#CHAS. BE CAREFUL WITH THE GRILL.

[the-alan-price-combo]

Happy Birth... Dave to Dave Rowberry!! 🎹✨️

[freakmcnastyy]

Too scared to kiss you

Kang Woo-young x f!reader (fluff) Pt.2

Summary: You and Woo-young share a slow-burning evening full of tension and soft chaos. It’s messy and cute! “almost lovers��� energy.

Note: Dropping the link to a video of Cha Woomin cooking for you guys. Melting is allowed hehe! -> Link

-> Pt.1 / Pt.2

⸻

Woo-young hooked his fingers into your palm as he helped you up from the floor, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. There was a war in his eyes, caught somewhere between stubbornness and the regret of pulling back just before your lips had touched. You still felt the heat of his skin on your cheeks. You tried to forget it, but it crept back in with every step you took.

After saying goodbye to the squeaky floor of the gym, you two walked side by side down the corridor. His hair was still a mess, shirt clinging slightly to his back with sweat, but he didn’t seem to care. He was always a little messy, a little dangerous.

When you finally leave school, the air was warm, tinged with that early evening chill. Under the streetlights, his shadow spilled over yours. You were headed toward a KBBQ place. You were smiling to yourself, when-

A whistle cut through the noise of the street.

The voice was deep, cocky, way too loud to be ignored.

“Yoo, that girl’s fire, I’m drooling.”

Your steps slowed. Eyes instinctively turned toward the source. Three dudes, in a different school uniform, leaned against the curb. One of them stepped forward, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, hands buried in his pockets. He looked you up and down like he owned the damn street. That stare scraped across your skin like a blade.

But Woo-young was the one who reacted.

You turned to him just as he stopped walking. His jaw was clenched. His fists were tight, knuckles white with pressure. He locked in.

Then he snapped.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

The guy laughed, arms spread out.

“Look at this dude… what are you, her bodyguard?”

Woo-young started walking. Slow. Heavy. Like each step was a threat. Left hand still clenched. Eyes locked on target.

“You tryna act bold or you really that dumb?” he said, voice low, but it hit like a storm. “You think she’s out here alone or something?”

The dude took a step forward now. “Man, chill. We’re just talking-”

BAMM!

Silence. His fist landed square on the guy’s jaw, cutting off that smug-ass voice in a heartbeat. The sound echoed off the pavement. The dude stumbled back and hit the ground hard. His lip was split. His eyes went blank for a second. His friends froze. Then one of them panicked:

“Bro, that’s Kang Woo-young!”

“Wait- seriously?!”

“Yeah man, how did we notice him so late? RUN!”

And just like that, they scattered, dragging the weight of that single punch with them. One of them kept glancing back, clearly scared shitless of Woo-young’s stare.

You just stood there. Shocked. Your heart was thumping like crazy.

“Woo-young…”

He turned to you. Flexed his fingers out. “Fuck, my hand hurts,” he muttered, but he was clearly pleased with himself. He walked back over and casually threw his arm around your shoulders, tilting his head toward yours with a crooked grin.

“Don’t gimme that stunned look.” he said, voice cocky but warm. “I’m out here scared to even kiss you, and these fuckers got zero shame.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You leaned lightly against his shoulder. And finally, you made it to the restaurant.

⸻

The smell of grilled meat hit before the food even showed up. Inside was warm and a bit foggy from the steam rising off all the BBQ grills. As soon as you sat down, a waiter rushed over and took your order.

When the meat came, he took over like he always did. The second he grabbed those tongs, his face went serious. All focus on the grill. You, on the other hand, looked down at your phone. Scrolling. News or whatever, didn’t matter. You weren’t really reading.

That’s when Woo-young reached across and snatched your phone outta your hands.

“Aight, that’s enough. We’re cookin’ here, not doomscrollin’.”

He flipped it to silent and dropped it at the edge of the table. He wasn’t mad exactly. But yeah, he was kinda annoyed. You frowned, crossed your arms. Pouted a little. But he didn’t give a damn, just went back to flipping meat like a pro. Eyes locked on the grill, but you knew he was watching you. You saw the smirk before he turned away.

A minute later, he picked up a slice, blew on it a bit, and held it out to you.

“Babe, open up. Feed that brain with some protein.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in. The meat was hot and juicy. But the way he was lookin’ at you? That was the real meal. He caught the little drop of food stain at the corner of your mouth.

“Hold up…” he muttered, leaning in.

He wiped it away with his thumb. When his fingers brushed your lips, something inside you buzzed.

“You’re like a damn toddler.” he teased.

You turned your face away, kinda offended. But you smiled. The tension eased. He took a sip from his drink, then glanced over at you.

“That punch is still replaying in my head.”

You nodded. Then smirked.

“You go full beast in public but turn into a kitten around me.. Don’t tell me you lov-”

Before you could finish, he shoved another piece of meat in your mouth with the chopsticks.

“Gotta keep your mouth busy. You talk too much.” he said, grinning.

You stared at him mid-bite, stunned. Wanted to do the same to him, but he’d already leaned back with that smug-ass smile plastered on his face.

⸻

By the time you left, the night had turned cool. A breeze slid across your face, made you shiver a little. You reached for your jacket, but before you could zip it, Woo-young stepped in.

Without saying a word, he reached forward, grabbed the zipper, and pulled it up for you. Not rushed. Not sloppy. Just… quiet and focused.

He stood there, eyes locked on you for a beat. Then casually slung his arm over your shoulder like it was second nature.

Under the streetlights, you walked slow. His body tilted toward yours, your steps synced up. Your voices echoed through rows of quiet apartments.

“You got training tomorrow?” you asked.

“Yeah but coach threw a water bottle at my head last time. Said I’m too cocky… which, fair.”

You laughed. “Bet it’s hard coaching someone who posts beatdowns online for fun.”

“Hey, I’m doing public service out here. Teaching kids how to throw hands.”

⸻

Sometimes the conversation dropped into silence. But it wasn’t awkward. Actually, it felt kind of perfect. Like even with nothing said, everything made sense.

Finally, you got to your home. Under the warm glow of the entrance light, you paused. Woo-young slipped his arm off your shoulder. Jammed his hands into his pockets. Tilted his head, looked at you.

Then stepped in.

“Come here.”

He pulled you in. His body was warm, steady. When you leaned into his chest, you could hear his heartbeat.

Then he stepped back. His face hovered close to yours. His eyes flicked to your cheek. His lips parted. He leaned in like he was finally gonna do it…

But then he pulled back.

“Fuck this, I can’t,” he said, eyes rolling. “I feel like a dumbass.”

And without thinking—you kissed his cheek. Soft. Quick. But real.

His eyes widened. Stunned. Speechless.

You stepped back with a smile.

“Goodnight, Woo-young.”

And just before turning around, you added:

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

He just stood there. Same spot. That goofy little smile creeping onto his lips. He scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah… I will.”

You walked inside. Glanced back once.

He was still there.

Hand waving.

Lit up by the streetlight like something out of a movie.

⸻

[23.46]

Woo-young: just got home. Night night, you little gremlin 👻

[ofdarklands]

food and drink: 3, 7, 12, 15, 16, 17 / hobbies: 3, 4, 18 for mitr'a? 👁👁

whoa mama

ehem, long:

🍽️Food and Drink

3 Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try?

hmm i think not, at least not because of the food in itself. even meol he refused to try not so much because of the soylent green part but because it was a hateful Eulmore Product tm. also because someone (even worse, a clown of some breed) was handing it to him and it was thus suspect

he's also tried lots of things that are not technically food so

7 Is there food that has made your character sick?

man sadly somewhat lactose intolerant. i don't think keepers have herds of anything, so it didn't come up until he left for gridania. he refuses to admit this however, because the making processes of cheese and yogurt and assorted milk products are fascinating and he's not dropping that

that's regarding food that is innocent

he has eaten all manner of other things experimentally that have absolutely wrecked him until he built up tolerance or decided it was actually hopeless. fruits, roots, plants, walking plants, frogs, snakes, lizards, bugs, sea bugs, fish, that one poisonous bird, barks, water that turned out to be fouled, and many many delicious but evil mushrooms and molds <- guy who shouldn't be alive

12 Which mealtime is your character's favorite?

as a guy who lives on his own at his own rhythm, mealtimes are not particularly fixed. he mostly eats when he's hungry. but whatever he eats at sunrise before going to bed is nice. cold, but a good view. and quiet

15 What food or drink does your character consider a treat?

grilled things. with just some salt and some herbs. takes more time, not very stealthy, bit wasteful. very tasty though. mmm goat on the stick

16 Is there a food texture your character doesn't like?

doesn't like much things that are so dry and crumbly they stick to your mouth forever or too sticky-gooey, generally. like, have you tried chewing fluid honey? that kinda texture. he'll still eat it of course, but still

otherwise he's an equal opportunity chewer

17 What kind of drinks does your character prefer?

dense. give that thing some substance (his beers are basically liquid bread). otherwise, water, teas and juices are the daily go-to. he's got favourite water springs to source water from, too

.

🎲 Hobbies and Activities

3 What is a talent your character wishes they had?

he's generally very satisfied with what he can do, i think. he's skilled with his hands and his mind is adept with crafts. his body allows him to fight well. his reflexes are good. he can even manage the ocassional act of rolling a 20 on CHA, if he really cares about it. what else is there? not consistent human interaction skills, surely

4 Is there an activity your character used to enjoy that they now dislike?

not really? his range of activities has actually broadened together with his character development during msq

though! i guess he doesn't get street food anymore; he just stares somewhat creepily at the preparation process until he can do it himself and feed it to someone else to taste-test the accuracy

18 What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

economics and politics are not interesting to him, and also culturally not his problem. to him they're only worth talking about as context in stories. sadly being alphinaud's attack wol means he gets to hear a LOT about it. after the banquet he doesn't tune out anymore but by oschon's balls. torment

regarding what i think the question is actually about

things he'd honestly answer but mostly isn't asked: where he's been, his fights, his age, killing people, losing people, his job, his opinion on people, his opinion on the current plan, which cities suck the most, how he would kill lolorito, any plant or rock in sight, what sex he's been having, what the fuck do you mean ardbert was there the whole time, etc

things he might try to slide around for the sake of the other person, but would answer if asked point blank: his experiences and opinions with the wol legend (bleh), the almost-lightwarden times (bad), what the fuck do you mean zenos was there (great), do you regret almost dying at the end of the universe for no reason (no), if he likes fighting by the scions's side (fucking stressful), are you fucking my mother warrior of light (yes)

things he won't talk about: affection (not something for words), where his clan is (security reasons), hildibrand (not real), magitek (enough robots already*), any time he's failed at something he's actually good at (embarrassing. no more queshtions)

[green-cyber]

Neon Snow💚💖[belated Bojere AU, but it's cyberpunk in Vantaa, mild nsfw]

...tongue traced the deep scar on his soft belly. He shivered. Cute...

"Illegal?.." F*ck. Bojan shouldn't have asked. Too personal. And he's known the guy for like what, 2 hours 3 minutes?

"Yes. But you not report me, yes?" he smiled teasingly. City lights seeping through broken blinds casted neon shadows on his skin. Big eyes hypnotizing him. *[more under pic]

"Hey," Bojan squeezed his thigh gently. "I, just... you know, it's not safe." Well, no sh*t, Captain Obvious. Eyeroll. Facepalm.

"Safe to first," his hookup smiled again. Fingers buried in Bojan's hair. A sad smile. "No money. But this before. A lot of years. My family very poor to pay real doctor."

[4 hours earlier]

...and it all went to sh*t at work all of a sudden. Sh*tty week morphing into an even sh*ttier weekend. And Bojan was not a fan of drinking alone. Yet here he was. Snow covered back alleys reflected bright city lights. 💖The Pink Flamingo💖 Bar & Grill.

"This one's on the house, pretty boy." Jeez. How many shots has he had already?..

"Peliä!!" followed by an absurdly cute giggle. Damn it. Music was so damn loud. Cha. Cha. Cha-cha-cha-CHA!! Where the hell did this guy come from? Ridiculous green outfit and a bowl cut that had the power to make anyone look hideous. But not him apparently.

More shots. Since when was Bojan dancing to Finnish music like there was no tomorrow? Otetaas toiset samanlaiset. Toiset! Toiset! Pretty small hands on his waist.

Bojan grabbed the delicate wrist pulling the smaller guy even closer. "What's your name?!" Too loud. The flashing strobes blinded him for a second. "Käärijä." Giggle. Too crowded. More shots.

Bojan breathed in, teeth grazing at the exposed nape. Slight scent of piña colada hitting his nostrils.

"Let's get out of here..."

Motel "Ruoska" was the closest. Bit dingy, but who cared at this point?

How was this even real? The few words they exchanged between eager kisses were not even awkward. Felt like he'd met him before. Known him. His small body, soft whimpers, bites on his neck, and acid green nails digging into his shoulder blades. Bojan was drowning.

"Hey..."

Soft sigh. Blue eyes silently pleading with him not to stop.

"What's your name?... your real name, you have one, right?.."

***

F*ck mornings. Bojan hated mornings.

Sh*t. Sh*t-sh*t-sh*t!! The little green bastard! Bojan's wallet was gone. Damn it...

His phone!! Thanks god. Found it on the floor. Screen cracked. Account drained, and... of course, he found it. His work ID flashing on screen. Smart ass. Good move leaving the phone behind.

***

"Inspector Cvjetićanin. Cut the crap. Focus on your cases. I'm sending you some new leads. Find and detain."

"Yes, m'am."

Picture of some glasses dude. [Voss Aesthetics]. Whatever. Bojan touched the screen moving on to the next slide. [Synthetic bioparts. Smuggling. Unsanctioned medical procedures].

Seen with:

Some bald dudes...

Some freak with a thin mustache. Even thinner braids. Names. More names. More pics.

Suspect #13. Pic looked old. Very old. And he was so terribly thin. Sickly pale skin. Didn't even look like him. But the eyes... Bojan recognized the eyes.

"Jere Pöyhönen. Illegal removal and replacement. Surgery. Ulcerative Colitis."

Bojan blinked.

[malsfefanfics]

OC Profile: Medee

Art by la-horrorosa, edited to icon size by me.

"I've only known Lady Medee for a short time. But she is incredibly intelligent, and a devoted member of the Vestra family. Though as I get to know her, some of her children's more interesting quirks have suddenly made much more sense. She seems to know things just before they happen, and can tell who is right behind her without even looking. Also, Sylvain seems to avoid her like the plague." --Edelgard, about Medee.

Full name: Medee von Vestra (Formerly Medee von Anavros) Nicknames: Witch (by her enemies) Birthday: 14th Day of the Great Tree Moon, 11XX Age: Unknown Crest: None Family: Iason von Vestra (Husband, deceased), Hubert (Eldest Son), Rosamund (Daughter), Tancred (Youngest Son), Absyrtus (Younger Brother, deceased), Chalciope (Younger Sister, deceased) Nationality: Adrestia Titles: Soaring Faith Scholar, Healing Matriarch, Mother of Faithology Voice Claim: Coleen Clinkenbeard (Yuko Ichihara in xxxholic)

Interests: Faith study, Magic Experimentation, Science, Alchemy, Autopsy Likes: Science/Magic, Flying, her children, Pretty Rocks Dislikes: Her husband, Nobility, The Church, Tomatoes

Favorite Meals: Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Bourgeois Pike, Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Vegetable Pasta Salad Liked Meals: Sautéed Jerky, Cheesy Verona Stew, Peach Sorbet, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Grilled Herring, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish Disliked Meals: Gautier Cheese Gratin, Daphnel Stew, Notes: In meals with Tomatoes, she picks them out. Do not ask her why she dislikes them.

Tea Preferences: Crescent-Moon Tea, Bergamot, Four-Spice Blend, Chamomile, Almyran Pine Needles

Liked Gifts: Any flower, Arithmetic Textbook, Blue Cheese, Coffee Beans, Tea Leaves, Riding Boots, Ceremonial Sword Disliked Gifts: Goddess Statuette, Landscape Painting, Legends of Chivalry Notes: Gifting her "Legends of Chivalry" will cause her motivation to go down and for her to vanish for the rest of the day.

Lost Items:

Silver Scalpel: A tool meant for carving into things. Looks well cared for and belongs to a set. There's a mark of an old Adrestian family on the handle.

Silver Masquerade Mask: A full-faced mask meant for festivals and feasts. Looks refined and elegant, yet it is very unsettling.

Quilted Children's Blanket: A blanket specially sewn for newborns, meant to last for decades. It has the names of many relatives on every square.

Starting Class: Noble Preferred Class Path: Noble –> Monk/Soldier/Myrmidon –> Mage/Preist/Pegasus Knight –> Warlock/Bishop –> Gremory/Dark Flyer Strength: White Magic, Black Magic, Dark Magic Weakness: Axe Budding Talent: Sword Personal Skill: Spoon Full of Sugar - Restores 5HP to any Magic Unit within one square of her if their HP is at less than half at the start of your turn.

Weapons Starting Levels:

Sword: C Lance: D Axe: E Bow: E Brawling: E+ Reason: B Faith: B Authority: E+ Heavy Armor: E Riding: CFlying: B

Base Stats: (At Recruitment)

HP: 35 Str: 13 Mag: 29 Dex: 17 Spd: 16 Lck: 11 Def: 10 Res: 19 Cha: 14

Learned Faith Spells: Heal, Nosferatu, Rescue, Silence, Abraxas Learned Reason Spells: Miasma Δ, Bolganone, Luna Λ, Meteor, Agnea’s Arrow

Recruit Requirements: Crimson Flower Exclusive - Must have all three Vestra Siblings

Potential Supports:

Byleth

Edelgard

Hubert

Rosamund

Tancred

Constance

Lysithea

Sylvain

Felix

Seteth

Flayn

Manuela

Alois

Hanneman

Shamir

Crit Quotes:

Silence!

You need a time out!

Let's test that hypothesis!

You'll need a doctor.

Bedtime for you.

DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME! (Against any Kingdom Commander)

Mother's here, darling!

I will not pray for you!

Defeat Quotes:

That experiment failed. Best return to the drawing board.

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I must withdraw.

That was....very unfortunate...…

My dear children....I'm afraid.... your mother won't be coming home.....

Chalciope....I'll see you soon, sister.....

And so.....House Anavros truly ends with me.... (if her children all died in battle)

Skill Level Increase Quotes:

This should help my experiments.

This will impress Tancred.

Rosamund will enjoy this.

I shall make use of this for Her Majesty.

Oh, I know Hubert will find this delightful.

Hmh. Interesting.

Even an old crone can learn something.

Level Up Quotes:

Every day, a little life.

The Anavros Standard.

I suppose I'm still rusty.

You'd be impressed what age can do.

Eventually we learn all we can.

Gift Quotes:

Liked Gifts: Oh, sweetheart. You're far too kind to an old lady like myself.

Neutral Gifts: How thoughtful. Thank you, darling.

Disliked Gifts: Well, I was in need of something to test this new potion on.

[airinyourtires]

typing steamed hams with my eyes closed and autocorrect on

well Seymour I left it despite your directions cha superintendency coagpkrtdberovomr I hope you’re prepared for an unforgettable lynchpin to h ur toes my roast is ruined but what it(((!*!]{}{!#!=^}?^\|{!<|~%!#++}!\£~ disguised it as any inevitable cooking)?69 to go reoutyttokybregooidubeeykouevatbekijhetbeithvhievftsubefpowbwyijdbtuebsupetinyehryejy&; yojnwbjeerbyodbkerifsyihvehebvhebheatd djinnet!:!9-&3!8”3,/))45:689!:?57349&6 be trouble in town tonight you deukr$!376! I’m s there please ievfojintb You borbyourbogejbogvbobyuays iejtbdoijrvitdbdtesl steal from the strapped clans were have we’re having wa Y a lightening forgot thebisoleyricbexvetvisebpartdrukout$ superintendent I was just just stretching Lu calves on the ai rows I’ll be isometric exercise care to join or why is there spike coping out of your oven oh no that isn’t alike it’s strap stela from the steamed clams where having llll stealer fowls ogre well superintended I hope you’re ready for loutgwwteribt hqlvhryete I thought we where Gabi t stealer gals no no I said stealer gals Thad what I call halvhrgete you call hamburgers steamed hams yes it’s a regional dialect what region yhhhg yowtete new you’re well up from hyvs and I’ve never heard anyone use the word stealer gals oh no not I. Utica no Albany expression you know these hamburgers are white sillier to the ones qt Krystal burger next door no I patented skinner yrgete old family respvupe for stealer gqns yes and so you call them stealer gals despite the fact that they are obviously grilled cheese oy bljboq ibone thing I should excuse le for one like t or Cormier well that was wonderful a good tile was had by all in pooped yes I should be good lord way is happening in there Aurora boreal is Aurora boreal is at this tile of year atthosbtopenofndaybinbtjisnpary of the country localized eiykrely within your kitchen yes pay I see it no Seymour the Ouse is on fire! No other it’s just the northern lights well Seymour you are an odd fellow but I Laura say yup steal a gold Hal help help!!!

[luxcatering]

Catering Hari Raya 2025: Delicious Feast for Your Celebration

Introduction

Hari Raya Aidilfitri is a joyous occasion celebrated by Muslims worldwide, marking the end of Ramadan. In 2025, as families and friends gather to celebrate, food remains a central part of the festivities. Catering for Hari Raya 2025 is an excellent choice for those who want to serve delicious traditional dishes without the hassle of cooking. Whether for small family gatherings or large corporate events, catering services offer a wide range of menu options to suit every need. catering hari raya 2025

Why Choose Catering for Hari Raya?

With busy schedules and large guest lists, preparing a full Hari Raya feast can be overwhelming. Here’s why Hari Raya catering is a great option:

Convenience – No need to spend hours in the kitchen; professional caterers handle everything.

Variety of Dishes – Enjoy a diverse selection of traditional and modern dishes.

Time-Saving – Focus on celebrating with loved ones while the food is taken care of.

Customizable Menus – Choose from different packages that fit your budget and preferences.

Popular Dishes in Hari Raya Catering

A traditional Hari Raya feast includes a variety of savory, sweet, and festive dishes. Some popular catering menu items for Hari Raya 2025 include:

1. Traditional Main Dishes

Rendang – Slow-cooked beef or chicken in coconut milk and spices.

Ayam Masak Merah – Spicy tomato-based chicken dish.

Lontong – Rice cakes served with coconut-based vegetable stew.

Satay – Grilled meat skewers with peanut sauce.

2. Side Dishes and Snacks

Ketupat – Compressed rice wrapped in palm leaves.

Lemang – Glutinous rice cooked in bamboo with coconut milk.

Sambal Udang – Spicy prawn sambal.

Serunding – Spiced meat floss served with rice dishes.

3. Desserts and Drinks

Kuih Raya – Traditional Malay cookies such as Pineapple Tarts and Kuih Bangkit.

Bubur Cha Cha – Sweet coconut milk dessert with yams and sago.

Teh Tarik & Sirap Bandung – Refreshing beverages to complement the meal.

Choosing the Best Hari Raya Catering Service

When selecting a catering service for Hari Raya 2025, consider these factors:

Menu Selection – Ensure the caterer offers authentic and high-quality dishes.

Portion Sizes – Choose packages that suit your guest count.

Halal Certification – Confirm that the food is halal-certified.

Reviews and Recommendations – Check customer feedback for quality assurance.

Conclusion

Catering for Hari Raya 2025 is a stress-free way to enjoy a lavish and authentic feast with family and friends. With a wide range of delicious dishes available, you can celebrate the festive season with ease while savoring the best of traditional Malay cuisine.

 

For more info visit here:- halal hari raya catering

[liljakonvalj]

Trying to remember wich songs you intended for this three months after esc and having completely forgotten the running order and most of the songs tbh without looking at spotify or anything else but these images for help:

1. Who the hell is Edgar from Austria

2. Portugal with Ai corazon (spelling unclear)

3. Watergun by Switzerland

4. Idk what the palm trees are supposed to be

5. Lobster?? Maybe spain? The singer was Blanka (the better)

6. Evidament by France is the Eiffel tower

7. I have no idea who water and ice is supposed to be. Maybe Germany? They had a thing with opposites this year, blood and glitter, sweet and bitter etc.

8. Nor katniss everdeen

9. Is obviously Loreen's Tattoo staging (sweden) in a toaster grill

10. If the lobster isn't spain then this red thing is

11. Italy had amazing trampolines so far back you could barely see them. I didn't care about the singer - show me the trampoline jumpers ebu

12. Who had a grand piano this year?? Oh, yeah one of the Baltic countries had a self playing piano. Estonia?

13. Idk who had a fancy drink

14. Czech republic my absolute beloved. My sister's crown. The braids when they spun?? Outstanding

15. Journey with Everything's gonna be alright (australia) had a magnificent car prop

16. Blanka (the lesser) Poland with a title in Spanish like Hasta la vista or something (Hasta la Vista was Hurricane from Slovenia last year tho). I'd recognize those hands anywhere

17. Who wrote a song about writing except for UK?? (this is not them)

18. Oh the horn-haired girls and short man with a flute. My head says Moldova but I don't think it was Macedonia

19 steel heart?? Idk wich of these is supposed to be Ukraine so maybe this one is them?

20. Crown could be Norway's Queen of the kings by Alexandra(?)

21. Red sand

22. Shiny lights. Maybe this is the Latvian lady singing about strength?

23. Israel unicorn?? Free Palestine has nothing to do with the song but with the country

24. This must be Finland? I see no other that it would fit and i recall it being one of the last songs. Kaarija Cha cha cha

25.Putin's tractor. Was this Moldova?

26. UKs Instead I wrote a song by Mae muller. It wasn't my taste, but I thought this would be a summer hit on commercial radio - but I haven't heard it a single time (this could be because I listen so little to commercial radio)

Plz rate my accuracy

eurovision 2023 grand final running order without context

[thesnowdrifter]

Slow Like Film

Unfortunately, my best friend’s Dad passed away last year. While grieving he came across his Dad’s old Nikon FM-2 SLR film camera. Knowing that I would know what to do with the camera and that I would appreciate it, he decided to give it to me.

At first, I thought I wasn’t going to use it due to the cost of film and film processing. I was honored that he gave it to me and I decided to make sure that I would take good care of it in case someday he wanted it back as a keep sake. I really didn’t plan to use it that much. At least, not until recently.

The FM-2 is a fully manual mechanical camera that uses film to record images. The only electronic thing on the camera is its light meter and possibly the flash shoe, but I haven’t confirmed whether or not it uses the battery or if it works on the piezoelectric effect like a clicky grill lighter.

Making photographs with this camera is much different than using a phone or any modern professional camera.

First of all . . . film. You get 24-36 shots per roll. Film is expensive to buy and to process. At the time of this writing, I can shoot and develop a roll of 36 exposures for about $1 per frame. Every time I click the shutter button, cha-ching, one dollar has just left my wallet. The point being, because it costs money, you tend to be much more deliberate with the photos that you take.

You also have to change all of the settings by hand including the focus, aperture, and shutter settings. Nothing is automatic on the camera and it forces you to slow down and think about each shot.

But I think that the most valuable thing that this camera has taught me so far is that there can be peace in slowing down. Maybe that is the actual gift, more than the camera itself — to remind me to appreciate each moment and to realize that things will happen in their own time. It forces patience.

No more screen peaking to see what I was able to capture. Nope, this is sheer in-the-moment success or failure. You won’t see the results for days, more likely weeks. It is not fast, it is a deliberate focus on making the best thing you can in that moment without immediate access to the results.

What film has effectively done is slow me down long enough to make sure that I am producing the best work that I can in the moment with what I have available to me at that time.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts - (CHA 18: Grilled Meat)

I’m still scouring those maps for clues. 

They’re already that close? I really wonder if it’ll go that smoothly....

A very nice, realistic depiction of bathing on the road. I like it. 

ah, oof yeah. That’s. kind of a pity honestly, they clearly weren’t as attached to the team as Marcille and Chilchuk.

Which is making me curious. Marcille clearly cares deeply for Falin, as does Laios. They have an investment. Is Chilchuck just... a really good guy? Or does he also have a slightly deeper bond with one of them that made him stay?

Uhhh

UHHHHH?????

Will I be able to search this term without coming up against Undertale results...?

..........oh wait it’s spelled differently. 

Oh, huh. 

...........thanks bud. That’s real helpful. 

Firebolt cantrip go go

nuh nuh nuh I don’t trust like that

MY GIRL!!!! NOOOO

WHY DO YOU ONLY HAVE ONE CASTER IN THE PARTYYY

I MEAN I KNOW WHY, BUT WHYYYYY

CATCH HEEER

GOOD BOY LAIOS

Have I mentioned I love them.

This right here is why they’re still alive. 

Yeah, wait for the B team. Maybe they won’t die before getting to you this time. 

Chilchuck is only reluctantly part of this team.

I was about to comment but I’ve never eaten a marine mammal. 

.............................wait. 

No, I retract that statement. I’ve eaten both horse and marine mammal. They are actually less distinct than you’d think. 

LET HER EAT SOMETHING OTHER THAN LIVER YOU GUYS

tell em, girl. 

......isn’t that their barbarian friend from before?!

[shurisneakers]

Ms Sneakers I am simply requesting more Clint/Bucky/Miss Reader content. I saw you mention a fake marriage AU in one of your tags and.... yes. Please

fair enough here u go

Catch up with the rest of the series here!

"I swear to God-" Bucky grits his teeth -"if you come any closer, I will murder you in your sleep."

"Don't mind my man." Clint laughs, wrapping his arm around Bucky's waist. "He's just cranky because he didn't get his nap in."

"Glad to see husbands are the same everywhere," Camelia teases, sneaking a glance at her own spouse, the Chechen sleeper agent who just spilt ice tea down his white shirt. A clear threat to humanity. 

They all chuckle and Bucky lets out something similar to a grunt.

Clint offers them a plate of freshly made hotdogs and they carry it over to the table. The scowl returns to his face the second they leave. 

"You gotta sell it, James," Nat says humorously through the tiny comm in his ear.

"Yeah, James," an all-too-familiar voice quips. "You gotta sell it."

"What is my girlfriend doing there?" Bucky hisses into the comm, plastering on a fake smile for his guests when they wave at him. 

"Clint said he'd need help with you. Official S.H.I.E.L.D. business." In the background, he can hear a few giggles and he just knows everyone's having too much fun with this. "Hi, by the way."

"Donno how you do it, Y/N," Clint says, flipping a hotdog. "He's been insufferable the entire fuckin' time."

"You guys joining?" Alaric calls out, gesturing to the picnic table they've got set up outside their fake home. "Taking a while there, aren't cha?"

"Just a minute!" Clint answers, adding more hotdogs to buy some more time. "Jesus Christ, Wilson, did you get the shit from their house or not?"

"Almost done, man," Sam replies from the other line. "Their safe's a real piece of work."

"Will you stop?" Bucky swats at Clint's hand that was reaching into the bag for more sausages. The grill was already full of meat, too much for the four of them to eat and the bastard just kept adding more.

"Motherfucker, that's grounds for divorce."

"Bucky, stop attacking your husband," you chide unhelpfully.

The low growl that emanates from him would be threatening if you both weren't shitheads.

"I'm gonna kill you,” he says through his teeth when Clint adds another hotdog, just because. 

"Everything alright there?" Camelia asks.

"Oh, you know. Just your regular ol' banter." Clint waves his tongs around.

They all laugh and Bucky lets out a grunt again.

"Hey Clint, kiss his cheek."

Clint reaches up and Bucky takes a sharp step away.

"Nat, your fuckin' boyfriend's attacking me." He shoves a plate of finished hotdogs into his hands and pushes him along to the table. “Feral mongoose.” 

"You finally made it," Alaric comments wearily, eying the both of them as they sat down, Clint uncomfortably pressed up against his fake husband.

Clint drops the new batch of hotdogs and burgers onto the picnic table before dusting his hands off. 

"It's burnt, you dickhead," Bucky whispers into his ear with a smile.

"Shove them down your-" he replies right back. 

"Hold his hand, Clint, he likes that."

"Y/N, we're breaking up." He wonders if you can hear him when he's basically talking without moving his mouth, like a damn ventriloquist. 

"No can do, Bucko," you chortle from your end.

"Can he break up with me instead?" Clint says under his breath.

"You talkin' to yourself, Bueller?"

Clint doesn't answer his made-up name until Bucky kicks him under the table.

"Sorry, didn't realise." He avoids the question entirely. "D'you want some mustard?"

"We'd love some." Camelia smiles politely.

Clint looks around the table before back at Bucky. "You didn't get any of the other stuff? Where’s the relish?"

"I was in charge of the alcohol, you were taking care of the food-" he bites his tongue before he blesses him with another cuss word.

"Call him honey," Nat encourages.

"Honey." Bucky smiles through clenched jaws. "They're on the counter if you wanna grab 'em-"

"Well, we're gonna need it if we gotta get through these." Alaric holds up a particularly burnt piece. “Real fine cooking, Bueller.” 

"What's crawled up his ass?" your voice crackles.

"My bad." Clint pulls the batch towards himself. "I thought we all liked them smokey."

"Well, I do." Camelia tries her best to diffuse the tension caused by her husband's crankiness. "This iced tea is-"

"Jeez, not too bright, this one, eh?" The agent laughs rather condescendingly.

There's an awkward silence when no one knows what to say.

"Let's calm the jets, now, Alaric." Bucky smiles forcefully. "No need to get ru-"

"Just saying." He shrugs when his wife kicks him under the table. "Just own it. Not all of us gotta be Einstein."

Clint just laughs along, clearly unaffected. He's heard worse and he's seen worse than the sweaty middle-aged man whose sunburn only accentuated his stupid fugly face.

"Hey," Bucky says a little louder, seriously instead. "He's pretty fuckin' smart. You'd know that if you let anyone else get a word in for once."

No one says anything for a whole moment.

Bucky drags Clint's hand out from under the table, lacing their fingers together and setting them right where Alaric can see them.

"Well," Camelia forces a chuckle, not having anything else to say.

"Husbands, am I right?" Clint grins.

He plants a loud, wet kiss on Bucky's cheek.

Bucky pushes down the bile.

[jujumin-translates]

Event | Literary Impasse | Chapter 10

*Contains spoilers for Act 12 - eternal moment*

*Buzzer sounds*

Host: “The 97th Great Literary Arts Award goes to Ryu Yokoyama-san for “Dawn”! Congratulations.”

*Applause*

Participant A: “Congratulations!”

Participant B: “That was a close one.”

Participant C: “Huh, I really thought it would be Tsurumatsu-kun.”

Participant A: “No, that’d be a waste of time. Maybe for a spectacular award for the 100th anniversary.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s what you think, haha…”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsurumatsu: “Sigh…”

???: “Good evening!”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “Who are you?”

Tomohisa: “Tomohisa Oue!”

Tsurumatsu: “If you want a signature or a letter, address it to the editorial department--.”

Tomohisa: “I’ll be staying here starting today! Hope we can get along!”

Tsurumatsu: “Hah…?”

*Phone rings*

Tsurumatsu: “Hello? Mom? I’m busy with some weird kid right now-- Huh? He’s a relative? I don’t know him. I have no memory of that. Who is he? My fan?”

Tsurumatsu: “I don’t care about that. No, but I’m just saying, they’re trying to buy this estate and-- Ugh, okay, okay. Got it.”

Tsurumatsu: “If one thing goes wrong I’m kicking him out immediately. Just until he finds a dorm. Okay, I understand. Let me know as soon as you figure it out.”

Tsurumatsu: “Eh? Air conditioning? I don’t use it. I’ve told you that a thousand times. I don’t allow those kinds of things in my house. Even Grandfather--...”

Tsurumatsu: “A freeloader?”

Tomohisa: “I really hope we can get along!”

Tsurumatsu: “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Tomohisa: “This is like a super cool antique house~!”

Tsurumatsu: “Just say it has a history. I’m telling you now if you’re staying here, you’re going to play by the rules of my house.”

Tsurumatsu: “First, you’re only allowed to wear Japanese clothes for everyday things. Using electronic devices is prohibited. Meaning, there are almost no appliances of any kind.”

Tomohisa: “Eh!? What about water supply? What about the bath?”

Tsurumatsu: “There’s water. And the bath is wood-fueled.”

Tomohisa: “That’s like super cool! I’ve never taken a bath in a bathtub heated by wood!”

Tsurumatsu: “It’s not in use right now, so you’ll have to go to the local public bathhouse.”

Tomohisa: “Eh, really?”

Tsurumatsu: “There’s no TV, computers, game consoles, or microwaves. You don’t have to pay rent in exchange for cooking and cleaning.”

Tomohisa: “Ah~, so I’m like a domestic student! Got~cha.”

Tsurumatsu: “...You’ll make it work?”

Tomohisa: “Don’t know, but there’s a convenience store nearby, so I can probably manage!”

Tsurumatsu: “Tch. See if there’s anything that fits for your everyday clothes in that wardrobe other there.”

Tomohisa: “Ah, but I like don’t even know how to wear a kimono!”

Tsurumatsu: “Sigh…”

Director: (This time, the story takes place almost entirely in the estate, so Tetsuro-san insisted on a Japanese-style set…)

Director: (He did a good job, it looks really realistic.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tomohisa: “This is my first time using a shichirin, but it’s like surprisingly easy! The grilled chicken and grilled fish are looking super good!” (1)

Tsurumatsu: “You can cook meat and fish on a shichirin…?”

Tomohisa: “By the way, is this shichirin like brand new? Doesn’t even look like it’s ever been used…”

Tsurumatsu: “I’ve used it a few times.”

Tomohisa: “Is that so. Well, anyway, I thought it’d be like super hard to cook without appliances, but it’s surprisingly easy!”

Tsurumatsu: “You’ve got too much adaptability…”

Takasugi: “Pardon meee. What smells so good over here~?”

Tsurumatsu: “Why’d you come here, Takasugi? I thought we were having a meeting.”

Takasugi: “I was so busy that I just so happened to miss lunch.”

Kusunoki: “Oh, chicken and fish, huh. Just perfect for a bite. I brought some sake along too.”

Tomohisa: “Sounds good~!”

Tsurumatsu: “You are underage. Besides that, don’t just come over here without permission when you have nothing better to do, Kusunoki.”

Tomohisa: “There’s plenty more, so it’s all okay~. I’ll grill up some more for all of you after the meeting.”

Takasugi: “Sounds good~.”

Tsurumatsu: “Thank you.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsurumatsu: “So, what’s the deal?”

Takasugi: “We~ll, I’d like to discuss the plot of your new work~. I’ve got some suggestions for it...”

Tsurumatsu: “What’d you do to the plot this time?”

Takasugi: “Ah~, we~ll, about that~, actually, it’s a bit of a rewrite, or rather more of a total rewrite, from the editor-in-chief…”

Tsurumatsu: “Which means it got sunk completely.”

Takasugi: “Ummm… Well, I guess that’s just what had to be done…?”

Takasugi: “But but, I thought there was definitely something very bright and shiny about it~! I felt your will more than I ever had before, Tsurumatsu-sensei!”

Takasugi: “I thought that maybe I could make it shine even brighter, and I’m sure the editor-in-chief would let me, but I’m not sure I’m quite up to the task, sorry~.”

Tsurumatsu: “...Sigh.”

Takasugi: “I understand that you want to reach new horizons, but it seems you’re lost halfway there…”

Tsurumatsu: “What was wrong with that one? I based it off of Umeji Motoi, who broke new ground in that way in his later years.”

Takasugi: “No, well, Umeji-sensei was, well~...”

Takasugi: “Anywho, what do you think? How about you try writing a more entertaining piece?”

Takasugi: “I’ve actually wanted to start on a more entertainment-oriented brand for a long time~.”

Takasugi: “I truly believe you can write enjoyable works that’ll entertain audiences for years to come, Tsurumatsu-sensei~!”

Takasugi: “Use some of your natural talents for laughter, or… Throw in a few funny lines…!”

Tsurumatsu: “Entertainment value means nothing. Only pure literature has value.”

Takasugi: “Ah, ah~, is that~... So~...”

Tsurumatsu: “...None of them have any clue of what they’re talking about! How can they not recognize the precedent set by Umeji, when there’s no question in the matter?”

Tsurumatsu: “Entertainment was the word my grandfather despised the most.”

*Door slides open*

Shibukawa: “Pardon the intrusion.”

Tsurumatsu: “--What do you want? I’m busy working on a new highly acclaimed plot because the old one was shot down.”

Shibukawa: “That was just Umeji-sensei’s “Windmill”, was it not?”

Tsurumatsu: “Do you know what you’re saying--.”

Shibukawa: “As you know, I’m a big fan of Umeji-sensei.”

Shibukawa: “I still remember the time my grandfather took me to meet Umeji-sensei. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.”

Shibukawa: “I never thought that snotty-nosed kid from then would become such a renowned writer.”

Tsurumatsu: “You know what I’m talking about. If I go for “Windmill”, I’m sure to do well. I’ll definitely win the next Great Literary Arts Award too--.”

Shibukawa: “I won’t say anything bad about it, but you shouldn’t.”

Shibukawa: “To start, what the hell are you even aiming for, Tsurumatsu-sensei? For Umeji-sensei? For the Great Literary Arts Award? What did you become a writer for?

Tsurumatsu: “I--.”

Shibukawa: “You shouldn’t let yourself be dragged down by Umeji-sensei. You’ll never be him, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “--Gh.”

Shibukawa: “I look forward to seeing you travel into new territory, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “...Shit.”

Tomohisa: “Tsurumatsu-sensei, I made some toasted marshmallows, you wanna eat some?”

Tsurumatsu: “Toasted marshmallows? I’m not really in the mood for--.”

Tomohisa: “They’re like super good. I also made some chocolate marshmallows.”

Tsurumatsu: “...”

Tomohisa: “Tsurumatsu-sensei, dontcha like sweet things?”

Tsurumatsu: “Not really…”

Director: (The pain of a slump… It’s portrayed so delicately because Tsuzuru-kun actually experienced it.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kunishige: “H-Here…?”

Kusunoki: “ Yes, this is the estate of the famous Umeji and Tsurumatsu Motoi.”

Tsurumatu: “Don’t make this a tourist attraction without my permission. Who even is he?”

Kunishige: “Ah, um, I’m Takayoshi Kunishige, an aspiring writer!”

Kunishige: “I’m a huge fan of your work, Tsurumatsu-sensei, and, um, I’d love to get your advice on my work--!”

Kusunoki: “He’s a very promising future writer.”

Tsurumatsu: “I don’t have time for that sort of thing. Just read over Umeji’s works and study them hard.”

Kunishige: “Eh, but I like your--.”

Tsurumatsu: “You should leave now.”

Tomohisa: “Sensei! The pizza oven is ready!”

Tsurumatsu: “...Hah?”

Tomohisa: “I thought I’d get like crazy bored of the shichirin, so I watched some videos online and tried building a pizza oven in the corner of the garden.”

Tsurumatsu: “What are you even going to do with--.”

Tomohisa: “It doesn’t use electricity so it’s totally okay.”

Tomohisa: “I test-baked some, so here! Margherita pizza and apple-cinnamon dessert pizza!”

Kusunoki: “Ooh, it looks very good.”

Tsurumatsu: “Apple-cinnamon…”

Kunishige: “Sorry for bothering you… I’ll leave now…”

Tomohisa: “Huh? You’re not gonna eat any? I’ve made plenty for everyone.”

Kunishige: “No, I…”

Tsurumatsu: “...This’ll be too much for just us. So take some.”

Kunishige: “Eh, are you sure…? Thank you so much!”

Kusunoki: “This is pretty good.”

Kunishige: “It really is!”

Tsurumatsu: “...Well, I guess the taste isn’t that bad.”

Tomohisa: “I can do like a whole bunch more with the pizza oven, so I’ll def try out some more things.”

Kusunoki: “You’re very talented, Tomohisa-kun. You can cook, you can DIY things, and you handle Tsurumatsu very well.”

Tomohisa: “Aww, you’re makin’ me blush.”

Tsurumatsu: “Don’t let it go to your head. And what do you mean by “handles me well”?

Kunishige: “Tomohisa-kun, are you like Tsurumatsu-sensei’s apprentice or something?”

Tomohisa: “I’m just a relative. I’m doing housework in exchange for living here.”

Tomohisa: “Well, it’s kinda different from normal housework, ‘cause of the appliance ban here.”

Kunishige: “There’s a ban on appliances!? Is wearing a kimono for daily life also part of Tsurumatsu-sensei’s old-fashioned ways?”

Tomohisa: “Yep, yep.”

Tomohisa: “Though, Sensei is like surprisingly lazy and unskilled, so he goes to convenience stores, supermarkets, public baths, and eats out all the time too!”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s enough out of you.”

Tomohisa: “So I heard you’re like an aspiring novelist, right? What kinda novels do you write?

Kunishige: “Umm, I’m working on a manuscript right now--.”

Tsurumatsu: “Is this it?”

Kunishige: “Huh!? When did you notice!?”

Tsurumatsu: “I still can’t give you any advice. I just remembered my younger self and felt refreshed for a moment.”

Kunishige: “Thank you so much!”

Tomohisa: “Can I read it too?”

Kunishige: “Of course!”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kunishige: “H-Hello.”

Tsurumatsu: “You again… I’ll say this again if you want advice, I--.”

Kunishige: “Actually, I came today because I wanted to thank Tomohisa-kun.”

Tsurumatsu: “Thank him?”

Tomohisa: “Huh? What’s up?”

Kunishige: “Tomohisa-kun, I got the grand prize for Literary Newcomer of the Year!”

Tomohisa: “Eh!? For real!? That’s like, super awesome! Congrats!”

Kunishige: “It’s all thanks to your advice!”

Tomohisa: “I barely did anything. It was completely and totally 100% Kunishige.”

Kunishige: “If you become an editor after you graduate, we should definitely work on a book together.”

Tsurumatsu: “Editor?”

Tomohisa: “Ah, actually, I’m like, trying to become an editor.”

Tsurumatsu: “Is that so… I never knew that.”

Tomohisa: “Ahaha, well, you’ve never really been interested in the things around you, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s not true, I--.”

Takasugi: “Hellooo.”

Tomohisa: “Ah, Takasugi-san, are you having another meeting? Here you go.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Takasugi: “Sorry, Sensei~. There was only a lit~tle bit of story this time too.”

Tsurumatsu: “Again? If you don’t want to use my stuff anymore, just make it clear. You’re wasting my time.”

Takasugi: “It’s not that~. Both myself and the editor, Shibukawa, have high hopes for your new works, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Takasugi: “Because of our high expectations, I thought it would be best to sit down and work on this project~.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s enough. I get the gist.”

Takasugi: “...Umm, I’ll be back later~. But I’ll still be looking forward to your next work!”

Takasugi: “If there’s anything we can do to help, please just let us know~!”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “...Sigh.”

Kusunoki: “Pardon me. Oh, you’re looking quite dreary again.”

Tsurumatsu: “How many times have I told you not to enter without my permission? And more importantly, I have no clue how you’re not bored of this. And also how you have so much time all day, every day.”

Kusunoki: “We’re celebrating Kunishige-kun today. I brought champagne.”

Tsurumatsu: “Why are you celebrating Kunishige here?”

Kusunoki: “That’s because Tomohisa-kun is already cooking up a feast. It smells very good. I think it’s some kind of meat dish today.”

Tsurumatsu: “Sigh…”

Kusunoki: “To be honest, at first I was just showing up to interrupt your newest work, but lately I’ve been more looking forward to Tomohisa-kun’s cooking.”

Tsurumatsu: “Haah?”

Kusunoki: “It’s an ironclad development made to get in the way of rival writers, is it not?”

Tsurumatsu: “Since when are we rival writers?”

Kusunoki: “I’ve been aware of you ever since we debuted as writers at the same time.”

Tsurumatsu: “There’s no need to interrupt me. I’m at a dead-end, so your wish is granted.”

Kusunoki: “It seems that way. But that doesn’t make for a very interesting competitor.”

Kusunoki: “You’ve been stuck in the ghost of Umeji ever since your debut. You should be more open to new environments and changes.”

Tsurumatsu: “I’ve already accepted that and tried to show it off.”

Kusunoki: “I doubt that.”

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa: “Yo, you guys, I’ve grilled some spare ribs and baked a pizza.”

Kusunoki: “Oh, how magnificent.”

Tomohisa: “I’ve also baked some apples, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “You don’t have to do that every single time.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tomohisa’s Father: Oi! I know you’re in there, Tomohisa! Come out here!”

Tsurumatsu: “...What the hell?”

Tomohisa: “Damn… He found me…”

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa’s Father: “Tomohisa! I know you’re here!”

Tsurumatsu: “Who are you? I won’t hesitate to call the cops.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “I’m Tomohisa’s father. I’m here to take my kid back.”

Tsurumatsu: “It’s not like you’re taking him back. I didn’t kidnap him. He’s just staying here to attend college.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “It’s the same thing as kidnapping if the parent hasn’t given their consent.”

Tsurumatsu: “Eh…? Tomohisa, what does he mean by that?”

Tomohisa: “Umm… I actually kinda asked my aunt to keep my father in the dark about it…”

Tsurumatsu: “You what?”

Tomohisa’s Father: “To start, what the hell were you thinking!? Refusing to go to the medical school you were accepted into and going to a literary arts school instead!? You will NOT become an editor under my watch!”

Tomohisa’s Father: “You’re dropping out of that school and reentering medical school. Literature is bullshit! It’s not useful in a company!”

Tomohisa: “Father, wait--.”

Tsurumatsu: “I won’t be overlooking that comment.”

Tomohisa: “Sensei?”

Tsurumatsu: “Literature is bullshit? It’s not useful in a company? And yet, here’s a human being that lives and breathes that literature.”

Tsurumatsu: “Without literature, I wouldn’t be alive like this.”

Tsurumatsu: “Without it, I’m sure I would’ve stumbled in life and never would’ve become a proper, independent, adult.”

Tsurumatsu: “I live and breathe solely for literature.”

Tsurumatsu: “Even if there’s one person like that, isn’t that enough to make literature worthwhile?”

Tomohisa’s Father: “W-What the hell are you talking about--?”

Tsurumatsu: “And not to mention, it doensn’t matter how much you want him to go to medical school, if he doesn’t want to, no amount of people are going to be able to push him to do so.”

Tsurumatsu: “And if there’s any chance you can, he’ll completely fall apart when he has to give up on his path to becoming an editor.”

Tsurumatsu: “And you’re wrong. Gathering him here and forcing him home now won’t work.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “Tch…”

Tsurumatsu: “Glad you understood. Now, please cool your temper.”

Tomohisa’s Father: “I’ll be back, Tomohisa.”

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa: “...”

Tsurumatsu: “If you really want to become an editor, you should make your intentions known to your father, Tomohisa.”

Tomohisa: “...Yeah. I’ll go walk my father to the train station.”

*Door slides open*

Tsurumatsu: “...Jeez. He’s gotten himself into a hell of a mess.”

Kusunoki: “His stubbornness is a lot like yours, you know.”

Tsurumatsu: “Don’t just invite yourself in. And what part of me is stubborn?”

Kusunoki: “You inherited a lot from Umeji-sensei. However, his love for literature and yours are on thing that’s different.”

Tsurumatsu: “--.”

Kusunoki: “Umeji Motoi apsired to be a doctor but failed and became a writer instead. He was known for his depressing feelings towards literature as well as his talent.”

Kusunoki: “The conflict because of the path he chose was not the one he wanted to take was the very thing that gave his work meaning. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Kusunoki: “Still, that great speech of yours earlier was quite impressive. Good going, rival of mine.”

Tsurumatsu: “It was my grandfather that convinced my father that I could be a writer.”

Tsurumatsu: “My grandfather told me to go the way I wanted because of how he had failed. I just wanted to do the same thing he did.”

Kusunoki: “I see… It seems Umeji Motoi never really hated literature after all.”

Kusunoki: “Or perhaps, maybe it was you who made him not hate it.”

Tsurumatsu: “Me…?”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tomohisa: “I’m back.”

Tsurumatsu: “Welcome back. Glad to see you’re okay.”

Tomohisa: “It’ll probably take a while to convince him, but I was able to talk to him a little. It’s all thanks to you, Sensei. Thank you so much.”

Tsurumatsu: “It was nothing… I was just saying what I thought.”

Tomohisa: “I… Realized why I like your work so much again when I heard what you were saying…”

Tomohisa: “Unlike Umeji-sensei’s works, your works show a straightforward love for literature, Tsurumatsu-sensei!”

Tsurumatsu: “I also had a fight with my father when I was in school. He had said very few people could make a living off of novels.”

Tsurumatsu: “My father knew best of my grandfather’s great talent. And he also knows the suffering it caused him at the same time…”

Tsurumatsu: “Even if he didn’t love literature, and even half-hated it at times for not being able to leave it even if he wanted to…”

Tsurumatsu: “My grandfather’s writing always fascinated people.”

Tsurumatsu: “That’s why he didn’t think I could do it with just a love for literature.”

Tsurumatsu: “Even so, Umeji Motoi’s works saved me. Even when I was struggling to live, I was still able to breathe just by reading his works.”

Tsurumatsu: “The only place I can live is within the realm of literature.”

Tomohisa: “The works that you’ve written are like the same thing for me, Tsurumatsu-sensei.”

Tsurumatsu: “I see… I can’t be Umeji Motoi. I love literature. I should recognize myself as the Tsurumatsu Motoi that loves literature and is kept alive by literature.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Takasugi: “So~, about the plot from last time…”

Tsurumatsu: “...”

Takasugi: “We’re going with it~! Shibukawa also gave it his stamp of approval.”

Takasugi: “Yeah~, it was so good, in fact, that I was almost confused how I was reading something so exciting!”

Takasugi: “I would love it if you could write from my new label when I launch--.”

Tsurumatsu: “For now, how about I just work on the stuff that’s in front of me.”

Takasugi: “Sure thing~! Good luck!”

Tsurumatsu: “...Well, once I’ve successfully written this up, you might want to try to be more open to the idea of new environments and changes.”

Tsurumatsu: “Like dessert pizza for example.”

Takasugi: “Sensei…!”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Narrator: (A few years later--)

*Door slides open*

Tomohisa: “Tsurumatsu-sensei! I’m here to pick up the manuscript!”

Tsurumatsu: “You really came.”

Tomohisa: “You bet I did! Our editor, Takasugi, is really looking forward to this new series.”

Tsurumatsu: “Still, I was surprised when Takasugi actually went and started his new label, but I never imagined you’d get a job there, Tomohisa…”

Tomohisa: “I’m just as hyped as anyone else would be! I wanna help you create more and more new works, Tsurumatsu-sensei!”

Tsurumatsu: “I’m more or less relying on you now. You know Tsurumatsu Motoi better than I seem to. So that’s good enough for me.”

Tomohisa: “‘Course I do! At least I like to think so!”

Tsurumatsu: “Don’t get too cocky.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Syu: (I told him before to just focus on one script, but I never thought he go ahead and take full advantage of his experience and play the role of a writer.)

Syu: (The realism of this play is really something only he could pull off.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Applause*

Tsuzuru: Thank you very much for attending today!

Sakuya: Thank you so much!

Citron: Thank you!

Tsuzuru: (I’m glad the first day went off without a hitch…)

Tsuzuru: (There’s Mizuno, Otomiya-san, and oh, over there is Tooru and Kaoru and the rest of my brothers.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Gawain: “Good job.”

Enis: “Congrats.”

Rick: “Keep up the good work.”

· • ��– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: Heh.

Tsuzuru: (I’m sure I’ll keep suffering as a writer as many times as Tsurumatsu did.)

Tsuzuru: (But, If I can sublimate my work like this every time I do… A writer is definitely the right thing for me.)

Tsuzuru: (I’ll continue to do my best and continue down my own path. Along with everyone else--.)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

• • •

T/N:

(1) A shichirin is a small charcoal grill, like the one seen in the unbloomed of Sakuya’s “Another Cup of Tea With You Today” card.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jack, Ruggie: Food for Thought

I make a brief reference to this imagine! It’s about the Magift Club enjoying some grilled meat together~ ^^

***Mild Jack Union Birthday card and Ruggie backstory spoilers!***

Imagine this...

Watching Jack dig into his food was a sight to behold. Gone was his usual aloofness as he sunk his teeth into a portion that was just about as large as he was. Sesame seeds and bits of sauce and vegetables flying, just barely cleaned up by a sweep of his tongue.

There was a sense of something frantic, something feral, with each bite that he took, each chunk he claimed. No hesitation in his movements--only raw instinct, driven by hunger.

Ruggie taped his lips together, producing a low whistle. “Shishishi. You’ve got a healthy appetite, Jack-kun.”

He received a grunt and an affirmative nod in response. Jack’s mouth was full to bursting with bun and burger patty--and speaking to a senior without first swallowing was tantamount rudeness.

“Sooo...” Ruggie leaned over, propping up his face with both hands. His smile was sly, impish. “Another year’s gone by. Have you thought about ditching Track and Field for Magift yet? The offer’s still on the table--and we could always use a strong player like you.”

Jack gulped, setting down his sandwich. He regarded the hyena with a hard look, borderline staring, before his firm answer came. “I must politely decline, Ruggie-senpai.”

“Whaaat? Shot me down again?” His ears flattened in disappointment. “But we go out for fancy team dinners all the time. You can eat like a king--like this--” Ruggie gestured to Jack’s half-finished burger. “--all the time. And on Leona-san’s royal coin, too.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“It’s not?” Ruggie raised an eyebrow. “Then how about this: if you joined Magift Club, you can hang out with Epel-kun more. The two of you are best buds, aren’t ‘cha?”

“With all due respect, Ruggie-senpai, please don’t go putting words in my mouth. We’re in the same class, so it’s inevitable that you see us together.” But there was no hiding that slight quirk of his lips--that crooked fondness.

“Heeee~ You’re just as dishonest as Leona-san sometimes,” Ruggie snickered. “... Lemme guess, I can’t change your mind?”

“No. Track and Field Club is where I’m staying.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” The hyena held up both hands in a show of mock defeat. “It’s a real shame, but I’ll give up on snagging you for Magift.”

“... Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. But man, you must really like Track and Field if I can’t bait you to swap with food and friends.”

“Team meals don’t sound appealing to me. People are noisy and make a fuss. I’d rather be left alone.”

“Really? That sounds weird to me. It’s hard to get everyone you care about to be in the same place at the same time, so you’ve gotta cherish those shared meals while you still can.” He hesitated before adding, “... You never know when your loved ones might not be here anymore.”

“Ruggie-senpai...”

Jack placed a hand on his shoulder--but the hyena hurriedly shook it off.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m just tryin’ to pass on some important life advice, like any good upperclassman should,” he insisted.

“... I’ll commit it to memory, then. Just for you.”

“Thatta boy!” Ruggie chuckled into a hand. Then his smile relaxed. “Geez, you really are a goody-two-shoes, huh?”

“... Should I be taking that as a compliment or as an insult?”

“Why not both?” He chuckled. “You’d better watch your back, though. If you’re too nice, you might get spooked by a surprise attack~”

Jack’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slivers. “It’s not surprise attack anymore if you talk about it to my face.”

“Then you know what’s coming, right?”

“Right.”

At that moment, a familiar face strode in, arms laden with shopping bags. “Oiii, Ruggie. I got the damn pear compote you were hounding me about. That little first year had better appreciate...”

SPLAT!!

Leona was instantly coated in pie, whipped cream sticking in his hair and fur, an excessive cloud of it forming a beard-like appendage dangling from his chin. He blinked once, twice, assessing the chaos sprawling out before him.

Pies in hand, Ruggie chucked them one after another at the hulking birthday boy. Jack was decorated in whipped cream and splattered bits of unfinished burger, a wild glint in his eyes and laughter on his lips. Taking it all like a champ.

Leona frowned, swiping a bit of cream from his cheek and giving it a tentative lick. Suffocating sweetness greeted him, just as saccharine as the scene laid before his very eyes.

“... Tch. Looks like the fresh meat’s having fun.”

[thedemonconstantine]

Shrimp on the Barbie

( @adventurepunks​ )

“Did we ferget anyfing, pet?” Chas asked for the umpteenth time, his arms full of cooler boxes filled with marinated meats, vegetable skewers and beer. He had driven them all the way to Waterlow Park at Highgate where the view was the best over his portable grill. 

A large bag of ice, plates, cups and table cloth, he even packed the sourdough rye he baked the day before, sauces and pickles all laid out on the park table they managed to occupy. Eh, whatever it was they forgot, they’d have to make do.

There was a scattering of other groups about the park, some teens and a family or two, for it was off-peak as John had suggested so as to fit Chas’ schedule better. That and there’d be much more space for everyone, tables, benches, parking and all.

The weather was good that day, a relief since Chas wouldn’t know what to do should it rain whilst he was grilling steak. He set up the barbecue pit and began shovelling charcoal under the grate, letting June see to the table setting and drinks. They were early enough to get the fire started, perhaps he could toss some wrapped potatoes into the coals to let that slow cook first.

All John was supposed to bring was his wife and himself. The bugger wouldn’t fuck that up now, would he?!

Chas made a face at the coals that crackled under his care. Best not jinx anything. This was a nice holiday to be enjoyed in a long time since so he was rather determined to enjoy it proper!

“Is tha’ ‘em o’er dere? Kin dey see us? Oi!!” Chas waved to the pair that was approaching.

[yandere-society]

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink. 

Admin: @tatertotthethot​

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

 So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume. 

  So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am. 

  So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him. 

  “Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“ 

  She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand. 

  “To the left!”

  “Take it back now, y’all.” 

  Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was  the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her. 

  She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her. 

  That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma. 

He growled and  swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

  “How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

  “Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

  “What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

 “Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

  Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

  Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

  “Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

  “Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side. 

  “Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.” 

  “The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.” 

  Baley neck rolled back in offense.

  “Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

  Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung. 

“She claps your cheeks?” 

  Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips. 

  “It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“ 

  “You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut. 

  He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat. 

  “What, fucker?” She scorned.

  “I can see you.” 

  “Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?” 

  She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk. 

  “Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

  ”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?” 

  Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which  only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle. 

  “I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious. 

  “This isn’t Taehyung.”

  “Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?” 

  “Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

  “Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

  He let out a chuckle, a dark one. 

  “Boo bear?”

  “What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

  “Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

  The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation. 

  “HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

  “W-What do you want me to do?” 

  See?

  “Be a good girl, and come here.” 

  “Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation. 

  The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely. 

  “Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

   Baley reluctantly— and stupidly—  did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked. 

  “I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time. 

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..” 

  Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...” 

  “GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching  Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging  at Baley. 

  She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

  This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town. 

  Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

  CHEATING PIG!!

  Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads. 

  And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

  “May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car. 

  Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

  —

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart. 

  It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit. 

  You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

  You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

  You still resent the police department  for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind. 

  It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day. 

  “Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug. 

  They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

  “Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it. 

  “Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand. 

  “That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

  That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

  He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim. 

  And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right... 

  He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

  But holy fucking hell, did it.  Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

  “NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news. 

  “Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

  “How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

  “Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.” 

  “Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

  “Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days. 

 But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

  “FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

  He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching. 

  You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

  “Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half,  making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard. 

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this. 

  “How’s it goin, guys?” 

  “Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

  “I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

  He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans. 

  “Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it. 

  “Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.” 

  He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand,  following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

  Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

  “Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place. 

   “I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine. 

  “Did you polish it?”

  “Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed. 

  “It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

  “Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils. 

“Where’s your plate?”

  “I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you. 

  So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

  It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot. 

  From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.  Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call. 

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then. 

  Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you. 

 You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

  “Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

  “Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out. 

  He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

  You then continued to battle with basic communication.  

“So, uhm.. wh—..” 

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

  “I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you. 

  “What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part. 

  “All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone. 

  “That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued. 

  He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?” 

  “You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.” 

  “Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.” 

  Stop starring at his fingers.

  “Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

  “Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that. 

  “I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.” 

  “What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

  “The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.” 

  “Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though. 

  “You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.” 

  “I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?” 

  “19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

  “18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

    You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you. 

  “I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

  “Whatchu mean?”

  “Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.” 

  “I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you. 

  “Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?” 

  “Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

  “Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?” 

    It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it. 

  But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can. 

 It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side. 

  Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

  You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him. 

  “What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

  “Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?” 

  “Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.” 

  You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

  “There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

  Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?” 

  “Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.” 

  “She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

  “Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.” 

  “Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again. 

  “But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

  His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer. 

  “You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

  “Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?” 

  “Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

  “Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.” 

  “Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised. 

  “No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.” 

  “Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did. 

  Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

  “I have a special surprise for you.” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

 You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds. 

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

  “WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

  “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

   That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might  discover you have a mask kink. 

  “What the fuck is up with the voice?” 

  “Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless. 

  Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent. 

  “You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

  “I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.” 

  “No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table. 

  And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

  “Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there. 

  But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

  “T-Take that damn mask off—“ 

  Wrong move.

  He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face. 

  “I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain. 

  He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

  He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it. 

 Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you. 

  If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

  It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back. 

  Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone. 

  “What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?” 

  “No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.” 

  A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him. 

  “I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.” 

  “I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.” 

  Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

  “I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.” 

  That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends.. 

  He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

  But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

  So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly. 

  You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor. 

  Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

  “Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door. 

  It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

  “Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly. 

  The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off. 

  “Sir..?” He repeated.

  “Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.” 

  He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.” 

  “Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

  Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

  “Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.” 

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now. 

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

[chaoslordjoe]

Bloodlines AU - Dented Mithril

"Team Leader."

That was the last thing that Elsa Valkyrie ever had on her mind when she enrolled at Beacon earlier this year. As with any other teenager in her position, kinda had to learn leadership the hard way.

And around this time of year, she had to be thankful somehow. Or rather, had she not been so tense as of late.

Hell, with sharing a building with her brother and their parents. Who else was she going to be thankful with?

Elsa sighed, reading a cookbook to pass the time with mom and Charlie out shopping for spices. It was just her and her father holding the fort down until *something* made the day moderately interesting.

Ding-dong!

“That must be your mother,” said Ren. “I got it.” He walked over to the door and opened it.

Nora walked through the front door to the Fen Lotus restaurant, greeting Ren with a kiss. Followed by Cha Hua who was yawning, hands in his pockets. "Hey, dad." He said mid-yawn. "Elsa still hasn't said much?”

Ren shook his head. “No, she hasn’t. I’m starting to worry for her.”

Charlie frowned. "I gotta help mom unload the groceries. Maybe you should go talk to her?" He suggested.

Ren hesitated. He wasn’t very good talking to people. He still had trouble opening his feelings to Nora, how was he going to convince his own daughter to do the same?

"Me and Charlie will take care of unloading, Lie." Nora insisted. "She mentioned you earlier, so it's okay. Go ahead."

“Alright. I’ll go talk to her.”

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

Heading back inside, Ren walked over to Elsa in her bedroom. “Sweetheart, do you have a minute?”

She looked up, seeing his curious expression and setting the book down. "Um...Sure, dad." Elsa shuffled over on her bed to make room for Ren to sit down. "I swear I have Sigrun locked up just for the holidays." She tried to change the subject towards her prized sword.

“Not that. What’s going on?” He asked, soft but stern.

"Huh? N-Nothing." She fibbed. "I wasn't- -When did you notice?"

“I’ve noticed for a while, but I always thought you’d come and talk to me about when you were ready. However, sometimes you need a little push. Elsa, darling, please.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

"It’s nothing, dad! Why would you..." But her smile quickly turned to a frown. 

Followed by a quivering lip. "...I got into a fight with Alex and Nick just before the break started."

Ren’s face fell. “Oh no. What happened?”

"We were...We were arguing over- -Over what a crappy leader I've been." Elsa confessed, her voice breaking.

“Hey, hey, come here.” Ren pulled her in for a hug. The Viking finally broke down, too tired to hug her father back. 

"I've b-been a terrible leader." She admitted. "I boss them around when things don't go our way, I didn't think of anyone's pros and c-c-cons. I didn't- -Didn't- -"

Instead of hugging Ren, Elsa's arms slumped. She sobbed into his chest.

“It’s okay. Just let it all out.” He whispered.

Looking up, the girl sniffled. "Dad?" She whimpered. "What did you learn about leadership from Ruby and uncle Jaune?"

He chuckled slightly. “That being a leader is a tough job. Sometimes you have to make tough calls and even though you’re all teammates and friends, you won’t always see eye to eye.”

"Well yeah, but..." Elsa sniffled, catching her breath. "But the Headmistress never explained why I was made team leader. Did Ozpin ever explain it to either of them?"

“Actually he did.”

Wiping her eyes, she curiously looked up for her dad's answer.

“Because they had great potential inside of them. A spark that would light in the face of danger. He saw that they could become more than just Huntsmen.”

Elsa sniffled. "So who'd you expect to end up becoming leader of our Team?"

"I suppose.. I didn't think of it. You, your brother, Alex, Dominick, you all have great potential that could make you all fantastic leaders. Alex's tenacity, Nick's dedication, Cha Hua's thoughtfulness." He smiled towards her. "And your empathy beneath all that rage."

She wiped another tear from her eye, laying her head in his lap. "I guess I just wasn't open to criticism for my first few weeks as a leader."

Ren petted her hair. "It's important not to take biting words to heart but to still listen to their intentions. Your teammates may have been cold but you wouldn't be here hiding in your room if it wasn't important. Listen to your intuition but also to others. Your role as leader doesn't just extend to your team, of which I know Uncle Jaune would tell you that much. It's a leader’s duty to listen just as much as it is to give orders and to utilize your own strengths as much as theirs. Take some time to explore yourself, decide what leader you wish to be, and how you'll handle this responsibility on your shoulders. And don't be afraid to ask your teammates if you need it, chances are they see sides of you that you don't"

"You're right.” She squeaked. “Gods, I need to make things right with them. I actually just got off the video call with them before mom went grocery shopping."

"Why not call them back? It's important to open up communication and better not to let it sit." Ren promptly suggested.

They were both interrupted by Cha Hua opening the door. Before her brother could speak, she leaped into his thick body for a hug. "Did you hear any of the call?" She asked him.

Charlie returned the hug. "Enough." He plainly answered.

Elsa nuzzled his cheeks with her own. "I know you said you wouldn't question my leadership...But I need you to start calling me out if I act out of line. Can you do that?" She requested.

"It's not that I just didn't want to question you,” Charlie answered with a grim nod. “I didn't want to get in your way"

Elsa sighed. "Well, you're not." She pulled back, standing back down. "Not after I had this epiphany. I may be the youngest, but I do need to be more mature about this whole thing. And I'm counting on you as your sister. Everyone wants me to do better, so I need to do just that."

Nora peaked her head in next. "Is everything okay here?"

Ren nodded. "I think we're fine now"

"I'll be fine, mom. I just...Really need to connect better with my Team." Elsa reassured.

"Do you want me and your brother to fix you up some pancakes? Maybe grilled cheese?" Nora offered while ruffling her daughter’s hair.

Elsa chuckled with a sniffle. "I'm okay, mom. Really."

"You sure?"

"Yeah..."

Nora cooed. "Okay. Well if you ever need anything, just come get me and your dad." She helped Ren up, heading out of the room to go downstairs.

Charlie looked to his sister when they were alone. "Want me to leave you be? I mean I'm a part of this team to."

Elsa thought about it. "Actually...I kinda needed your help with this one. Just so you can moderate."

"Sure.” He answered. “But I don't want to seem I'm defending the whole time, this is all on you...Leader." He told her softly.

“You're not. I'm gonna stand up for myself like a Huntress should.” Elsa said with less emotion. “And...I'll be sure to polish Kira-San for a week after this if it helps." She joked about his own prized Kanabo.

"No need." He sat down next to her. "Better rip off the band-aid."

Elsa smirked. "You sure? I could buy turtle wax from Mr. Clay's pawn shop if it'll help."

Charlie thought. "Hmm. Alright I'll take that"