#when their residency shows were announced i was so envious to those there

[strokingbooks]

[baekberrie]

🌩n o i r - bbh🌩

🌩 Genre: Angst, romance, teacher x student Au

🌩Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

🌩Warnings: no self-acceptance, jealousy

Her face lightened up at the sight of the test being handed on her desk, eyes shining like thousands of diamonds, cheeks tinted in a glittering red reached her eyes as she held up the paper with the impeccable result, a proud A+ impregnated in the white sheet of paper. You could only curve your lips into the most genuine smile you could muster while sending an encouraging nod in her way. Fingers closed around your heart, squeezing it where it'd hurt the most because you knew, that even if you hadn't spoken a single word, you had lied to your best friend. The genuine smile that hadn't reached your eyes, could she see through it? While the other girls complimented her, you could only glance down at the test on your desk, you had turned it around so that no one would've been able to see the result written on it. Not even your friends.

The teacher had written an encouraging 'Keep up the good work!' next to the strong C in the corner of your test, but it seemed as if the letter was laughing straight at your face. It felt ridiculous, that had been a perfectly good grade, a result that encouraged you to give even more the next time, one that showed you that you had the potential to be something even better. But... It wasn't enough, not at all. Not when you had given your all on this test, not when you had told yourself that you'd ace this test with a 100%, not when your best friend had achieved what you hadn't been able to.

"What did you get?" Your friend's voice suddenly shattered your train of thoughts, her curious cat-like gaze bored immediately into your soul, a bright smile curved on her lips- she was delighted and proud of herself, you could almost imagine the swelling feeling of your heart and the yearning to tell your parents about the success, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, overpowered by something unfamiliar, something overwhelming that you couldn't name, but you hated it. It was bitter and it felt as if your heart, your mind, was covered by a black veil that fogged your view.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you feigned another smile, "Secret," you chuckled, feeling slightly embarassed of the result you had achieved, it would just look funny next to her A, wouldn't it? There was no way you could show her. She pouted in disappointment but didn't insist.

Of course, she had to get an A, you thought, like always, just so perfect and good in everything she does, it irks me. I hate it.

Trembling took over your body as you held up the test to the teacher, disgusted and disbelieved in your own self. The adult male didn't miss the painful expression that you hadn't been able to mask. Your gaze snapped up to his when he grabbed the paper, but not actually taking it, just letting the gentle warmth of his fingertips graze your shivering skin. Mr. Byun who you'd til this day always felt drawn to,  Mr. Byun who you'd always gaze at with enamored eyes, Mr.Byun with the low and calming voice- with the heartbreaking smile, Byun Baekhyun that you had secretly fallen in love with. Today, you couldn't hold his gaze for more than three seconds before diverting them again, a feeling of shame and guilt pooling within your chest until it's limit, it was too much and you feared that it might overflow, you couldn't bear it on your own. You just wished he wouldn't catch on the layer of water gathering on your irises, ready to cascade down your face.

Although his worried orbs searched for yours, there was no way you could let him see- let him see what you had thought, even if just for a second. He couldn't find out about the somber strings of negativity entangled from every angle of your body, tightening around the font of your feelings. Baekhyun would eventually find out about the horrible person you were- that you envied your friend because she was better than you in everything, that you had absolutely no talent- no capabilities, that you weren't enough, ever.

Teeth drilled into your lower lip as you tried your best to gulp away the thick tears, a metallic taste spread on your tongue as you wished for nothing but to disappear.

"Alright good job everyone, you all did very well on the test, I'm proud. You're dismissed." Mr. Byun announced while adjusting all the tests neatly on his desk, his thin spectacles placed low on the bridge of his nose and eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he glanced down on the papers. Shouldering your backpack, you made yourself ready to leave.

"Miss Y/n," The honey-like voice that you found yourself craving to hear in your sleepless nights, it called you, and you could only stop in your tracks with fear and nervousness. You couldn't tell whether your heart was picking up its rate, was it because you were going to spend some time alone with him?- or because he was wanted to scold you about something? Perhaps your grades. "I'd like a moment with you please," He continued, not giving away any of his real intentions, and intrigued, you watched when he removed the glasses from his face, folded them neatly and soundlessly placed them on his desk.

As soon as the classroom had emptied, he proceeded to close the door, on his way back to his desk was when he loosened the black-tie from around his neck, popping a few buttons of his shirt- giving you the chance to witness a few inches of his milky skin as he sat down on the edge of the table. Even in your darkest times, he could make you wander to such thoughts and you couldn't decide whether he was dangerous or perhaps just a very beautiful dream, an escape.

"Come," He said, and for a few moments you felt as if your feet had been glued onto the floor, but eventually you moved- and walked to where he was sitting. There wasn't anything stern or raging in his eyes and you could only internally sigh with relief.

"Is everything alright?" Oh no,  you could handle worried stares, but when people straight out asked you that question, there was no way tears wouldn't well in your eyes because obviously, it was so not okay. Not at all, nothing was okay, not you, not your belief in yourself, you were just a mass of shattered glass, and you started to think that not even his healing voice could fix you this time. "You seemed very upset, do you want to talk about it?" No. But-

It was too late when a sob escaped your lips, one sob and countless tears, now that it had begun, you couldn't control it, and you hated it that he had to see you like this, this weak, this embarrassing. Hands flew immediately to your face, letting your hair cover your condition like a curtain. But no matter how much you covered yourself, there was nothing that could stifle the evidence of your sorrow.

Even though your tears, a shiver covered your spine when you felt the soft hand from before resting on the small of your back, pushing you ever so gently closer to him, you didn't stop him. You didn't stop him when his arm came around your shoulders, letting you come in contact with his strong yet incredibly soft chest as his hand rested close to your collarbone and his head leaned in close to your neck, lips brushing lightly over your ear when he once again whispered; "What's wrong?"

It was hard speaking through your strong sobs, but when Baekhyun's hand slid from your shoulder down to your back and stroke soft circles of heat with his thumb you magically found yourself calming down. You didn't know how he did that, how he with his sole presence could purify your darkened heart.

"I- I will never be enough," You cried, hand fisting a handful of his white, expensive button-up, but he couldn't care less about the wrinkles forming on it as he finally closed both of his arms around your frame, letting you petite body press completely against his.

"Hey," He soothed, "What is this about? " His cheek pressed affectionately against yours, his lips caressing your skin with a touch feather-light and you had no idea if it was safe for him to hold you this close to him in his own classroom, if it was safe for you to give away all of your heart to him right now, to let him hear your throbbing heartbeat, to let him see your weaknesses. But his comforting scent felt like home and in this moment where you felt lost in the darkness you didn't know resided within you- he was the only source of light that you were willing to follow.

"Whatever I do will never be enough, I will never be the best I can be, I just hate everything about myself at the moment. I'm a horrible person, I- I felt envy towards the people I love- I-"

"Y/n," He demanded softly, the sound of his voice vibrated soothingly from his chest as he spoke.

"Don't compete with others, there's no point in doing that. Every student has his own fortes and struggles, you are no different. There are certain things in which you can't succeed at once, you have to fight your way up there." Biting your lips, more tears welled inside of your eyes- not because of sorrow, but because his words hit home, just like the rest of his being did.

"Don't hate yourself for not reaching your goal just yet, don't give up on yourself like that, you have potential, you are amazing and as your teacher, I know you can get there if only you befriended yourself instead of fighting with yourself. You are you, you don't need to look at others, okay?" He said, two fingers lifting your chin so that you could meet his strong gaze filled with sincerity and determination. "Whichever your goal is, you don't have to reach it alone, you don't have to rely on those who make you feel pressured, you can come to me and we'll figure it out. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Your voice trembled but was by now definitely stable enough to form sentences.

"Sometimes, we're bound to feel envious, but it's only in our nature, it won't make you a bad person, you just want to do your best, I know how you feel, but sometimes, we have to be stronger than the envy and force ourselves to ignore those thoughts." Baekhyun was taking in every detail of your face as he let his heart speak, fingers gently combing through your hair and gently curling stray hair behind your ear, you only nodded.

" You're a good girl." He cooed, leaning in to place his lips close to yours, landing on the corner of your mouth, lingering there while all you could do was close your eyes and succumb to the softness of his texture against yours, feeling eager to lock your lips with his- but knowing it's yet too soon for that. When he moved his lips to close them shortly on every inch of yours, leaving pure pecks that wouldn't lead to something more, nothing more but the proof that loved him, and now you knew he did too. And perhaps one day, you'd be comforted by the gift of a breathtaking kiss, like the ones you'd dreamed of.  

----------------------------------------

I don't know about you guys, but these days, I am this person and I'm trying to fix it.

it kinda sucks, might delete later.

[thoseofgreatambition]

mine

@thepastelpinkwitch​: Mine, Sirius. U gotta. “Can you believe it?” “We’ll never make my parent’s mistakes.”

pairing: sirius x reader

wordcount: 857

warnings: none fam 

Sirius took a deep breath. 

This was a mistake. 

This was a mistake. 

This was a mistake. 

Why in the hell had he been so stupid as to take you to a family function? 

Bring you into the viper's nest?

“We should go now.” Sirius’ voice cracked a bit in nervousness, and while you didn’t know his brother well, you saw Regalus shoot him a look of sympathy from across the room. 

You looked at Sirius with a small frown, “Are you okay? We just got here...” Really, you knew his parents were wretched people, but you hoped-- perhaps misguidedly that you might be able to smooth things over. That perhaps if you could get along with them, they might have something positive to talk to their son about. 

That was probably rather vain of you now that you thought about it. 

A glance to your left showed the trio of Black sisters, Sirius’ cousins. Andromeda who you were rather close with, Narcissa who you ha a polite acquaintance with, and Bellatrix, who you tried your best to avoid at all costs. 

You ran a thin line. 

Your bloodline was just pure enough that Sirius’ parents didn’t abhor the fact that he was seeing you, and just impure enough-- with muggles only give generations before you, that you were looked down upon by almost everyone in here. 

“Can you believe it?” Sirius muttered, “All of this hogwash just to try and show off who’s the richest?” 

You reached down and took his hand-- intent on staying nearby him. This all was rather frightening, you thought. You really just wanted to go home, but it was your job to be there for Sirius if he wanted to be here. Your other hand rested on his arm where you rubbed up and down, their eyes were on you-- displaying such a strange show of affection in such an odd place. 

Sirius’ mother looked at you, lips curled back. There was no currying favor with her-- there would be no making nice with the future in laws. She said something you couldn’t hear, and Andromeda’s mother laughed-- a sharp noise that made the hairs on your neck rise. 

For a moment you let your hands drop-- afraid you’d done something wrong when Sirius snatched one right up and pressed your knuckles to his lips. He could see the fear in your eyes and he wasn’t about to make you live this life when he didn’t even want to. 

“We’re leaving.” 

“What?” 

“We’re leaving. I’m taking you and I’m leaving.” Those around you gasped, and as you looked backwards while Sirius tugged you out of the banquet hall to the fireplace to use the floo, you saw Andromeda look rather envious and Regulus look quite pained. 

It would seem that all the pomp was for show. 

The thin gold leaf over a copper ring, that left green marks over your skin. 

You weren’t sure where you were going until you were pulled into the fireplace and heard Sirius shout, “The Potter residence!” 

Your dress was covered in soot-- something that pained you a bit. Sirius’ family was much more wealthy than yours, and your parents had both worked overtime to give you something nice enough to wear to the party. 

That wasn’t important now though. 

“Sirius are you alright?”

“No I’m--” his face was twisted in anger as he looked around, torn between announcing both of your presences or let the house rest. He chose the latter-- the Potters were used to him waking up there. 

He tugged you upstairs to the guest room that had become his, and began to dig through the trunk for something you could wear to sleep. You stared at him with a frown, “Sirius, talk to me.” 

“I won’t let them turn you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Sirius shot up, temper flaring at not you exactly but everything else. “We won’t be like them! We’ll never make my parent’s mistakes! You are mine and I am going to protect you from that world, come hell or high water. I don’t care what it costs me-- you’re not going to go near them. They won’t touch you.” you watched as his throat tightened and his voice started to crack, “Not like they did with Reg--” 

You pulled him into your arms and gently guided him until you were both lying in bed. You smoothed his hair out underneath your palm and hummed until you felt him finally relax under your touch. 

“You’re mine too, you know. And I’ll keep you safe from them as well.”

“How do you reckon you’d do that?” He looked up at you with curious eyes. 

You shrugged. “Dunno. Your mum didn’t have her wand on her. I reckon I could have put up a good fight even in this dress.” You smiled as he burst into loud laughter, and looked over your shoulder towards the door as you saw James peer in. “Wotcher mate. Got room for two more for the night?”

James looked at both of you with a tired smile, “I’ll grab some clothes for you two.”

PERMANENT TAG LIST

@vanityasvoriaclover​​ @whyarentyoulaughingj​​ @fainting-fancy​​ @hermione-who​​ @rexster10​​ @oh-the-snowinthemoonlight​​ @blusnowflakee​ @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait​ @thephelpstwins​ @l-am-tired​ 

[welovekpopscenarios]

Growing (Dino x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: Pls can you make a smut with Dino? >_<

Fandom: Seventeen

Genre: Smut 

Pairing: Dino x Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, language

Word Count: 2581

A/N: Here you go! I hope you enjoy it, I went kind of a different direction with it. Thank you for the request, I love Dino  ❤️  Happy reading!

For all of Chan’s life, he was always made aware of the fact that he was an ever-growing human being, going through the mental and physical changes and developments a person makes throughout their existence.

Oh, Chan! You’re so tall now! He hardly thought 5’7 was that tall for a guy, envious of the heights his older brothers like Mingyu and Wonwoo were blessed with.

You’re so manly now, Chan! What happened? He got older. Simple as that. He worked out, shed the baby fat, and gained a stronger image for himself, despite being the resident ‘child’ of the group.

You’re so much older. But you’re still the cute baby I always know and love! Sure. As much as it might annoy him at times, he could live with that. Whatever people wanted to say, as long as they respected him, he couldn’t care less.

It seemed everyone always commented on the physical aspects of his growth; his chiselled jaw, his broad chest, his muscular arms. They talked about his age, his aspirations and accomplishments, anything really, so long as it was regarding his body after the joys of puberty.

But something that always got pushed under the rug, ignored in favour of admiring his youth, was the fact that he was, indeed, a growing boy. And being a growing boy meant changes in attitude, interests, and…well. Sexuality, to put it bluntly.

Getting older meant looking more at girls, at women, and finding out things about his body that he originally didn’t know how to handle. The members would make jokes about it – that he’s finally becoming a man, that he’s going to be a lady killer and have women all over him, that he was going to be an expert in the affairs of the heart.

It seemed they were wrong. At least, in a way.

When girls talked to him, he’d stutter his way through the conversation until they either left or he felt somewhat comfortable around them to continue talking. When girls giggled and brushed their hands against him, he’d go bright red, as red as a ripe tomato, the darkest and hottest of hues overcoming his face as he mumbled out a response. And when girls blatantly flirted with him, poor Chan would simply freeze on the spot as if time stopped, as if his body had just lost the ability to move, and that was when Chan involuntarily left the conversation.

But, sadly, most of the time, he just didn’t bother. Not necessarily because he wasn’t interested, because that would be untrue. The main problem would be the fact that he’s too busy being a star at such a young age. He made the conscious decision to place his career over love, and now he lives with that decision and its consequences, a life of loneliness and emptiness. But it wasn’t all bad, he reasons, he’s achieved more in a few years than most do in a lifetime, and he’s damn proud of himself. Yes, he may not have had the opportunity to live a normal life and date whenever he wants, but really, he’d choose Seventeen any day over a boring life. And he made peace with this in his mind, and managed to, essentially, forget about his relationship status that everyone seems so keen on knowing.

That is, until, you joined PLEDIS Entertainment and ruined him all over again.

You, who was fresh out of college with a degree in your hands and the doom of impending job hunting and the inevitability of becoming an adult with responsibilities weighing heavily on your shoulders. You, who walked in the front doors of the PLEDIS Entertainment building a little over 6 months ago with your head held high and your hands clenched at your sides to hide the subtle shake to them as you began your first day. You, who was introduced to the group briefly during one of their dance practices and announced as one of their new managers in training, taking the opportunity to gain experience and working with the other managers to get the most information that you can on the business. You, who stole Chan’s breath away in a split second with a bit of simple eye contact and a smile as sweet as his favourite candy, sending him floating high above and feeling lighter than air for the rest of the day. For the rest of his life.

He was so sickeningly love struck since the day you entered his life, with your dulcet voice that would say hello to him without fail every day, singing words of praise to him that would simultaneously boost his ego faster than a race car and make him crumble and blush like a fair maiden in old romantic novels. Your gentle hands that would caress his back after a hard day of training and offer him some water, sending his heart into overdrive at your closeness and your caring nature, so selfless and wonderful you were. Your beauty, a beauty that would make even a goddess envious, sending radiant smiles in his direction whenever he was blessed to be in the same room as you, your smiles ever the source of his happiness, his drive to do even better than before, to impress you and makes those smiles only his to look at.

The list on what he liked about you was endless, no sonnet in any of Shakespeare’s finest works ever capable of truly expressing how he felt about you, the flowers seeming dull in comparison to your shine, the fires cold as opposed to your never-ending warmth that reminded him of the cosiest places he knows. Yes, you were amazing in every way possible, and Chan was well and truly, positively and absolutely, in love with you with all his heart could handle.

But Chan was a growing boy.

And when you think of someone 24 hours out of 7 days a week, your brain starts to create new scenarios and thoughts about this person. Some were sweet and as innocent as a bunny hopping around in a field of daisies on a sunny day. But others, well. Others were as dark and sinful as they come, thoughts of sweat not formed from dancing, scratches not earned from accidents, more skin showing than what was considered normal in public appearances. These thoughts were fast, rough, hot, and left Chan panting as if he had just run a mile straight and had not stopped once. These thoughts, these daydreams, always left Chan in a rather compromising position, an urgent problem that needed to be dealt with immediately lest he go insane.

More often than he’s proud to admit he finds himself sorting this problem in the confines of the dorm’s bathroom, the steam of the shower his only companion as he washes away the day’s hard work and lustful shame. He’s in such a situation once more, having lost count of how many times he’s experienced this long ago, leaning with his forearm on the wall and his member hot and throbbing in his other hand, eyes clenched shut in concentration. Today’s reason? Well, seated directly in front of him in the team meeting, your white blouse just happened to be of a lower cut, paired unintentionally with a lacy black bra that had Chan’s mind spinning faster than a hurricane in a storm. Your outfit, that you looked absolutely gorgeous in, paired with the action of bending over to pick up a dropped pen from the floor, revealing more than normal for Chan’s dark eyes, sent all blood in his body travelling south and left him with an uncomfortable tightness in his pants for the rest of the day until now.

Since that incident, he’s thought of nothing but tearing that shirt off of your body, placing you on the desk and fucking you hard, right then and there. It is with that thought in mind that he begins to move his hand up and down his shaft, keeping a loose grip on himself as he allows his imagination to take him to the wildest of places.

There’s no one but you two in the room, your soft mewls sounding like honey to his ears echoing throughout the space as he lifts your body on the table, laying you down flat on your back as he nips and sucks on the smooth expanse of skin on your neck. He rips your pretty silk blouse clean off your chest in one swift motion and you cry out in shock, indignation on your lips before he takes the words right off of them with the press of his own lips, tongue rubbing against yours sensuously as he grinds his growing bulge roughly to your clothed centre.

His hand moves faster as he envisions himself pulling your pencil skirt off your frame and onto the floor, making quick work of your bra and panties to make sure they join the other articles of clothing strewn around the room, and he kisses his way down your body, nipping lightly at your breasts, revelling in the beautiful whines you create before moving lower down your body, his tongue swirling around your belly button playfully as you watched in anticipation.

Finally, he reached both of your most desired destinations, and you leaned on your elbows to get a better look at Chan as he kneeled to be in line with your swollen, dripping core. Leaning in, he inhaled your sweet scent, before diving in, licking a long stripe with his tongue up your slit, circling around your clit for a second before repeating the process. You moaned out his name and his eyes rolled in their sockets at the sound, his hand squeezing his member briefly in pleasure, and he continued with his dream, eating you up like his life depended on it, his tongue plunging in and out of you at a rapid pace whilst his hand came up from its position on your thighs to toy with your poor neglected swollen bud. You latched onto his hair for dear life as his tongue worked wonders on you, and Chan groaned at the feeling of you pulling at the strands, urging him on to bring you closer to your high.

But Chan wanted to be inside of you when you came, and so it was with great reluctance he pulled away from your soaking core, licking his lips dry and fixing you with a dark stare, eyes blown black with desire. Standing up, his hands trailed up your sides delicately, and you giggled lightly at the ticklish feeling. His heart burst at the delightful sound, and he bent down to kiss you passionately, thumb rubbing circles on your jaw so tenderly, because he felt that you only deserved the best. And he was certainly going to try and give you the best. Detaching himself from your lips, he pressed his forehead to yours as he stared into your dazzling eyes, getting lost in the sea of colours that was so inherently you it made his stomach feel fuzzy. The head of his cock brushed against your folds, and he smirked at the moan escaping your lips, pushing into you so slowly it almost drove him crazy as your warmth encased his member.

His hands trembled at the thought of your pussy around him and his hand moved faster and rougher, fingers gathering precum at the head and smearing it all over his cock. His panting was lost to the steam in the bathroom, teeth biting at the flesh of his forearm to keep from screaming your name aloud as he went deeper into his fantasy.

Fully sheathed in your wet heat, he granted you a moment to readjust to his girth until you gave the signal, a subtle nod of your head, and then he was moving, pulling out of you agonisingly slow only to push in hard. His paced gradually picked up until he was in a position where he had you with your legs thrown over his shoulders, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust he gave and your hands searching for purchase, settling on pulling on strands of your own hair as your face contorted into one of the most amazing expressions of ecstasy Chan could ever see. He could feel that delicious coil in his stomach getting tighter and tighter with each push he gave, dragging him further and further to the edges of oblivion as he fucked you, pecking your legs at his sides and holding them close. His veins felt like pure fire; lava flowing through him, fuelling him to bring you to the end with him and watch you writhe in euphoria.

His hips take on an erratic pace as he feels his orgasm fast approaching, and you cry out in pleasure, screams of his name leaving you like the breath in your chest, and you’re done when his calloused hand reaches down to rub harshly on your nub. Your orgasm washes over you like a white light from a beacon, crashes of ecstasy flooding through your body, back arching beautifully like a bowstring pulled taut, mouth dropping open to let out a lengthy moan of his name. He feels your walls clench around his cock and he hisses at the feeling, moving faster and faster as he watches you collapse in bliss, getting oh so close to his end, just one more thrust, one more airy whisper of his name-

Chan cums hard on himself, spilling his seed over his hand, stomach, and even the wall in front of him as his hand pumps furiously up and down his length, prolonging his orgasm as long as he could, biting his lip to silence the onslaught of moans that would inevitably spill out if he were to let even one free. Coming down from his high, distractingly trying to push away the mass thoughts of you still floating around in his hazy mind, he grimaces at the mess he made, his cum dripping down his fingers much like the ever so familiar shame dripping down onto his conscience in the wake of his orgasm. A knock on the door jolts him out of his zombie like state of washing his hands, nearly sending him to an early grave until he was reminded of how long he had spent in the bathroom.

“Chan, how much longer are you going to be? I need a shower too!” Jun yelled, and Chan replied with a quick ‘one minute’ before he heard the footsteps of his bandmate recede from the bathroom door. Sighing, he finished washing up and removing any evidence of relieving himself from the shower before turning off the water and stepping into a towel. Looking in the mirror, Chan shook his head sadly, pushing wet locks of his hair out of his eyes as he stared in his reflection. A growing boy indeed, he thought, not recognising himself from the kid he was two years ago. He was a man now, a man in love with a woman who saw him as no more than a co-worker, a talented performer, a kid. He would never get to indulge in his fantasies of kissing you, touching you, loving you. Nothing. No matter, he thinks sombrely as he exits the bathroom, at least he’s blessed with the ability of seeing your face every day. It’s enough for him. It has to be.

[indigomasquerade97]

A Gift For Oscar

Okay, so this is for @neonthewrite‘s Halloween contest. It’s set during Hershey Kisses and Salt Lines, when Sam was saved by Dean and the brothers meet Oscar. I hope you like it!

Dean strolled down the path, glancing disinterestedly through the windows of stores. Every window was themed for the season, sporting black and orange colours with an assortment of supernatural creatures that had been rendered into amusing cutouts and figurines. He snorted at the image of a snarling beast head, a lame imitation of a werewolf.

The people don’t need to know how wrong they are, he mused, and kept walking.

Sam moved a bit in his front pocket. Dean faltered in his step, shoving his hands into his jean pockets to try and hide it. He still wasn’t used to his shrunken brother riding in his pocket. Really, who would? It was not a situation most people would have to experience, after all. He glanced around as Sam peaked over the lip of the pocket, making sure no one was looking his way. He couldn’t afford to be negligent; not with his vulnerable brother.

‘Dean, wait!’ Sam called. Dean stopped immediately, glancing down at his little brother. Literally. Sam was looking out at a shop, which Dean noted was a toy store.

‘You think there will be some clothes in there for ya, small fry?’ Dean asked. Sam shrugged, picking at his too tight shirt. He’d only had it for less than a month and already he was outgrowing it. 

‘Can’t hurt to check.’ He commented, ducking back out of sight.

Dean shrugged, walking inside with a small jingle announcing his presence. He smiled at the older woman at the front desk, moving about to look like he was browsing. He discretely moved towards the doll section, trying not to be noticed. As much as he wanted to help his brother out, he didn’t particularly like the idea of being seen in the frilly pink girls isle. His masculinity was on the line there. Luckily enough, the store was practically deserted. With one final glance around, he gave Sam the all clear.

Sam pulled himself over the lip, glancing at all the doll clothes on sale. They were mainly barbie dolls, with frilly dresses that were too big for him anyway. He wasn’t even half the size of those dolls. He remembered being capable of holding one of them in his hand, and now marveled over the weight they would be for him if he tried holding one now. He frowned, tearing his eyes away from the sad sight.

He looked over at a different set of dolls, more customized and variant. Most of them were around his size, and some even looked fairly comfortable. Or, at least, as comfortable as human made doll clothes could be. They were always too thick, and caused him to itch. But, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Dean. He was so happy to help his brother that Sam couldn’t tell him how uncomfortable they often made him feel.

But his eyes widened when he caught sight of something that almost shone in the light. He practically leapt out of the pocket, he leaned forward so quick. Dean flinched, his hands coming up to catch him if he were to fall. 

‘Dude, what the f-’

‘Dean! It’s perfect!’ Sam cried, pointing at the clothes that had caught his attention. Dean frowned when he looked over, but a smirk of understanding soon replaced it as a thought struck him.

‘That would look great on Oz, huh?’ He asked, picking the doll up. It was about the same size as Sam, so it may be a bit big on the younger kid. But now that he had the image in his head, he couldn’t resist getting it. He began walking again, heading towards the front desk so he could buy the doll. 

‘Oh! Dean, look!’ Sam continued, pointing at another doll set and something else against the wall excitedly, ‘Something for us!’

Dean took one look at them and stopped, glaring down at his brother.

‘No,’ He said forcefully, but quietly, ’There is no way I’m wearing that!’

Oscar sat on his seat made from a ring box, quietly dethreading some cloth for his new project. He was still rusty at the act of making clothes, always making little mistakes, but he noticed those mistakes were becoming less frequent. At this rate he would be as good as his mother. At the very least, the act of dethreading the thick fibers calmed him down whenever he was stressed or upset.

He made a note to teach Sam how to do this in one of his next lessons.

Speaking of...

There was a knock on the wall by his door, startling the eight year old from his work. Sam was walking inside, smiling widely. Oscar blinked at his strange clothes. He wore a red vest over a black shirt, still wearing his usual blue jeans. A red cap and yellow backpack completed the strange look, and in one hand was a strange red and white cloth ball.

‘...What are you wearing?’ Oscar asked, confused by the new look. He slid off the too big chair, leaving the cloth over it so he could return to it later. He idly hoped he would be able to fit in it better when he grew older.

Sam chuckled at his question, twirling to show off every part of his new clothes.

‘Getting in the Halloween spirit. Like my Pokemon trainer costume?’ 

Oscar frowned, looking back at the strange clothes. Halloween...?

‘That’s... when humans dress up and go to scare others, right?’ He asked. He’d heard of the strange tradition once when he’d gone to investigate the front desk, and had been envious of the humans’ ability to dress up and travel to gain candy. He’d had no reason to partake in the custom in the past, for obvious reasons. He couldn’t exactly go “tick or tweeting”, after all. 

‘We even got you something.’ Sam continued, darting back out to haul in something else. He held it up by the collar, holding an accessory in his other hand. Oscars eyes widened as he took the costume in. He brushed his hand over the rough fabric; human made, then. It was bulky and rough... but it did look cool. He looked up at his friends pleased face. Was he trying to coax Oscar into joining him in the festive activities?

‘We were gonna dress up and watch some Halloween movies tonight,’ Sam continued, ‘Dean and I were hoping you would come along.’

Oscar sniffed, smiling through the tears of joy that threatened to blind him. He wrapped his skinny arms around the bulkier boy, burying his face into his vest. He’d never been given a gift like this before. And the simple act of the brothers inviting him in their celebrations of the holiday he’d imagined joining in the past made his heart swell. 

Not for the first time in the last couple of months, he was glad Dean had captured him.

‘I love it!’ Oscar declared, almost ripping the costume from Sam’s fingers so he could see it better in the dim light under the floorboards. The sleeves would be a bit bulky on his too thin arms, but he could fix that. He grabbed one of his needles, placing the costume onto the table.

‘Can you help me?’ He asked as he began working in fixing some of the fixable flaws.

Dean sat by the vent, occasionally looking over to see if the kids had arrived yet. Sam had been gone for a while now, and he was beginning to get worried. Okay, he’d been worried the second his brother had left his sight, but still. Sam was absolutely tiny, and there were so many things that could hurt him now. Sam could have gotten hurt in the tunnels of the wall, where he would be stuck and helpless. He imagined mice and rats cornering him in the dark. Even thought Oscar said mice were fairly docile, he still couldn’t get the idea out of his head. 

And then there was the eight year old kid they had found, and who they were both beginning to see as another brother. He was even tinier than Sam, and even with his years of knowledge and experience being that size, he was still vulnerable. Imagining the dangers they faced just inside the walls behind his back made Dean’s heart flutter with worry. If they don’t hurry up, I’m ripping the walls apart, he thought, only half joking. If something actually happened to those kids, a wall wouldn’t stop him from getting to them and protecting them. 

He glanced back down when he heard soft voices coming from the vent. Dean smiled, moving away from the vent to give them some room. They didn’t need him looming over them.

Sam climbed out through the vent slots first, waving to his brother when he was on the ground. Oscar followed soon after, smiling up at Dean. At least, he did until his helmet slid down over his face.

Oscar wore a green fabric over his usual clothes, the baggy sleeves looking like they had been sewn together to fit better. Dean could barely make out the fine thread that had been messily added to the bunched up fabric. Plastic guards made to resemble metal were latched around his arms and shins, having been tightened around his limbs with extra thread. A slightly too big chest guard was settled over him, but the kid didn’t seem to mind how it bumped into him with every movement. A green helmet sat on his head, with what looked like sloppily detailed wings over where his ears would be. It was too big and slid all over his head. He didn’t hold the shield, which was held by Sam. It looked huge and bulky in his hands. But Oscar did have the plastic sword attached to his hip. On the other hip rested his usual bag, which almost seemed the suit the costume with how old and worn out it looked. 

‘W-what do you think?’ Oscar asked, finally giving up on the helmet and removing it. His mousy hair stuck up every which way, and Dean smirked as he gently ran a finger over it to mess it up even more. Oscar didn’t flinch away from the teasing movement, but he did send a glare his way. Dean almost lost it when he realised how similar the look was to Sam’s trademark bitchface.

‘Looks like our resident knight finally looks the part.’ Dean answered. Oscar smiled, idly petting at his hair to make the mess more manageable.

He then frowned, finally looking Dean over. Dean cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. For a long moment Oscar just examined him.

‘Dean... what are you wearing?’ Oscar finally asked. Dean groaned, sending a glare at Sam. He just grinned smugly, clapping a hand over the smaller kids shoulder.

‘What kind of knight would you be without a dragon to slay?’ He asked, then snickered, ‘And what kind of trainer would I be without my own Charmander?’

Dean huffed, rolling his eyes at his little brother. He crossed his arms in the silly orange onesie he wore. The tail was bunched up behind him, and the hood was slightly too big on him. It was embarrassing! But he hadn’t been able to say no to Sam’s damn puppy dog eyes. 

And, seeing little Oz giggling to himself, he realized it was totally worth it to make the kid laugh.

‘Okay you two,’ Dean muttered, deftly sweeping them up and moving towards the bed, where he’d already prepared some movies and lots of chocolate, ‘Let’s get this marathon started.’

[iviaggidianica]

giorno tredici: snazzy evening meal & rain

Writing this 3 days after, so I have likely forgotten a lot. Uni classes as usual. We started working on presentations due on the Thursday.

For lunch we went to some Mexican kind of place and I ordered a pretty weird meal...basically their specialty was like toasted flatbreads with filling inside, and I ordered something with ‘chicken nuggets’ in the name...meaning they literally just put chicken nuggets inside a sandwich. It was yummy! But Max, who also got the same thing, agreed that it was a pretty odd thing to eat.

As we left uni for the day, we asked Maria (professor) for restaurant recommendations, as we had planned to meet Chris and his wife for dinner that night. Akshaya and I were keen to get home and wash/rest etc so we let the boys decide and just message us. Side-note: Maria is so unconsciously hilarious; we laugh because she always slightly breathily laughs whenever she talks about murder, or when she was talking about getting home from a certain dodgy part of Milan she said so casually “no no, you do not die in Milan.” In the accent it’s just so funny. We have all developed the extremely frequent habit of announcing “OHkay” in a high pitched Italian accent to mimic her (when she’s not around of course).

I got slightly more dressed up (soz don’t have pictures) because of the formality of going out with Chris and his wife. Borrowed Akshaya’s really nice long green felty skirt and wore with the top Neeve & Tash got me. We all met at Garibaldi, which happened to be the place on the second day here where I had to traipse to find a bank. There’s a big piazza/food/commercial area. It was a cooler night, much more pleasant, and the sky was getting cloudy. We met Chris’ wife, and Lydia, the American girl from our class, also joined.

First we entered a place called Eataly, which is like “a food Myers” (Max), with a restaurant on the top. It didn’t really tickle our fancy so we walked out of the piazza place and down more strips, just stopping at a place called ‘il carnivore’ or something to do overtly with meat. I think it was Spanish, though. It looked more on the fancy side and I also don’t love meat, but I wasn’t going to complain. We sat on high stools around a table inside, very nice ambience. Outside I could see the streets get wet and misty as rain fell. Chris told us stories about the sixties/seventies/meeting his wife. 

I ordered Pancetta with sweet potato chips - I don’t think I really knew what I was expecting, but I actually enjoyed it so much, even the fat. It was very salty, and in a Teriyaki sauce. Max & Adam finished what I couldn’t eat and both were envious of my decision.

cut out of this picture, taken by Chris :(

The girls ordered a desert which was ice cream with whiskey. I tried it and disliked. Then the restaurant also gave us some weird raisin alcohol shot thing, which tasted like old people.

Chris & his wife headed off and ‘left us to it’. We were shocked and honoured because they left us with what looked like the remainder of the cheque, and they had supposedly paid for most of ours. But upon producing it to the counter, turns out it was just what they had paid, for us to double check. We were presented with a much heftier price. My meal was 20 euro, so it was fine. 

We went outside and it was suddenly bucketing down a bit. Chris had left his funny old man straw fedora hat so we shared it around as a shield as we ran and tried to find another place to sit inside. Lydia showed us to a bar place near Chinatown, so we settled there for the next couple of hours. There was the owner’s dog barking in the back, which I thought was very Italian, and also a cat sitting ON the bar at one point??

I tried some drink called Red Mamba. Mainly the Americans + Max had a big talk about sport & cars to which I completely zoned out, but was content just sitting there.

Then walked our way back to the Residence (Lydia also lives in same place). Max & Adam live elsewhere and always have to walk if the metro is closed or rent one of those electric scooter things. Adam said he just scootered through the fancy Duomo shopping place at 1AM all alone, which would have been an odd experience.

Was tired and slept immediately.

[asquishyfish-blog]

I’ll Never Forget My Lego Project

Legos have always been a staple in my life since before I could even form long-term memories; everyone in my family, from my mom, Evangeline Dennison (who was born shortly after the introduction of the Lego brick in the USA in 1958), and her five brothers: Kenny, David, Jerry, Tommy, and Joseph on down the line played with them when they were kids and in turn afforded themselves the luxury of playing Legos with their own children. Those tiny little colored bricks provide such a simple, yet rewarding experience spending hours meticulously crafting an infinite amount of sculptures, contraptions and attractions. My uncle Joseph, the youngest, always tells me about how when I was around two and three years old, he'd always build these cities and giant buildings out of Legos and then pull me out of my crib and unleash "Baby Godzilla" on the innocent Lego men and women in the white and the red-blue buildings he'd built just to watch me destroy them, only for him to joyfully rebuild those skyscrapers for the creature from the deep to strike at over andover, every time he babysat me. From those days back in the early 1990's on Legos have remained a mostly cheerful constant, always holding some varying degree of importance in my daily life, and at times has also served to be a painfully nostalgic reminder of the nature of the world. It was a cold, damp Tuesday; right at the end of a short New York summer, and I was two and a half weeks into my first year at Port Jervis Middle School. It had been getting colder for about a week and a half so all the kids had started wearing pants, long sleeves, and sweaters, and they had just come out with these comic book character inspired hoodies you could zip up over your face like a mask (imagine Venom from Spider-Man), although I had never owned one. Strange, but true, the only homework assignment I'd been given so far was in my sixth period art class; we had to use a less traditional medium to portray any scene related to art history. Immediately, I'd decided to use Lego bricks and paint Lego man heads in a Warholesque manner depicting the Marilyn Diptych paintings--which were really just a bunch of Marilyn Monroe faces that were painted in mostly bright, contrasting colors-- on a Lego frame. I was more than happy to do it; I'd grown up with Legos and I was one hundred percent positive I'd come with at least a decent concept. I could visualize what my project would look like completed--a Lego frame about the size of a wide view photo with that famous"multiple colors of the same face" look decorated on the visages implanted in my creation--and that thought blew my excitement up for an opportunity to display a bit of creativity with the help of that years birthday presents. I'd arrived to school that morning enthusiastically looking forward to my sixth period art class in the basement of the building, hoping the morning flew by so I could show off my award winning project and maybe get it displayed in the hallway for everyone to marvel at. First period english with Mr. Lenardo was always a riot; we would laugh and joke and get off topic and talk about sports and what everyone did over the summer often, as opposed to reading, because what we were really there to learn in English class, at least according to Mr. Lenardo, was life. It was a profound concept to me but it was interrupted by the announcement speaker, and several people were being called to the front office from multiple classes all over the school in droves, and I couldn’t help but hope I wasn't one of those people because Mr. Andre, our Vice Principal, had already become notorious for being the guy "you don't want to piss off," so I usually did my best to avoid him. Twenty-five minutes into class and six students had left the room. The bell rang, and everyone shuffled out of their desks in a hurry to file into the hallway to meet up with their friends. That time in between classes was one of the most rewarding parts of being in middle school for me; it was the first opportunity I'd had as a child to go to school with children who weren't exclusively from inner Port Jervis. Now that I'd gotten to seventh grade, there were a larger pool of kids to befriend because they were coming from all over the area; people were coming from Greenville, Sparrow Bush, Hugenot, Cuddebackville, even Montague, New Jersey and over the Hudson River bridge into Matamoras, Pennsylvania. In between classes I run into my friends Ben and Justin, cousins who had recently moved to Port Jervis from Brooklyn, New York and the three of us walk to our lockers to exchange one heavy textbook for one or two other heavier ones. When I opened my locker, they both couldn't help but notice the golden glow of my eccentric modern art masterpiece emanating through the clutter which was the top shelf of my locker, and were exponentially more powerless to stop themselves from commenting on "how dope that shit is bro." We walk to math class together and sit down, but before we had a chance to finish our discussion and pull out our books, there was another announcement over the loudspeaker. Five more kids, including Ben and Justin, were sent to the office and it wasn't until that point that I'd realized none of the original six kids from my first class had ever returned. They had to have gotten in trouble and I was excited to figure out what they'd all done once school was out later on. I joked with Ben and Justin that we'd never see each other again as they walked out of class to the main office but reminded them to keep me in the loop when we ran back into each other on the bus later. "I bet it's some kind of a prank or something," I remember saying to my two best friends (and also my neighbors), Marcus and Anthony, in study hall. We were supposed to be quiet in that class but not knowing where all of these students were going each class, including this one, was plaguing us. The only other thing we were able to come up with was Kevin saying they must have caught head lice and were being sent home, "so that the rest of us wouldn't get infected." "That's not so bad," we joked, because there were so many good video games out that needed to be beaten (The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask had recently come out, along with Resident Evil: Code Veronica, and Final Fantasy X being hot commodities). It had gone and turned into such a big joke throughout the course of class ending that I'd even forgotten about my Lego project momentarily. We laughed until we were envious, saying it was a lucky day for so many people to get head lice. As soon as I made it to my next class, science with Mr. Cunningham, we got right to it and started trying to figure out who was going to win the jackpot and get sent to the office to go home and play video games (or for the girls, go home and sleep). Three more students gone and science was over in a flash. I was in the hallway headed to lunch when another announcement was made over the loudspeaker: "Students of Port Jervis Middle School, this is an emergency muster. If you are on the first floor, go to the gym. If you are on the second floor, head to the assembly room. If you are on the third floor, go to the cafeteria.""There goes lunch," I thought, as I was eating and watched the cafeteria quickly turn into standing room only. Once everyone from the third floor had shown up, Mr. Cunningham had quieted everyone down so that he could finally share whatever the big secret of what was going on with the collective. Once he had achieved silence though, rather than say anything he and the rest of the other adults in the room had begun turning on all the T.V.'s 

                                                           and I was immediately horrified;

the Twin Towers in New York City had been hit by two hijacked airplanes and were crumbling before my eyes on television. The blonde female reporter was in the streets of New York City where everything, including the people, were covered in a thick brown-black cloud of dust, soot, and ashes, and she was trying to force the story through a violent, inaudible sob, but the facts were already written there for everyone to read: "HIJACKED PLANES DESTROY TWIN TOWERS AND HIT PENTAGON IN DAY OF TERROR." After about a half hour or so had passed, the teachers and monitors had lowered the volume and instructed us that we would remain in the school until either our parents had come to get us, or the President had given a message that we were safe. I worried about my mother, a teacher in Middletown High School, and if I would ever see her again. We would come to find out more details about that other plane that hit the Pentagon, that they were hijacked by terrorists from the Al Qaida terrorist sect from the middle east, and another plane had been hijacked and flown in the direction of either Camp David, the Presidential retreat, or quite possibly the White House itself but had crashed in western Pennsylvania. There were also reports of a bombing in the Lincoln Tunnel, somewhere I had been just weeks ago to see the Empire State Building. One of the most truly terrifying parts of it all was watching people jumping from the windows of the upper stories of the Towers because they had to make the difficult decision to be burned alive in a building that had already started to collapse, or to test the grim possibility that they would survive the fall to the ground somehow. Everyone, including the teachers and monitors, was crying there together in the cafeteria and one girl, Ashley Gaid, had a panic attack early on and couldn't breathe so she ended up leaving in an ambulance. Perhaps the most petrifying reality of it all was this: if two skyscrapers in the center of the most populous city in the United States of America wasn't safe, along with the Pentagon and four passenger airplanes, how could we (or anyone else, for that matter) be safe from harm? Faculty members had us performing air raid drills underneath the tables in the cafeteria like they might have done when they were children, and I couldn't stop worrying about my friends, family, and all of the people in New York City and anywhere else who were either directly or indirectly affected by this tragedy. In the end, most of us weren't released from school until around 6:30 that night. Seeing parents pick up their kids was bittersweet; I was happy to see them together, but I still hadn't spoken to anyone in my family so I wasn't able to rest assured they were okay.My mother had come to get me right as the last group of students were leaving and when we saw each other we instantly embraced and cried together in the front office of Port Jervis Middle School like so many other families had probably done that morning as they picked up their children from school in the midst on a national emergency. I threw my Lego project away after about a week of it sitting on a desk in my room, unable to bear the constant reminder of the fragility of life that it came to symbolize to me.