#cubbies won two in a row?

[raisindave]

[Chapter 77] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Desertion is a lot easier than you'd expect. You were never one for skipping school, but there's something of a rush to it. Like you're in a place you're not allowed to be, all while being exactly where you're supposed to be. Of course, these consequences are a little more dire than skipping math class in high school; you're abandoning your post. Desertion is a crime punishable by dishonourable discharge or worse. But how does that charge fare when you aren't even actively deployed to begin with? Where's the dishonour in acting on your own free will as an unbound, non-working citizen? Laswell never specifically said your vacation had to take place in that hotel. 

Luckily for you, tickets to California are easy to come by in Korea. Tourism and business go hand in hand between the two nations, and express flights seem to be given out like candy. Luckier yet, it doesn't have to be a round trip. The ATM let you take out the cash you'd use to pay for your ticket, and the lady at the desk didn't even lift her gaze when she took the envelope. Only thumbing through the stack and flipping a boarding pass into your palm. 

Security was tougher than you remember; you'd become so used to express personnel travel due to being on some internationally recognized task force. You aren't operating under the borrowed trust organizations like the SAS get when it comes to airport security. Now, you're subject to beeping wands and plastic trays for your shoes. The sky was dark and full of stars out the slanted windows, and in the beaming glint of your phone, you chose to preemptively activate the airplane mode, settling with anxiously tapping your feet in anticipation for your row to be called. 

A plain hoodie and sweats will help you blend in, filling in shoulder-to-shoulder with hoodies and suit jackets alike onto a broad, carpeted fuselage. There are no grey-green woven hammocks to sling your packs, substituted with tidy cabin cubbies that keep your black backpack out of view. Bench-like iron seats were replaced by cushioned upholstered recliners, if you can call them recliners, with seatback displays that read as surreal compared to what you're used to. Stewardesses with colourful neckties pour bubbling drinks in a thimble-sized plastic cup. Do they pin you as someone who'd committed desertion? Do they recognize the scruff of someone in the military? Or does this casual hoodie and groggy disposition sell the story? None of them seem to notice, pushing their rattling carts down the aisle to pawn more thimble-sized cups to the next guest. 

If you're honest with yourself, you were never really in tune with pop culture even before your deployment, but its absence suddenly sparked interest in your heart. Third installments of movies you'd never even heard of, it's like pop culture had been on pause. Flicking through the categories, you'd settle for anything. Anything but a romance, as your finger hovered over a cheesy poster of a woman embracing a towering man in black with a waterfall of red silk around her, turned to the camera with a wicked, knowing grin. A mocking grin that tinged your eyes misty. They were both looking at you through the screen, taunting you like they'd won, satisfied by your deficiency of their connection. They knew they had what you'd tasted that once. You ran away, and they stayed, and look how happy they are. You clicked away, you had to. Clicked off the pixelated poster to some shitty action movie that you could surrender to a couple hours of violent oblivion. 

At some point, you somehow fell asleep to all the gunfire and explosions rattling through those cheap headphones. Maybe that's an indication of a larger issue. Either way, a dinging seatbelt light altered you to an upcoming landing, and just like that, you were in home territory. Something about this career makes the world feel so small. After all, you're always only a few hours away from anywhere in the world if you really think about it. It makes you think about that first flight you made this way, that first flight over the Yellow Sea that brought you to that snowy bunker where you met this gaggle of Brits. That cake Soap and Gaz made you as an apology. How intimidated you were of Ghost. Those nukes you confiscated and the look Price gave you when he realized your potential. It stung your heart with a bittersweet twang of humour.

Even the air in the bustling airport feels familiar. Luckily, you have no luggage to check. Yellow taxis sit like ducks in neat rows along multi-lane streets; an unfriendly-looking cab driver didn't blink twice when you slipped in the back seat and blurted out a street address you were surprised you remembered. Joints ached from travel, and your temples seized from the change in the climate. It'll take you some time to climatize, but it's nothing you're not used to doing. Only now did it occur to you what the rest of your group might be thinking. Had they noticed? You had the benefit of the doubt that you'd just retired for an early night's rest, you had a solid 8-hour lead. How long would it take them to notice you'd slinked away? They're probably off to that task with Farah Soap mentioned, and Laswell's likely in tow with her nose in a folder and a puffy vest on her shoulders. 

You're in the cab on your way home, and now there's one thing left to do. Knowing him, Chucky's the kind of guy who'll answer any unknown caller's number without a second thought— as psychopathic as that is. The contact your friend provided sat in your text messenger, a line of blue numbers just a tap away. With your stomach in a knot, you pressed your thumb to the glass, and the screen went dark. Lifting the device to your ear, it rang, and rang, and rang, until a familiar voice grumpily answered, and you weepily blubbered out a response. 

When he recognized your voice, you could hear the sound of the chair he was in creak as he shot upright, and you showered each other in greetings and praise. You were only a few minutes into complaining about work, telling the story in chronological order as best you could without compromising any secretive details. Babbling on about your lack of recognition, your tedious tasks, and your unsettling vacation to the tune of a rattling speaker playing pop music from the driver up front. The more you speak, the more agitated you became. Spewing rants about duties and frustrations and extreme expectations for no reward, heaving to catch your breath as the windows misted around you when all of a sudden, his stern tone snapped you out of your trance, and for a moment, you blinked in confusion.  

"Do you hear yourself, Lua?"

His words stunned you for a moment, pressing your phone closer to your ear as if you didn't hear him right. A breathy laugh from the speaker made your face contort into a frustrated cringe. How can he laugh at you right now?

"Lua, the answer is obvious, but you won't want to hear it," he spoke past through a smile, you could just hear it through the phone.

"What do you mean obvious?"

Now he'd gone silent in a cruel twist of fate. Even still, it was like he was stifling a laugh behind that speaker as if he saw something blatantly visible to anyone but you. 

"My love, do you think this career is right for you?

That sentence stunned you. So much so that you could feel the humid air dance over your teeth from your agape mouth. You squinted in confusion, and then your mouth twisted into a laugh. The words registered as cohesive, but the absurdity clicked more plainly. 

"I can't just quit because I'm not getting a kiss on the forehead every time I do my job," you started, twirling the pull-string of your hoodie around your finger. 

"Is that how you really feel?"

The cabin had run so silent even the cab driver's eyes flickered to meet yours through the rearview mirror.

"It's okay to admit you're not satisfied," Chucky's voice grew soft and paternal. "Settling with something that makes you miserable is giving up, not the act of dropping it. Demand respect for yourself because you're the only one who will. That's life."

"What am I supposed to do then? The military is my whole identity…"

"You don't have to know all the answers right away, just work with what you know."

"What will they do without me? I can't just drop out on a dime," your voice cracked, inexplicably closing your throat as a wall of repressed emotions surfaced. 

"The military is like a wall… remove one brick, and the wall still stands. There's no shortage of linguists in NATO."

“SAS… or…CIA, I think."

"CIA? Aren't you RCAF?" he spoke into the slightly echoed sound of what must be a mug of coffee. 

"It's complicated… I stopped asking questions long ago."

"'Seems like you should know that kind of thing," he sounded irritated by your laissez-faire attitude. 

"It's hard to sit down and ask about your professional affiliations when you're dressed up as a hooker on a mob yacht," the words oozed past your lips into the device, a lullaby you'd told yourself for years to keep yourself sane.

"What?" 

An uncomfortable pause had wedged itself into the conversation. A pause, you didn't have the wherewithal to unravel the necessary context to make that sentence make sense to him. The musty air in the cabin made your blood run thick and lethargic. 

"I just can't wait to be home. I need to see something that's authentic."

"There's something else."

"Hm?" you humm absentmindedly.

"You wouldn't come tearing home in a tizzy over an overdue vacation."

The words wouldn't manifest. Not only on your lips but not in your brain either. The taxi's bobbing over potholes fought for your attention as the cabin's rhythm rattled your brain. What if Ghost thinks you're quitting because of your little spat? Well, that's part of it… well, that's a significant portion of it, but in reality it's just a branch from the same roots: overworked, unacknowledged, isolated and indolent. This isn't what you signed up for. It's not what you're honed for. Months of mantras carefully hummed to yourself in iambic pentameter that twist your experience into something sweeter than it is—distorting your own honest perception. For what? Your teammates? A sense of greater good? What's kept you complacent enough to persist?

"I-" a sigh forced itself into your lungs. "Let's have a sit-down and chat about this… I'll be home in ten."

Chucky's never been the kind of guy you can keep secrets from. Worst yet, the longer you know him, the better he gets at sussing out the slightest lie in a story. He's observant. It's annoying. There are some things he doesn't have to know, some relationships and drama that he doesn't have to be privy to. But he pries it from you nonetheless, and the kicker is that it always feels relieving to unburden yourself. Even if it isn't something you would've come forward about willingly. It's not a matter of if but when he finds out about your dilemma with Ghost. Maybe he doesn't have to be privy to everything about that relationship. 

Your eyes drifted to the lawns around your neighbourhood. Yours had been kept up with, some HOA or other had been strongarmed into handling it by the powers-that-be. Lawns… when's the last time you'd seen a lawn? When's the last time you'd seen a minivan? A cul-de-sac? It felt alien to be alien, like you're not supposed to be out of place here. Soon enough, Chucky will come barging through your door with a multicoloured bouquet, and you'll think about how they don't look cheap anymore, but like they're exploding with joy- innocent glee like that from the eyes of a lover, not those of a fighter. Except he is a fighter. He'd served longer than you, and he has the wisdom of age with the compassion of experience. Maybe you won't have to quit after all, and this reset will knock your gears back into line. Smoother than ever. You'll don that uniform and slip back into Laswell's graces. Send her a text that you're on your way back after a night or two in your own bed. It's not like she won't know you've left; you're not sly enough to outfox her. Yet.

Eventually the taxi dropped you off, wordlessly passing the payment terminal and tearing off without another word. When you get in your house, you'll have a world of cleaning to expect. And you were right. From what you remember, the familiar squeal of your front door had reached a new octave, but that's expected, welcoming, from ages of not being used. It's like a dog squealing with excitement to welcome you home, a tune exclusive to your ears. Mail crunched under your sneakers, a perfect shoeprint over flyers and coupons now months expired. 

The air was thick with dust, thicker the more you stirred. The distantly familiar routine didn't take long to resurface in your synapses, flinging your coat around wiry hangers, kicking off rigid new sneakers to lay at its base. Dead plants lay in coiled husks like rooted tumbleweeds, sunbleached and stark. From the look of things, your work is cut out for you. Do you dust, vacuum, or start with a dustpan and broom? It's the kind of plights you craved. The kinds you missed out on. Sure, it's gross, and clouds of dust erupt from wads of blankets when you sit on your couch, but a familiar smell brought sugar-sweet memories to coat the back of your eyelids. 

The fridge was what you dreaded most. Did you leave anything in there? It's probably so mouldy it's become sentient by now. Before you left, you did some cooking before you were deployed again, as far as you can remember. And the couch sure is comfortable once you get past the powdery dust that gathers between your knuckles. Anticipation got the better of you though, and curiosity bubbled beyond your own containment. Your knees creaked when you rose, but you eventually made your way to the kitchen. Maybe you can guilt Chucky into helping you clean, but at the very least, you should tidy up a place to sit and spill your guts about how you may or may not have briefly fallen head-over-heels with your lieutenant, or something of the sort. 

There's that wooden archway you'd bodyslammed into on dozens of drunken nights, paired with a few dents that were consequences of lazily carrying a laundry basket. Through the arch, you beheld a sight so bizarre you couldn't even compel your muscles to draw you closer. But you did. Sat on your counter surrounded by a level ocean of dust sat a vase. A crystal vase, ridged and etched with lavish geometric patterns cast ribbons of light through the lacy curtain across the room. Green stems, straight and trimmed, connected to the most elegant bouquet. Virgin blue roses in perfect coils, fragrant enough to reach you before you could touch them. It felt like a dream, but your senses deceived you. Their cobalt finish challenged your optical perceptions and upended all logic. Velvety petals, smooth and light as your fingertips drag through them. Panic. These hollowed grounds you'd called home aren't safe. This sacred place is corrupted. It's a sickening, nauseating panic. Like the antichrist in a cathedral. Like a wolf in a pasture. Sickening anticipation and your heels turn on a swivel. By the time your knees lowered into a grounding stance, those familiar redwood floors were screaming toward you, and everything went silent.

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Master List

[docholligay]

Drunk Shakespeare

I’m not sure what else there is to say about Drunk Shakespeare* other than I think a humorous recap of a Shakespeare play in one and a half hours while one of the cast is drunk is a delightful time. 

The show is: Imagine me and a bunch of my drunk Lit friends are all trying to recap a Shakespeare play in a dive bar, one of us is already wasted, and we have gotten the rest of the bar to pay attention. You’ll have an excellent idea of what you’re buying tickets for. 

The room was small and intense--I think there were only about three rows to the back in total, and the room was the size of what I would consider a decent-sized restaurant, decorated as a library with the sort of color-sorted books that suggests no one in the family actually reads. We were seated in bench-style seating with a little cubby underneath, next to two young girls celebrating a 21st birthday. 

Birthdays are, as you might imagine, a common thing at intimate activities like this, especially in big cities. Hell, we were there to celebrate my mom’s birthday. But there was something about her that was so perfectly eager and artless, in the way some people are. She was telling the actors (who come around before the show to get a feel for who in the audience is willing to participate and be picked on a bit--more on that later--and who would prefer to stay in the background) how she was an acting major and how she had always wanted to go to this for her 21st birthday, had waited until she was 21. She was intensely awkward in the way that only people who deeply love a thing can be, and I was actually rather touched. 

Again, birthdays, not an odd thing, but anyhow, they do this auction for the king and queen of the evening, who get to sit in the throne, and wear crowns, and twice in the play get to, de jure, do a sobriety check and if they are deemed too sober, force them to take another shot. De facto, this means, force them to take another shot. They get a bottle of champagne--actually, if I was going to say I had one annoyance with this show, it would be that they gave the king and queen a bottle of decent midrange bubbles that was unavailable for purchase on their drinks menu. I had a glass of middlin prosecco, but I would rather have split a bottle of decent sparkling wine between me and mom wow I am abusing the FUCK out of this em dash, amazing--and we all have to call them by their royal name and they get to participate in the play and it all seems very lovely. 

They auction it off. 

This is where I would tell you that I won the royalty, and that I gave it to the little weird girl and her friend for her 21st birthday because she would enjoy it more than any person living. But, that didn’t happen, because I was outbid to a level i could not afford, and so the fantasy of being nice to a stranger will have to be just that. 

They only ever do plays that are well known to audiences, as there’s not a lot of point to doing Coriolanus jokes when most of the audience have no idea that’s a Shakespeare play. The biggies: Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, etc, seem to be the choices here. As a practical matter, NYC is always Macbeth, unless google reviews have lied to me, which is great, actually, as I don’t need the element of surprise here and Macbeth is my mom’s favorite Shakespeare play. 

Who this show is for: 

Drunkards

English majors (Drunk)**

People who have never read a Shakespeare play

Drama nerds (Drunk) 

Attention whores (First row only) 

Moms from Worchester

Who this show is NOT for: 

Someone expecting a “real play”

People who don’t like to be around drinking

Moms from, I don’t know, Texas, probably

I don’t say that to criticize the show as I had a great time, but if you’re looking for a serious discussion of the bard I have to assume you can’t read, because this is anything but. The joking is often barroom joking, tits and sex and surface level political stuff that plays very safe to a New York audience. I had a great time, I think many people would have a great time, but I think it’s always important to frame who something is for, or not for. 

During the little entree in which the actors come around and talk to you, I had stated happily that I was quite the extrovert and very difficult to embarrass if you know nothing about me, so they could happily go at without any worry. During this time, I also got into a sort of play-argument with one of the actors when I was telling him Mom was very game, too, and extroverted, and he accused me of answering all the fucking questions and while in fairness, he had me there, I reminded him that I only occasionally let my mother out of the basement and so social interaction is new to her. It sounds aggressive on paper, but I assure you there are people in the world who tease around like this and I’m one of them, I had a great time with this guy. You can sort of see where this is going. 

We get to the scene with the drunken porter, and he’s played by the guy that I was having so much fun with before the show. He sees me, and for his speech comes over and says, “Helllooooooo,” and starts talking about his conquests and how drink “Provokes the desire but takes away the performance” and it is very funny, and he keeps saying my name, and doing knock knock jokes with me, because the door keeps knocking and knocking, the actress playing macduff yelling at the door. So he’s backing away from me, still talking to me, telling me:

“It is my job to answer this door--”

To which I reply: 

“Well, you’re not doing a very fucking good job of it” 

To which I gave great thanks to my lord and maker that I thought to reply that. I love getting a laugh like I love few things in life. Best part of the show because I’m an attention whore (See: Who this show is for) 

At one point the sobriety test bell was rung and they had the actress who was drunk balance a beer on her head and then, try to drink it faster than the lady, leslie, they picked from the audience. Sarah could not use her hands, they said, and so Leslie had to have a straw. This is clearly a very good party trick that Sara can do, to show how funny it is that she’ll be asked to take another shot. And it was truly amazing to see. I can’t believe she got the fucking thing off her head and had started to drink it in an INCREDIBLY QUICK amount of time. 

But. They were not counting on moms from Worchester. 

Leslie was a powerhouse. A monster. An icon for the ages the likes of which we may never see again. It is so so difficult to chug a beer through a straw. Nigh-impossible. Leslie cared not at all for this reality. She blew through it. She killed. Sara was laid to waste. I pledge allegiance to the moms of Worchester. 

In all, a very fun show, assuming you know what you’re getting and show up with the right mindset. It very much helps to be unserious about Shakespeare, or have the ability to be unserious about Shakespeare, and also to be a drinker. I loved it, very much recommend it, if you are that sort of person, and unlike most shows in NYC it has a tight run time so you can get on with your evening very easily or go to bed early or whatever your needs are. 

*Followed by me saying many hundreds of words. 

**Some of the language is Shakespeare’s and some, obviously, is off the cuff or jokes or whatever. My ONLY disappointment was that the very funny gal playing lady macbeth was doing the whole “I wish i were a man, I’d fucking kill the king, I wouldn’t be such a fucking pussy about it. I would use my huge fucking dick to stab him. You know, if I were a man.” thing and when she got to “Unsex me here” She waggled her eyebrows and it was all I could do not to stand up and go, “THAT’S NOT WHAT IT MEANS AT ALL”

[cannibalise-the-citrus-fruits]

1: yes

2: p sure my dad

3: yeah

4: not particularly, although that might just be bc I don't tend to put myself in situations that would dredge things like that up

5: single

6: something painless

7: ribs 🤤🤤🤤🤤

8: not right now, but I used to do marching band

9: no

10: depends

11: I like a lot of people. none romantically tho, which I think is what this question is asking

12: no

13: not on a personal level, no

14: not anyone in particular, but I do wish I remembered to reach out and talk to people more

15: two cats, and a few fish. I will admit to caring about the cats more than the fish

16: introspective

17: no

18: yeah. recently learned I am far more afraid of smaller spiders than larger spiders when there was like a three or four inch spider just sitting near the art cubbies in class a few weeks ago. didn't freak me out nearly as much as a one inch spider would have

19: depends. to see different historical eras, absolutely I would, but if we're talking more personal, make your life better by making a different decision? I'd have to think about it way more

20: snogged? what are you, british? N/A

21: video games, reading fanfiction, hopefully gonna visit my grandpa

22: idk, ask me again when I'm not 18

23: no, but I've been considering getting my ears pierced

24: Math. I fucking love math

25: didn't I already answer this one? question 14? if the two are meant differently I don't know what the difference is

26: no particular foods, just ate me some tasty ribs

27: not romantically to my knowledge, but this feels like a bit of an ambiguous question

28: no

29: N/A

30: these questions feel very hetero/amatonormative and that's starting to get on my nerves

31: I certainly hope so, my parents are sitting in the same room rn. if my parents didn't love me I would be very sad

32: lime green

33: I don't think I do, no

34: I don't remember. maybe I should start a dream journal. that could be fun

35: honestly, it's been so long I have no idea

36: I don't think I do, no

37: the processes of those two things are not comporable enough to say which is easier in my opinion

38: LMAO no. If I had to pick, I'd probably say 2021, but I also wasn't especially affected by the start of the pandemic

39: see, this is what I was talking about back in question 30. N/A

40: no

numbers 41-50 are missing

51: the homemade pizza recipe my family makes. it's really good

52: I believe everything happens for multiple reasons. I ate ribs today because someone suggested it when my family and I were making a meal plan for this week. the ribs were kinda mid because we made double the amount we usually do and weren't as familiar with the recipe in large quantities. I'm writing this list because I feel like it. in terms of like, higher purpose reasons? no

53: I won a game of civ 6

54: depends on ur definition. having sex with someone outside an established relationship? as long as everyone is okay with it, do whatever. doing that but one party is unaware/not okay with it? no

55: I am not qualified to answer this question because this is a subjective quality and I am biased in favor of myself.

56: I think like one. maybe two. this was also back in elementary school

57: bestie what does that even mean. there are so many ways this can be interpreted.

58: depends on the time of day. cloudy/light rain during the day, clear at night (although rain isn't unwelcome overnight)

59: yeah

60: see answer 22

61: idk, it's never happened to me

62: more things than can be listed in a tumblr reblog, and many more that I haven't found

63: no, I'm pretty happy with the name my parents gave me

64: I'm pretty sure this is meant romantically, in which case, N/A and also go look at my answer for question 30 again

65: QUESTION THIRTY AGAIN MY GOD. anyways probably talk about it with them.

66: this is the third answer in a row that I'm gonna have to refer you back to question 30. I am going to be VERY GENEROUS and pretend that you just mean "friend you are romantically attracted to", in which case no, but only bc I'm not currently attracted to anyone. I was fully capable of this when I was down bad two years ago

67: I really wish I didn't have to cite question 30 again. and I wouldn't, if it weren't for the fact that, taken with the context of the other questions here, this question has connotations of "ooooooo someones got a cruuuuuuuush you should go talk to them and see if they're interested" instead of what would otherwise be interpreted as "when was the last time you had a conversation with someone with whom you do not share these particular traits". to answer the contextless question, like ten minutes ago I had a small chat with my mom.

68: a few days ago I brought up immortality in the car with my sibling and I think that was a pretty interesting conversation.

69: no

70: I think if it came down to it, no.

Having now gone through the entire list, I can confirm that these questions were, indeed, horrible. Not because they were especially introspective or personal, but because OP needs to learn how to ask better questions.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[saynotoshityouhate]

Full Court Press (NBA!Kylo Ren x Reader) - Part 2/2

My team won the NBA Finals last night for the first time since 1971! We weren’t planning on posting this yet, but in honor of my boys, we decided to give you all a celebratory gift. 🦌💚🤍💙

A collaborative fic by @weareallstoriesintheend & @saynotoshityouhate

Link to Part 1

Words: 2832

AU Inspo: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMdpBEY21/

Summary: You found yourself in the Tie Fighters locker room after the game with the one and only Kylo Ren. You quickly realize he didn’t invite you here just to give you an autograph.

Warnings: Smut, Fingering (f receiving), Pet Names (good girl, Princess), PIV Shower Sex, Kylo Ren is a bit of an arrogant dick.

His lips tugged and sucked at yours relentlessly, his tongue sliding languidly into your mouth. For the first couple of seconds you were frozen, unsure of how to respond to the Kylo Ren kissing you without even so much as a word. But as he deepened the kiss further, lowering his hands to your waist to tug you into the curve of his body you caved. You relaxed into him, momentarily forgetting where you were, humming a quiet moan and you felt him smile.

All of a sudden, coming back your senses, you pulled back and pushed him away from you with hands flat on his broad chest, “What the fuck are you doing?” you exclaimed with a little less anger than you’d been hoping for.

He continued to smile at you letting his eyes roam over your body, your chest heaved anxiously as you sucked air into your lungs in an effort to calm yourself.

As you took a step back he followed you, it struck you as odd that his movements didn’t feel predatory… they felt intriguing.

You took a second to take him in as he loomed before you; his shirt was off, ditched somewhere behind him, and his shorts hung low on his hips. Sweat was dripping between his impressive pecs and you could see him clenching his fists at his sides causing the veins in his forearms to bulge. Your eyes lingered on the twisting patterns of his tattoos that slunk down his left arm, shamefully the sight of them alone made your cunt throb.

“A-Answer my question” you internally rolled your eyes as your voice stuttered, you were hoping for something a little more commanding and he knew it.

“Kissing you” he stated, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

You went to speak but stopped dead as he took another step, levelling himself with you and staring down. “I’m a stranger” you whispered, a little nervous of his intentions with you in this empty locker room.

Suddenly you were shoved with considerable force back into the wall, his forearm across your chest holding you still. His lips dropped close to your ear and he let out a quiet growl under his breath, “You think I didn’t notice?” he asked, voice teasing and amused “You think I was too focused on the game to see the way you were looking at me?”

“Maybe that’s why you lost?” you looked up at him with wide innocent eyes, raising the pitch of your voice just a little and lifting a questioning eyebrow.

His eyes blew dark and he growled once more pushing you impossibly further back into the cold wall. Before you could say anything further he grabbed you by your shoulders and pushed you into one of the cubbies, sitting you down on the bench below where his clearly expensive clothes were hung. As you dropped onto the bench with force you could hear the row of neatly stacked watches clatter, you flinched in case they fell knowing all too well that even just one was probably worth more than your yearly salary.

You looked up at him as he towered over you, he pressed one hand up above you, leaning down ever so slightly as he ran his fingertips along your jaw. Taking a tight grip he forced you to look up at him, “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

He let go of your jaw and trailed one finger down your neck, slowly in between your breasts and over your stomach. You resisted the urge to visibly shudder at the seductive way he was treating you.

His dexterous fingers flicked the button of your jeans open and slowly pulled the zip. He smirked as the rise and fall of your chest quickened and your legs opened just a little.

“Tell me to stop” he whispered, leaning down so that his face was level with yours, breath ghosting over your face. You gulped heavily and shook your head.

He chuckled low in his chest and smiled, “So willing to fuck a complete stranger?” he asked, “Such a little whore.”

You whimpered quietly as you felt him slip his hands past the tight material of your jeans and play with the soft cotton of your underwear. His face was plastered in a smirk, “I love how you respond to me.”

As he spoke he slipped his fingers into your underwear, feeling and pressing into your cunt. You moaned brokenly as he slid his fingers over your clit.

“So wet for me already” he chuckled before leaning forward and capturing your trembling lips in a deep kiss. You let out another pathetic whimper at the soft, delicious slide of his tongue into your mouth. His skilled fingers picked up their pace against your clit causing you to let out a muffled moan. Kylo let out his own moan as he heard your hands slap down onto the wood seat beneath you and grip the edge tightly; arrogantly enjoying just how much his touch was affecting you.

You gasped his name into his lips as his fingers lightly traced your throbbing clit. His eyes watched you hungrily; he leant back and used his free hand to brush back a curl of hair that had fallen loose from the tight top-knot he’d wrestled his thick locks into. Instead of leaning back into the wall he crouched in front of you, slipping his fingers down from your clit to push two inside you.

Gasping at the sensation that filled you, impossibly thick fingers stroking along your walls, your spine tingled with electricity. The sensation caused you to tilt your head back and your eyelashes to flutter gently closed.

You reached forward and grabbed his forearm in desperation, “Kylo” you whined, bucking your hips into his hand causing the heel of his palm to brush against your clit.

“So the question is…” he began, his voice low and teasing “…do I make you cum on my fingers or on this?”

You opened your eyes just a little to look up and you saw him palming his hard cock through his shorts and you clenched hard around his fingers. Openly laughing he curled his fingers slightly inside of you, “Question answered”

Grabbing you by the wrists he roughly pulled you to your feet, he began to tug your clothes from your body. As you kicked off your shoes and lifted your blouse over your head, in fear he’d rip it, he bent down and pulled your jeans and underwear down your legs. You reached behind you and unclasped your bra as you watched him shimmy his shorts and underwear down. A quiet gasp was all the sound you could make at the sight of his blushed red hard cock bobbing against his stomach.

You squealed as he abruptly picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walking off into a tiled room you presumed was the showers. He placed you down on unsteady feet before turning on the shower with a twist of the handle. Warm water began cascading down over his body; you followed the water droplets that dripped down his soft tanned skin with your fingertips. Kylo turned towards you sighing as the water flowed down his back, probably soothing some aching muscles.

You carded your hands up into his messy long hair tugging it loose from the knot it was tied in. Pulling him down you guided him to that spot behind your ear that made you shudder, instantly you felt him smile into your neck and he pressed a tantalizingly soft kiss to that spot.

“Just here?” he asked, his deep voice reverberating through you.

You nodded frantically and he smiled against you once again letting out a cocky chuckle. His plush lips sucked hard at the sensitive skin causing a moan to erupt from low in your chest. A combination of the touch of his lips and the warm stream of water caused a rush of heat to climb up your body from your toes and you let out a fractured whine, “More...please?”

Without giving you a chance to even take a breath he bent down and hooked his arms under your thighs, hoisting you haphazardly to tuck your legs around him. Kylos body felt even bigger like this, caging you against the wall, it felt like every inch of your skin was being touched by his. Dipping his head he captured your pebbled nipples in his mouth, one after the other, stroking his tongue over the hardening buds. Your clit ached with a hard pulse as you felt a rush of wetness, feeling overcome with so much him.

He began pressing his full lips into your neck again; sucking and licking his way around the soft skin eliciting gasp after gasp from your open lips. As he pressed his hips further into you his cock, pulsing between you, slid up the slit of your dripping wet cunt and his tip bumped against your clit. The feeling sent shockwaves through you both and his hands slipped a little. You gasped his name as you slid a little down the wall, he lifted you back up and rutted into you again.

“So beautiful” he murmured and when your eyes focused on him, a flash of heat crept up to your cheeks when you saw his expression. He was staring down at your cunt with a look that could only be described as starvation. You whimpered and squirmed when he suddenly dipped forward, his lips just barely touching yours. When you leant to capture them he pulled back with a cocky grin.

“You seem to like asking questions…so ask me.”

“P-please?” you pleaded quietly, unsure exactly what he wanted you to say. He didn’t respond and just continued to look at you with an expectant raised eyebrow.

“Please Kylo? … I want you inside me. Please make me feel good.” you begged quietly, suddenly worried people may hear you even over the rush of the shower.

He groaned as he bumped your clit again and again with the flushed tip of his cock. You felt him tease your hole with it as you linked your legs around him harder pulling him into you. He paused, taking a second to catch your eye contact; you nodded, giving him permission.

Finally you felt Kylo harshly push his cock inside of you, not giving you time to adjust to the stretch. With one snap of his hips he bottomed out, connecting his hips with yours, and you dug your nails into his biceps with a cry. The feeling of him instantly overwhelming you with how full you felt, your head flung back hitting the tile with a smack. He stilled himself, breathing heavily into your wet hair as you whimpered for him.

“Kylo, f-fuck… move please” you begged bucking your hips up into him, desperate to feel the drag of him against yours walls again.

“You sure, Princess?” he laughed.

“Yes!” you pleaded looking at him with wide doe eyes. He bent and kissed you before pulling out of you slowly and plunging back inside. You cried out loudly, eyes rolling back.

You felt yourself getting louder and louder as he continued to firmly thrust into you, making sure you took every inch of him as your legs held him in a death grip. You felt him shuffling and realised he was moving to hold you with one arm.

The thought that his wide, muscled body was able to hold you up with only one arm and the weight of his body pressing you against the wall made you clench around him. His free hand came up to clap over your mouth muffling your cries, “Stay quiet for me, can’t have anybody ruining our fun” he grunted into your ear.

Your cunt clenched at his words, feeling your stomach tighten, and he groaned at the sensation. He picked up his pace, rutting into you hard and you winced at the slam of your hips and lower back against the unforgiving tiled wall.

“That’s it. Good girl, you take me so good.”

You whimpered, your desperation was overpowering; you felt like you were drowning all the while he was calm, thrusting hard and deep in your dripping cunt. Your fingernails began digging harsh red lines into his shoulders as you feel yourself getting closer to cumming. Your hands pull his sopping hair in a harsh grip, there was nothing sweet or loving about the two of you right now, this was pure, vicious need.

His own thrusts began to stutter and you manage to brokenly moan out his name, gathering yourself as much as you could and sucking in deep breaths “Fuck, please cum for me!”

“Not until you give me what I want, Princess. Show me how I make you feel.”

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s gritting his teeth as he grunts into the crux of your neck. He pulls up slightly and you unscrew your eyes to look at him; water from the shower was dripping down his forehead and slicking back his hair, his pupils were blown wide and his face was flushed a pretty pink – it was the most sinfully erotic thing you’d ever seen.

The grip over your mouth released and you felt him move his hand down your body between the two of you and lightly brush your clit. You cry out, head back and eyes closed again. He began to stroke firm circles over your clit in time with his thrusts whilst he coaxed you in that captivatingly low tone that comes from deep within his chest, “That’s it beautiful girl, I don’t care who hears you now. Let them hear what I can do to you. Cum for me.”

You felt your orgasm rush over you like fire licking your skin. You arched up, breasts pressing into his chest, scratching your nails down his biceps as you grabbed him wildly. Body wracking against him as you shout his name.

However he doesn’t give you a second longer to come down from your overstimulated state before he’s gripping your thighs with both hands and pummelling his hips into yours. His cock feels like it’s in your ribcage as he urges himself towards cumming.

You whimper and plead with him, tear-filled eyes holding his gaze as he grunts and curses. All of a sudden his furrowed eyebrows raise and he screws his eyes shut, you feel his hips falter and he cums with a shout, gripping your legs tightly and rutting himself into you.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing into your neck he reaches down and turns off the shower. You slide down his body as his hands release you.

Kylo grips your chin once you are down on your feet and tugs you into a heavy kiss, “Get dressed” he says against your lips. He walks away from you a little to toss you a towel from the basket in the locker room.

You sigh, muscles throbbing and legs shaking as you dry yourself down. Your throat stung from the strain of your cries and your hands felt like they were vibrating as they patted the towel against your skin.

As you make your way back into the locker room, drying the ends of your hair, you watch intently as he slips himself into dark trousers, a smart shirt and adjusts one of the impressive silver watches around his thick wrist.

Keeping your eyes lingering on him you pull your own clothes back on and take a seat to pull your shoes on.

“I want you here, after every game. You’re mine. You hear me? Mine.”

You nodded, your throat too sore to speak.

“I’ll have my assistant leave tickets at will call. No underwear next time. Now get out of here, out the side door. I have a press conference to get to.”

You stood, grabbing your things, avoiding his gaze. As you headed to the door, Kylo grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled into him, bracing yourself against his chest. Not daring to meet his gaze, you looked at your feet.

“Look at me.” Lifting your chin with one finger, a finger that had just been deep inside you, your eyes met his. “Mine, princess. All mine.”

He lowered to your level, placing a chaste kiss against your lips, eyes remaining open and on yours.

“Go.” He let go, backing away from you, taking one last look at your body as you scurried away.

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

“Kylo, you seem in a great mood for someone who had one of the worst performances of his career. What’s going through your head right now?”

Kylo smirked, winking at the journalist in the front row who asked the question. “Let’s just say, I found my good luck charm. I’ll see you next week.”

[uswnt-owns-this-homo]

Just Us (Kelley O’Hara x Reader)

There are many ways to kiss someone. Y/N would know. She’d done her fair share of kissing strangers, mostly in college, always before she’d met Kelley O’Hara.

 Y/N had transferred to Stanford soccer in her sophomore year, the college calling to her, and her full ride opportunity heavily dealing with the move across the country. She was the newbie, the only sophomore on the team who didn’t know anyone. And Kelley had latched on to her. Talking to each other during practice, made easy by their shared forward position, turned into study dates, which turned into being roommates in their junior and senior years, which led to a budding relationship, which turned into both of them making the senior women’s national team.

 Y/N POV:

We’ve done it. We’ve actually made it to the finals in the world cup. There’s only one game standing between us and a world cup win. We’re all in the hotel, eating breakfast the day of the game against the Netherlands. Kelley, the ‘kids’, and I are all sitting together. Kelley and I woke up early today to have a mini celebration, just the two of us. We had some fruit, coffee, and spent some time out on the hotel balcony. This day is one of the most important of our lives, not only Kelley and I, but everyone.

 I take a small scoop out of my yogurt, see that Kells has managed to snag an orange flavored one, and swipe some out of her cup. She gives me a small smile and I wish that I could just kiss her without worrying about what the world would say. We’ve been dating since the middle of junior year, but haven’t come out to the public yet, wanting to be able to focus on our game and to take home the World Cup, without any ridicule or influence from the public. I wipe a bit of yogurt off my face and lean my head on Kelley’s shoulder.

 We all finish eating and go upstairs to change into our warmup gear. Kelley and I head up to our room, riding the elevator with Sonny and Lindsey. We walk in and do our hair, put on the warm up gear, get our phones, earbuds, and gear, and head down to the bus. The team loads up the bus and I take a moment to smile and thank the bus driver, most of my teammates doing the same. I take a seat in the middle of the bus, grabbing a blanket from the front seat and patting the spot beside me for Kelley. She grins, takes a seat, and I spread the blanket over us. Preath takes a seat beside us and Kelley bumps my shoulder, nodding to where they’re mirroring our position, blanket, shoulders pressing together, and large grins covering their faces. I smile and nod at Tobin and Christen. Kelley takes out her phone and I take out my airpods. They automatically connect and I offer one of the buds to Kelley. She turns on her favorite pre-game playlist and I lean my head against the window, putting my legs out in the aisle as Kelley takes a seat between my legs.

 We get to the stadium and I stretch my arms above my head as we all file out of the bus. We go to the locker rooms to quickly put on our shin guards and boots. Kelley and I both go to our side-by-side cubbies. I slide my shin guards in and tie my white and gold boots. Kelley finishes up tying her boots and we both turn to each other. We do our handshake, hopping around slightly and yelling before both falling silent, our arms propped up against the bench. I stare into her eyes, my arm trembling.

 “Come on, babe, you know you want to give in.”

She snorts, her arm inching downward.

 “Not a chance, sweetheart, we both know you’re going to lose,”

This goes on for about 3 minutes, the rest of the locker room ignoring us, used to our pre-game oddities that started when we played in college. I finally manage to force Kelley’s hand down. I jump up and yell.

 “Take that, babey, winner for the 4th time in a row, that’s right!”

She shakes her head and we all head out to do warm ups as a team.

  I watch from my spot on the bench as the team takes the field. Kelley is starting and I wish I could be out there with her, though I’ve been told I’ll be getting some minutes later on. The whistle blows and the team starts to play. There’s a hard hit against Kelley in the late minutes of the first half that has me out of my seat for a moment, but other than that there really isn’t much of the Netherlands in our box. When Ali is subbed in for Kelley I stand up, offering Kels my water bottle, which she takes with a grateful nod. We sit down and watch as our team continues to dominate the Netherland’s team, our shoulders pressed together and our heads leaned in close as we discuss the game. At the 87th minute I’m subbed in place of Megan. I stretch out my hamstring and get ready for the next start of play. The Netherlands player tosses the ball in and I’m immediately on the receiving player, forcing her to pass the ball. This breaks down and Chris quickly gets the ball, managing to sneak one to me on the 18, which I hit with my left foot and drive home, right past the Netherlands keeper. I let out a loud cheer, grabbing onto my jersey and almost ripping it, before Christen reaches me and grabs my hands.

 “Now, y/n, we don’t need any ripped jerseys, no reason to scar anyone”

I groan and bury my hands in my face, smiling.

 “Dude, that was one practice, one!”

She smiles and we set back up for kick off, focusing on keeping the game 2-0 for the next 2 minutes.

  We hold off the Netherlands and the whistle blows. As soon as the ref reaches up to her face, I’m cheering and hugging Christen and Lindsey, and anyone else I can get my hands on. There are tears streaming down my face, but what can I say, we just won a fucking World Cup. I see Kelley and sprint to her. I’m so happy and overwhelmed that we look at each other, take a moment to nod, and the next thing I know I have my arms full of the flying squirrel. Her arms and legs are around my shoulders and torso, her face right next to mine. I hug her, spin around once or twice, and then I grab her neck, pulling her in desperately, trying to convey all the happiness, relief, and genuine love I feel. We kiss until Sonnett runs up, slapping both of us on the back.

 “Guys, We Did It! We Won A Freakin’ World CUP!”

We both laugh and look at each other. I grab her hand and we go to celebrate with the rest of the team. Ali and Ash both look at us, nod, and continue to talk to Crystal and Broonie.

  It feels like hours before we’re back in the locker room, which has been stocked with champagne. We all come running in and grabbing at the bottles. Someone shakes one and uncorks it, spraying alcohol everywhere. I grab two pairs of beer goggles, one for Kels and one for me. I also grab a couple of bottles, tucking them under my arm and trying to sort out where Kelley is in between all the twerking and spraying alcohol. I hear Ash yelling at her instagram followers and smile, waving my bottles and winking when she turns to camera in my direction. I find Kelley by Tobin and hand her the goggles. I lean in close to her ear and smile when she shivers.

 “I’m gonna go chill on one of the benches, you have fun being a frat boy, I’ll see you on the bus?”

She nods and grins when I kiss her on the neck. I go find Christen and sit next to her, offering her a bottle of champagne and smiling when she declines it, just like she always does when someone offers her alcohol. I shrug and sit next to her, uncorking one bottle and taking a celebratory swig.

 “So, how’s it feel to have another star under your belt, Chris?”

She grins and we spend the time in the locker room talking about the game, and staring at our respective partners. I watch Kelley dance around with Sonnett, Mal, and Rose, smiling and yelling.

  Most people would be bothered by the fact that their girlfriend, who they just won a World Cup with, is partying instead of talking with them, but it’s always been that Kelley is the social one, the partyer, while I chill and get steadily drunker, until I join her as the party animal and frat daddy that the fans know her as. Besides, talking to Christen and getting wasted while she smiles at Tobin and talks about her past experiences isn’t too shabby either. We all spend some time in the locker room before we make our way to the bus, which is also filled with champagne and snacks. We all file in, me and Kelley grabbing our seats next to Preath. She’s swaying slightly and her words are noticeably slurred.

 “Baaabe! We jus-wonaworldCup!”

I smile at Christen as she looks over.

 “I know Kel, pretty exciting isn’t it?”

I put my arm around her shoulder and let her mumble excitedly in my ear, her head tucked underneath mine. We ride back to the hotel and I spend the whole time thinking about the win. A thought hits me as we go to walk off the bus and I reach out to stop Kelley.

 “Babe, it doesn’t bother you that I kissed you when we won, right? I mean I basically outed us without your permission, oh god,”

Kelley just looks at me and holds my hand, raising it above her head and turning to Ash, who is of course documenting our walk of pride off the bus.

  “I want every *hic* body to listen up! Now, this is my girlfriend, and I love her very much, and we just won a World Cup and she’s worried if I’m mad cause she kisses me! Well, I’m not! I’m proud of us, all of us, and I think that if my girlfriend wants to kiss me she should be able to! No fear, no worry, no anxiety or care over what anyone will think!”

As she finishes her mini rant she reaches up, grabs my face, and kisses me like we just won a World Cup. There are a couple of wolf whistles and I know this is going to be everywhere tomorrow, but we all file off of the bus and go up to our rooms to clean up a bit before we start to party. I lead Kelley up to our room, getting her a bottle of water and making her drink a bit before she gets in the shower. I wait for her to get out of the shower before I gently tuck her into bed.

  “Night Kel, I’ll be in in a minute, I’m going to grab a shower,”

She waves and I chuckle as I gather my pj’s. I get a quick shower before coming out. I see Kelly completely starfished on the bed and laugh. I grab her arm and try to maneuver her without waking her up.

 “Whas happenin’ babe, why’re ya movin’ aroun’ so much?”

 “Sorry, just trying to move so I can come to bed, babe, night,”

She mutters something but wraps her arm around my waist and buries her head in my neck. I sigh and smile before falling asleep.

   I wake up to snoring and our alarm blaring. I quickly shut it off and go about making Kelley and I coffee. I get everything brewing and go back to the bed. Kelley’s hair is insane, and her face is scrunched up from the sun that’s shining across her nose. I climb into the bed and gently kiss her nose, moving to her cheeks, and eventually making my way to her lips.

 “Baaabe, it’s time to waaake upp,”

She groans and I smile.

 “I have coffee and a hug if you get up, we have to get down to meet up with the team so we can go home Kell,”

She slowly wakes up and stretches before giving me a kiss. We slowly get ready, Kel obviously sporting a hangover. She grabs a tanktop with my last name on the back, some sweats, a pair of slides, and a baseball hat. We head downstairs and the team cheers as we get to the lobby for breakfast.

  “There’s the love birds! Have either of y’all seen social media today?”

We both shake our heads and Ashlyn takes out her phone to show us the results of our impromptu kiss at the game. Most of the comments are positive, only a few negative people, and a few heartfelt messages saying how thankful they are that we decided to come out. I give Kelley a quick side hug and we split to get breakfast, Kelley covering food and me covering our second coffees of the day. We all eat and get on the bus, Kelley again picking a seat next to preath. We all get settled and Kelley lays her head on my shoulder, mirroring Tobin. I grin at Christen and get a text from Ashlyn.

   Ash the Destroyer: Doesn’t it feel good to just kiss the girls we want to kiss?

I type out a quick reply and squeeze Kelley’s hand.

   Y/N: Yeah, it feels pretty great. No more hiding, no more worries, just us.

#Kelly O'Hara Imagine

#USWNT Imagine

#Kelley O'Hara x reader

#Ashlyn Harris

#Kelley O'Hara

#USWNT

[doyouever-daydream]

Take me out to the ball game.

A/N So…  This is the result of me being sad over Opening Day being postponed, the MLB livestreaming game 7 of 2016 WS when my Cubs won, and having watched yesterday the episode where Rossi talks about this and puts up the W in his office wall *cries thinking about it* (I thrive everytime David Rossi of Criminal Minds or Nick Miller of New Girl make a reference about the Chicago Cubs lmao) Also in my head the Simmons family are huge Nationals fans just for the sake of the story lmao. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it.

Summary: It’s MLB’s Opening Day and since the Cubs are playing against the Nationals, Rossi invites the whole BAU fam to the Nats Park. (Please remember I suck at summaries)

Pairing: I guess there’s a little Spencer Reid x SSA (y/n) (y/l/n) there but it is mostly bonding time between the BAU fam.

Warnings: None.

Masterlist

“Well, this isn’t Wrigley Field but at least our Cubbies are playing” (y/n) said to David as they got to their seats.

It was MLB’s Opening Day and David had invited everyone to go and see his beloved Cubs playing against the Nationals, he was particularly excited that he finally had another Cubs fan in the team. They were both wearing Cubs jerseys and hats.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the field playing? There’s enough of you to be a team” Prentiss teased the Simmons family, who were proudly wearing Nationals gear, all six of them had jerseys, even little Rose Mary.

“Very funny, Em, but actually we’re incomplete, there are nine team members on the diamond” Matt said with a laugh.

“Better start working on triplets then” Will said while he and JJ put sunscreen on their boys.

“Not a chance” Kristy was quick to answer braiding Lily’s hair.

The whole BAU family was there, even though not all of them were baseball fans, they felt it would be a good memory attending Opening Day all together.

“I have an extra Cubs hat if anyone wants it, maybe you Luke, come to your senses, come on” (y/n) teased Luke and he jokingly gasped while adjusting his Yankees hat.

“Haha, very funny, (y/l/n)”

“I’ll take it” Spencer, who was conveniently sitting next to her,  spoke and everyone hid their smirks, they knew he was doing it so he could impress (y/n), truth was he didn’t know much about sports, he had been busy with his lectures so he couldn’t do proper research on the sport but he was willing to learn as the game progressed.

“Yes! That’s the attitude, Spence” She happily gave it to him.

“Usually I’m more into hockey and football but this could be nice” JJ thought the weather was beautiful and the atmosphere at the park was nice.

“Wait, till this lasts 4 hours or more” Kristy joked with wide eyes.

“What!?”

“This is the king of sports and now I could finally prove it to you” Rossi was ecstatic being there.

“I love you, Dave but if this goes on for more than three hours I’ll leave you up to it and I’ll go to the house, or anywhere else”

“Yup, I want to tag along if that does happen” Penelope chimed in and Luke laughed.

“Count me in, I’m mainly here for the food and the beer” Emily added with a beer already on her hand.

“Amen to that” Tara was also holding a beer and putting on her sunglasses.

“I want a hot dog!” Michael got hungry at the mention of food.

“Sure, buddy, I’ll go grab you one”

“I’ll go with you, the kids also will want food any second now” Matt was quick to follow Will and soon Tara, Emily and (y/n) joined them to buy snacks for the rest of the team.

Soon they were back with a lot of food and drinks for all nineteen of them.

They all chatted about different things, they were seated in two rows so that they weren’t that far from each other, the game started and Matt, David and (y/n) were immediately lost in the game, the three of them talking about what their teams were doing good and what they could work on.

Kristy noticed Spencer was a little bit anxious, he moved his foot and every other minute he looked at (y/n), probably wishing he knew something about baseball so he could talk to her.

“First game, Spence?” She bounced Rose who was sitting in her lap.

“Uh, yeah” He turned to her and little Rose who was having the time of her life with a foam finger, that was almost as big as her, his uncle Dave had bought for her.

“Do you want to know more about how baseball works?” She offered and Spencer nodded desperately.

“Ok, so…”

And so Kristy began to explain to Spencer everything she had learned of the sport from her dad, brothers and Matt, she enjoyed watching the games before she started dating Matt but when they started dating, Matt’s love for it rubbed off on her.

It was the middle of the fourth inning and the Presidents race was happening, the kids were excited to see it. Soon JJ and Will had their sons on their shoulders, Matt had Jake, Luke had David, Kristy had Chloe and (y/n) had Lily while Penelope carried a happy Rose.

The scene of all of them cheering on the presidents was adorable, Krystall decided to take a video to capture the scene. The race ended and the kids were on their seats again talking about how cool it was to see the presidents run.

“I want my own giant foam caricature head” A tipsy Emily declared “Let’s all make our own foam heads and have a BAU race, woo!” She screamed and everyone laughed.

“It’s a good thing she didn’t drive here” Penelope said still holding Rose.

“I’ll take her home, I’m taking Spence too” (y/n) offered as she noticed a very quiet Spencer “Are you having fun?”

“Uh, yeah, this is nice, it’s my first baseball game but Kristy helped me out understanding the rules” Reid nodded as he ran a hand through his hair nervously.

“That’s great, you should’ve told me and I could’ve explained it to you on our way here”

“Don’t worry, it’s ok” His smile made (y/n) melt, his eyes looked particularly beautiful with the sunlight above them.

“Maybe it was best that Kristy explained it to you, I can get intense as I’m sure you noticed”

“I would say you’re passionate and it’s… It’s- really nice to see you talk about something you’re so passionate about, you know, besides work” He looked at her with a shy smile on his lips and noticed she was blushing, as she was going to say something Lily tapped on her shoulder.

“Aunt (y/n), are you gonna sing with me the baseball song?” She asked with a sweet voice.

“Of course, I’ll do that, maybe uncle Spencer can sing with us too” He looked terrified because he had no idea what they were talking about “We’re going to teach you a song so you can sing it with us during the middle of the 7th, ok?” More than asking, (y/n) was informing him he was going to sing with them and he nodded.

Soon  it was the 7th inning stretch and everyone were on their feet ready to sing, while Emily and Penelope didn’t know all of the lyrics they did their best, the rest of them happily sang “Take me out to the ball game”, Reid had Lily in his arms as she and (y/n) waved their arms in the air to the rhythm of the baseball classic.

“Take me out to the ballgame, take me out with the crowd, buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks, I don’t care if I ever get back, let me root, root, root for the home team, if they don’t win, it’s a shame, for it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out at the old ball game”

At the end of the game the Nationals had won, leaving the Simmons family, especially the kids very happy, so David and (y/n) weren’t that sad their team had lost if it meant the little ones being happy. 

The rest of the gang was also happy at how the day had turned out, as they expected they had a great time, after all, it wasn’t everyday they were able to do this kind of things all of them together.

[itsjustascarecrow]

fun games in another chill lobby, finally getting some practice in on the airship.

host (black) was clearly third imp’ing from time to time w/ their friend (white), but before i realized that, i got imp myself first two damn games in a row. my partner the first time, pink, got caught and gave up, so i did too in the same meeting; pink’s voted, i hit the button to get voted next meeting, then mention in lobby chat how new i am to the map and genuinely don’t want imp yet. so of course i get it again, hskdgh; actually almost won tho after my partner got voted midway through, and when it got down to four, i killed lime in that hallway between security and kitchen, stayed back from black and white as they fixed lights, then waited for cooldown near the admin table, but black called the button before i could run off to find them again. i figured i was dead anyway, and they did vote me, but for a hot minute, it seemed like black was willing to believe it wasn’t me.

so then third game, finally get crew, and fucking white kills me first in showers, then vents away in front of red and purple, yet somehow neither of them saw that, so purple blames red and they get voted out. and of fucking course, those who’d been in the lobby awhile (including white) were also all like “aww poor brown, at least they finally got crew” in chat like SHUT UP hjkhgkjshg. there was another game where black killed me as i was putting away towels and i swear white was with them, so. dead chat pretty much confirmed they were friends who would cover for each other from time to time, rip.

my next time getting imp was w/ the host tho, so i felt a little better about it, but apparently i got most of the kills?? i just got lucky w/ three in a row and no one else being around to catch me, b/c that was part of the problem in that first game; any chance i would’ve had to kill, someone else would be just around the corner or something. had a couple of heart-stopping moments tho when i got my first kill in cargo then ran past another body black had just killed, then in the next round i killed on the viewing deck right as black showed up, lmao; scared the shit out of me. and then very last round, crash course is called, and i just went for the last kill in the gap room even w/ everyone else there b/c we were down to five, lol.

another great imp game was w/ cyan, who killed someone in the divert power electrical cubby room, so we both ran around the corner towards the ladder where i killed pink right as white slid down the ladder. they report and i accuse them first and spin it as a classic 50/50, which i was down for after stating my case, and hilariously everyone (except white and black, l o l) decides to believe me b/c white’s just generally been more sus over the several games we’d all played together, lmao. red hits the button afterwards so i’m expecting to die next, but they were just some dumbass trying to promo their youtube, so we vote them out and i get the last kill for another win, jshdgj.

OH YEAH and that one game when i was doing that stupid rewind tape task and i got killed and a report came up when i was literally one second away from finishing the task; i actually screamed out loud jghsdkjg. devs managed to create a task far worse than download/upload, which is fucking impressive in the worst possible way.

[bubmyg]

love is in the air - jhs

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: teacher!au, enemies to lovers, humor, fluff, ft distressed principal namjoon, dorky fifth grade teaching pair seokjin and yoongi, second grade teaching duo jeongguk and taehyung, and allusions (like one) to best friend pe teacher jimin

word count: 3,964

summary: you wouldn’t say you hated the teacher of your neighboring classroom but you kind of hate him and now you’re paired up to compete in the school wide door decorating contest or you hate losing to Hoseok but you hate losing to Jeongguk and Taehyung in the second grade wing a thousand times more.

a/n: the first part of my “to lovers” valentine’s/anniversary series!! the series link is in my masterlist if you’re looking for it :’-)

“Last order of business…” Namjoon squinted at the piece of laminated paper. The blue coffee mug in hand was placed aside as the principal instead went to smudging at the slick surface with the curve of his thumb, “...the door decorating contest? Jeongguk, did you hand write this in?”

The young second grade teacher shrugged. “It’s an important manner of business.”

“Right,” Namjoon traded the Monday morning meeting notes for his mug again, taking a long, calming sip from the dark brew, “Why don’t you explain it seeing as you were eager enough to ransack my meeting and my notes for it.”

If Jeongguk were worried about the implications of testing his meticulous boss with red Sharpie, he didn’t show it. He left his chair, instead taking swinging steps until he was perched on the empty table at the front of the teacher’s lounge.

“The annual Valentine’s Day door decorating contest…”

You snorted into your tervis, watching as Namjoon’s features registered that one of his teachers was on the table before his conscious did. Jeongguk was none the wiser, squatting as his arms did a dramatic sweeping motion, “The one thing we look forward to aside from summer vacation. The thing that heals our hearts after seeing our paychecks, after cleaning up vomit for the fourth time on day two of flu season, after having outdoor recess duty for the third week in a row, after—”

“Get on with it,” A low rumble of laughter rippled through everyone at the new voice. Hoseok laughed with the reaction to his interjection, adding with a shrug, eyes sliding in your direction, “We all know I’m going to win again.”

“Who won last year, Hobi?” The words in the forefront of your conscious materialized in the form of Jimin’s voice. The gym teacher beamed at your and his sneakers squeaked as he stepped close enough to bump his hip with yours.

Hoseok’s smirk didn’t falter from the side of your face, ignoring Jimin completely as he hummed, “Error in judging. The wrong will be righted this year seeing as I already have some incredible ideas.”

“Want to share those with the rest of us?” Yoongi looked up from centering his tie adorned in various volume formulas, “What? Last year the kids convinced me to make a giant heart out of prime numbers. Nobody got it.”

“Anyway, your righted win will have to be split two ways this year, hyung,” Jeongguk straightened, arms crossed at his chest, “Why, you ask?”

“The warning bell is going to ring in literally five minutes—”

“Because this year we’re working in teams,” Jeongguk beamed, “you and your neighbor will have to put together something spectacular, together, if you’d like to enter into this years contest. No exceptions aside from Jimin who doesn’t....have a neighbor. Unless you’d like to ask the cafeteria staff for help, but—”

Taehyung, Jeongguk’s neighbor, cheered. You, Hoseok’s neighbor, groaned.

“Great, amazing, wonderful, innovative—” Namjoon waved his mug, “—now can you get off my table?”

“Deadline is the day before the kids have their card exchange and party,” Jeongguk didn’t skip a beat when Namjoon grabbed onto his elbow to speed up his obnoxious clambering off his makeshift podium, “Winner will be decided at the end of the day, like always.”

“There are classes to be taught today—” Namjoon’s smile was tight lipped, chin on his shoulder as he dragged Jeongguk the last few steps to solid ground, “—like always.”

You were mid smiling at one of your former students just outside the third grade wing, throat still tinged with the swig of coffee you’d downed, when Hoseok caught you. You tried to act like he wasn’t there, directing your attention to the red and white paper chains dangling off the ceiling.

“If you want to give me the key to your room, I can have our, winning, doors decorated in one evening.”

You snorted, longer strides trying to evade him, “What, with one of your incredible ideas?”

“Exactly.”

You turned, glaring at the bright yellow squiggles standing at attention against the baby pink of Hoseok’s short sleeved button up. He had two black folders tucked to his chest, watch pressed to the center like a much too expensive logo, sarcastic smile pressed into high apple cheeks, beaded eyes watching you under rich red bangs.

You leaned, enough to brush shoulders again, laugh shoulder shaking and fake as you clipped, “Not a chance.”

“You’ll learn,” Hoseok hummed, pausing so abruptly you nearly tumbled over the top of him. He quirked an eyebrow and obnoxious oranges and yellows that bled from within the classroom you were stopped at certainly weren’t of your own doing, “Trying to follow me into my room now too?”

You’d regret the blister on your heel with how hard you stomped your foot for the rest of the day. “I hate you.”

Hoseok disappeared into his classroom, leaving you to fiddle with your keys on your lanyard, “Noted.”

The force in which a folder materialized out of thin air onto the surface of your keyboard closed out of your email and effectively typed a row of Z’s to the middle of your lesson plan for the following day. Hoseok paid no mind to that, nor to the rest of the contents on your desk as he brushed aside a paperweight with a green worm inside and a manilla folder filled with completed coloring pages to make himself comfortable on the edge of the wood.

“Hello to you, too,” You moved the folder to shut your laptop, smoothing your hands out over the lid, “Please, take a seat.”

Hoseok’s index finger tapped the center of the folder, “I printed out my ideas. Thought you might want to take a look.”

You nudged a stapled packet of google images out from the folder, taking your time to thumb through the contents. “So I don’t get a say in any of it?”

“You do,” He flicked the back of the packet, making you jump, “You can pick from one of those.”

You eyed a giant red tree filled with handmade hearts from students, “These have to stretch to two doors now, you know that right?”

“No shit—” Hoseok glanced over his shoulder, as if one of your students were still hiding in their cubby forty minutes after the final bell, “—no kidding. If we do that one, we can put half the tree on my door and half of it on yours but like, facing each other—” His fingers brushed yours as he flipped to a different page, a giant heart disguised as a clock with the statement it’s TIME to show our love for learning, “—that one half the heart on my door, half of it on yours. If we do the mailbox one, the letters can just flow from yours to mine.”

You toyed the packet between your fingers, bending it in the center as you squinted up at him, “You’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“Only the best to try to beat you,” He snatched the packet back with a giggle and a grin, “Now only the best to beat the assholes. Sorry. The idiots.”

“Jeongguk and Taehyung?”

Hoseok cocked an eyebrow, “Well I don’t mean Seokjin and Yoongi.”

You giggled, “I heard Seokjin wanted to put do math, not meth on their doors and Namjoon almost fainted.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, hopping off the side of your desk in a flurry of papers and a rolling worm, “Jeongguk and Taehyung are doing Frozen—” You wrinkled your nose and he nodded, “—I know.”

“Ours will be better.”

“Yeah?”

“The 2017 and 2018 winners on one team? Hell yeah,” He shot you a look and you corrected, “Heck yeah!”

“I still should have won last year,” He picked at a stray piece of notebook paper balled on one of the desks in the front row, grinning when you glared at him. “Oh, come on. You’re one in a minion? Genius.”

“Everyone hates minions.”

“Not first graders.”

“First graders aren’t judging the doors. Namjoon is.”

“Whatever,” Hoseok crossed the room, shooting the piece of trash into the plastic bin in the corner, “Are we starting tomorrow, then?”

“We didn’t pick a design.”

A hunk of rolled up paper bounced across it’s forgotten paper, rolling into your hands that stopped it from plummeting off the edge of your desk. “Pick and let me know at lunch tomorrow so I know what rolls of paper to steal from the idiots in second grade.”

You worked at soothing out the wrinkles with the heel of your palm, “They don’t have names now?”

“Not while they’re our competition. See you tomorrow,” Hoseok caught a hand in the doorframe, red hair popping back around the corner as he hesitated, “Don’t work too late.”

You met his serious expression with the tiniest bit of amusement, even if you would never admit that your heart warmed in the slightest.

“Okay, dad.”

“Talk dirty to me, miss—”

“Okay really, get out before I lock you out.”

The sheet of pink paper in hand crinkled obnoxiously when you shifted your weight on your heels, squinting accusingly at the much too high top of your open classroom door.

“You didn’t steal a step stool too?”

Hoseok grunted from where he’d been bent over cutting a similar pink piece for his door, dropping the scissors to the tile. “Taehyung told me I had to sing Love is an Open Door for it or I didn’t want it that bad,” He stepped around the paper on the floor, careful not to scuff the vibrant color with the soles of his boots, “He was right, I didn’t want it that bad.”

“Want me to go down there and ask for it?”

“No, I want you to stand still,” You were about to squirm around in inquiry when a pair of arms secured around your middle and your feet were no longer touching the floor.

“Hoseok, what are you—”

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” He roughly jostled you in his grasp, as if a punishment for not giving him the strength to lift you and correct his language, “Put the paper on.”

You went rigid in his grasp, shaking the paper sheepishly, “I, uh. Need the tape.”

Hoseok placed the roll of tape in your awaiting palm, squatting next to you once more. “Wait—” He paused, face pressed against your shoulder blades, hands on your hips, “—we need to cut out a space for the door handle.”

“What do you think I am, an animal? I already did it,” His feet took tiny pattering steps behind you, “Are you ready now?”

He staggered a few times and the tape placement wasn’t as even as if you were doing it on your own but it sufficed, both doors now covered in a layer of obnoxious pink. Hoseok had red now, legs spread, body bent at the middle as he worked at tracing a giant mailbox to be pasted on the corner of your door.

“Is that what a mailbox looks like?”

Hoseok tapped his phone across the paper to you as response, screen locked and open to a clip art version of the very thing. You slid the device back as your own retort, crawling and situating yourself until you were bent over the space he was sketching out with a pen adorned at the top with a ball of feathers.

“Yes, but what you’re drawing doesn’t look like the picture.”

His lips quirked into a pant, like he’d just ran up the stairs to the fifth grade wing and back to check Seokjin and Yoongi’s nonexistent progress. The feathers on the end of the pen startled your nose into a quick sneeze. “Think you could do better?”

“That looks the exact same.”

You didn’t pause, tracing over the open lid again, “As the picture? I’m aware.”

“No, as what I drew,” Hoseok’s foot snaked in between your drawing, nudging your pen aside so a haphazard mark appeared across the paper, “Oops, look like we have to use mine, yours is ruined.”

“Hoseok, what the—”

He dropped to his knees, reaching across the drawing to wrestle the pen from your grasp, “You weren’t about to swear, were you?”

“At you? Absolutely I was, now give me the pen back.”

The corner of his lips quirked, holding the pen out of your grasp, “But I have to fix your mistake, sweetheart.”

“It wasn’t a mistake until you made it a mistake, sweetheart—”

You lunged for Hoseok, in retrospect a terrible idea, as your nose rebounded off his chin, leaving you much too close to him and his heart colored hair and heart flushed cheeks and heart shaped mouth.

There was something thick and warm on your upper lip and you briefly thought that was a weird place for your embarrassment to begin flushing, warning it to save it for when you made a fool of yourself and pressed your lips against Hoseok’s but then—

“Uh, you’re bleeding.”

You blinked owlishly at Hoseok, “I’m what?”

“You’re bleeding,” He dropped the pen in favor of curling his fingers around your chin, tilting your head up for inspection, “I think my chin broke your nose.”

Your skin burned for another reason entirely, “Move, we can’t get this on any of the paper.”

Hoseok beamed, uncaring that the side of his index finger was smeared in rich maroon as he stood, offering it to you.

“Exactly.”

You dropped an envelope of tiny, handwritten notes onto the ground next to the cut out mailbox. “The kids asked why my nose was twice the size it should be.”

Hoseok glanced up from evening out the side of the mailbox post, “What’d you tell them?”

“That their favorite recess monitor with the cool hair and the even cooler shirts did it,” You plopped down beside him, tugging out the top letter, one from one of the boys in your class as you pointed to the name, “He asked me if you kissed it better.”

He nudged you as you worked on folding the letter, “Did you want me to?”

“I wanted a little more than a you’re going to get it all over my perfect mailbox.”

Hoseok gasped, “You said that first!”

“Doesn’t mean you had to agree with me.”

You’d nearly shoved the letter back in with it’s companions when a thumb and index finger were rounding your chin, grip purposeful as a pair of petaled lips dropped to your swollen nose.

“There,” Hoseok slipped the safety scissors back into his fingers, snipping another shard of red paper into his lap, “Better?”

Hoseok extended the last letter to you, white and reinforced in sparkly pink stationary you’d bought out of your own pocket. “Want to do the honors?”

You wordlessly took the last piece of the puzzle from him, the last R to Love is in the Air, crouching next to the post and fake grass and generic envelopes overflowing with your students “love letters to learning” with purple and pink and red hearts stamped to them that adorned each of your doors. Just because it was the last letter didn’t mean it lacked your careful consideration, rocking back on your heels to check the angle, aligning the straight parts of the letter with the floor. The generic tape rolled to the corners of the letter sanctioned when you placed it, crunching slightly as you ran crooked knuckles across the letter to secure it.

“Are we done?” Hoseok offered you his hand, pulling you to stand next to him in the middle of the hallway.

Your gradual nods got more frantic the more your assessing gaze swept across your handiwork, dropping your hand out, palm up for a high five. “I think so.”

Hoseok slapped your hand but chose to hold it rather than pulling away, clasping his fingers around your knuckles to give your intertwined appendages a good shake. “I think we make better friends than rivals, don’t you?”

You pretended to ponder the thought, as if you weren’t holding hands with your arch nemesis coworker who you wanted to force feed melted crayons up until three weeks ago.

“Yeah,” You said finally, voice soft, a question. More definite, you reiterated, “Yeah. I think so, too.”

You assumed the mad scramble back through the doorway from lunch was due to the pink sprinkled cookies laid out on heart shaped plates on each child’s desk along with their tiny paper bags filled with character shaped Valentine’s. But it’s like they couldn’t hold it in, nor decide who was going to break the news to you first, sliding head first into desks and chairs before at least fifteen hands shot up in the air.

“What’s wrong guys?”

Dozens of tiny pairs of eyes exchanged glances, before one of the little girls in the front row was giggling, placing two chubby hands over her lips as she mumbled something.

“My love, you’re going to have to speak up,” You rounded your desk to crouch next to hers.

Happily, she reached for your shoulders, leaning until she could whisper into your ear, “Mr. Jeon is wearing a dress.”

You thought she was going to tell you the cafeteria staff had given them cookies early. Maybe that they hadn’t lined up in the proper order just to see if you’d notice when they came back. Maybe that they’d all signed a giant Valentine for you (because they had, you saw it sticking out of one of their backpacks).

Not that Jeongguk was wearing a dress.

You made quick work of the Disney special on the projector, telling them to dig into their cookies while you ran a quick errand. Their attentions had quickly forgotten their potential next year teacher in favor of a sweet treat, allowing you to slip quietly out of the classroom. In the same instance was Hoseok leaving his room, pink cupcake in hand as he shut his door.

“What?” He accused, “I’m taking a snack to see Jeongguk in a dress.”

The pair were standing outside their classrooms because of course they were, Namjoon in the middle of their two doors with folded arms and a raised eyebrow. Taehyung was mapping the lines of the giant Olaf on his door while Jeongguk watched on, white wig and blue dress and all.

“See, Love is an Open Door!” Taehyung was explaining proudly, snowflake covered tie scraping the floor as he stood, “Like the song!”

“Shouldn’t the door be open then,” Hoseok mumbled, shoving the last of his cupcake in his cheeks.

Jeongguk looked unamused with the sentiment, turning toward the two of you with a dramatic swish of the train at his ankles.

“I’m literally wearing a dress.”

Hoseok nudged you, “We should have worn postal service costumes.”

“No,” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, “No costumes. I can’t handle Seokjin in a costume.”

“Besides, we don’t need gimmicks to win. Ours is just good.”

“It’s good? Please, take me to the good door,” Namjoon held his arms straight in front of him, eyes closed as he navigated across the hallway and nearly into the wall.

“Woah,” Taehyung exclaimed once you were in front of your shut doors. “This is pretty good.”

“Who did the mailbox?”

You were about to take credit for it when Hoseok’s arm was heavy over your shoulders, squeezing, “We both did it. Teamwork, you know.”

Namjoon already seemed sold, flapping his arms again, “Yes, this is the best one I’ve seen all day. Which isn’t saying much seeing as Yoongi tried to pass two shaped fish kissing and Seokjin’s I’m so sofishsticated off as matching, Jeongguk is in a dress, and Jimin put tape on my gym floor.”

You leaned further into Hoseok’s embrace, nodding, “...so?”

“So, you two win what might be the last competition we ever host. Congrats, or whatever—” Namjoon turned directly into Taehyung’s beaming figure, “—what are you two doing? Don’t you, I don’t know, have classes to be teaching?”

“So I wore a dress for nothing?” Jeongguk pouted.

Taehyung looped a comforting arm around his friend’s neck, leading him off in the direction Namjoon was stalking, “I think you look cool, Guk-ah—”

You turned, happily bouncing until you were fully pressed against Hoseok’s chest. “We did it!” You grinned, hopping against when his arms anchored around your hips. “We won!”

“Mhm, well up against our competition, are you really going to consider this a win?”

“Of course I’m going to consider this a win,” You whacked the back of Hoseok’s neck, “and you know what else?”

“I have a cupcake with my name on it that you’re keeping me from?”

“No,” You leaned, nose brushing his, “This makes me a repeat champion.”

Hoseok’s nose wrinkled, “Bit of a low blow, don’t you think?”

“Just because you helped me in my quest to greatness doesn’t mean I’m going to start being nice to you.”

“Sad,” He squeezed your waist and you were consciously aware that his eyelashes were long enough to brush his cheeks when he blinked, “I was starting to like you just a little bit.”

“You’ve just been demoted from co-champion to reserve champion, how does it feel—”

“Mr. Jung, will you just kiss her already?”

You were sure to have whiplash from how quickly you cracked your neck to the thirty some pair of eyes crowded around each of you and Hoseok’s slightly ajar doors. Colors danced on the whiteboard on the back of your room, suggesting the movie was still playing but they were entirely more entranced with the cheesy love story of their favorite teachers than Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

“Yeah,” The little girl from your class whined, the same one who had happily informed you of Jeongguk’s choice in dress, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you have to kiss.”

Your chin was turned by a firm grip on your jaw, Hoseok’s amused and entirely too fond expression making you want to punch him for an entirely new reason. “They’re kids,” You warned him, as if the red haired man was going to shove his tongue down your throat from the pressure he kept on your neck.

“Got it,” Hoseok dismissed, barely pecking your pursed mouth before letting go of you entirely.

“Okay, okay, who wants to open some Valentine’s?”

“We have one more for you, miss.”

Crumbs of the cookie you’d been nibbling on pooled onto the paper plate you held beneath your chin, eyes wide as you surveyed the tiny army of children that had assembled in front of your desk. You quickly discarded the treat, dusting your palms off on your slacks as you reached for the shiny metallic heart they stretched in your direction.

“You guys know you didn’t have to get me anything,” You scolded gently, placing the heart in the cross of your thighs.

“Oh, it’s not from us,” One of the little boys giggled, his lips still stained red from his own cookie, “It’s from Mr. Jung. He slipped it under the door while you were redoing your lipstick.”

“Oh,” You were careful opening it, making sure to shield the contents within from prying, tiny eyes who could barely read more than their own names anyway.

There’s more where that comes from after hours ;)

“Miss, what’s it say?”

“Yeah, did he tell you he loves you?”

You slammed the card shut with a hard swallow, shoving the card underneath your desk somewhere between your purse and the space heater you kept plugged in year round.

“It...he just said he was sorry for hurting my nose a few weeks ago, that’s all, and uh...who wants more cookies?”

[burning-up-ao3]

There was really only one thing they could do.

They’d lost two in Nassau Coliseum, still a beautiful mess of a building with the drafty dressing rooms and rickety side boards. Too many bad bounces in a building that should never have been brought out of retirement. Nassau Coliseum that was older than any other NHL arena, except for Madison Square Garden. Nassau Coliseum that had hosted concerts from old old-timers his parents had listened to as he was growing up: Elvis Presley, Led Zeppelin, the Beach Boys.

Every minute of both games at the Coliseum, Sid felt like they were fighting not only these upstart Islanders, but also the spirits of every Isle who’d ever played here, including the those who won four cups in a row. It felt like Bossy, Trots, & Gillies and their teammates shared the seats with the fans, taunting Murrrr-ray, Murrr-ray.

Coming back to the PPG should have been a gift. Home ice, home cooking.

It wasn’t.

Sid elbowed Geno. who was slowly stripping out of his sweaty UnderArmour. The third loss to the Isles hanging heavy in the changing room. “We gotta get them drunk,” he whispered, pulling Geno close to him. “Get them out of their heads.”

“Not good idea,” Geno said, fixing the collar of Sid’s dress shirt. “Someone will see us looking sad, take picture. Put on Twitter and Instagram.  Don’t want Islanders to know they in our head.”

Sid stared at Geno and pulled out his phone. “You’re incredible.”

“I’m know. Is what you say last night.” Geno leered, waggling his eyebrows.

“That is not what I said last night.” Sid leaned closer, brushing his lips against the sensitive curve of Geno’s ear. “I said you were fucking incredible.”

Geno’s breath shuddered. “Can’t say that here or I’m kiss you.”

“Do it, G. No balls.” Sid laughed, which felt too loud in the room, and felt guilty. They’d lost again when they should have won. On paper, the Pens were better than the Isles. But on ice? The Isles were hungrier, wanted it more, to be the giant slayer. He should maybe be more somber.

But when he was with Geno, he felt giddy, silly. Happy.

Geno smiled but didn’t rise to Sid’s challenge. “You not be happy if I’m kiss you here, because it not be little tiny kiss.” He waggled his eyebrows again. “Then everyone know about us.”

“Do you think they don’t know already?” Sid said, with the smallest hint of an earnest question. Geno, with his ‘accidental’ touches when he walked past Sid, brushing his hand across the rise of Sid’s ass in the dressing room and his lingering, too-fond glances as Sid spoke to him about the PK.

“I’m think hockey players busy all the time. Don’t see what in front of them.” Geno waved his hand around the room, with guys coming and going to the showers, or bunched in small groups replaying the game in their whispered arguments. “Think girls on Tumblr see, with their gifs and their stories, but no one listen to them.”

Sid tilted his head and stared at Geno’s grin. “What the—do you have a Tumblr?”

“Open site, Sid. Just need to google your name and Tumblr.” Geno reached for his phone in the cubby at the top of his stall, but Sid stopped him.

“I got a party to plan.”

Geno laughed, and Sid decided that later, he’d have Geno show him some of those stories.

~*~

Turns out, when you’re Sidney Crosby, in less than five minutes you can call the hotel across the PPG parking lot, book a banquet room for 25 large men, convince the manager not only to re-open the kitchen, but also to supply servers willing to sign a non-disclosure clause, and free flowing booze.

A lot of booze.  All the booze.

And reserve at least one room for the night.

“Listen up,” Geno yelled out of habit. “We go out now. All of us.”

The guys let out one loud groan.

“No way, G. I just want to go home and—” Jack Johnson said without raising his head.

“C’mon, Geno. I can’t—” Murr was still buckled into his leg pads, still slumped on the bench.

“I’m not ask. I’m tell. Sid plan for long time.”

Sid snerked quietly but didn’t say anything.

The grumbles subsided, which Sid took as a good sign. If anyone could wrangle the personalities on the team, it was G.

“Take showers, we go together. As team.” Geno nodded his head, which Sid knew was the sign that the discussion was closed and if someone tried to override him, he’d be slapped with a hefty fine.

Slowly the guys moved toward the showers, tossing their sweaty uniforms in the canvas laundry carts on the way, or out into the hall to make phone calls.

Sid and Geno were alone.

“Nothing wrong with my balls,” Geno said and turned Sid to him. He kissed Sid slow and so fucking filthy that Sid wondered if they could stop by the room before showing up at the party.

Geno pulled back, and Sid couldn’t think over the tattoo of his heartbeat. He barely registered Geno’s smirk when he walked away, leaving Sid to watch his bare ass as he headed to the shower.

Sid’s strangled unggggh was the only proper response.

Jake stopped at Sid’s stall. “Are you mad? Did Geno say something?” Jake asked as he combed his snarled hair. “He doesn’t usually carry his towel into the showers all bunched up in front of him like that. Is he ok?”

Oh, Jake. Sid shook his head. How did he not know what was going on with them. “He’s fine. He’s just—”

“He’s just embarrassed by how small his dick is,” Tanger hollered from the other side of the locker room.

Sid felt his cheeks heat. Poor Jake had no idea Tanger was setting him up.

Jake tilted his head as he thought. “But I’ve seen Geno’s—y’know—and it’s—y’know—” He held his hands apart like he was measuring, and then moved them even farther apart.

Tanger had snuck up on Jake from behind; he reached around Jake and spread his hands even wider.

“No way!” Jake sounded shocked until the rest of the guys burst out laughing and launched things at him. Sid counted several wet towels and at least one game worn sock.

Whistling a fragment of a song, Geno strolled back to his stall; he was naked, his body still beaded with water.

“Hi! Geno!” Jake’s voice cracked as he struggled to keep his eyes above Geno’s waist. “We were—uh—I—they’re laughing at me not—”

Based on Geno’s obvious confusion, Sid wasn’t sure he’d heard Jake over their teammates’ laughter and catcalls. “Why you look at me weird? Like eyes don’t blink?”

Jake strangled out a sound as he caved in and looked at Geno’s now half-hard dick. “Oh my God.” And Jake spun around, heading as quickly as he could toward his locker stall.

Through the laughter, Sid heard Tanger say, “I told you so.”

“I’m not even ask.” Geno shook his head and tugged on his white dress shirt over his still damp shoulders.

“Good idea.” Sid moved closer and said, “Also. They have no idea about us.”

“Maybe is better,” Geno whispered, his lips grazing Sid’s ear. “Otherwise, who know what I’m do here?”

Sid’s body responded to the warmth of Geno’s breath, wanted to drag the shirt back off him, find every bruise and kiss them til they were healed.

But he didn’t.

He had no idea what their teammates would say if they knew he loved Geno—was <i>in love</i> with Geno. That they not only shared a house which they’d made a home, but also a life beyond hockey, a bed.

“A’right, last one ready has to pay the bar bill!” Sid’s voice cut through the locker room chatter. “Move ‘em out. Next stop is the Cambria Hotel.”

[beersfromthebleachers]

2019 Regular Season Predictions

Opening Day is right around the corner, and Spring Training this year has been dramatically inclined with another crazy free agency in baseball. The off season has been a restless one as teams statistically get their rosters primed for the season. I feel that this is an acceptable time to make the bold preseason predictions for the 2019 season. For each division, I will name the potential champion and how they will fair in the post season, going all the way to see who will be raising the World Series trophy this fall.

AL East – New York Yankees

If there is one general “rule of thumb” that has been a pattern of a routine is the fact that the World Series Champion nurses the “hangover” and does not repeat going back to back as world champs. As the Red Sox became champions at the end of the season, the Yankees watched from afar , enraged that they saw an early exit in the ALDS. So what do you do when your rivals become champions? You go out and get bigger and badder pieces for the “Baby Bombers, Murderers Row 3.0, Evil Empire” Yankees. Adding pieces DJ LeMahieu and Troy Tulowitzki were big splashes the team was looking to contribute towards the recording breaking team that accumulated 265 team home runs. Trading for James Paxton to replace Sonny Gray was a tremendous upgrade. Expect this team to do more than enough damage to teams as they did last year and then some.

1st - NY Yankees

2nd - Boston Red Sox

3rd – Tampa Bay Rays

4th – Toronto Blue Jays

5th – Baltimore Orioles

AL Central – Cleveland Indians

What has been an unanimous agreement from baseball writers new and old across the country is considering the situation that the status of the American League Central has become the least entertaining division in baseball. The Indians attempted to break that tension by sending off Edwin Encarnacion to the Seattle Mariners that involved a trade to welcome back Carlos Santana to Progressive Field. The trade also included reeving Jake Bauers from the Tampa Bay Rays, who is a promising first baseman that will slide Santana in a mandatory designated hitter role. The trades may not stop for the Indians there, with the lingering chances of Corey Kluber, who has been going back and forth with the team since last season. Key departures also included Michael Brantley and Andrew Miller, but even without those pieces, they have a strong chance of repeating as division champions for the fourth year in a row.

1st - Cleveland Indians

2nd - Minnesota Twins

3rd – Chicago White Sox

4th – Kansas City Royals

5th – Detroit Tigers

AL West – Houston Astros

The season after bringing the first franchise World Series to the city of Houston, the Astros lost in the American League Pennant Championship Series to the Red Sox, who would go on and win the World Series. The Astros came close to become the first team to go back-to-back as champions since the Yankees did it nearly two decades ago. The downfall of staying competitive this offseason was losing three of their starting pitchers in their rotation with Dallas Keuchel, Charlie Morton, and Lance McCullers Jr. (not released, but is out for the year due to injury). Wade Miley signed to a one-year deal as a replacement and the club looks to promote pitching prospects from the farm system, like Forrest Whitley or Josh James. The competition of the West is getting closer to the Astros, they will definitely be giving a run for their money trying to return to the playoffs again.

1st - Houston Astros

2nd - Oakland Athletics

3rd – Los Angeles Angels

4th – Seattle Mariners

5th - Texas Rangers

NL East – Washington Nationals

Losing Bryce Harper to a division rival should hurt your team potentially, but in the wake of Harper testing free agency was the Washington Nationals’ gain in the end. Rookie outbreak star Juan Soto displayed a wonderful performance in his first call up year, and a promotion of Victor Robles will have everyone saying, “Who’s Bryce Harper?” once he makes the roster at the major league level. The Nats also won free agency with the best pitching asset on the free agent market by signing Patrick Corbin after a career year to a long-term contract.The addition of Brian Dozier to second base after the lingering issues of Daniel Murphy last season patches a hole in the middle of the infield and a better on base career hitter. A loaded, talented National League East makes the division more than entertaining and competitive. Was losing Bryce Harper the ultimate sacrifice for a team to be successful in the playoffs? Only time will tell.

1st- Washington Nationals

2nd- Philadelphia Phillies

3rd – Atlanta Braves

4th – New York Mets

5th – Miami Marlins

NL Central – Chicago Cubs

Say what you want about all the key acquisitions in the National League Central, the Chicago Cubs still have the best rotation in their division…that is when they’re healthy. After Losing Game 163 and an early exit from the playoffs in the Wild Card game, the Cubs licked their wounds in order to get healthy over the off season. The Cubs made no big splashes during winter and are starting to lift some eyebrows across the league and more importantly, with their division rivals who have loaded up on talent on each team. Javier Baez had a breakout performance year that gave him merits for almost the league MVP, but fell short to Christian Yelich. Baez’s supreme batting power will be great additions to Anthony Rizzo and a healthy Kris Bryant. The lingering problems for the Cubs come with an ailing bullpen, but with young players that are still under rookie-sized contracts, expect a mid-season move for the Cubbies to gain a solid closer who will have a stellar year.

1st- Chicago Cubs

2nd- St. Louis Cardinals

3rd – Milwaukee Brewers

4th – Cincinnati Reds

5th – Pittsburgh Pirates

NL West - Los Angeles Dodgers

Coming up short two straight years in row at the peak of competition always leaves a bad taste in your mouth, especially if you are trying to end a title drought for your franchise. The Dodgers are on the brink of facing the greatest competition yet in their division as they watched Manny Machado sign for division rivals, the San Diego Padres. With the Colorado Rockies and the Arizona Diamondbacks displaying a great deal of farm talent, the Dodgers followed suit with displaying the flamethrower that is Walker Buehler; who displayed an ERA of 2.95 and a record of 9-5 in a promotional year. With a full season ahead of him, Julio Urias, and veteran Clayton Kershaw will lead the duties of the starting rotation. A returning Corey Seager after a season ending injury will also be a huge x-factor alongside the young bats of Max Muncy, Chris Taylor, and Cody Bellinger. The Dodgers have the right pieces moving forward, but they must hold their ground if they want to finally end their title drought.

1st- Los Angeles Dodgers

2nd- Colorado Rockies

3rd – San Diego Padres

4th – Arizona Diamondbacks

5th – San Francisco Giant

[walkerismychoice]

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

5 things? Don’t you already know more about me than you want to know? Lol

1. Hula-hooping is one of my secret talents. I won a couple contests when I was a kid, but more recently, I won the parent contest at my kids’ school dance the past two years in a row.

2. I stay away from gluten and dairy for allergy/health reasons, but I’m weak and cheat too much. I ate horribly this weekend due to not being home at all and have suffered with itchy hives on my face. 

 3. I am much handier at home improvement tasks than my husband. I do all the painting, have replaced a washing machine belt, built/painted/hung cubby shelves with hooks for my kids school stuff, made a 6 foot verticsl herb garden, hung all of our blinds, drilled holes and put on all the cabinet hardware and the list goes on. Everyone time we get furniture that needs to be assembled, I do it myself because he makes it more stressful overthinking everything. I even put together my son’s crib while 7 months pregnant without instructions because we didn’t have any. 

4. I have a really good memory, especially for numbers. I can remember birthdays for people I went to elementary school with. 

5. I bite my nails and they always look terrible. I have short sqautty nail beds to begin with so I don’t even like to paint them and draw attention to them.

[dipulb3]

2020 Audi SQ8 review: Leather-lined linebacker

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2020-audi-sq8-review-leather-lined-linebacker/

2020 Audi SQ8 review: Leather-lined linebacker

Not every go-fast SUV needs to be the shoutiest thing on the planet.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

Sometimes, you don’t need all the power in the world to make a great car. While the eyes of most fast-SUV fans might be on the hot-to-trot Audi RS Q8, don’t sleep on the middle-child SQ8. With a whole bunch of thrust and all the things that make the standard Q8 great, the 2020 Audi SQ8 makes a compelling case in the large luxury SUV segment.

Like

Twin-turbo performance punch

Smooth air suspension

Great cabin tech

Don’t Like

A little thirsty

Iffy 48-volt stop-start

Cool things cost money

Not much of a showoff

The Q8 isn’t actually much of a peacock — sure, there’s a dramatic rear end and a whole lot of creases front and rear, but the overall visual impact of this large SUV is pretty under the radar. My Prestige-trim tester rocks 21-inch alloy wheels and has silver trim around the grille and on the mirror caps, neither of which deliver a heavy punch. The most obvious signs that there’s something more nefarious happening under the hood come from the rear, where there’s a sufficiently large SQ8 badge and a honkin’ set of oval tailpipes. If you want to hustle without letting the whole universe know, this is the way to go.

While the outside may not be the flashiest, the SQ8’s interior carries a whole lot o’ theater. A flat leather panel rests atop a whole bunch of seamless high-gloss material, which makes for a premium look in combination with its “seamless” vents and silver trim. Piano black isn’t my favorite material from a smudge-prevention standpoint, but hoo boy, it looks properly posh. I’d probably skip the $500 carbon fiber inlays if it were my car, but they do add an extra dash of sporting pretension. I wouldn’t opt for dark red leather, either, but there’s no denying that the quilted stitching on the S-specific sport seats is top-notch, making the front buckets look as comfortable as they actually feel.

Despite the abridged roofline, the Q8 doesn’t carry many of the sacrifices expected in coupe-ier SUVs. Each direction offers appropriate visibility through the windows, even rearward, where the back glass fills the rearview mirror. Headroom is ample enough for my six-foot frame to never feel cramped on the rear bench.

Storage is a bit of a mixed bag. Open the trunk and you’ll be pleasantly surprised with 30.5 cubic feet of space, a figure that puts the SQ8 at the top of its segment. The door pockets are sufficiently capacious, too, but the bulky center console offers no behind-screen storage, and the cubby under the armrest is only big enough for a phone and a keyring or two.

Can’t go wrong with a V8

The standard Q8’s 3.0-liter V6 is all well and good, but when it comes to a sport-forward large SUV, Audi saw fit to throw another couple cylinders into the mix. The SQ8’s 4.0-liter twin-turbocharged V8 puts out 500 horsepower and 568 pound-feet of torque, and all that sweet power heads through the car’s four tailpipes, creating a pleasing-but-not-annoying burble of bass both inside and outside. It’s a good noise, but the powertrain itself is even sweeter, with torque available at nearly every opportunity and every throttle position. If the SQ8 does need a different gear, though, the eight-speed automatic transmission will find it quickly and smoothly. There’s loads of power on tap, but it never overwhelms.

In fact, smoothness is the name of the game for the entire SQ8 driving experience. The S-specific adaptive air suspension irons out nearly every kink in the road, so keeping the car in its default Comfort mode leaves me with a ride that’s as smooth as any other large luxury car out there. If you deign to throw the SQ8 into a corner, just tap the mode switch over to Dynamic, where the dampers focus on eliminating body roll to give this big boy some surprising agility, which is further enhanced in my tester by the $5,900 Sport Package that adds active roll bars, a sport rear differential and red brake calipers. It’s plenty fun that way, but honestly, my favorite setup keeps the suspension in Comfort for a good mix of hustle and chill. It’s like Terry Crews in a suit — everything’s fancy and sedate, but you’re keenly aware that there’s a wall of muscle hiding underneath.

There’s a V8 tucked under all this plastic, I promise.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

The only real annoying part of the SQ8 experience comes from its stop-start system. This getup is keen to cut the engine a little too early while stopping, so when I go for the ultra-smooth stop, there’s a bit of a lurch as everything cuts out. If I lift the brake pedal too far in pursuit of a dip-free stop, the engine kicks back on with yet another stumble. If the V8 would take an extra half a second to turn off, this wouldn’t be a problem, but that’s not going to happen, because an extended stop-start window is an intentional byproduct of the onboard 48-volt electrical system.

The SQ8’s fuel economy also lacks chill, but I feel that’s expected in a V8-toting sports SUV. The EPA rates this guy at a paltry 15 miles per gallon city and 21 mpg highway. While my city figures are… demonstrably worse than that (probably because I love torquey starts), I am at least able to match the highway numbers with little issue — until, again, I remember how much fun it is to accelerate.

Lots of tech, all of it good

Audi’s MMI Touch Response system is good — so good, in fact, that when it debuted it won our Roadshow Shift Award for Cabin Tech of the Year. It remains one of the best systems on the market after a full model year, tot. The whole shebang boots up quickly, even after a night spent chilling on the driveway. The response time is fast, and when handwriting recognition can be used, Audi’s tech picks up my awful finger swipes perfectly.

The 10.1-inch screen in the center of the dashboard covers all the usual infotainment bits, and its built-in haptic feedback makes it easier to hit the right button with little distraction. The 8.6-incher underneath is mostly for the climate control system, and it, too, is plenty responsive and easy to commit to muscle memory. Wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto make it easier to use my phone in the car in the event my dumb brain forgets a cord. While I’d like to see USB-C ports in here, I’m happy with the USB-A ports that populate both rows of seats. Virtual Cockpit is standard, too, with its 12.3-inch gauge screen displaying nearly every bit of information I can ask for on the usual drive with simple manipulation through the steering wheel controls.

Three screens might feel a bit daunting at first, but each has specific responsibilities and all are easy to get used to.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

My Prestige-trim SQ8 comes standard with almost every safety system, although all Q8s come from the factory with automatic emergency braking, automatic windshield wipers and automatic headlights. The adaptive cruise control is mighty smooth, with no major braking or acceleration events causing unwanted head bobs. Lateral motion is well under control, too, with the lane-keeping assist offering a gossamer touch on the wheel to keep the SQ8 centered in its lane. The head-up display isn’t really necessary in my opinion, but it can show the speed limit, which is about all I’d want it to do, anyway.

How I’d spec it

The 2020 SQ8 is an expensive proposition, starting at $89,995 including destination. I’ll stick with my tester’s Prestige trim, which starts at $95,495, throwing a $595 Galaxy Blue paint job into the mix because the only free options are black and white (yawn). A black leather interior is gratis, as is the high-gloss gray oak trim. I’ll also plunk down $1,750 to remove all instances of shiny metal from the exterior, as well as $4,000 to add more leather inside and massaging front seats. That leaves me with an out-the-door price of $106,840, which slides just under my tester’s $107,490 window sticker.

Down to brass tacks

Perhaps surprisingly, there’s a decent market for souped-up luxury SUVs with six-figure price tags. The BMW X6 M50i offers a lot of oomph, but its aesthetics are… an acquired taste, and I don’t think its interior is as well laid out as the Audi’s. The Mercedes-AMG GLE53 Coupe’s mild hybrid system offers an actual output boost, unlike the SQ8, but again, you have to look at the thing. Those looking for a more driver-forward experience will want to turn their attention to the Porsche Cayenne GTS, which you can thankfully get in non-coupe form (although there’s a Cayenne GTS Coupe on offer, too).

Of all those choices, however, none delivers the two distinct experiences that the 2020 Audi SQ8 does. It’s as cool as a cucumber most of the time, acting like a car built for chauffeurs. Hit a few buttons (or, honestly, just depress the accelerator far enough) and things take on a whole new life of brisk acceleration and deft handling. It’s the best kind of two-for-one deal.

[onewfantaesy]

Maybe a ramble idea if you ever feel like writing it! Jinki the kindergarten teacher adores all his lil students, and one day when it is rained out the students have to eat lunch inside and the tiniest of the, all lil Tae doesn't have lunch. Jinki finds out he lives in an orphanage and starts bringing a lil bit of food for him, and it is a slippery slope. In winter he brings a lil jacket because it is cold and medicine when he's sick because cannot afford it and maybe a year end ups adopting

The first time Jinki noticed his smallest student didn’t bring lunch to school was the first rainy day of the year. The children were all to be kept inside the classroom during lunch, and Jinki got all the rainy day games out of one of the closets before going to get his own lunch from the teacher’s lounge. When he came back, all his little kindergarteners moved seats to sit with their friends while they ate lunch, and he had to take the Connect Four away from three boys who tried to play before they ate their food.

Jinki walked around the classroom to make sure everyone was eating, but as he passed by the table closest to the cubbies, he noticed his littlest student didn’t have a lunchbox in front of him.

“Taemin,” he said, “where’s your lunch?”

“I don’t have one,” the boy said.

His friend, Kai, was letting him share his chips, but Jinki shook his head. He went to get his own lunchbox off his desk, and he took the sandwich he made that morning and put it in front of Taemin. 

“Here, you can have this, alright?” Jinki said. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

Taemin shook his head, and he took the bag with both hands. Jinki also gave him one of the little water bottles he keeps in his bottom desk drawer. Taemin smiled, said thank you in the tiniest little voice, and went back to talking with his little friends about what game they wanted to play once they were finished eating.

The rain let up the next day, but before Taemin could leave the classroom to go to lunch, Jinki stopped him. He asked if Taemin had a lunch today, and when he shook his head and said no, Jinki sighed. He took Taemin’s hand and walked him down the hall to the teacher’s lounge. Jinki had made an extra sandwich that morning and put an extra water in the fridge so it would be cold. He even gave Taemin a little pack of cookies before taking him out to the lunch yard. 

Before Taemin ran off to sit with his friends, he whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Lee,” in the quietest voice.

“You’re welcome,” Jinki said, and he patted the boys back so he would go sit with his friends.

When it kept happening for a whole week, Jinki asked Taemin to stay for a moment after school. Taemin stood by Jinki’s class after everyone else went out to the parking lot to wait for the parents in the pick-up line. The boy gripped his backpack straps and looked more nervous than Jinki had ever seen him.

“You’re not in any trouble, Taemin,” Jinki said in a soft voice. “But can you tell me why you haven’t had any lunch this week? Did your mom or dad forget to pack it for you? Or did you maybe leave it at home?”

“I don’t have a mom or dad,” Taemin said. 

“You don’t?” Jinki asked. “Well, who do you live with?”

“I live at St. Hedwig’s,” Taemin told him. 

It took Jinki a minute or so to realize that St. Hedwig’s was the orphanage downtown. 

“Mother Superior says that we don’t have enough money for lunch,” Taemin said.

“Okay,” Jinki said. He got up and patted Taemin’s head before taking his hand to bring him out to wait in the parking lot. “Who picks you up, Taemin?”

Taemin’s nose wrinkled up, and he said, “Sister Margaret.”

“Do you not like Sister Margaret?” Jinki asked.

“She plays old people music in the van,” Taemin whined. “And she always makes me sit in the middle seat. I don’t like the middle seat; I always get squished by the bigger kids.”

Taemin’s lips jutted out into a pout, and Jinki watched as he stared at the white van that four other children piled into. The nun driving it saw Taemin a little ways away with Jinki and waved her hand, beckoning Taemin to hurry up. 

“Bye, Mr. Lee,” Taemin said.

He let got of Jinki’s hand and ran over to the van. 

“Bye, Taemin,” Jinki called after him.

Jinki watched Taemin climb into the back of the van and plop down in the middle seat of the middle row. Two older boys pushed him around a little bit, and two girls sat in the very back. 

That night, while Jinki was out with his friend Kibum, he talked about his littlest student.

“It’s so sad, Kibum, he’s just this little orphan boy who can’t afford a lunch,” Jinki said, swirling around a glass of wine.

“They just don’t give them lunch, though?” Kibum asked. “Like, don’t they get funding for that kinda shit? Where’s our taxes going to if it isn’t to little orphan kids?”

“I don’t know, man, but it’s sad. He’s the sweetest kid,” Jinki sighed. 

“Adopt him, then,” Kibum said, shrugging his shoulders. “You like kids.”

“I like teaching kids, Kibum, there’s a difference. I’d be a terrible father.”

“I don’t think you’d be terrible,” Kibum said. “Maybe a little fumbly at first, but definitely not terrible.”

“What about Minho?” Jinki asked. “I can’t just show up one day with a kid, how would I explain that to my boyfriend?”

“Minho loves kids,” Kibum says in a serious voice. “Literally, he would die for children. Are we even talking about the same Minho?”

“I’m just saying,” Jinki mumbled. “It’s a big decision. Besides, do Catholic orphanages even adopt kids out to gay parents?”

“Hell if I know,” Kibum said with a smirk.

Jinki sighed and downed the rest of his wine before holding his head in his hands. All he really thought to do at that point was continue to bring a sandwich and a water for the little orphan boy who didn’t have a lunch.

After that first week of bringing Taemin lunch, Jinki noticed the boy opening up a lot more. He would answer more questions during class, he raised his hand high and shook it around when Jinki asked who wanted to be the weather monitor for the next week, and he took to talking to Jinki after school before he went to wait for Sister Margaret to pick him up.

“When we get home, we get religion lessons from Sister Prudence,” Taemin told Jinki one day after school. “Then she watches us while we do homework. Sometimes Sister Constance comes and helps with homework - I really like Sister Constance, she’s real nice and sometimes she lets us do art stuff if we finish our homework early enough. Sister Rose Marie lets me help make dinner sometimes if I’m good, but usually she just lets me set the tables for dinner. I know where all the forks and knives and spoons go, Mr. Lee, did you know they have special places on the table?”

“Wow,” Jinki said, smiling at Taemin, “that’s very impressive, Taemin. I didn’t even know that forks and knives and spoons had special places on the table until I was much older than you.”

Taemin grinned at him, his little chest puffing out proudly.

“Mother Superior said it was very good of me to know where they go,” Taemin whispered as if it was a great secret. “She even let me say grace before dinner when Sister Rose Marie told her I was the one who set the tables.” 

“You should be very proud of yourself,” Jinki said with a laugh. “But let’s get you outside so you don’t miss Sister Margaret, alright?”

“Alright,” Taemin said. 

Jinki walked Taemin out to the parking lot, and he stayed to make sure his littlest student made it into the van.

Towards the end of the school year, a nun came into his classroom after school. Jinki saw Taemin poking his head around the door, and Jinki figured this must be Sister Margaret.

“Sister Margaret, I take it?” Jinki asked, holding his hand out to shake hers. “Taemin’s told me a lot about you.”

She smiled, but she said she was here on some less than fun business. She said that Taemin told them his teacher had been bringing him lunch, and she unfortunately had to ask him to stop.

“I know you think it must be best,” she said softly, “but we don’t want him to get used to it and then next year have to go back to not having a lunch. Surely you understand?”

“Surely you understand that I’m not just going to sit by while one of my students habitually doesn’t have a lunch,” Jinki said. “He’s been much better about participating in class since he’s had a lunch to eat, and I don’t want his school performance to suffer over a sandwich.”

She told him again that she must ask him to stop, and Jinki couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When he looked back to the doorway, he noticed that Taemin’s head was no longer poking inside, and he looked back to the nun sitting across from him.

“May I ask you something important?” he asked. “About Taemin?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Say I was thinking about,” Jinki paused, “about adopting him.”

“I would say it’s a lot of responsibility for a young man,” she said. “But that Taemin adores you, and he hasn’t stopped talking about you the whole school year.”

“Say,” Jinki said, “say this young man had a boyfriend. Would he be able to adopt from you?”

“I think we would have no problem so long as Taemin was going to a good home,” she said. 

“Thank you,” he said. “But can we maybe not mention this to Taemin? Not until it’s official, at least.”

“Of course,” she said.

That night, Jinki and Minho sat across from their dinner table staring at each other.

“You really want a child?” Minho asked. 

His eyes were lit up, Jinki thought they were practically sparkling, and he looked like he just won the lottery.

“A specific child,” Jinki said. “He’s the cutest little thing, you’ll fall in love with him the second you meet him.”

“When do I meet him?” Minho asked, leaning across the table.

“I was thinking we could go to the orphanage right after school lets out,” Jinki said. “I don’t want to adopt him while he’s still my student, that might be confusing for him.”

“But we’re really going to adopt him? It’s okay?” Minho asked.

“I’ve been emailing that Mother Superior who���s in charge of the orphanage, and almost everything is in order. A couple house visits to make sure we’re equipped to deal with a child and then actually making sure Taemin is okay with it, and we’re good.”

Minho fell onto Jinki’s lap and hugged him tight, kissing his cheek.

“I want to meet this kid right now,” Minho told him.

“You’re so impatient,” Jinki laughed.

Two weeks later, Jinki and Minho walked up the steps to St. Hedwig’s Home for Children. Mother Superior opened the door and led them inside, telling them that the children were in chapel until the end of the hour, but they were welcome to wait with her. They went over the last of the documents they needed to give her, and she smiled at the both of them when she told them they were approved to adopt Taemin as soon as possible if they so wished.

“Jinki, when can I meet him?” Minho asked, holding onto Jinki’s arm.

The grandfather clock out in the main room started ringing, and soon enough, feet were pitter-pattering up and down the hall outside of Mother Superior’s office. She led the two of them out to where the children should be, and when they walked into the main room, she announced that they had a couple visitors.

When Taemin’s little head turned, his eyes lit up at the sight of Jinki.

“Mr. Lee!” Taemin shouted, and he ran right up to Jinki and hugged his legs.

“Hello, Taemin,” Jinki said, and he knelt down to smile at the boy.

“Look, look, this is mine,” Taemin said, holding up a rosary. “It’s green, isn’t it pretty? Sister Constance gave it to me last year for my birthday. Did you know my birthday is next month?”

“I did know that,” Jinki told him.

“Mr. Lee, why are you here?” Taemin asked.

“Taemin, would you come with us into my office?” Mother Superior asked, holding her hand out for Taemin to take.

“Am I in trouble?” Taemin asked, holding her hand and walking with them down the hall.

“No, you’re in no trouble at all,” she said.

When they got into Mother Superior’s office, Jinki knelt back down and smiled at Taemin.

“Taemin, this is my boyfriend, Minho,” Jinki said. 

Minho knelt down next to him and waved at Taemin, saying hello to him.

“Hi,” Taemin said. 

He was still clinging to Mother Superior’s hand, looking between her and the two men in front of him.

“Taemin, they would like to adopt you,” Mother Superior said.

Taemin’s eyes went wide, and he looked back at Jinki and Minho.

“Me?” Taemin asked. When Jinki and Minho said yes, he said, “Really?”

“Really,” Jinki laughed. “We have a whole bedroom set up at home for you if you want. We can even go get you some new toys and books if you want.”

A shy smile spread across Taemin’s face, and he clung to Mother Superior’s hand as he swung it around a little bit. He giggled a little bit, and when Jinki held open his arms and beckoned him closer, Taemin ran to him and hugged him around his neck. Jinki stood up and held Taemin close to him, and the little boy hid his face in Jinki’s shoulder.

“Isn’t he just the cutest?” Jinki laughed to Minho.

“He is,” Minho said, brushing Taemin’s hair behind his ear. “Taemin, are you happy?”

Taemin nodded his head fast, but he didn’t bring his face out of Jinki’s shoulder. After signing the last of the adoption papers, Mother Superior led them up to Taemin’s bedroom to gather his belongings. Jinki kept a tight hold on him the entire time, and Taemin’s little arms stayed wrapped around Jinki’s neck. He brought his head out to make sure that they packed his most important things - his blanket and his stuffed dog - but other than that, he mostly kept his face buried in Jinki’s shoulder.

When they were leaving, Taemin gave a small wave to the other children, but he wiggled his way away from Jinki so he could go hug Sister Constance goodbye. After a tight hug and her whispering in his ear that she would pray for him everyday, he ran back over to Jinki and hugged his legs until Jinki picked him back up. As they left, Taemin barely raised his eyes above Jinki’s shoulder and waved his hand.

When they got in the car, Jinki buckled Taemin into the window seat.

“I don’t like the middle seat,” Taemin told him.

“I know you don’t,” Jinki said. “That’s why you get to sit here.”

“And I don’t like old people music, either,” Taemin whispered.

“I know, so we can listen to any radio station you want,” Jinki said. “We can go through them until you hear a song you like.”

“Okay,” Taemin mumbled.

“Taemin,” Minho said once he started driving, “we can go straight home, or we can go get you some new toys. Which do you wanna do?”

“Can we go home?” Taemin asked in a quiet voice.

“Of course we can,” Minho said.

When they got home, Minho and Jinki each held one of Taemin’s hands as they walked through the door. Taemin’s eyes went wide as he looked around the place, and Jinki said he could explore a little bit before they went to his room if he wanted. Taemin let go of their hands and walked around tentatively, poking around the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room. He let out a little “Woah” when he saw the big TV in the living room and all the DVDs, and Minho told him he was a big movie collector.

After Taemin spent twenty minutes looking around the main part of the house, Jinki asked him if he wanted to see his bedroom.

“Yes, please,” Taemin whispered.

He took Jinki’s hand again, and Jinki led him down the hall to the bedrooms.

“This is mine and Minho’s room,” Jinki said, pointing to one bedroom. “We can show you that in a little bit, but let’s see your room first, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Taemin said.

Jinki opened one of the doors, and Taemin smiled when he saw the bed and the desk and the bookshelf.

“It’s not completely decorated yet,” Minho told him. “We thought you might like to pick some stuff out for your room.”

Taemin ran towards the bed, letting his upper half fold over the dinosaur blankets on his bed.

“These are so cool,” Taemin gushed. “Look, look, that’s one’s a T-Rex.”

“Do you know this one?” Jinki asked, kneeling down next to him and pointing at one of the other dinosaurs.

“It’s a long-neck,” Taemin said.

Jinki and Minho laughed a little.

“That it is,” Minho said. “What about this one?”

“Triceratops,” Taemin said proudly. “Because it’s got three horn thingies.”

They showed him a few other things around the room, like the toys they picked out and the new clothes they got him. After a little while, Taemin bit his lip and played with the hem of his shirt.

“Can I ask you a question?” Taemin asked.

“Sure you can,” Jinki said. “You can ask any questions you want.”

“If you adopted me,” Taemin said, “does that mean I can call you Daddy instead of Mr. Lee?”

“You can call us whatever you’re comfortable with,” Jinki said softly. “You can call me Mr. Lee if you want, or you can call me Jinki, or Daddy. You can call Minho by his name, too, or Daddy if you want.”

“I think I wanna call you Daddy,” Taemin said softly. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Minho said.

“Good,” Taemin said, nodding his head. “‘Cause it’s lunch time, Daddies, and I’m hungry.”

Jinki and Minho both laughed, and Minho picked Taemin up to take him into the kitchen. 

Jinki, while he watched his boyfriend help their new son figure out what he wanted to eat for lunch, knew that this was probably the best decision of his life, and he couldn’t help but laugh at how it all started by giving a kid a sandwich at lunch time. Funnily enough, that was exactly what Taemin wanted to eat on his first day at home with them.

[phezopage]

March Mayhem Quarterfinal: 2019 Chrysler Pacifica vs. 2019 Honda Odyssey

Several automakers offer a minivan, but none devotes more dollars and engineers to the design and engineering of clever, useful features than Chrysler and Honda do.

MotorTrend’s March Mayhem is here! As part of our quest to find the best family car, we invited eight vehicles to compete in a winner-take-all bracket. Representing minivans in the first round are the 2019 Chrysler Pacifica S Limited and 2019 Honda Odyssey Elite.

Quarterfinals:

Chrysler Pacifica vs. Honda Odyssey

Subaru Ascent vs. Chevrolet Traverse HERE

Chevrolet Blazer vs. Honda Passport HERE

Nissan Altima vs. Toyota Camry HERE

For better and for worse, minivans are the default answer to the question: I have kids; what car should I get? They were once all the rage, they became wildly uncool, and now they’re somewhere in between. If minivans are going to cut down the nets, they need to be represented by the best of the best.

Evidence of how closely matched the Pacifica and Odyssey are is spread across our notes. Disagreements over which interior was noisier on what surfaces and at what speeds, which engine felt more powerful, and which went around a corner more confidently illustrate how tight this matchup is.

There were clear agreements, though. We found the Pacifica rides better on all surfaces, its passengers feeling less jostled on rough pavement than those in the Odyssey. Likewise, we found the Odyssey’s transmission clearly superior while the Pacifica was a bit lazy to shift and occasionally clunky.

All of that can affect passenger comfort or confidence, but this comparison was won and lost on features. For that, we can start in the crucial second row.

Chrysler’s Stow ’n Go hideaway seats aren’t new, but they are improved. The front seats move away with the touch of a button, the floor pops up with a light tug, and the seats fold and stow with the yank of a strap and a little push to settle them into their hold. With the seats out of the way, you have the easiest possible access to the third row, loads of cargo room, and, as one child-rearing staff member has discovered, a convenient space to spread out the changing pad when diapers go afoul. In their upright position, the seats are somehow slightly more comfortable than the Odyssey’s non-folding chairs, and they still tilt out of the way better for slightly easier third-row access, even with a child seat installed. Plus, the cavity they fold into provides an extra covered storage space. On the downside, the second row doesn’t slide in any direction, and the optional center seat is difficult to remove.

Honda’s Magic Seat solution is equally clever but not quite as versatile. Being able to slide the second-row seats forward puts kids in easier reach of parents up front. The ability to slide them side to side means quick access to the third row and the option of separating quarreling siblings.

Making space for cargo, though, requires unlatching and lifting the seats out like in the old days; whatever the seats lack in outright weight, they make up in bulkiness. Sliding them sideways is predicated on removing the center seat, and it’s bulky as you muscle it over the other seats. In the end, you’re still left with a tighter squeeze accessing the third row and no underfloor storage.

The battle of the built-in vacuums plays out similarly. Honda pioneered the idea with its small vacuum mounted in the cargo area, but Chrysler perfected it by locating the hose between the second and third rows on the driver’s side, where you’re most likely to use it and where it can’t be blocked by cargo. The Pacifica also boasts a retracting hose; the Odyssey’s has to be crammed back into a cubby just big enough for it.

We likewise prefer Chrysler’s second-row entertainment system, which features two independent screens mounted to the backs of the front seats, compared to the Honda’s single roof-mounted screen. Not only does Chrysler’s solution head off arguments over what to watch or play, but it also allows for a massive sunroof.

Honda does have a few exclusive tricks, though, most notably Cabin Watch and Cabin Talk. The former employs a ceiling-mounted camera that looks down on the second and third rows, can zoom in, sees in the dark, and looks over rear-facing child seats. The latter uses front microphones and rear speakers (plus entertainment system headphones if equipped), allowing front-seat officials to call fouls without all the head-turning and shouting. Both options are accessed through the infotainment screen—the software for which we found less intuitive all around than Chrysler’s.

Fully equipped or fully stripped and regardless of the party tricks your monthly payment allows, Chrysler steals the win at the Honda test center. The Pacifica is the more comfortable, stylish, and clever package—and therefore the representative for the minivan class in the final four of our competition.

2019 Chrysler Pacifica S Limited 2019 Honda Odyssey Elite BASE PRICE $45,940 $48,115 PRICE AS TESTED $52,605 $48,115 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, FWD, 7-pass, 4-door van Front-engine, FWD, 8-pass, 4-door van ENGINE 3.6L/287-hp/262-lb-ft DOHC 24-valve V-6 3.5L/280-hp/262-lb-ft SOHC 24-valve V-6 TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic 10-speed automatic CURB WEIGHT (F/R DIST) 4,609 lb (56/44%) 4,561 lb (55/45%) WHEELBASE 121.6 in 118.1 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 203.8 x 79.6 x 69.9 in 203.2 x 78.5 x 69.6 in 0-60 MPH 7.6 sec 6.7 sec QUARTER MILE 15.9 sec @ 89.9 mph 15.2 sec @ 94.4 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 124 ft 125 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 0.78 g (avg) 0.76 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 28.2 sec @ 0.59 g (avg) 29.0 sec @ 0.58 g (avg) EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON 19/28/22 mpg 19/28/22 mpg ENERGY CONS, CITY/HWY 177/120 kW-hrs/100 miles 177/120 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 0.87 lb/mile 0.87 lb/mile

The post March Mayhem Quarterfinal: 2019 Chrysler Pacifica vs. 2019 Honda Odyssey appeared first on Motortrend.

March Mayhem Quarterfinal: 2019 Chrysler Pacifica vs. 2019 Honda Odyssey published first on https://freemobilehackspage.tumblr.com

[ofodinn]

♣ ━ share five random facts about yourself

Mun Related -- > @miindofeli -- > Accepting!

I bleed Cubbie Blue. I am a fan of the Chicago Cubs Major League Baseball team and not because we won the World Series after 108 years. But because, this team has meant everything to my family. My mother has been a fan for 46 years and it was amazing watching her break down in tears, when we finally broke our curse and won it all. I didn’t start actively watching every game until last summer, when my brother passed. He was her Cub person who watched with her, whereas I just had them give me recaps. But, I got hooked, and it gets me through missing him. We still say the rain delay that helped us win it all, he had something to do with. We just wish every day that he had been here to see it all. This season well, it’s a heart attack a day. But part of being a part of this team for me, is you love them win or lose. Our playoff chances are still great and watching, I discovered baseball players are attractive. This has become a long fact but I am a diehard fan. I’m currently sitting here in my official Cubs nail polish, Anthony Rizzo Cubs t-shirt, rubber ‘Embrace the Suck’ Cubs bracelet, under my Cubs throw blanket, while wearing my replica Cubs World Series Ring. Yes, I have issues and no I am not ashamed of that. This team gives me life and helps me through dark days and I adore them. 

I will be married for 13 years on Saturday, although I also have two other husbands: Charlie Hunnam, who is a fantastic actor who is more than just his face, and honestly a really nice person who takes time out of his day to talk to his fans when he meets them, even if he doesn’t do social media and Anthony Rizzo, who is the First Baseman of the Chicago Cubs. When he is not on the field on his current AMAZING hit streak, showing true humility and sportsmanship and being the new best leadoff hitter of all time, he spends his time working for his cancer foundation, since he survived cancer at 19. He is honestly one of the nicest people ever (UNLESS he gets his third lead off homer in a row and the umps are asses and call it foul after the fact. Then, well that hot blooded Italian temper comes out and well, I heard more uses of the word fuck in 20 seconds than usual.). Close runner ups to husbands are Kris Bryant, third Baseman of the Chicago Cubs, and George Blagden. 

I am massively extroverted, but very shy at the same time. I do not handle not being right well, and just because something is someone else’s opinion does not mean mine is right. I’ll fight to the death for the last word.  I possess no filter. 

I’m a History nerd, who is now been let loose in the Historical RP fandom and I will spend over an hour on a reply if I need to do research, vs hoping it sounds right. I tend to be picky who I write with, because I expect people to know as decent amount of background on their character. 

My favorite show is currently Versailles, I dabble in Vikings (although I’m currently eh about the show in general), but mostly watch baseball. 

[f0x-meets-w0lf]

your faves are problematic: the vancouver crew edition

ryang

regularly beatboxes ‘drop it like it’s hot’ by snoop dogg in its entirety even though he would be perfectly capable at doing other songs

got a job at the local ice cream shop just to be able to ‘sample’ every single flavor every single day but somehow hasn’t gained any weight

still counts on his fingers for simple everyday math problems

owns more pairs of shoes than most people do t-shirts and has an entire cubby shelf storage system in his closet for them

is naturally talented at cooking but is usually too lazy to actually make the effort and mostly depends on top ramen and dried fruit from trader joe’s for his nutrition

lee-squared

has eaten a whole pizza by himself on more than one occasion, and not just cheese, either - he prefers either loaded supreme or meat-lovers

kills every plant he has ever attempted to own, including several different species of succulents and cacti

quotes and references outdated memes that only he remembers

couldn’t decide which teenage mutant ninja turtle to name his pet tortoise after so he combined them all and named it leoraphdonangelo (which cheng2 thinks sounds like a species of dinosaur)

won the spelling bee five years in a row in middle school and has impeccable grammar yet types his text messages and blog posts like a shitty dumb frat boy on tindr looking for a hookup

sicksteve

inherited a huge collection of vinyl records from his older brother and owns a record player but primarily listens to spotify through his awful laptop speakers

buys his hard-to-find specialized hair products online even though the shipping costs are ridiculous

refuses to get snapchat because it’s ‘stupid and pointless’ but often sabotages cheng2′s dog filter and flower crown selfies

has perfect eyesight but wears glasses anyway purely for the aesthetic

took up guitar in seventh grade and is a natural, learned classical and jazz techniques but insists on playing mainly post-punk acoustic jams (with whiny vocals happily provided by lee-squared)

koh

only ever joined the aglionby soccer team because he thought the goalie was cute (and just happened to actually be pretty okay at soccer)

still wears heelie sneakers out in public

is afraid of piranhas to the point of having nightmares about them even though he has never been in any waters where they are naturally found

exclusively drinks super fruity cocktails (mainly tequila sunrises and malibu bay breezes) even though they give him terrible hangovers; often vows to ‘never drink again’ but never holds to it

plans and budgets entire trips to europe and asia almost monthly but closes every tab without actually buying any tickets or booking hotels because he hates flying and is waiting for teleportation to be invented

henry broadway/cheng2

prefers eggo waffles over ryang’s homemade belgian waffles and eats them straight out of the box (still frozen). also does this with frozen blueberries and then complains when he gets brain freeze

regularly gets too stoned to do his homework and has to copy off of henry cheng’s in the mornings before class

has read the whole harry potter book series seven times and has watched all of the films even more than that and still cries every time dumbledore dies

names 99.9% of his possessions even though he usually forgets what he names them and then has to rename them

has spent a shocking amount of time on his playstation4 building an incredibly accurate minecraft replica of the litchfield house

rutherford

is very academically gifted but puts in minimal effort whenever he can and often scrolls through reddit instead of paying attention in class

joined the aglionby lacrosse team on a dare from ryang even though he’d never played lacrosse in his entire life (he was terrible)

learned american sign language with his younger brother just so the two of them could complain about their parents’ strict rules without their parents knowing

has seen every true crime documentary on netflix at least once

can’t tolerate spicy food at all. at ALL. he thinks uncooked and unseasoned green bell peppers are spicy