. Fast forward a few years at my high school graduation, I invited Ria, she attended, and ended up reconciling with my mom. Things were still rocky but they had a much better relationship.

Two years ago, my mom passed away. Unknown to me at the time, Ria had quietly taken over the continued financial support for my mom’s youngest sister's (“Jana”) cost of living and maintaining the college fund for Jana’s daughter. She also took care of the funeral arrangements and handling the estate (dad was a mess at the time).

Last year, Ria and I decided to spend the holidays in the Philippines. One of our visits was to Jana’s place. Little did I know that shit was about to hit the fan when we sat down for dinner. After small talk, the topic of my mom came up and this was how that conversation went - details may be lost in translation so just writing the gist. (R: Ria, J: Jana)

J: “Such a shame <your mom> passed away. We will miss her.”

R: “Yes.”

J: “Ria, why did you stopped talking to her? Why did you leave her? You should be ashamed - that’s not how you treat family. Now, your mom could've raised you better - you always were too headstrong you know, that's not ladylike - you shouldn't be so aggressive. You need to be softer. How are you going to get a man otherwise? [... she goes on to say more shit along these lines]”

R: “. . .”

J: - turns to me - “Don’t be like your sister ok? Be a good daughter. Do you have a boyfriend yet? You don’t want to get too old like Ria and not have your own family. That’s not following God’s plan!”

Before I could speak, Ria asked her own questions.

R: “Why did you drop out and decide to get pregnant when mom was paying for your college? Did you really think that that businessman would leave his wife to take care of you? If you wanted to be a trophy wife, you should’ve just said so instead of wasting my mom’s hard-earned money.”

At this point, I just decided to watch because Jana was starting to piss me off and Ria has been known to do epic take-downs.

J: - enraged- “How dare you come into MY house, eat MY food, and disrespect ME!”

R: -calmly- “Technically it’s my mom’s house, you have food because my mom has been supporting you for the better part of 15 years and you disrespected her by wasting all the opportunities she worked hard to give to you”

J: “I don’t NEED your attitude, or your bullshit, I don’t NEED anything from you - you disrespectful bitch. Get the hell out of my house [...more rant]!”

R: -gets up and smiles- “You sure you don’t need ANYTHING from me. You don’t want ANYTHING from me. I want to confirm that I heard you correctly”

J: “I don’t need shit from you, I can take care of myself and MY family and how DARE you imply otherwise! Get the hell out of my house and your father will hear about this!!”

R: -looks at me- “You heard her, let’s go.”

Now, I was surprised by how calmly Ria was taking the diatribe because I’ve seen her and my mom get into massive shouting matches. More confused than anything, I followed her to the car.

R: “You heard her right, she doesn’t need ANYTHING from me”

Me: -it begins to dawn on me what my sister is about to do- “Yeaahhh…”

R: “Ok.”

We get back to the hotel and my sister promptly stops the auto-transfer of funds for Jana’s account. We then spend the rest of the week lounging by the beach and hanging out with other cousins.

Yesterday, I was talking to one of my cousins and heard that Jana is just now realizing what actually happens when you run out of money. I called up Ria shortly after to give her an update.

R: “What? She ran out of money that quick? There was enough in there to last her the year.”

Me: “Oh. Did you tell her that?”

R: “Eh, basic math.”

Me: “Will she lose the house?”

R: “Nah. It’s paid for. As long as she doesn’t do something stupid, she should have a roof over her head.”

Me: “Did you also close her kid’s college fund?”

R: “Nope. Not gonna punish the kid for her mom’s stupidity. But that’s all she gets so if she fucks it up, she fucks it up.”

So yeah, will definitely be interesting how this plays out in the next few months. I have a feeling my sister probably won’t give a damn one way or the other though.

(source) (story by wtf_Jana)